Page 15 of Best Served Cold

“You punched him,” Sophie says in wonder, our eyes meeting in the rearview mirror. She doesn’t look like Jonah’s Sophie right now. The expression in her eyes is the same as it was this morning—fiery and vindictive—and it makes me smile.

“Since we’ve decided to be truthful with each other, Pollyanna, it felt pretty damn good.”

It’s only as I start the engine that I realize I may have just screwed everything up.

If Jonah calls the cops, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do, and they may not agree that he had it coming.

Fifteen minutes later,we’re sitting in a booth at Tea of Fortune, a tea shop picked out by Sophie. Apparently the owner is her next-door neighbor. The same next-door neighbor who was watching us from her window this morning.

I’ve seen Dottie Hendrickson around town before. She’s the kind of person you can’t help but notice. She must be in her eighties, but there’s a spark in her eyes that makes her seem younger. Her white hair is always dyed a different color—a soft purple right now—and she wears colorful dresses that look like they’ve been seized from a fifties’ diner. Today’s dress has little clusters of hearts all over it.

The tea she selected is supposed to be a calming blend, but I’ve barely touched it. It tastes like the sachets my stepmother keeps in her bathroom closets smell, and it feels strange todrink something hot when it’s warm outside. Besides, I’ve been distracted.

I can’t stop watching the video of Sophie ripping Jonah a new one in front of his client, which her new friend sent to me so I’d stop hogging her phone. Never in a million years would I have thought she’d confront him like that. In that video, she’s more of a warrior than a Pollyanna. The look on her face…the way the diamond ring pinged off Jonah’s nose…it’sglorious. I want it to play behind my eyelids when I lie down to sleep at night. Good God, there’s nothing as intoxicating as seeing Jonah humbled.

It turns out my little brother probably had at least three secret girlfriends. One is Briar, the woman who took the video. Sophie texted the other two from the car after getting their numbers from her cousin Otis. One of them will be meeting us at the tea shop, and the other hasn’t responded.

“Here you are, dear boy,” Dottie says as she hands me a silicone bag full of ice and little fragrant specks that look like dried flowers.

“Oh, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” I say, taken aback.

I hadn’t planned on requesting ice, but when the little old lady came around asking about what had brought us in, Sophie told her that I’d slugged someone in the face defending their honor and needed an ice pack befitting a hero. I’m guessing she’s tipsier than I realized.

“No trouble at all,” Dottie says as she pats my hand directly on my abraded knuckles. “Chamomile helps heal wounds in the body and soul.”

She obviously means well, so I don’t tell her it’s nonsense.

When she leaves, I feel Sophie watching me—and what do you know? I press the ice pack to my knuckles.

“Good,” she says, back to her slightly prudish, missish self. This is the Sophie who likes needlepoint and coordinating potluck dinners.

I’m kind of fascinated by the different sides of her I’ve seen today. Like she’s a puzzle whose pieces fit together in dozens of different formations.

“This place has really good tea,” Briar says. “Really good.” She’s still talking about the tea, probably some kind of nervous tic, when a short woman with curly bright-red hair comes through the front door.

“GingerBeerBabe?” Briar whispers.

Sophie shakes her head, her gaze on the redhead too. “Can’t be. She never answered my text. I’m worried Jonah got to her first and is filling her head with BS.”

The short redhead says something to Dottie and then approaches the table.

“Sophie?” she asks, her voice husky.

Sophie raises her hand and then starts laughing, either from the alcohol or nerves.

“I’m Hannah, from Big Catch. Oh good, we’re drinking? I didn’t think this place had liquor.”

“It has tea,” Briar says as the redhead slides in next to her.

“And you are?”

“I’m Briar,” she says, picking at her manicured nails. “I’m another one of the…well…”

“She’s SilverStarBabe,” Sophie gushes. “She and Jonah were dating for five months. How long were you with him?”

Hannah snorts. “I wouldn’t say we weretogethertogether. But hedidsay he was single. Six months, maybe.” Her gaze turns to me, her brow furrowing. “You look a little like him.”

“I’m guessing I should. I’m his half-brother, Rob.”

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