Storming around the bar, he threw up the counter with so much fury he almost ripped the thing off its hinges. He was vaguely aware of his name being called, but he wasn’t stopping for anybody.
Dana looked up from taking a shot at the pool table and her girlfriends turned to watch him storm toward them.
He saw uneasiness in her expression as he approached.
Good.
He pushed past two of her friends and leaned on the pool table so his face was level with Dana’s. He wanted this to truly sink in at last. “You listen to me, and you listen good. You and I are over, Dana. Over. I don’t want you. I’ll never want you again and I don’t know how many ways I can say that before you get it. So . . . you threaten Jessica again or harass me again, I will go to the sheriff, because you’re acting like a fucking crazy person.”
Dana flinched.
“Do you understand me?”
She stared at him in shock.
“Do you understand me?” he yelled.
The whole bar silenced behind him.
Dana swallowed and straightened away from him. She nodded slowly.
Cooper stood up.
He couldn’t stand the sight of her.
Calming a little as he sensed he’d finally gotten through, he said, voice soft but no less angry, “Now get the fuck out of my bar and don’t ever come back.”
Some of her friends looked embarrassed as they grabbed their purses, but not Dana. She held her head high as she strode out of his bar, refusing for even a second to be humbled.
When he was younger he’d thought she possessed sexy confidence. Now he knew it as blind, ignorant arrogance.
Cooper looked out over the crowd. Everyone was staring at him. His regulars wore looks of sympathy, while tourists looked unsure.
God damn it.
“Sorry about the interruption,” he said, striding back to the bar. “Next round is on the house.”
That should settle the tourists.
As for him . . . his blood was still pumping. His eyes fell on Jessica. He knew exactly how he wanted to work out the adrenaline racing around his system, but the look of worry she was wearing warned him off.
He slipped behind the bar.
“It had to be said, Coop.” Ollie clapped him on the shoulder.
He gave him a nod but made his way over to Jessica.
He didn’t know what to say.
He wanted to know what she was thinking.
She looked like she wanted to know what he was thinking.
But there were too many people around for that conversation.
“Um . . .” Dahlia said, “what did I just walk into?”
Bailey grinned up at her friend. “Dahlia, meet Jessica. Jessica is Cooper’s new girlfriend and our new best friend.”
Dahlia laughed as she gazed at a still shell-shocked Jessica. “Ah. Now everything makes sense.”
“What makes sense?” Vaughn was suddenly there, slipping into the space between Jessica and the customer on her left.
Bailey glowered at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to give you all the good news,” he said, his tone suggesting it was anything but.
“And what good news is that?” Dahlia said.
Vaughn looked at Cooper and the uneasiness in his eyes made Cooper still, distracting him from the bad scene with Dana. “George Beckwith is selling up. Ian Devlin is gloating all over town about how he’s finally going to have a spot on the boardwalk.”
“Fuck!” Bailey snapped.
Vaughn flicked her a rueful look. “For once, Miss Hartwell, we are in absolute agreement.”
Jessica
I was still so stunned from watching Cooper throw his ex-wife out of the bar that I got whiplash from Vaughn’s change of subject.
It was like he’d appeared out of nowhere.
“Wow, things have gotten exciting around here,” Dahlia said beside me. “Never let me go on vacation again.”
“Exciting? This isn’t exciting,” Bailey huffed. “This is horrifying.”
Confused, I held up a hand to stop anyone from saying anything else. I understood no one liked the Devlins, but they were acting like this news was Armageddon. “Okay, I know Ian Devlin is unscrupulous, but why exactly is it such a bad thing for him to have a place on the boardwalk? Won’t it mean he’ll finally stop harassing you guys?”
Bailey sighed. “As businesses we work closely together. Well”—she shot Vaughn a suspicious look—“most of us work closely together, and none of us want to work with Devlin.”
Vaughn leaned on the bar beside me and I was suddenly caught in his pale gray eyes as they focused on me. “Despite Miss Hartwell’s lack of enthusiasm for me, there really are no issues between any of us. We understand one another’s place here. Devlin, however, is the kind of man who likes to stir up trouble and he has a certain vision for the boardwalk. All of this—Cooper’s bar, Bailey’s inn, Dahlia’s gift store, Ira and Iris’s place, the bookstore next door—doesn’t fit Devlin’s vision. He wants to bulldoze it and create something sleek, modern, and shiny in its place. Think European designer stores and five-star restaurants.”
“Your hotel fits that description,” Bailey said.
Vaughn flicked his gaze to her. “I’m aware. But my hotel is successful because Hart’s Boardwalk is popular. As it is. Rule of thumb in business and life, Miss Hartwell: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
From the sound of Ian Devlin’s vision for a new boardwalk, he wanted to destroy everything I loved about this place. He wanted to take away all of its character and authenticity and make it something for just the elite. “He can’t do that,” I snapped.