Chapter 1 #2
“I heard from Sue Ann—who was seated one table away, so this ain’t gossip, it’s just eye-witness reporting—that Shane flipped out on their big date at the Buttery Clam last night.
He lit into Shelby right in front of everyone.
” Frankie snorts. “The dummy ordered the seafood special for them both, not remembering that Shelby is allergic. Of course she had to turn away her plate.”
Meemaw smacks her lips while my whole body goes rigid with rage.
I heard there was a scene and a breakup, but the details are worse than I thought.
Everyone knows Shelby’s allergic to shellfish.
What was he thinking taking her on a date to a seafood restaurant?
Never much liked him, but now I know he’s also an idiot.
“I guess he got embarrassed about her turning down his romantic gesture and stormed out, calling her ungrateful. They got outside, and he rounded on her, lifting his fist. This bit I got from David Jr. who was trying to load up a plant his wife bought from The Dirty Orchid across the street. Shane punched the brick wall by her head and then moaned about the potential broken hand being Shelby’s fault.
Poor girl started shaking, and David Jr. had to give him a talkin’ to. ”
Meemaw gasps. Pops stands up faster than I’ve seen him move in ages. And as for me? I’ve already pulled out my keys to go find that asshole despite the curtain of red that’s taken over my vision. He’s gonna die tonight.
Frankie pushes open the screen door and snags my arm as I stomp by. “Now hold up, big brother.”
I turn on her, tamping down the irritation that seeps out of me like sweat from fixing fences in the summer sun. “For your own safety, take your hand off me, Frankie. I have a score to settle.”
She smiles, snug as a bug in a rug. “I figured you’d say that, which is why I already invited Shelby over for supper so we can get the real story.” She looks past my shoulder. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s her now.”
“Shelby!” Ryder abandons his pretend swimming to race across the porch. If there’s one thing he loves more than swimming, it’s Shelby Sweet.
My heart pounds, watching her ancient Chevy bounce over the driveway at a speed even Meemaw could out walk.
Her shock of curly brown hair becomes visible the closer she gets, the copper highlights more pronounced in the golden hour light.
All that adrenaline that was aimed at her ex is now squarely aimed at her.
“Easy now,” Frankie purrs as if I’m one of the family horses.
My sister tries to reason with me, but I’m not in the mood for reason. I’m spoiling for a fight. It’s been a long time since I’ve raised my voice, and I’m due. A man’s gotta let out some steam every now and again.
Shelby’s questionable vehicle finally pulls up to the house. I’ve begged her for years to get rid of it and get something more reliable, to which she’s ignored me. She claims that barge of a Blazer could stand up to a speeding train.
I watch as she gets out of the car and faces me.
Her lips are slicked with a rosy gloss, but they aren’t smiling like usual.
In fact, her sky-blue eyes are bloodshot and wary, a look I hate to see on her pretty face.
Half of the anger pulsing through me is replaced with something I can’t identify and don’t want to examine too closely.
“Dallas,” she says calmly.
“Shelby!” Ryder barrels into her in his typical single-minded focus. Shelby sweeps my boy off his feet and twirls him around, obviously just as happy to see him.
I don’t miss the way her jeans hug her full hips like white on rice.
She’s insecure about her hips thanks to a careless comment from a boyfriend senior year of high school.
Thankfully, she has an equally impressive rack which she is proud of.
I don’t like to objectify my best friend, but I do have eyes.
Sadly, so does every other man in this county.
Shelby sets Ryder down and he’s already asking her to swim across the porch with him. I step forward, putting my hand on his shoulder. I don’t take my eyes off Shelby, though.
“Maybe after supper, bud. Right now, I need to speak to Shelby. Adult talk.”
Shelby’s eyes narrow just a hair.
“Everybody inside, please,” I say louder through clenched teeth.
“Aww, man,” Meemaw whines like a child, but she goes, beckoning Ryder and Nelly inside with her.
Once I hear the screen door slap shut for the last time, I take one more step toward Shelby.
We’re close enough she has to hinge her head back to hold my stare.
And hold it she does. This girl has a spine of steel—at least around me.
I wish she’d show off that spine around these weak-ass boyfriends of hers.
“You’ve been avoiding my texts. And my calls,” I drawl, careful with my tone.
Shelby folds her arms across her chest, pulling that well-worn denim shirt even tighter across her breasts. Any lesser man would get distracted, but I have a bone to pick and manage to stay on topic.
“Didn’t know I needed to check in, Dad.”
Ignoring her sass, I dive right in. “Did you kick Shane to the curb after his little stunt last night?”
Her eyes well up with tears, and I feel like an ass for bringing it up. But someone’s got to. How many of these boyfriends have turned out to be losers? Twenty? Thirty? Dammit, I’ve lost count.
The thing is, I know Shelby. I know her to her core.
She’s a good woman. The best there is. She just doesn’t possess the ability to pick someone who deserves her or who’s going to treat her like she needs to be treated.
And since her daddy’s not around anymore to knock some sense into these man-babies, it’s up to me to do it.
The man asked me to take care of her, and I take my promises seriously.
“Why do you care?” she snaps. The tone is cold, but the tears in her eyes, along with the wobble in her lip, give her away. It’s the wobble that hits me right in the chest. Shelby’s the strongest woman I know, and yet this man has made her question herself.
I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet, blinded by fury and protectiveness and a sense of duty that’s careening out of control. Years of pent-up frustration have reached a boiling point. Enough is enough.
Shelby’s eyes follow the movement, confusion clear on her face. I pull out the thing I’ve kept in my wallet for longer than I’ve had Ryder’s picture in there. I hold it up for a brief moment, the ends fluttering in the evening breeze, then slap it down on the hood of her stupid truck.
“I care…” I lean in close enough to count the freckles spanning across her nose. “…because this here piece of paper says I’m your fiancé. And no one treats my woman like that.”