Chapter Ten
“Give me your coat, and I’ll hang it up and get us some paper cups. Want something from the concession stand?”
Emma fingered the top button on her coat. The dance was being held in the fire station. They had moved out the trucks and decorated the building—tables had been placed along the walls, the lights were turned down, and a band was set up against the side wall. Emma had chosen a table way back in the corner, where it was hopefully dark enough for people not to recognize either of them.
“I’ll keep it on a little while. I’m chilled.”
Her escort lifted one brow. “What are you hiding under there, Emma?” He looked down at her bright red shoes and sheer-hosed legs. “I’m getting curious.”
She opened the cooler they had brought and waved him away. “Go get some cups and some ice. I’m not hungry yet.”
After Ben walked off, she unbuttoned her coat, threw it over a chair, then arranged Greta’s shawl, making sure she was covered from her neck to her waist.
What had possessed her to wear this dress?
She had two other dresses that were far more modest, but the devil-fairy had returned this afternoon.
“I want to talk to you.”
Emma looked up to find Wayne Poulin looming over her, and he didn’t look like he was planning to ask her to dance. “Hi, Wayne. What’s up?”
He placed his hands on the table and leaned over, attempting to look intimidating. But she had never been afraid of Wayne Poulin, and she wasn’t about to start now.
“I want you to keep that kid away from me.”
That surprised her. “I doubt Mikey wants to be anywhere near you, Wayne. So I don’t see the problem.”
“He was in my room today. When I got home from work tonight, that kid was just leaving Greta’s. And when I got up to my room, I realized someone had been in it. Snooping.”
“I was in your room.” Emma stood up, forcing him to straighten to look her level in the face. “I brought up your laundry for Greta and dusted a bit.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “You did more than dust.”
Emma shrugged. “I probably moved a few things while cleaning. Sorry.”
“What were you looking for?” Wayne crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze traveled up and down her, and his eyes gleamed. “You’re looking a lot like your sister this evening, Emma Jean. Why’s that? You got a hot date tonight?”
“The lady has a possessive date tonight, Poulin. So I suggest you move along.”
Wayne Poulin swung around with a start. Emma saw his eyes widen when he recognized the speaker, and he had to tilt his head up as he took a step back.
“Sinclair!”
Ben set an ice bucket and a plastic cup on the table. He towered over Wayne by a good foot, and seeing them together face-to-face, Emma realized what she had known all along.
Benjamin Sinclair was not only tall, he was solid: the type of man who would never run from a problem. When he had left Medicine Gore sixteen years ago, he hadn’t abandoned a pregnant girl—he had merely walked away from a disastrous love affair. Nothing could have dragged Ben from his child then, and a whole town full of animosity wouldn’t be able to now.
Wayne had said Ben’s name loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. People were turning. Conversations had ceased. And whispers arose all around them.
With a feeling of doom, Emma watched the men face each other. Wayne stood defensively, his hands balled into fists, his shoulders rigid, and his eyes cold. Ben appeared relaxed, but Emma knew he was ready for any attack, verbal or physical.
“Wayne was just thanking me for bringing up his laundry,” she said into the silence. “I was helping Greta.”
“Who’s Greta?” Ben asked. He was looking at her, but Emma knew his attention was still firmly on Wayne.
“She owns the boardinghouse in town. She practically raised Kelly and me.”
“Greta Lavoie,” he said, nodding. “I remember now. Kelly took me over to her house for cake several times.”
Emma glared at Ben. He winked back and reached into the cooler. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey and cracked the seal, poured some in a cup of ice, then put the cover back on. Then he pulled out a bottle of beer for himself and looked back at Wayne. “I’d invite you to sit with us, Poulin, but I no longer share my dates.”
Wayne stalked away.
Emma quietly whistled between her teeth. “Are you looking for trouble tonight, or just trying to drive me crazy?”
Ben looked up from opening his beer, his gaze going to her shawl, then down to the red dress below it. His eyes stopped at the hem. Emma watched them widen before they rose to her face.
“Did you forget to put on the pants that go with that blouse?” he asked softly.
She tightened the shawl over her chest.
Ben walked around the table and held the back of her chair. “Sit,” he quietly ordered. “And remind me to hold down the back of that dress when we dance.”
“It’s not that short.”
He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down, effectively boxing her in against the wall, setting himself up as guardian of his domain.
Emma snorted just before she took a sip of her drink. He turned and looked at her, and caught her staring at him.
“What was that for?”
“You really are territorial. And either really brave or really dumb. Ben, if you want these people to accept you, you’re going to have to walk the greatest distance. You’re the villain here—not Wayne or Durham or anyone from sixteen years ago.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I was a kid on summer break, and I was
