Kevin slammed his fist into Cal’s stomach, then Cal delivered a solid punch to Kevin’s chest. None of the businessmen or retirees watching showed any inclination to help, so she knew she was on her own, but the only other action she could think of went against her grain. Still, she couldn’t come up with a better idea so she sat down on a barstool, dragged in a huge gulp of air, and began to scream at the top of her lungs.
The sound was annoying, even to her, but she kept at it. The onlookers immediately shifted their attention from the fight to the crazed blonde sitting on a barstool wailing like a banshee. Cal got so distracted that he allowed Kevin to catch him in the side of his head. Then Kevin lost his focus and ended up on the floor.
She sucked in more air and kept screaming.
“Will you stop it!” Cal bellowed, staggering away from the wall.
She was starting to get dizzy, but she forced herself to let loose a fresh stream of shrieks.
Kevin scrambled up from the floor, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s hysterical.” Cal wiped the beer from his eyes with the back of his hand, dragged in some air, and lurched toward her with a purposeful gleam in his eye. “I’m going to have to slap her.”
“Don’t you dare!” she yelped.
“Got to.” The gleam in his eye now had a faintly d
iabolical cast to it.
“Touch me and I’ll scream!”
“Don’t touch her!” three people in the crowd called out at once.
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the onlookers. “You could have helped, you know, and then this wouldn’t have been necessary.”
“It’s only a bar fight,” Kevin grumbled. “No reason to make such a big deal out of it.”
Cal took her arm and pulled her down off the barstool. “She’s a little high-strung.”
“I’ll say.” Kevin pulled up his shirttail to wipe the beer from his face. A cut on his cheekbone was bleeding, and one eye had puffed up.
A middle-aged man wearing a starched white shirt and black bow tie regarded her curiously. “Who is she, anyway?”
Cal pretended not to hear.
“Darlington,” she said, holding out her hand to shake. “Jane Darlington.”
“She’s my wife,” Cal muttered.
“Your wife?” The man looked faintly bewildered as he took her hand.
“The same,” she replied.
“This is Harley Crisp. He runs the local hardware store.” Jane had never heard a more begrudging introduction.
Harley dropped Jane’s hand and turned to Cal. “How come when she finally showed up here, she was with Tucker and not you?”
Cal clenched his jaw. “They’re old friends.”
Jane realized everyone in the bar was now assessing her, and none of them looked particularly friendly.
“Nice you could finally spare the time to come meet the people who live here, Miz Bonner,” Harley said.
She heard several other hostile murmurs, including one from the attractive bartender, and knew that the story of Cal’s chilly scientist wife who thought she was more important than everyone else had spread.
Cal diverted the crowd’s attention by directing the bartender to put the damages on Kevin’s lunch tab. Kevin looked sulky, like a kid who’d been sent to his room. “You threw the first punch.”
Cal ignored him. Instead, he grabbed Jane with a hand still damp from beer and headed toward the front door.