Page 10 of Somebody to Love

He looked down at his dog, who simply wagged his tail.

“Some kind of protector you are.”

“You look at me when I’m speaking to you, boy.”

Dressed for exercise in a pair of stretchy black leggings that challenged the laws of gravity, Mary Howard stood bristling before him. Her mouth was set in an angry line, as it always was when she was anywhere near him. He and this woman shared bad blood.

“I’m thirty years old, Mrs. Howard, please don’t call me a boy. And I can assure you the sound the band made last night was well within the limits. As a town councilor, it wouldn’t be right for me to try and break those limits, now would it.”

“Don’t you answer me back, boy, I know what I heard.”

Her eyes narrowed as she leaned toward him. The corner of her zip dug into the flesh under her chin, which had to hurt.

“I’m not checking them again, Mrs. Howard, because they haven’t changed since last time you complained.” Joe usually went for the path of least resistance when he encountered her, but sometimes, like today, when he was feeling edgy, he struck back.

“You’ll do what’s right because you owe this town, and some of us more than others.”

The burn of anger slowly filled his body. He tamped it down.

“I haven’t forgotten what I owesomeof the town, Mrs. Howard.” He put emphasis on “some,” because this woman was definitely not one of them.

“You and yours are bad blood, and to my mind that doesn’t change. Drinking, drugs, and stealing, that’s all you’re good for.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Howard, I’ve been back ten years, and not been in one scrap of trouble. Jake’s running a successful business at the ranch, and Luke’s a firefighter, so I’m not entirely sure what we have to do to prove we’ve changed. Furthermore, I’m about done trying.”

Not that he or his brothers’ gave a shit what this woman thought of them, but she was like a burr under his skin sometimes, which was never comfortable, but something he could live with if he had to.

“How’s your son doing, by the way?”

She was now the color of a tomato.

“Don’t you speak about my boy. He’s ten of you.”

“If you say so, but then how would anyone know? He left town same time as me, and never returned. You have to wonder why?” He wasn’t a mean person by nature, but sometimes it came out, and usually when he was around this woman.

“My boy has important business, and has no time to come back to this small town.”

“The small town you live in, Mrs. Howard?”

She spluttered, but rallied. Nothing kept this woman’s mouth shut for longer than ten seconds.

“Hello, Mrs. Howard.”

Joe hadn’t heard the tea shop door open, or Bailey move to his side.

“Who are you?” Mrs. Howard looked Bailey up and down rudely.

“Bailey Jones.”

The beady eyes narrowed. “I heard you were playing piano in New York.”

“Yes, and other places.”

“Well, you just keep away from him and his.” She looked Joe’s way.

“Pardon?” Bailey’s question was cold enough to have ice on it.

“Bailey—”

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