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  “I’m not what you think I am,” he said. “Nobody could be what you think I am.”

  She shook her head. “You can be. You are. You’re the best.”

  He closed his eyes, and she pressed closer, afraid of losing him.

  “I should let go of you,” Leo said.

  And then she kissed him.

  Phin sat at the bar—the only guy in the Tavern in a linen jacket—wondering if Sophie was going to go through with her promise. He pressed his cold beer to his bruised eye and thought about Sophie and his fantasy, such a great thing for her do, slink into the Tavern with half the town watching and tell him she wanted him while he grinned down into those big brown eyes....

  He looked at his watch.

  Fifteen minutes past eight. Sophie was never late. She’d chickened out. He tossed a ten on the bar to take care of his tab, and then turned to go, and that’s when she slid onto the stool next to him. “Promptness is a virtue—” he began, but the rest of his sentence died in his throat as he got a good look at her.

  She was wearing a bright red tube dress that started low on her breasts and stopped halfway to her knees, a narrow red ribbon tied behind her neck holding it up. Her hair was loose in dark ringlets on her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed, and she’d put on a lot of lipstick so that her usual pink mouth was a red slash that matched the dress. The only jarring note was the bruise on her forehead, and she’d mostly covered that with makeup. He looked down at her breasts again, stretching the red fabric of the dress far past any safe point, and his palms itched to jerk that dress down and set her free. “Very hot dress.”

  “Literally.” Sophie tugged at the top, making everything shift beautifully. “It’s Clea’s. This stuff doesn’t breathe and it itches.”

  “I don’t think that was your line,” Phin said. “Are you sure that’s going to stay up?”

  “No,” Sophie said. “That’s why I’m tense and forgetting my lines. Wait a minute.” She frowned in concentration and he grinned at her, and she said, “Knock it off. You’re not supposed to patronize me, you jerk.” She took a deep breath, which he appreciated, and then she leaned closer to him, and he almost fell into her cleavage.

  “I saw you across the room,” she said throatily. “I want you, I need you, I must have you, and I’m not wearing—”

  “Phin, I need to talk to you,” somebody said behind him, and Phin said, “No, you don’t,” but Sophie had looked over his shoulder and was already sliding off the stool, taking her breasts with her.

  “Are you all right, Georgia?” she said in her normal voice, and Phin shook his head to get his mind back to where it belonged.

  “I just need to talk to Phin,” Georgia said, as she looked at Sophie’s dress, and then she hopped up on Sophie’s stool and smiled at Phin.

  “Oh.” Sophie looked a little taken aback. “Uh, I’ll just be over... here.” She gestured behind her, and Phin looked past her to where several assorted townsmen were watching her with great appreciation.

  “Do not talk to anybody,” he told her.

  She nodded, and went down to the end of the bar, and Phin craned his neck to see her go.

  “Phin?” Georgia said, leaning forward to smile weakly at him and then she blinked. “What happened to your eye?”

  Sophie’s end of the bar began to get crowded as a general migration headed in her direction. “Make it fast, Georgia,” Phin said. “I’m in the middle of something here.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Okay. It’s about Frank. I’m really worried—”

  “Georgia, I don’t do marriage counseling.” He tried to see Sophie at the end of the bar, but there were too many people. Male people.

  “I think he might have killed Zane,” Georgia said, her voice shaking. “He wasn’t home that night, he didn’t come home at all, and he was so mad when he found out—” She dropped her eyes. “You know.”

  “I know,” Phin said. “Try not to fuck other men, and he won’t get so mad.”

  “Well, he was doing it with that bitch Clea,” Georgia said, stung. “What was I supposed to do?”

  “Not have sex with Zane,” Phin said, trying to see around her. “Georgia, go home. Get some rest, talk to Frank, apologize, he’ll probably tell you he spent the night at Larry’s, and things will be fine in the morning.”

  “You think so?” Georgia hiccuped. “Oh, Phin. I’m so worried.” Her voice dropped an octave. “And I hate that bitch Clea.”

  “Right.” She started to lean into him, and he took her arm and helped her off Sophie’s stool. “Good night, Georgia. Careful going home. Do not drive.”

  Georgia nodded and wobbled off, and Phin caught Sophie’s eye. She sidled out from the group at her end of the bar and came slinking unsteadily back, teetering, he saw for the first time, on ridiculously high, red spike heels.

  Her legs were flawless. And they went all the way up to where she wasn’t wearing underwear, if she was telling the truth. Given how short that dress was, Phin wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d hedged her bets on that one.

  “Hello, gorgeous,” she said as she slid onto the stool. “I saw you across the room—” She met his eyes and grinned, which shouldn’t have been sexy at all but was, and he grinned back and thought, Hell of a woman, my Sophie.

  “—and I want you—” She licked her lips and leaned closer. “I need you, I—”

  “Phin, I have to talk to you,” Frank said from behind him, and Phin said without turning around, “Get out of here, or I will hurt you.”

  “It’s about Georgia,” Frank said, and Sophie said in her normal voice, “I’ll just be at the end of the bar.”

  “No you won’t,” Phin said.

  “I’ll just be at the jukebox.” Sophie slid off her stool, and Phin looked down at her round butt in that tight dress and saw no panty line. In that dress, he’d have seen a birthmark, so she wasn’t wearing underwear. And she was walking away from him.

  “This better be good, Frank,” he said.

  Frank took her place on the stool, and Phin sighed, resigned to at least another two minutes of Lutz.

  “I saw you talking to Georgia,” Frank said. “And—”

  He frowned at Phin. “What happened to your eye?”

  “Frank, what do you want?”

  “What did Georgia say?”

  “She’s afraid you killed Zane,” Phin said. “Why don’t you go discuss that with her?”

  “I think she did it, Phin.” Frank looked pasty in the dim bar light. “I think she went after him after that Jell-O crack. She went for me with a knife when we were first married and I told her that it was okay to move in bed, and let me tell you, she wasn’t kidding.”

  Phin watched Sophie at the jukebox. “I don’t want to know this, Frank. Tell Wes. Human interaction fascinates him.”

  “And it was that time of the month, too.” Frank shook his head. “Georgia and PMS are a bad combination. Plus she was drunk. She’s a mean drunk.”

  “Frank.”

  “I’m just saying, you be careful believing what she tells you. She’s crazy. And Zane, he was crazy, too. You wouldn’t believe the lies he was telling. Probably told some about me.” Frank laughed.

  “That would be the vasectomy.”

  Frank closed his eyes. “Oh, crap, don’t tell Georgia.”

  “I don’t plan to,” Phin said. You stupid son of a bitch.

  “Jesus, if she knew,” Frank said, leaning against the bar, going weak at the thought, “she’d kill me. She really is crazy, Phin.”

  “Well, the good news is, she’d kill you, not Zane,” Phin pointed out.

  Frank frowned, not seeing why that was good news.

  “Zane’s the one who died, Frank. If you were dead, she’d be a good candidate, but since you’re still with us—”

  Frank perked up a little, “Right.”

  “—she evidently doesn’t know about the vasectomy.”

  Frank began to get a little color in his face. “Right