Episode 15

Author's note warning:Due to some lack of sufficient sleep last night, my brain's been in a fog all morning. Perfect time to write, right? Nevertheless, write, I did. So if this episode sucks or makes no sense, pretend you never saw it. Got it? ;-)

The kitchen door swung noisily behind him as Jack charged into the kitchen, hands shoved in his hair and heart thumping in his chest. He cursed as he paced to the refrigerator to pull a cold bottle of beer from its depths.

What had just happened? What was he doing? Damn it.

Struggling with the bottle top, he cursed out loud when he failed to open it. It was only when a slender hand removed the bottle from his grip that he noticed the small crowd of people gaping at him from their respective stations. They all hurried back to their work when he caught them staring.

Looking up, he realized it was Amrys who’d taken the beer from him. She smoothly uncapped the bottle with the bottle opener that had been magnetized to the fridge, took a sip and handed the bottle back to him.

“So I suppose this means she told you about Mama,” she drolled smoothly as she hopped up onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen prep island.

Momentarily confused, Jack swilled from the bottle and tried to focus on his sister. His mind, however, was still latched onto the woman he’d unceremoniously left sitting with his half eaten steak. Stupid, he accused himself. But staying would have caused him to be really stupid. Stupid as in, waking up next to her tomorrow, stupid.

Jack enjoyed his fair share of women but only with those who knew the score. Laurel was not one of them. But she was tempting, nonetheless. Even giving into the mere temptation of  simply dining with her had been a stupid move. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed it. He’d enjoyed it plenty. Too much.

As his heart rate gradually slowed and his mind began to clear, what Amrys had said began to sink in.

“Mama? What about her? Tell me what?”

Amrys looked up from the plate of fries she’d been nibbling from, her brow creased. “She didn’t tell you? Then what are you so steamed up about? What viciousness is she spouting? Something else about Jenna and Aiden? You shoulda never—“

Holding up a hand to silence his sister, Jack took another gulp of his beer, annoyed and surprised to find the bottle empty. Resisting the urge to slam it on the counter, he narrowed his eyes at his sister. “Laurel is never vicious and you know it. There’s always a grain of truth in what she tells. Now what could she have told me about Mama?”

Amrys dipped a fry in honey mustard sauce and stared at him, her green eyes boring holes in him. “You like her, don’t you?”

Pulse picking up speed again, Jack reached for the bottle he’d just set down and set it back down when he remembered it was empty. “I do not. And you’re avoiding the subject. What. About. Mama?”

Instead of answering, she raised her hands in mock praise and shouted, “God bless America, Jack Steely likes a girl!”

Slapping at her hands, he hissed, “Would you shut up Mrs. Nathan Matthews.”

Dropping her hands, she glared at him a moment before tossing a french fry at his head. It landed square in the center of his forehead and bounced off to the floor.

“You’re cleaning that up,” he informed her and earned a  view of her tongue. “Very mature. So are you gonna tell me what it is you thought she’d  have told me about Mama or not? Do I need to go kicking ass and taking names?”

Amrys shrugged with a small grin. “Depends. How’d your ass kicking of Aiden go this morning?”

“Would you quit being a jerk and tell me what you think you know about Mama?”

“That well, huh? I see he spared your face at least. He always was a stand up guy.”

Groaning his frustration, he snatched up the errant fry and tossed it back to his sister. It landed on her nose and slid down the ‘v’ of her sparkly dress.

“You never did tell me why you’re all dressed up. Hoping Nathan would stop by, see you all gussied up and decide to finally pull his head out of his ass?”

Amrys glared at him and turned on her stool so that her back was to him. Hell, who needs this?

“Finn?” he called to the cook who was busy slathering a plate of ribs with sauce. “You have any idea what she was talking about?”

Never even looking up from his task, the old man shrugged. “Not a clue. Unless she was talkin’ ‘bout your mama shackin’ up with the new Wild Acres hand. Order up!” he shouted and slid the plate of ribs and slaw across the delivery station.

“Wait, what? Shackin’ up with who?”

Finn shrugged and began working on the next plate.

Dammit.

No better place to find out what he needed to know than to go straight to the source, he thought grimly and stalked back out to the bar to table he’d left moments earlier. But Laurel was gone. Her barely eaten steak sat sadly across the table from his and handful of bills littered the space in between.

Dammit all to hell, he wanted to shout.  Snatching the bills in his hand, he gripped his phone and called the kitchen. When one of the busboys answered, he barked, “I’m stepping out for a few. Tell Amrys she’s in charge until I get back.”