“She said walk away,” Spenser said.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jerry said, half-jogging over with his hands up.

Spenser stealthily put away the knife somewhere behind her as if we’d all dreamed it.

“These ladies were minding their own business,” Jerry said. “They asked you to move on. You should move on.”

“I was just—” the man began.

Jerry lowered his chin, speaking with an expression I hadn’t seen before. “Move on.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, walking quickly to where his friends had congregated.

“Thanks, Jerry,” I said, nodding. He nodded back and returned to the bar.

“Okay, I like him,” Spenser said, watching Jerry resume his duties. The bar wasn’t busy, but Jerry moved like it was.

“Why did it take Jerry telling him for him to get the hint?” Kansas asked, miffed.

“Because they don’t know we could kill them,” I said, glaring at the offending dickhead in the black hoodie.

My phone buzzed, and I checked it.

“Who is that?” Spenser asked. “You have a huge grin on your face!”

“Do not,” I said, smoothing my features. “Shut up.”

It was Zeke. They’d just returned.

Doing anything fun tonight? he texted.

At McCormack’s with my cousins.

Is it dead?

Pretty much. Except for the regulars and the idiots who just walked in.

Are they bothering you?

Everyone bothers me.

Have they tried buying you a drink?

Yep.

I’m going to take a shower and wash the fire off me. I’ll be there in twenty.

I put away my phone and crossed my arms on the table, smiling back at my cousins. “Stop it.”

They laughed. “Tell us,” Spenser said.

“His name is Zeke. He’s a wildfire fighter working that canyon blaze just outside of town. Several teams are here, and they cycle out. He’s on R&R for a few days.”

“He just got back? When can we meet him?” Spenser said.

I shrugged. “He’s on his way. Don’t get too excited, he’s just a friend.”

Kansas raised one eyebrow. “Not with that smile on your face he’s not.”

I looked away, trying to keep my expressions under control. “He’s nice.”

“How did you meet?” Kansas asked.

“Here actually,” I said. “He was defending my honor.”

“What?” my cousins said in unison, with similar expressions of disbelief.

“I didn’t ask him to. He just did it. I helped.”

Kansas nodded, satisfied. “He sounds all right.”

I recounted the fight until the doors opened and a dozen hotshots rolled in. They looked exhausted, but with purpose in their eyes. They all located us then the group of guys I’d mentioned. Most split off to the bar, except Zeke, Watts, and a few others.

“Hey,” Zeke said, a tired but warm smile on his face.

“You didn’t have to come,” I said.

He shrugged. “I wanted to.”