Shane walked back to where his friends stood and lowered me gently to my feet. When I finally opened my mouth and tried to argue his caveman treatment to my person was out of line, he pointed a finger at my face and ordered, “Stay.” There was something in his rough voice that suggested he expected me to obey without question. And for some odd reason, I did until I came to my senses.
“I’m not a dog,” I muttered under my breath as he walked away. Too many years of cowering to my stepfather had taught me to stand my ground, so when his stride hesitated at my reply, I took satisfaction in knowing he’d heard.
“She’ll do . . . and about damn time if I say so myself. Wouldn’t you agree, Mia?” the gray-haired woman oddly said when he walked away.
I was just as stubborn as he was pigheaded, though, so I moved to follow him. I had to reach him somehow, to help him, but a warm, soft hand grabbed my arm, halting my progress. I turned toward the person, ready to argue, and found a gorgeous, black-haired woman with crystal-blue eyes wearing a quirky T-shirt and huge black glasses.
“I couldn’t agree more, Maxine,” she said. “Come inside and have a drink. I think Maxine and I need to hear your story.”
“But I need to talk to Sergeant—”
“Shane isn’t going to listen to you right now,” the older woman interrupted. “If you want to help him, then let him be for a while.”
“Help him with what?” a seriously hot mountain of a man with green eyes and longish, brown hair that looked like he tugged at it regularly, rumbled low.
Lord, men grew big and gorgeous here.
“Seriously, Max? How did I raise a man who’s that obtuse?”
The man she called Max narrowed his eyes at his apparent mother and growled, “Pain in my ass,” if you can believe it. He turned to the stunning black-haired woman after glaring at his mother and grabbed her neck, kissed her hard, then turned and marched off inside the bar.
“I’m Maxine,” his mother said as I watched Max stomp inside, linking her arm with mine. Then she turned me toward the bar as well and started walking. I looked back over my shoulder and watched Shane drive out of the parking lot, aching to help him. “This here is my daughter-in-law, Mia Hunter, and the thunder God that just stomped off is my son, Max,” she explained, breaking into my thoughts.
“Um, Sage Sloan.” I introduced myself, looking back and forth between the two women. There was something familiar about them. “Wait, you’re the bear lady, aren’t you?”
“That she is,” Maxine stated with pride. “Great name, Sage, makes me think of a green meadow during springtime . . . Anyhoo, now that we have the introductions out of the way, tell me everything you know about Shane.”
“Oh, um, not that much, I’m afraid.”
“Yeesh, Maxine,” Mia chided. “Sorry, Sage, you’ll have to excuse my mother-in-law. What she is trying very tactlessly to ask you is, are you and Shane lovers, former lovers? Also, why is he so angry and determined to see you leave?”
“You call that tact?” Maxine asked, then oddly mumbled, “Watch out for that rock,” as Mia opened the door to Last Call.
“The direct approach is always better than beating around the bush, don’t you think?” Mia replied, but managed to stumble on the rock despite the forewarning.
“I’m not sure I should—”
“Trust me, it’s best to give in now. You’ll lose the battle, I can assure you,” Mia stated as they led me to a table. “Max hasn’t won a fight in thirty-two years.”
I believed Mia when she said they’d wear me down. There was also a look on both women’s faces that said they cared a great deal about Shane. So, twenty minutes and a thousand questions later, both women sat silently pondering all I’d explained. I scanned the bar, taking in all the local color while Maxine and Mia sat stunned when my eyes fell on a calendar behind the bar.
“Is today the 18th?” I turned and asked them both.
“Yeah,” Maxine answered.
“Oh, God. No wonder he said not today. I lost track of what day it is traveling here.”
“What’s significant about today?” Mia asked
“Emma Jane died the 18th of July. Not only did I catch him off guard, but I also brought up all his feelings of guilt on the very day of her death.”
Mia groaned and sat back in her chair, covering her face with her hands. Maxine turned toward the bar while I contemplated all the ways I’d screwed up, and shouted, “Maximilian! Shots. STAT.”
“I should go,” I told them and started to rise. “I should try and find him and make things right.”