She looked at him. "Nothing."
"What's got into her?" Paul asked over his shoulder.
"She met some guy last night. He was a jerk," Molly replied.
Paul frowned. "I heard something about that. At that bar everyone went to after work last night. Was it that cat shifter? Landin?"
Ali didn’t answer.
Paul, of course, didn't need any encouragement. "Yeah, that was it. Kitty Landin. You went home with that guy? Ali, he’s a weirdo. No one likes him."
Ali mopped harder.
There was a long, awkward, silent moment. Then Paul said, “Did he do anything bad to you?”
Paul tried, sometimes, to be an actual big brother to her. Ali usually wished he’d do it more often, but not now.
"I don't want to talk about it,” she said.
"If he was an asshole to my sister, I gotta teach him a lesson.” Paul’s voice firmed up. "Some guys on the crew have been saying he needs one anyway. All full of himself, like cats always are. Maybe I'll find him in Ryder's Lodge sometime this weekend."
"He dropped her off," Molly said. "It was only half an hour or so ago. He might still be in Prescott."
"Huh,” Paul said slowly.
Ali closed her eyes. “Paul, don’t.”
“Hey now,” said Paul. “You’re telling me he mistreated you—my baby sister—and I shouldn’t show him what I think of that? I shouldn’t be looking out for you, is that what you’re saying?”
No, I’m saying you shouldn’t use me as an excuse to do what you want to do anyway, she thought. But Ali knew from experience that saying that wouldn’t change Paul’s mind.
Anyway, what did she care? Grey was a lying jerk. If Paul wanted to pick a fight with him, who cared?
“No,” she said finally. “Do what you want.”
“Thanks, I will.” Paul grabbed a handful of snacks from Molly’s plate. “See you later, Molly.”
After the front door closed, Molly transferred her glare to Ali. “Now look what you did.”
“Me?” The unfairness of the accusation hurt, even though by now she should be used to that sort of thing. “I didn’t do anything!”
“If it weren’t for you, my husband wouldn’t be heading out to get into trouble.” Molly looked down at her picked-over plates. “And now I have to make more of these, and the book club is in less than an hour.”
Ali sighed. “I’ll help. But I have to go to work soon.”
“Just get out the bowls.”
Ali helped her fix little nibbles of Pinterest-worthy quality for the next half hour, and then fled the kitchen to change into her work uniform.
Getting out of the house was good. She dawdled a little on the way to work. She’d left with plenty of time, and she wasn’t looking forward to an afternoon of smiling at customers.
It was a beautiful spring day, sunny and warm, but that didn’t seem important next to all of the crappy stuff that had happened.
God, she needed to get out of this town.
And then, when she got to work, she saw Grey Landin was sitting in a booth.
***