“Thanks for picking up Beth at the airport yesterday. I’m so glad she’s here.”

Trey cocked an eyebrow. “My pleasure.”

“And Amy, too,” I added. “It was really nice of you to help with her ticket.”

“No problem.” He leaned forward. “I’d do anything for you. You know that, Jo.”

“Er . . . Yes.” I took a deep breath and then the plunge. “The thing is . . . I kind of overreacted when I saw her. You.”

His dark eyes fixed on my face. “You were happy. I was happy. It’s all good.”

Help. Why did this have to be so awkward? “Right. The thing is . . .” Crap. I was repeating myself. I picked at my peeling beer label. “See, I can’t . . .”

A swirl of cold disturbed the close air. I looked up. My sister Amy stood framed in the dark doorway, her hair glowing like a candle in the dim light.

“Oh hell.”

Trey turned. Started to get up.

“Hang on,” I said. “I’ll talk to her.”

He sat. Reluctantly, I thought.

Amy had changed back into her skirt and boots and tossed a jacket over the black lace. She looked hot and lost and alone—a recipe for disaster in a dive like Alleygators. But my little sister seemed unaware of her danger. Or maybe she was enjoying it. She strolled forward, her boots clacking on the grimy floor. The regulars swiveled to watch. The pool players nudged one another. One of them said something, and the rest guffawed. In another minute, she’d be swarmed by burly patrons eager to offer her a drink, a joint, or a quickie in the restroom.

I hurried to reach her before they did. “Amy, what are you doing here?”

“You said you were going out for a drink. It’s not like there are a lot of bars open on Christmas Eve.” She looked pleased by her own resourcefulness.

I wanted to shake her. “But how did you get here?”

“Uber.”

“In Bunyan?”

She fluttered her fingers. “Uber is everywhere.”

I didn’t have the heart to send her away. “Listen, Ames, I’m sorry we came out without you. It’s just . . . Trey and I are trying to talk.”

“Fine. I’ll wait.” She drifted toward the jukebox, a fluffy yellow baby chick surrounded by alligators.

“You’ll be all right?”

She smiled just a little, her eyes unreadable. “Aren’t I always?”

Amy took care of Amy. Always. And she must have developed some street smarts in Paris. “Don’t talk to anybody,” I warned.

“Mm.” She turned her attention back to the jukebox, tiptoeing her fingers through the music selection.

I dashed back to the booth. “Okay, here’s the deal,” I said to Trey, speaking rapidly. “You and I need to get things straight.”

“What?” He was still watching Amy. So was every other man in the place, along with a few disgruntled women.

I cleared my throat, determined to get through my speech and get my sister out of here. “We’re friends. Good friends. But that’s it. You can’t kiss me anymore, Trey.”