“It is an issue. You think I’m going to go call him out? Beat him up?”
“Aren’t you?” she demanded.
“It would be satisfying, and I admit it was my own knee-jerk response. But no, that’s not what I’m going to do. What I am going to do is talk to him, make it clear if he bothers you again, there’ll be consequences.”
“So if he bothers me again, then you’ll beat him up?”
He had to smile. “That’s possible to likely. We’re involved, you and me. You matter. I’m telling you what I’m going to do because I figure when people are involved, when they matter, they tell each other.”
Something in what he said struck a chord with her, and opened a void. Think about it later, she told herself. Deal with now. “I don’t see how picking a fight with him is an answer.”
“Clare.” Firmly, he covered her hands with his. “I didn’t pick the fight. Neither did you. Now you do what you have to do. Make the call. I’ll do what I have to do. Then, if Sam’s got any common sense, or sense of self- preservation, he’ll leave you alone.” He gave her hands a light squeeze before releasing them.
“You can be pissed at me for a while,” he told her. “I’m still a little pissed at you. We’ll get over it.”
“You know what I’ve always noticed about you and your brothers? The hard heads, and the unassailable certainty that you always know the answer.”
“When you know the answer, it’s not being hardheaded. It’s just being right.” He went to the door, opened it. “You’re the woman in my life,” he said. “Another thing about me and my brothers? We look after the women in our lives. We don’t know any other way.”
He went out, stuck his hands in his pockets, crossed the street. He was more than a little pissed off, he admitted. At her, at fucking Sam Freemont, at the whole screwed-up situation.
He knew how to put on the calm when he had to. Knew how to exert some self-control even when he didn’t want to.
He went through the inn, looking for one or both of his brothers. His pleasure at the sight and smell of paint, of men busy at work, couldn’t quite cut through the fury still balled in his gut.
He caught the scent of honeysuckle as he topped the second floor—and heard the porch door swing open in E&D.
“Not now,” he muttered, and kept going up to three. He found Ryder in the innkeeper’s kitchen setting the first of the cabinets.
“Good, give me a hand.”
“I’m heading up to Hagerstown.”
“Give me a hand anyway. Let’s get this first one up. How’d it go with Clare?”
“You don’t know people till you know them. Isn’t that what Dad always said?” He braced the cabinet on the marks while Ryder got the drill. “She’s got a bigger stubborn streak than I ever noticed.”
“Let me ask you a question. How many women have you known who didn’t have a stubborn streak?”
Beckett thought it over. “Good point. But she’s calling the cops. She doesn’t want to, and she’s pissed I found the right lever to push her to do it.”
Ryder drilled the first screw home. “You used the kids, didn’t you?”
“That’s her weak point, so yeah. Plus, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. And she’s pissed I’m going up to talk to Freemont.”
“Told you not to tell her.”
“That’s not how I work things. That’s not how you build a relationship.”
“Build a relationship.” Ryder snorted as he sent the drill whirling. “You’ve been reading again.”
“Blow me.” He glanced around as Owen came in.
“Guys downstairs said you blew right through, so I figure you’d talked to Clare.”
“Yeah, I talked to her. I’m heading up to talk to Sam.”
“Good. Are you sure you don’t want backup?”
“I can handle Freemont.”
“He practiced fighting with Clare first,” Ryder said as he checked the level of the cabinet.
“Well,” Owen shrugged, “she’s wrong.”
“I don’t know how you guys missed the memo, but it doesn’t mean dick when a woman’s wrong. Flowers,” Ryder told Beckett.
“I’m not buying her flowers. She ought to buy
Ryder just shook his head when Beckett stormed out. “You know, for twenty bucks’ worth of daisies or whatever, he could smooth a lot of this over.”
“He’s standing on principle.”
“Yeah, and a man who stands on principle doesn’t get laid.” He finished the first cabinet, stood back to take a look. “Let’s get the rest of the top run up.”
“I’m supposed to meet Hope over at Vesta at ten. Avery’s letting us use the back room to go over the reservation software.”
“So, she can wait a few minutes. You’re not planning to bang her, are you?”
“Jesus, I’m not going to bang our innkeeper.”
“Then you won’t have to buy her flowers if you’re late. Let’s get these up.”
Beckett found his calm again on the drive up the Sharpsburg Pike. In his experience you got more results with flat reason than angry confrontation. He just had to keep reminding himself he wanted results and not the satisfaction of a fight.
Not that he couldn’t take lame-assed Sam Freemont—which he had on one memorable occasion in sophomore, no junior year, he remembered, when the bastard had tried to shake down little Denny Moser over Denny’s homework.
And that, he recalled, had taken only one punch.
He remembered, too, Freemont had gone whining to Assistant Principal Klein, but with Denny backing him up, Beckett hadn’t gotten in any particular trouble.
Freemont tended to steer clear of the Montgomerys, he thought as he pulled into the car dealership. Beckett doubted Freemont would be pleased to see him there, on his own turf.
Beckett headed straight into the showroom with its shiny, new, spotlighted cars. Before he’d done more than glance around, one of the salesmen hotfooted over.
“Good morning! It’s a great day for a new car. What can I put you into today?”
“I’m not after a car. I’m looking for Sam Freemont.”
The salesman’s smile stayed in place, but his eyes lost their light. “He should be back in his office. I can have him called out.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll go on back. Where’s his office?”
The man gestured. “Back there, turn left. He’s all the way down. The corner office.”
“Thanks.”
Beckett worked his way down past empty offices, or others where salesmen manned phones or computers. He found Sam with his feet up on his desk, paging through a copy of
Figured.
“Sorry to interrupt since I see you’re so busy.”
Sam looked up. The sneer came first, just a quick twist of the mouth as he slowly set his feet on the floor. “Looking for a new pickup? We’ve got a basic economy model that should suit you. No frills for the working stiff.”
“Nice sales pitch.” Beckett stepped in, closed the door.
“Leave the door open.”
“Fine, if you want everybody to hear this.” Obliging, Beckett opened the door again. He thought about remaining standing, then opted for the more casual, even careless mode, and sat.
“Unless you’re here to buy a car, I’m busy.”
“Yeah, checking out the latest fashion in ties. This won’t take long, then you can get back to it. You crossed a line with Clare yesterday.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
