Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1 by Shawn Underhill, Nick Adams Read Free Book Online Page B

why I was sitting there when I should be going in to get us some grub.
    “Relax,” I told him. “We won’t starve.”
    He groaned sadly and withdrew to his pile of blankets. His bed on wheels.
    “Good talk,” I said.
    But in all seriousness, it really is nice talking to a dog when you’re in a bad mood. They’re not like people. They don’t disagree or try to talk you out of anything. They’re just with you. For you. For better or worse. No other relationship on earth can be compared.
    I considered calling Laney Holt and asking her to bring something outside for me. But I let that idea go. Figured that would be rude. Especially considering how busy the place was.
    Finally I willed myself to go inside. I met Edmond and Martha Brown by the door on their way out. An old couple from town. Old school folks who remembered when the town had less than five hundred residents.
    “Don’t bother,” Ed grumbled. “Every asshole and their brother is in there.”
    “It’s very crowded,” Martha clarified.
    I said, “Thanks for the warning.”
    They went off to their car. I went inside in spite of their warning. I could barely get in the door. Eight or ten people were waiting in the entry space for tables to clear out. The place was loud and buzzing. The hum of dozens of voices yapping at once were bouncing off the beams of the high ceiling. Somewhere a baby was crying.
    Across the large room I locked eyes with Laney Holt. She was by the counter, waiting for an order to come up. She was dressed in jeans and a tank top with her Feedlot apron over the top. She inherited a Native American skin tone and jet black hair from her mother’s side of the family. Her black hair was pulled back. Her expression was somewhere between bright and miserable. Meaning that I could tell she wasn’t enjoying the crowd, but she was handling it rather well. She made her way up the side of the dining area toward the doorway.
    I said, “Hey there, foxy lady.”
    She said, “Everyone’s talking about you. Are you all right?”
    “Fine,” I answered.
    “Good,” she said.
    People were looking at us. At me. I could feel it. But I was able to pretty much ignore it with Laney before me. In my eyes, she practically had a glowing aura around her.
    “We’re obviously mobbed,” she said next. “I’m guessing you won’t be staying.”
    I nodded. Affirmative.
    “I don’t blame you. This is nuts.”
    “What’s cooking?”
    Her face brightened somewhat.
    “I made you lasagna.”
    I said, “God, you’re beautiful.”
    She said, “Shut up.”
    We started down the side of the dining room, skirting the tables as we headed toward the counter and kitchen area. I made it about halfway before some guy skidded his chair back. Stood up and effectively blocked my path. He was maybe in his forties. A woman and a boy were with him at the table. He held his hand out with a goofy smile on his face.
    “Excuse me. But I just had to say something.”
    I shook his hand for the hell of it. His expression changed when he felt my glove rather than my hand. But he kept on shaking it all the same.
    “Damn fine work today,” he said, and I could see food in his mouth. “You were cool as a cucumber.”
    “Thanks.”
    The guy looked at Laney, said, “Whatever he wants, it’s on me. His money’s no good here.”
    She nodded and fake smiled. There was no point explaining that I rarely paid for my food anyway.
    The guy looked back at me, smiling and chewing. He had buttermilk biscuit crumbs in his mustache. We were still holding hands. My patience was ticking down.
    I said, “That’s not necessary. But thanks.”
    “No, no, I insist,” he said. “A hero shouldn’t have to buy his own dinner. Not in my opinion.”
    I pulled back firmly enough to finally get him to release my hand. He rocked a little but held his ground.
    “Really,” I said. “No big deal.”
    “No big deal?” He looked from me to Laney. “You saved that boy’s life, as far as I can