If she lost the Dragonfly, at least she would still have her friends. No one could take them away from her.
“Hey, Allie!” The enthusiastic greeting came from Jimmy Pye, who captained the Sallie Ann. They often referred business back and forth. “Heard you found the snapper today.”
“We pulled in a few,” she said with a grin, slapping the crusty sailor on the back as she passed his table, where he was tipping some beers with his crew.
“How’s it goin’, Allie?” another sailor asked. He was a skinny man she knew only as Paco who had crewed for several different boats over the years.
She couldn’t honestly answer that things were going great, but she had no intention of airing her problems in a public place. “Things are goin’,” she said noncommittally.
Several others greeted her with a friendly wave or a nod. They were a close-knit group, the sailors and boat owners of Port Clara. By now, news of the injunction had spread, but no one mentioned it. They knew she would talk about it if she wanted to.
She slid onto a bar stool and was surprised to see her friend Sara behind the bar, mixing drinks.
“Hey, que pasa, chica?” Sara grinned, her huge chandelier earrings forming a glittering halo. Sara was a spot of sunshine wherever she went. She liked to wear Mexican cotton shirts embroidered with bright colors, and swirly skirts that often clashed. Today she’d twisted her long, brown hair into a careless knot on top of her head, stuck through with a pencil.
“When did you come back?” Allie asked as her friend poured her a Corona draft without asking. “I thought you’d be gone at least a couple more weeks.”
Sara shrugged as she set the frosty mug in front of Allie along with a bowl of lime wedges. “Got tired of L.A. Too expensive, too plastic…and the art-house movie I was supposed to work on turned out to be more porn than art. Like they really needed a set designer? I told ’em to buy a king-size bed and some gauze, and I walked.”
That was Sara. Easy come, easy go.
“Anyway, I got a little homesick,” she admitted.
“You? Homesick?”
“Well, okay, I heard three very good-looking, rich and highly eligible bachelors were staying at the B and B, and my curiosity got the better of me.”
Allie squeezed some lime juice into her beer. “So you heard.”
Sara frowned. “Yeah. Miss Greer called me. Actually, I think she was just looking for an excuse to check up on me. Sounds like you got some real trouble on your hands, doll. What’s the scoop?”
“Ugh. I’ll fill you in sometime, but not tonight. Tonight I just want to forget those Remington cousins exist.”
“Then you came to the wrong place.” Sara’s gaze slid to the left, and Allie suppressed a gasp. There they were, at a table not twenty feet away. They each had a bottle of some fancy designer beer, and they had their heads together, poring over a bunch of papers.
“I’ll have to agree with Miss Greer,” Sara said. “Those Remington boys are a nice-looking lot-especially the one with the glasses. He’s cute.”
Allie frowned and squinted at them. “You think so?” Cooper was the one whose looks made her mouth go dry.
“Mmm-mmm. Don’t you want to go and just muss up that neatly combed hair?”
“Sara. Don’t forget, those guys are trying to take away my boat. I can’t afford to let up my guard for one minute, and that means no hair mussing.”
Sara cocked her head to one side. “I don’t know, hon, but I think you could do better making friends, rather than seeing them as the enemy.”
“You go make friends, then,” Allie huffed. “Find out what they’re talking about.”
“I think maybe I will.” Sara moved to the adjacent side of the square bar area, near the Remingtons’ table, while Allie nursed her beer and angled her body away from the men. The bar was pretty crowded, so they probably wouldn’t see her.
A reporter from the Port Clara Clarion stopped by to chat, casually milking Allie for information about the Dragonfly’s disputed ownership, but Allie gave the woman as little as possible. She kept watch on the Remingtons from the corner of her eye.
At least, she thought she’d kept watch. But when a pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind, she nearly came off her bar stool.
“Allie!” Cooper said in a jovial greeting, as if they were old friends. “Why don’t you join us at our table? I’ll buy you a drink.”
His hands on her, so casually, should have been repugnant. But to her utter disgust, she found his touch sparked something deep inside her, something female responding to his masculinity.
“I don’t think so,” she said coolly.
“Aw, come on.” He released her and slid onto the bar stool next to her. “We had a great time today. Don’t let our legal dispute color everything black.”
She gave him her most penetrating stare. “You call it a legal dispute. I call it you trying to take away my livelihood.”
The easy smile fled his face. She wished he wasn’t so darn good-looking. It would be easier to hold on to her righteous indignation if he didn’t tickle her hormones.
“I did offer you a cash settlement,” he reminded her. “But you wouldn’t even listen. Litigation is expensive.”
She’d been wondering if she was crazy not to at least listen to his offer. If it was generous enough, she could start over, maybe buy an interest in another boat.
She could even compete with the Remingtons.
But selling out didn’t sit well with her. Johnny had trusted her to take care of his boat and his business after he was gone. He’d obviously not been on good terms with his family, and he wouldn’t want them to have the Dragonfly or Remington Charters.
“I know litigation is expensive.”
He raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise. “Oh? You’ve been sued before, perhaps? Are property disputes a pattern with you?”
“I’m not some black widow preying on old men, if that’s what you think. But I have had dealings with lawyers.”
Allie’s father had died when she was sixteen. He’d been a charter fisherman, too-friends with Johnny, in fact. He’d left everything to Allie in his will, but her attorney-uncle was the executor of the estate until she reached majority. Within eighteen months he’d bankrupted the business. She’d tried to get legal help when she realized what was happening, but no lawyer would take her case because she didn’t have any money.
She didn’t, however, think her past legal problems were any of Cooper’s business. He would use any little tidbit he picked up from her to defeat her. He would twist her words until she came out sounding like an opportunist who went around inheriting boats as a hobby.
“We’re not all jerks,” Cooper pointed out.
“Prove it.”
“It’s not as if the boat means nothing to me.” He tried again. “I spent summers with Uncle Johnny when I was younger-Reece and Max, too. They’re the happiest memories we have. Is it wrong for us to want to reclaim those happy times? Especially when I know Johnny always intended for us to inherit his boat someday. He used to tell us that all the time.”
Oh, he was good. She’d give him that. If a jury heard their case-and knowing what she so far knew of Cooper, he would demand a jury hearing-they would be whipping out their handkerchiefs before he was through with them.
“Maybe once upon a time he did intend to leave you the boat. But that was before you went years without visiting, without calling. Before you left him to die here alone, with only his employee by his bedside.”
“His employee?” Another raised eyebrow.