Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(17)
“Thanks so much, Joe,” I say, pinching him. “A little louder, please? I don’t think they heard you in Jonesport.”
“Hell, I don’t know,” Chantal says. “The pickings are certainly slim. Present company excluded.” She edges closer to Jonah.
I get up and wedge myself between them. “If you sleep with my brother, I will be very mad at you, Chantal,” I say firmly. “Jonah, Chantal is a diseased woman. Crabs, chlamydia, gonorrhea, herpes, syphilis…”
“Don’t believe her, Jonah. Underneath all this, there’s a heart of gold.” She gestures to her chest.
“Is there?” Jonah asks. “Can I see?”
“Stop, Joe!” I smack my brother on the back of his head.
Chantal smiles. “Back to your problem, Maggie. How about Malone?”
“God, you’re the second person today who’s said that!” I exclaim, jarred out of my irritation. “First Christy, now you.”
“Why not?” Chantal says. “He’s kind of cute.”
“This from the woman who said Dick Cheney had that ‘sexy bald thing’ going on.”
Chantal shrugs. “Well, I can’t help it if it’s true.”
I stare at her. “Chantal, please. Maybe, I don’t know, Andre Agassi or Montel Williams. But not Dick Cheney. Dick Cheney will never have a sexy anything going on.”
“Well, Malone’s got that Clive Owen thing going on,” she continues, taking a sip of her martini.
“Clive Owen after being beaten and left for dead, maybe.”
“More importantly, he’s single. Right, Jonah?”
My brother nods sagely at Chantal’s br**sts. “Ayuh.”
“Malone is surly, scary and ugly,” I say. “So I’m gonna pass on him, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t know,” Chantal says. She looks past me. “What do you say, Malone? Want to go out with Maggie?”
Crap. Crappety crap crap. I close my eyes and let the mortification wash over me. Big Mouth strikes again. And Chantal led me right into it.
I open my eyes and glance past my brother. There he is, surly, scary and ugly. “Hi. Sorry.”
As nothing brings my brother as much joy as his sister’s humiliation, Jonah is slapping the bar in mirth. “You know Maggie, right, Malone?” he chortles gleefully.
Malone stares at me, unsmiling, and he is a little scary. But I never noticed, on the rare occasion that I’ve been this close to him, that his eyes are actually quite nice, light blue contrasting with thick black eyelashes. Short, curly black hair, heavy eyebrows, sharp cheekbones. Deep lines run between his eyebrows, out from his eyes, alongside his mouth, and let me assure you, they’re not laugh lines. It occurs to me that I’ve never really looked Malone straight in the face before. Actually, I can kind of see what Chantal means…a little. He’s definitely masculine and
“So, what do you think, Malone?” Chantal asks. “You want to go out with Maggie?”
By now, the whole bar is listening. Though I should be used to public embarrassment, my cheeks are burning. Malone drops his gaze to my chest, looks for a minute, then looks up at my face again. He shakes his head. The bar erupts in laughter. Chantal and Jonah clutch each other, shrieking, Stevie and Dewey high-five each other at Malone’s insult, and I just sit there and nod my head.
“Right,” I say over the hysteria. “Well, I deserved that. Sorry, Malone. That was a crummy thing to say.”
He gives a slight nod, then turns to the beer that Dewey presents him.
“Okay, I’ve embarrassed myself enough tonight,” I say to my brother and Chantal. “I’m going home. Good night.”
“Bye, Maggot! Thanks for the laughs,” Jonah says, sliding his arm around Chantal’s shoulders. She blows me a kiss, then turns to say something to Jonah. My jaw clenches momentarily.
I get my coat from the table and head out. At Malone’s stool, I pause. “Sorry again,” I murmur.
He nods without looking at me.
“I still owe you that pie,” I remind him. He doesn’t respond.
Although I catch a glimpse of Malone once in a while at Dewey’s or at the dock, I haven’t spoken with him since he drove me to Joe’s in the rain. He did a kind thing for me last spring, and tonight I insulted him.
As I walk home through the quiet town, an unpleasant sense of shame keeps good pace beside me.
CHAPTER FIVE
A FEW DAYS LATER, whatever shame I felt has faded to a distant prickle. Once again, the presence of Father Tim melts away all bad feelings, his beautiful smile simultaneously reassuring and thrilling.
Last night, my parents had summoned their off-spring to a family dinner, something they insist on about once a month or so, and much to my delight, Father Tim was invited, as well. As I showed Colonel to his doggie bed in my old bedroom, I could hear Father Tim laughing downstairs, the rumbling voice of my dad, Violet’s happy, ear-splitting shrieks. It seemed so natural.
We had a very nice dinner and a lemon cake that I’d baked in honor of the occasion. Father Tim had two pieces. “Maggie, you’re a genius, you are, my girl,” he said, finally pushing back from the table. I smiled sappily, heart fluttering.
Talk turned to the inevitablemy failure at finding a boyfriend. “Will, dear, can’t you find anyone for Maggie?” Mom asked.