Page 16 of No Judgements

“A hurricane party.” Angela shook her head in amusement. “No one dresses up for a hurricane party. Everyone’s all sweaty from boarding up all day, so they just throw on whatever so they can get their drink on. Man, I should have known this was going to happen when you were outside this morning, talking to him for so long.”

“I wasn’t talking to him. I was talking to other people,” I hastened to remind her. “On the phone. Nothing is going on between me and Drew Hartwell, I swear. You warned me to stay away from him, remember?”

“Yeah, like you’ve ever listened to me.” Angela had a paper plate in her hand and was filling it with truffle popcorn. “I told you not to eat the lobster roll at Duffy’s Clam Shack and you went straight out and tried it.”

“It was featured on the Food Network!”

“That doesn’t mean anything. You know, now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I’ve come to think that youand Hartwell might not be the worst thing that’s ever happened. You actually have a lot in common.”

“Oh, right.” I sampled the spinach dip. It was delicious, like everything Lucy and Ed Hartwell made. “Name one thing.”

“Well, you’re both white.”

I smirked. “Oh, well, everyone knows that guarantees happiness in a relationship.”

She laughed. “And you can both be pretty sarcastic when you want to.”

“That might be true, too, but again, not a guarantee of relationship success.”

She grew more serious. “You do both like animals. You have that crazy cat, and Drew’s got, what, like five dogs out there on the beach with him?”

“I heard it was only three.”

She grinned at me. “Wow, you reallyareinto him. You’ve been checking into his private life?”

“His aunt mentioned the dogs, that’s all. And anyway, what about that truck of his? You’re the one who told me—”

“Oh, forget about that. That was years ago. Before he left for New York. His truck has pretty much been parked in the same place for ages now.”

“Which is?”

“His own driveway. And the Mermaid parking lot. And Home Depot, of course, where he buys all his—”

“Excuse me.” A man’s deep voice cut through our conversation. I turned to see Drew Hartwell standing beside me, holding a paper plate.

I felt my face heating up again, and it wasn’t because of the sultriness of the evening air.

“Yes?” I asked, with concentrated primness. “May I help you with something?”

“My aunt’s brisket.” He pointed at something behind me. “You’re blocking it.”

“Oh.” I hopped out of the way while Angela stifled a snort of laughter. “Sorry.”

How much had he overheard? Any of it? All of it? He didn’t appear at all discomfited, if that was the case. He was digging into his aunt’s brisket like a starving man, piling it onto one of the rolls that had been provided to make sandwiches of the meat.

I should have known to run to a different section of the party when I saw Angela smiling mischievously beside me. But of course I didn’t.

“So, Drew,” she said conversationally, her laughter barely contained. “Is it true what I hear, that you’re going to stay in your house on Sandy Point for the storm?”

“It’s true.” Drew was hesitating over the vast selection of homemade and commercial barbecue sauces for his brisket sandwich.

“That’s a really bold choice, Drew,” Angela said, still grinning. “They’re warning everyone with places on the shoreline to head inland.”

“I built my place to withstand two-hundred-and-fifty-mile-per-hour winds.” Having made his selection, Drew now squirted barbecue sauce all over his brisket. “It’s made of poured concrete and rebar, on forty-foot pilings to keepit above the storm surge. The place should be fine. And if not, it’ll be good for me to be there to make any necessary repairs on-site as breaks happen.”

I stared at him. “Are you insane? That’s exactly what they’re telling peoplenotto do.”

He’d taken a large bite of his sandwich. “You do realize,” he said, as he chewed, “that there’s nowhere on this island you can go that isn’t coastal.”