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Warm palms grip my shoulders, and perhaps Aunt Midge notices the way my skin reacts to Lucian’s more intimate touch because her frown deepens. “I’ll grab a table.” He strides toward one of the many open spots at the back of the bar, and I watch the other men eyeing him as he passes.

Once out of earshot, Aunt Midge tips her head to get my attention. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her gaze dips to my dress and back. “Wearing dresses now?”

“I told you. We’re having lunch. The dress was the only thing I had to wear in ninety-degree heat. Here.” I slip the check Rand issued me this morning for another week of work. “To help with the mortgage. Already signed it.”

“I’ll deposit it for you, but I’m not taking the money.” She folds the check, slipping it into her apron.

“C’mon, Aunt Midge. Don’t be difficult.”

“That’s another discussion. Right now, I want to know why you brought him here.”

“Why not?”

“Sounds too much like a date.” Again, her eyes trail down to my dress and back. “Looks like a date, too.”

“What if it is? I’m nineteen. An adult.”

“And he’s nearly twice your age, child!” She’s the master at whisper-yelling, but I don’t think she went unheard this time, as I look around the room to see all the men, Lucian included, staring back at us. “Look, I know he helped out with that Franco. But you don’t need to be getting involved with him, okay? It’s bad news.”

“You guys get a load of that? The Devil of Bonesalt himself.” Mac, one of the older fishermen sits at the end of the bar, hiking his thumb toward Lucian. “Since when do we allow monsters in our fine establishments?”

Two of the men chuckle, and only one of them shakes his head, but smiles as he’s doing it.

“Since the day you walked in, smelling like you crawled out of a watery grave,” Aunt Midge answers over her shoulder, as I lurch toward him. Always quick with the quips, which I imagine comes from working with these assholes all day.

Lucian waits in the corner, quiet, not bothering to respond to the man, at all.

“You don’t know anything about him.” My response is directed toward Mac, but my eyes are on Aunt Midge.

“Neither do you.”

“What do you suppose a man has to tell himself when he’s staring at that every day in the mirror?” Mac chimes in again, no doubt drunk.

“The same--”

Aunt Midge cuts me off, setting a hand on my shoulder, and shakes her head. “Enough, Mac. You can keep those comments to yaself.”

Still, Lucian doesn’t say a word, and I can’t tell if the idiot’s ignorant comments are starting to get to him, or not.

“I should’ve known better than to bring him here.” Teeth gritting, I shoot a glare toward Mac that he doesn’t bother to notice, too caught up in staring back at Lucian.

“It’s not my fault he’s garnered the reputation.” Aunt Midge glances back toward the bar. “These guys are assholes. What’d you think? They were going to welcome him with open arms?”

“Okay, well, if I can’t have my opinions, maybe a suggestion.” Mac is one slap away from my wrath. “I propose the ugliest bastard in the room buy a round of drinks for everyone.”

If fire could shoot from my eyeballs, the old man would be engulfed in flames right now.

“I could certainly afford that tonight,” Lucian finally says, sitting forward in his chair. “But I suppose that’d leave you broke every other night.”

There’s a moment of deafening quiet, before the other men at the bar belt out laughter, and Aunt Midge shakes her head again, chuckling as she heads back toward the bar. “All right, now that deserves a round.”

Mac shakes his head, burying the next smartass retort in his beer glass.

Still fuming, though, I make my way toward the table, knocking the old man in the shoulder along the way, and take my seat across from Lucian. “Here, I thought I had to protect you.”

“You underestimate my bastardly charm.”

“Indeed.”