Page 10 of Slow Burn
“He sure deserves it.” Her hand went to his forearm, giving it a light squeeze.
He nodded again, swallowing a surge of heat crawling up his throat. She meant it. Everybody loved his daddy. The man had poured himself out for this town—ran calls at the firehouse, patched roofs for widows, organized clean-ups, hauled lumber for the community center. Hell, he even checked on neighbors just because he could.
But the new secret Cole carried about him was a bitter taste he couldn’t spit out.
He drifted, doing the rounds on autopilot, until—
“Cole, just the man I was hopin’ to see.”
He caught his grimace before it broke loose and turned.
Henry Wetzel was waving him down.
“Henry,” he said mildly, glad that at least Edith wasn’t with him.
“The girls were telling me y’all had a special visitor at the house yesterday after the ceremony.”
Apparently, Edith not being there didn't matter.
Cole took a slow breath, bracing his hands on his hips. “That’s right. Jocelyn Murphy came all this way to honor Pop.”
Henry shifted but pressed on. “How long is she staying?”
Cole sucked his teeth, let the silence drag a beat. “Don’t know. Why?”
Henry’s gaze darted around, his face souring. Age sat heavy on him, sagging his lids over those small, dark eyes, though he was somewhere around his pop’s age. “Well… she isn’t exactly a welcome sight.”
Cole resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but only just. “Sounds like a personal problem, Henry.”
Henry leaned in, shoving his plate aside. “We’re just worried what it means for the festival.”
There it was. Cole’s hand went for Henry’s empty glass, more for something to do than anything. “Why would it mean anything?”
“Well, you know how the ladies get.” He waved a pudgy hand like female feelings were gnats in the air. “The festival matters—heritage, tourism, all that.”
Cole’s jaw ticked. “Tourists don’t give a damn about Jocelyn bein’ here.” Locals, though… They’d eat themselves alive if she so much as breathed wrong.
Henry winced as if a phantom of his wife had slapped him. “Now, listen. You know who her mama was, right?"
Cole leaned heavily on a long-suffering sigh, jaw shifting forward.
Henry was undeterred. "She was from the wrong side of the tracks, as they say. Lots of family scandal. You know Bonnie's mama and daddy got married just because she was pregnant, and then he up and left when Bonnie was barely a baby? And her grandaddy was the town drunkard. Apple don't fall too far fromthattree." His brows bounced with the words.
A slow, mean burn settled in Cole's gut—sparked by that pile of judgment he hadn’t invited. "Didn't sign up for the biography."
Henry held up both hands. "Alright, alright. I know your mama’s close with her, and your daddy, too. I figure they probably won’t be too happy to hear about any schemin'. But we all know how you feel about… things. Maybe you can find a way to, I don’t know, encourage her to move along?”
Cole’s whole body clenched. Henry had pressed the right button there, and that just pissed him off more. “What makes you think I could do any damn thing?”
“Because she’s young, she’s pretty, and you are—” He gestured at Cole.
“Young and pretty?” he supplied, tone flat. The last thing he needed was to spend his time trying to convince Jocelyn Murphy of anything.
Henry grinned. “Exactly.”
Cole squinted. “Don’t you reckon me trying to charm her would backfire?” He lifted a brow. “Curse of being too good-looking.”
Henry’s grin flattened, his brows following suit until they folded into a deep furrow.
