“You have an alternative suggestion?” Bill said, irritated.

“She’s going to hurt herself eventually, Moses,” Liam said.

“She did that when she married the jerk,” Moses replied.

Liam remembered the evening in Bill’s in May, the first day he met the shaman, when Amelia and Darren had come to Moses for his blessing. Moses, drunk and verbally abusive, had withheld any such thing, and at the time Liam had thought him harsh. “The problem is, she might hurt somebody else at the same time,” he said now.

“I’ll handle it,” Moses said.

“How?” Bill said.

“I said I’ll handle it!”

Bill refused to be outshouted. “HOW?”

Moses glared at her. “I’ll take her up to fish camp, dry her out, talk some sense into her.”

If it were possible for Bill to pout, she would have pouted. “But you just got back.”

Moses’ expression changed. “Turn the bar over to Dottie and Paul, and come with.”

Bill stood very still for a moment, and then leaned across the bar and swept Moses into a lavish kiss, to which he responded wholeheartedly.

Liam examined the king net hanging from the ceiling for holes and found it in himself to be grateful there was a bar between Moses and Bill. For two people who were older than God and who woke up nearly every morning in the same bed, their enthusiasm for each other never seemed to wane.

He thought of Wy, of waking up in the same bed every morning with her, and found himself looking forward to being older than God himself.

Bill pulled back, her face flushed. “Well, fish camp ain’t New Orleans, but it’s not a bad second best.”

Moses responded with what could only be described as a salacious grin. “We’ll have to boat you home, lady, because you won’t be able to walk.”