He’d never seen her in J&J’s.

She swung her head around and looked down the bar and Colt followed her eyes.

She was looking at February who was talking to a biker while she poured him a draft.

That chill slid round to cover his entire torso and locked in.

When he looked back at Amy, she was close.

“Anyone, um… sitting here, Colt?” she waved at the stool beside him which was good because she was speaking so quietly he could barely hear her.

“Take a seat,” he invited and she hesitated before she did so.

Her eyes skittered back to February before she put her purse on the bar and folded her hands on it like if she didn’t position them properly she was scared of what they’d do.

“How’s things, Amy?”

He watched her body tense at his question and she turned her neck slowly to look at him.

“Not good,” she said, again talking so quietly Colt barely heard her.

“Why’s that?”

Her head jerked slightly and she closed her eyes before she opened them and whispered something he didn’t catch.

“Come again?”

She cleared her throat and said louder, “Angie.”

“Angie. Yeah,” Colt replied, keeping his eyes on her, hers had moved to stare at her purse.

“I figured people would stay away,” she said then lifted her hand and it fluttered weirdly in the air like a wounded bird before she dropped it to her purse again, wounded bird down, “from here.” She glanced around the bar and her eyes moved to his again before she dropped them back to her bag and finished. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Why’d you think they’d stay away?”

“Dunno. Just did. Angie.”

“You know Angie?”

She shrugged and then her gaze moved to his chest. “She had an account at our bank. She always came to my station, every Friday after work.” She shrugged again and looked back at her purse. “I was nice to her, others could be…”

Her voice trailed away, the words left unspoken didn’t need to be said.

Her body jumped suddenly and she said slightly more loudly, “Anyway, I thought I’d show Morrie and Feb my support, come to their bar, have a drink. But I guess everyone thought the same thing.”

“This is what it’s like every Friday.”

Her eyes came to his and she didn’t try to hide her surprise or inexperience. “Really?”

Colt couldn’t help it. She was a harmless, shy hermit who wanted to do the right thing and it probably took everything she had to leave her cocoon of a world and come out to do it.

So he grinned at her and said, “Really.”

Her eyes shot away from his face, they caught on something else and he watched her grow pale.

He followed her gaze and saw Feb halfway down the bar staring at the both of them looking like her body had been encased in ice.

But the expression on her face was raw, so raw it was difficult to witness.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Amy whispered, sounding urgent and hurried now, even scared, and Colt’s head jerked to her.

“What?”

“Feb doesn’t… they don’t need me here. I’ll just get home.”

Before he could utter a syllable she slid off her stool and wended her way through the crowd.

Colt forgot about her instantly and looked back at February.

She’d turned and was now standing, facing the shelves behind the bar, both of her hands were up, elbows cocked. She’d lifted up her hair, holding it high at the back of her head, the heavy fall of it was hiding her hands.

She wasn’t moving.

Colt waited and she didn’t reach for a bottle or a glass. She just stared at the shelves, inert.

“Feb, darlin’, tequila,” Jack called, not looking at his daughter.

Feb still didn’t move.

“What the f**k?” Colt muttered as he watched her remain still.

Then he felt that chill that had evaporated at his torso come back and start clawing at his chest. He got up, pulled back the bar on its hinges, slid around, dropped it down and moved to Feb.

He had a hand on her elbow before her entire frame jerked, she dropped her arms and she turned to him.

“You okay?” he asked.

She stared unblinking at his face.

“Feb, I’m talkin’ to you.” His fingers were still wrapped around her elbow and he tightened them there.

“What?” she asked.

“You okay?”

She came out of her trance, dropped her chin and looked away at the same time she lifted her arm bent at the elbow and tried to twist out of his hold.

He tightened his fingers further.

She looked at his hand before her head came back up. “I’m fine.”

“Somethin’ spook you?”

“Cat walked over my grave.”

“Cat walks over your grave, you shiver and get on with it, you don’t freeze then lapse into a trance.”

“I didn’t lapse into a trance,” she lied.

“Somethin’ goin’ on here?” Jack asked from close at Colt’s back.

“Somethin’ spooked Feb,” Colt answered.

“Nothing spooked me,” Feb lied again.

“Somethin’ spooked her?” Jack knew Feb enough to know she was lying.

“Nothing spooked me!” Feb’s voice was getting louder. “I just forgot what I was doin’ for a minute.”

“I thought a cat walked over your grave,” Colt called her on her lie.

“That too,” she returned.

“Which one is it, girl?” Jack asked.

Feb jerked her arm out of Colt’s hold, took a step back but leaned forward now totally loud and shouted, “Both of you, back off!”

Then she pushed through them, rushed to the end of the bar, threw the entry open on its hinges, it collapsed back onto the bar making a loud sound shaking the bar and taking Colt’s beer down with it.

She ignored all this, threw open the door to the office and slammed it shut behind her.

Out of the side of his eye Colt saw Jack turn to him but he didn’t take his gaze from the office door.

“You reckon she’s spooked or bein’ a woman?”

“Both,” Colt answered and walked down the bar to the office.

He went in and closed the door behind him. Feb was standing at the desk, her profile to him. She’d again pulled the hair away from her face and had it held in a fist at the back of her head, exposing the line of her neck, more of her choker and her silver hoop earring.