Jagged (17 page)

Yes. This just got worse.

“Ham—” I started, only for him to talk over me again.

“Bitch three pulled much the same shit as my ex-wife, promises of together and babies, but she worked out half the time. I had to pry her away from her goddamned mirror, she admired the results so much, and by the time we got down to it, again, I found her birth control pills so I knew she was jacking me. This, too, was my fault because I didn’t understand her issues with her body and how a baby would interfere with all her hard work, her body would never be the same, and she was uncertain she was prepared for that at her age. I knew she’d carried extra weight ’cause I was with her before she took it all off. And I knew she worked hard to get it off. I could understand that. Again, that’s the way she is. I get it. What I don’t get is her tellin’ me one thing and doin’ another. You don’t want a baby, say it.”

“They’d lose you if they did,” I explained carefully.

“So jackin’ me around is okay?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No,” I answered hurriedly. “I’m not excusing them. I’m just trying to explain so you understand. Losing you—especially you—is a hard thing to do, Ham. You’re a good guy.”

“Right.” He gave a curt nod. “I think I got that, babe. So exit good-guy Reece. From then on it was no promises, no expectations. Just good times and no bullshit. She starts feeding me bullshit, she doesn’t get another call.”

I pressed my lips together and Ham’s eyes dropped to them before coming back to mine.

“You always got a call,” he reminded me.

“I know.”

“So what’s with the look?” he asked.

“I’m just wondering how many women are out there, waiting for calls,” I answered hesitantly.

“None, seein’ as, when I made my decision it was you and Gnaw Bone, the only other one I had got a call explaining shit and how she wouldn’t be gettin’ future calls. She was in Taos. She was new, a good-time girl, and, babe, it might make me sound like a dick but she wasn’t gonna make the cut anyway. Outside of her, there was only Feb and she’d already moved on.”

All the air squeezed out of my lungs.

The good news was, there was only one.

The bad news was, he’d again mentioned February Owens and her “already moving on,” which made me wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t.

Would he be in Indiana with February?

“How fantastic is this? And you don’t have food! Perfect timing for us to join you!”

Ham’s eyes shot up, my head twisted around, but I already knew that English-accented voice.

Nina and Max were standing there.

Damn.

“Max, darling, isn’t this great?” Nina asked when no one said a word.

Max didn’t look like he thought it was great. His eyes were aimed Greg’s way. Then they swung his sister’s way. Then he looked down at his wife and lifted his brows.

She completely ignored him and shoved into the booth next to Ham.

“You’re Graham Reece,” she stated, pushing her hand his way.

Ham looked at her hand then at her face before he took her hand, muttering, “Reece.”

“Delighted,” she replied as he let her go and her eyes went to her husband. “Max, honey, sit down.” Before Max could do as ordered, or not, she snapped her fingers at a passing waitress and said, “We’re sitting here. Please, when you have a second, we need menus.”

I scooted over when Max slid in beside me and I tipped my head back when his arm curled around my shoulders for a squeeze as his head came down and he kissed my cheek.

“Hey, Zara,” he greeted.

“Hey, Max,” I replied.

Max let me go and extended a hand to Ham. “Reece. Holden Maxwell. Max.”

“Yeah, seen you at The Dog. Good to meet you,” Ham murmured as they did a shake and let go.

Ham looked at me.

I widened my eyes to him.

He raised his brows to me.

I pressed my lips together.

“Can I get you drinks?” our waitress asked the newcomers while handing them menus.

“Beer and keep bringin’ ’em,” Max answered on a mutter.

“Martini for me. Vodka. Up. Olive,” Nina added.

The waitress nodded and moved away.

“Duchess, I said beer and keep ’em comin’. You wanted to do this, I get to drink and you drive us home,” Max told his wife.

I didn’t know what “this” was that Nina wanted to do but I suspected it had something to do with them horning in on my special night with Ham.

And, by the way, Max’s nickname for his wife was “duchess,” this being because she had an English accent. He called her that all the time and I thought it was all kinds of cute.

“Just one,” Nina told her husband. “By the time I’m finished with dinner, I’ll be fine.”

Max looked at Ham and there was a light in his eye and his lips were twitching before he informed him, “You heard it. Now watch as she gets fuckin’ smashed and I stop at beer two.”

I was beginning to feel a hysterical giggle forming inside me.

“I’m not going to get smashed,” Nina snapped.

“We been here fifteen times. Each time, except when you were pregnant, you had two martinis, half a bottle of wine, and an amaretto and passed out in the Cherokee on the way home,” Max returned. She opened her mouth to speak but Max beat her to it, his lips now fully curved up. “And the passing-out part includes when you were pregnant and not smashed.”

Definitely feeling a hysterical giggle forming.

Nina’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll remind you, Holden Maxwell, father of my children, love of my life, that we just met Reece and perhaps he doesn’t wish to listen to us squabbling.”

Max looked at Ham. “Kiss that good-bye. We’ll be fightin’ on and off through dinner. Prepare. She gets riled, we’re all fucked.”

The words sounded like Max was complaining but his tone sounded downright proud.

Nina swung her gaze to Ham. “Don’t listen to him. Ask Zara. I’m very sweet.”

“She’s a goddamn hellion,” Max muttered, now sounding proud and
amused
.

The hysterical giggle was choking me at exactly the same time Ham burst out laughing.

Still laughing, Ham cut his eyes to Max and asked, “You mind we switch sides? Since we got company, I’d like to sit by my woman.”

“Not a problem. I’m closer to my wife, I have a better shot at controlling her,” Max replied, sliding out of his side of the booth.

“Max!” Nina hissed as she slid out of hers.

“Not a good chance,” Max told Ham as they switched sides, “but a better one.”

Everyone settled. Max with his arm resting on the back of their side of the booth, Nina fuming, Max grinning at her. Ham with his arm on the back of our booth, fingers absently brushing my shoulder, both of us sipping beer and smiling.

When their drinks arrived, I took the chance to put my lips to Ham’s ear.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered there.

“I take it they’re your friends,” he whispered in mine.

“Yeah.”

“Then don’t be, baby. We’ll finish later.”

“Okay.”

I pulled away but he caught me with his arm around my shoulders, pulled me back, and touched his mouth to mine.

When he let me go, we settled back and my eyes went to Nina.

She was sipping her martini.

When she placed the drink back on the table, her eyes were dancing on me and she said, “Told you.”

It hit me then. She knew why Ham was pissed about the vibrator usage.

I smiled at her and replied, “You so totally did.”

Nina was halfway through her martini and we were all the way through our bread basket when she leaned toward Ham and me.

“I know you think we’re rude—” she started.

“That’s because we
are
rude,” Max murmured. Nina sent him a killing glance, to which Max grinned at her. She rolled her eyes and then looked back at us.

“But, I’m sure you know this, Greg is here,” she finished.

“I noticed,” I told her.

“And Kami,” she told me.

“I know,” I told her.

“When I saw that, we had to come over and interrupt. You needed reinforcements. Trust me, things can go bad at The Rooster,” she stated gravely.

I found this intriguing, but before I could ask, Nina’s eyes darted to the side and up and she inquired, “Can I help you?”

“No,” my aunt snapped from where she stood beside our table.

I tensed. Ham went solid. I even sensed Nina and Max tensing.

“Walk away,” Ham growled.

I looked to the side to see Ham’s head tipped back to scowl at Dahlia Cinders, my maiden aunt, who had a black soul, a nasty mouth, a heart of stone, and a flair for drama.

She looked like she always looked, except older. Perfectly creased trousers. Flouncy blouse. Appropriate jewelry, all of it quality, none of it ostentatious. Now-fully-gray hair swept back in a not unattractive bun but, knowing her, nothing was attractive. Brown eyes that didn’t hide she was mean as a snake.

She ignored his words but not him.

“Heard you were back in town. Heard you installed her back under your roof,” she noted.

“Walk away,” Ham repeated.

She again ignored him and went on. “Clearly she didn’t learn the first time, good riddance to bad rubbish.”

Nina gasped.

Max grunted.

My breath caught.

“Walk… the fuck… away,” Ham snarled.

“Excuse me, I don’t know you or why you’re suddenly here, but we’re trying to enjoy a nice night out,” Nina butted in. “Please, make a choice and do it swiftly. You can do as Mr. Reece says or I’m calling the manager.”

My aunt turned her venomous eyes to Nina. “I have a few words to say to my niece.”

Nina didn’t even blink but her back went straight.

She’d never met them but I’d told her. She knew all about my family.

“So write them down on nice notepaper and use our trusty postal service to deliver them,” Nina retorted.

“Oh fuck,” Max muttered, getting close and curling an arm around his wife’s waist.

“Nice language,” Aunt Dahlia snapped.

Max looked at her a moment, then, weirdly, grinned.

“Excuse me!” Nina hissed. “That’s my husband you’re talking to.”

“He has a foul mouth,” Aunt Dahlia returned.

“Better that than foul manners,” Nina shot back.

This was semiamusing but mostly scary and it got scarier when Ham slid out of the booth, got close to Aunt Dahlia, looked down at her, his scary-scarier-scariest face unamused and entirely pissed-off, and he rumbled menacingly, “I said, walk…
the fuck…
away.”

“Is there a problem here?”

Oh hell.

That was Greg.

“You,” Aunt Dahlia sneered at my ex-husband. “I know who you are. Her one shot at respectability and you scrape her off? What, did she cheat on you?”

Greg ignored her, looked to me, and asked, “Are you all right?”

“This is my Aunt Dahlia,” I stated as answer.

“I know. You pointed her out at the festival three years ago,” Greg replied.

“So, obviously, no. I’m not all right, seeing as I’m choking on Cinders-infected air,” I returned.

Greg looked at Aunt Dahlia. “You need to leave.”

“I already told her that,” Ham growled.

Greg ignored Ham like he didn’t exist and said to Aunt Dahlia, “I’ll ask the manager to have you removed.”

“Since I dine here once a month, I doubt he’ll choose removing me over removing the lot of you.” She twirled her finger in the air to indicate us all.

“Do you think,” Nina started and I looked at her to see her looking at Max, “that this is normal? I mean, does this kind of thing happen to other people in the world? I really want to know.”

Max smiled at his wife.

I looked back at Aunt Dahlia to see, scarily, she was looking at me. “You need to phone your father.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

This was said by Kami Maxwell.

I leaned forward and plonked my forehead on the table.

“Kami,” Max said in a warning tone. “Stay out of it.”

“The staff is excellent when they’re serving food,” Nina remarked irritably. “They disappear during drama. Where are they? I really want to know.”

“Don’t you call your father, Zara,” Kami ordered.

I lifted my forehead off the table and aimed my eyes at Max’s sister, a pleasantly plump, female rendition of her brother, which was to say she had great eyes, fantastic dark, wavy hair, and very attractive features.

“That’s not a worry, honey. I’ve conditioned my body to spontaneously combust if I get six digits in,” I told her.

“I don’t find you amusing,” Aunt Dahlia snapped.

“I don’t give a shit,” I shot back.

“Excuse me.” Greg had hold of the arm of one of the waiters. “Can you please send the manager over here?”

“Of course,” she muttered before she quickly scurried away.

“You’re a mean old bitch,” Kami said to my aunt, “and I’ve been bein’ nice for a real long time.”

Nina’s eyes cut to me and got huge, eloquent indication that I agreed with that Kami’s brand of “bein’ nice” was not agreed on by all.

Kami kept talking.

“And these boys here won’t want to get in a smackdown with a nasty old woman. But not me. I got no problem doin’ that. So if you don’t walk away, I’ve got enough bitch stored up, I’m aimin’ it all at you, startin’ with throwin’ Nina’s drink in your face.”

At this, Nina slid her drink out of reach.

“Then,” Kami went on, “if you, that snake of a brother of yours, or his sniveling wife get anywhere near Zara, phone her, or attempt to get in touch with her in any way, I’m unleashing all holy hell on all your asses until you beg for forgiveness or move to another state.”

“Is there a problem here?” A mild-mannered-looking suited man I suspected was the manager entered the situation.

“No, I’m simply having a word with my niece,” my aunt replied.

“Yes, this woman interrupted my wife’s dinner in an extremely unpleasant way,” Greg contradicted.

“She’s not your wife,” Ham grunted.

Uh-oh.

Shocking the crap out of me, Greg, with narrowed eyes and anger contorting his face, instantly fired back at Ham, “She’ll
always
be my wife.”

I went still. The table went still. I fancied the restaurant went still as I was pretty certain I watched ice form in a thick layer, crackling and groaning all around Ham.