Rory’s black Irish smile widened. “The people who matter aren’t the ones who clap for Kent Henderson and his tired rendition of ‘Tennessee Stud.’”
Courtney finally found her sense of humor. “And that would be who? You, me, Juni?”
He shrugged. “And one or two others.” He leaned a little closer. “I’ve missed her music these last few weeks. Would you tell her that for me?”
Whoa. Wait. What was up with Rory? Did he have a crush on Arwen? In a million years Courtney would never have seen that coming. Arwen was so middle-of-the-road about everything except her music. And Rory…well, he was the walking embodiment of a black Irish rebel.
“I’ll tell her. But I have to be honest, something’s up with that girl. She’s been avoiding me.”
“Has she, now?”
Courtney looked down at her drink and played with the cherry for a moment. “I miss her too. And I have a feeling someone has swept her off her feet. Someone romantic. You know the kind. A guy who sends flowers, takes her out to nice restaurants. She’s hungry for that sort of thing.”
“Is she, now?”
What the hell? She hardly knew Rory, so pigeonholing him into one of her ten male types would be wrong. But the tattoos, earrings, and leather suggested a guy who was carrying around lots of pain and anger. If she had to bet, he was probably another example of the Emotionally Unavailable Man. Or maybe an Irish version of a Man Baby—one of those guys who thinks his emotions are more important than anyone else’s.
“Yeah, Arwen’s a sucker for romance. She’s also a nice Jewish girl. You might want to keep that in mind.”
“I’ll do that,” Rory said as his gaze drifted toward the door just as Ryan Pierce arrived.
Oh, great, her night was complete. She should have stayed in and ordered pizza.
“Drinking alone?” Ryan asked as he took the stool next to hers.
“Not now.”
Ryan ordered a Coke. Rory headed down the bar to fill the order while Ryan scanned the dining room as if he were looking for someone.
“Juni hasn’t shown her face tonight, if that’s who you’re looking for,” Courtney said.
Ryan stilled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.
Suddenly the world made no sense. “You know, Ryan, you come in here almost every evening. You sit at the bar and drink a Coke, and you watch Juni. But for all her aura reading, she’s utterly unaware of your focus.”
“You’re a fine one to talk,” he said. “By the way, did Matt Lyndon ever win his bet?”
She said nothing, but she had the horrible feeling that Ryan Pierce was as good at reading body language as she was. So she took a huge gulp of her drink.
“I thought so,” he said as Rory placed the soft drink in front of him. Thank God Rory didn’t stay to chat. Instead he moved down the bar and started filling drink orders for a group of guys at the corner. “I think Rory has a crush on Arwen,” she said.
“You’ve just now figured that out?”
“How did I miss that?”
“Maybe because you’re too busy passing judgment on people.”
Ryan’s criticism was justified. She did pass judgment on people, especially men. And she probably needed to stop. People were more complicated than her man classification system.
Ryan Pierce might not be the emotionally unavailable one. Maybe that label fit Juni even better. And any man who truly listened to Arwen Jacobs’s songs couldn’t be a Man Baby.
Was Matt really a Hook-up Artist when he hadn’t brought a single woman home with him over the last week? She knew because she’d been listening for just that sort of thing. And besides, he quoted Shakespeare, had apparently adored his grandmother, and loved cats. And once, he might have proposed marriage to someone who might have played him.
Damn it all, she loved every single one of Matt’s inconsistencies. Despite all her efforts to keep him at arm’s length, to push him away, to be careful with her heart, she’d fallen for him anyway.
If only she were braver. But she was as big a coward as Ryan Pierce. The object of her desire lived only five steps away from her front door, and she didn’t have the courage to make that journey. But if she didn’t take a risk on someone soon, she’d be spending the rest of her Mondays here at the bar alone.
On Monday evening, Matt walked home slowly, turning over David’s advice in his mind. Was he tilting at windmills?
Maybe. David was right, though, about one thing. Matt was a fool to think he could stop the development that was changing Jefferson County. The sad fact was that Shenandoah Falls was becoming a suburb of Washington, DC. Its rural character was disappearing.
Still, that didn’t give the county the right to work hand in glove with GB Ventures. The close connection between the fines and the land sales suggested graft. Or even abuse of the public trust. Matt hadn’t found evidence of real corruption, like kickbacks, but there was the possibility of that. Maybe he should get his younger brother, Jason, involved. Jason had just finished the FBI training course, so he had to know more about how to run an investigation than Matt did.
No. Matt couldn’t leave things alone. Something had to be done about the cushy relationship between Bill Cummins and GB Ventures. But what?
Should he run against Cummins in the next election, which was only a few months away? The party hadn’t put up a candidate yet. And the filing deadline was looming. Should he run for office?
No way. Who would vote for him?
The sun hung low in the sky as he walked down Rice Street. The mockingbird who lived in the tree on the corner serenaded him with evening song. A trace of something sweet, like honeysuckle, hung in the air, and a soft
