you’re using it to pay for your own dinner. I’m using my per diem to pay for mine. I don’t want any commingling here.”
She lowered her lashes and slid her credit card from her wallet. Was he talking about just their finances?
“Got it.” She tapped her card on the table. “No commingling.”
A loud voice came from the bar area of the restaurant, and chatter in the dining room hushed to a low level—enough for the bar patron’s words to reach them.
“That TV show better not start nosing around. If anyone talks to that host, I’ll give ’em the business end of my fist.” The man at the bar turned to face the room, knocking over his bar stool in the process.
His buddy next to him put a hand on his shoulder, but the belligerent drunk shook him off.
“Where’s she? I’ll toss ’er out right now on her fanny. Tarring and feathering. That’s what we should do. Who’s with me?” He raised his fist in the air.
A few people snickered but most went back to their dinners. Duke didn’t do either. He marched across the room toward the bar.
Beth groaned as she scribbled her signature on the credit-card receipt and took off after him. Duke had always been a hothead, and it looked like he hadn’t changed.
“What did you say?” He widened his stance in front of the man. “Are you threatening the lady?”
“You with that show, too?” The man looked Duke up and down and hiccuped.
His friend picked up the stool and shoved his friend into it. “C’mon, Bill. Take it easy. Who knows? Being featured on TV might increase our property values.”
The man, his dark hair flecked with gray, shook his head and stuck out his hand. “Sorry about that. My friend’s a Realtor and has had a little too much to drink. I’m Jordan Young.”
“Duke Harper.” Duke gestured toward Beth. “This is Beth St. Regis, the host of Cold Case Chronicles and the woman your friend was threatening.”
Jordan Young dismissed his drunken friend with a wave of his hand. “It’s the booze talking. His sales numbers haven’t been great lately, but it has nothing to do with the recent publicity we’ve been getting. Hell, Kendall Rush’s aunt’s place sold for top dollar. He’s just ticked off that he didn’t get that listing.”
He took Beth’s hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m a big fan of the show, Ms. St. Regis.”
“Thanks.” She nudged Duke in the back. “Are you a Realtor, too?”
“Me?” He chuckled. “Not really. I’m a developer, and I have a lot more to lose than Bill here if things go south, but that’s not going to happen—Evergreen Software will make sure of that.”
“You need to tell your friend to keep his mouth shut about Beth.”
“Duke.” She put her hand on his arm. His stint in Siberia hadn’t done anything to temper his combativeness. “I’m sure he’s not serious—at least about the tar-and-feathering part.”
Young winked. “Good to see you have a sense of humor about it, Ms. St. Regis, but I can understand your...coworker wanting to be protective.”
Duke didn’t correct him. If the residents of Timberline knew all about Cold Case Chronicles looking into the Timberline Trio, they didn’t seem to be as knowledgeable about the FBI putting the case back on its radar. Maybe Duke wanted to keep it that way.
“You can call me Beth.” Her eyes flicked over his gray-streaked hair and the lines on his face. “Were you here at the time of the initial kidnappings?”
“I was. Sad time for us.” He withdrew a silver card case from his suit jacket and flipped it open. “If you’re implying you want to interview me, I might be available, although I don’t know how much I could contribute.”
She took the card and ran her thumb across the gold-embossed letters. “You’d be the first one in town without some special insight.”
“Can you blame them?” He spread his hands. “A chance to be on TV and talk to the beautiful host?”
“Thank you.” The guy was smooth but almost avuncular. Duke could wipe the scowl from his face, but she didn’t mind that another man’s attentions to her irritated him.
“You should take care of your buddy here.” Duke jerked his thumb at Bill, still resting his head on the bar.
“I’ll get him home safely to his wife. Good night, now.” Young turned back to the bar. “Serena, can you get Bill a strong cup of coffee? Make it black, sweetheart.”
Duke put his hand on her back as he propelled her out of the restaurant—with almost every pair of eyes following them.
As Duke swung the door open for her, Chloe rushed up and patted her apron. “I’ll be calling you, Beth. I don’t care what Bill Raney says.”
“Looking forward to it, Chloe.”
When they stepped outside, Duke tilted his head. “Really? You’re looking forward to talking to Chloe about Wyatt Carson?”
“You never know what might pop up in a conversation. Maybe Wyatt remembered something about his brother’s kidnapping that he never told the cops.”
“Why wouldn’t he have told the cops?”
Beth zipped up her vest. “Because he turned out to be a nut job.”
“Seems to be no scarcity of those in this town.” He hunched into his suede coat, rubbing his hands together. “Where are you parked?”
“In the public lot down the block. This is Timberline. You don’t have to walk me to my car.”
“Just so happens I’m parked there, too.” He nudged her with his elbow. “There have been two high-profile kidnapping cases in Timberline. I wouldn’t take your safety for granted here. There might be more people here who feel like Bill.”
“I’m hardly in danger of getting tarred and feathered...or kidnapped.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets and lifted her shoulders to her ears. She may have already been kidnapped from Timberline once. What were the odds of it happening again?
Duke followed her through the parking lot to her car anyway, occasionally bumping her shoulder but never taking her hand. What did she expect? That they would pick up where they’d left off two years ago? Before he’d accused her of using him? Before she’d used him?
As she reached the rental, her boots crunched against the asphalt and she jerked her head up. “Damn. Somebody broke the window of my car.”
“Safe Timberline, huh? Maybe Bill did his dirty work before he hit the restaurant.” Duke hunched forward to look at the damage to the window on the driver’s side. “You didn’t have a laptop sitting on the passenger seat, did you?”
“No, but...” Her ears started ringing and she grabbed the handle of the car door and yanked it open.
