Free Hatfield and McCoy by Heather Graham Page B

looked quickly at Brenda. “Joe Silver and I were the ones digging away, covered in dirt, and the Nicholsons just wanted to thank Julie. It’s a great life, right?”
    â€œDon’t you believe in anything?” Julie exclaimed.
    â€œOops, here’s the waitress!” Brenda said cheerfully. “I think they both need a bath in cold water, but we’ll take a little more coffee, please. And milk for the kids. And the check, if you don’t mind,” Brenda said.
    She kept talking cheerfully, determined to keep up a monologue so Julie and McCoy would both shut up. And they did.
    But through the rest of the meal, Julie could feel his eyes on her. And more.
    She could feel the heat rising again. It was anger. Really. He was so arrogant, so damned sure of himself.
    Was it really anger?
    She had become tense. The brush of his napkin over her fingers nearly made her jump a mile. He glanced her way. She stared furiously at him. Don’t you dare call me a charlatan! she silently yelled at him.
    But you are, you have to be …
    She gritted her teeth. She was not reading his mind—she didn’t read minds. And she wasn’t a witch. Still, she could scarcely sit in the restaurant a minute longer. She had to do something.
    Touch him.
    Her heart was pounding too quickly; she had difficulty breathing: And it seemed that a sizzle of fire danced up and down her spine.
    Just when she didn’t think she could take another minute, McCoy stood. “I’ll just pay up front.”
    â€œI’ll leave the tip,” Julie said, leaping up. McCoy might have argued with her. Then she realized that he was in as big a hurry as she was.
    But if Brenda was aware of their distress, she gave no sign. When they reached the car she nimbly climbed into the backseat saying, “Robert, drop the kids and me off first, will you? As long as you don’t mind, Julie.”
    No! Julie wanted to shriek.
    She kept her jaw locked. McCoy grunted some kind of an agreement.
    As he started the car, he slid his dark glasses on against the bright glare of the spring day. Julie sat silently in her seat, noting the way the wind tousled his hair. She looked straight ahead. She wanted to strangle the man. She had also been tempted to reach out and run her fingers over the rugged line of his cheek.
    He pulled off the highway to follow a small, winding pathway up to an old farmhouse. He stopped in front of it. “Well, this is home,” Brenda said, getting out with the children. She paused to stand by Julie’s window and shake her hand. “Can you come in?”
    â€œOh, thank you. But I think I’d best get home myself,” Julie said.
    Brenda nodded. “Well, we won’t be strangers now. We live close by each other. And I’ll even admit defeat in the feud for the McCoys, if we can all be friends now!”
    Julie laughed. “I really haven’t the faintest idea who won,” she said. “And it was wonderful to meet you.”
    The kids told her goodbye and ran around to kiss their uncle goodbye. Then Julie and McCoy were back on the road. Neither of them spoke.
    When they neared the lot where her car was parked, Julie spoke at last. Politely. “Thank you for brunch. Your sister is lovely.”
    â€œThank you,” he said curtly. He came to a stop. He was going to get out to open her door, but Julie moved too quickly.
    â€œI’m fine, thank you. Goodbye, McCoy.”
    â€œMiss Hatfield—”
    â€œDon’t you mean, ‘Miss Charlatan,’ McCoy?” she asked, her door half open.
    â€œYou’ve known my opinion—”
    â€œWell, then, I’ll tell you mine. You, sir, are an ass!”
    With that, she slammed his car door shut and hurried to her own vehicle. She smiled grimly—she could hear the thunder of his retort following her.
    She ignored it, revved up and quickly swung from the parking lot.
    Several minutes later, her smile