“So where were you coming from?” Brody asked.
“I just came from school.” Carly grabbed Brody’s hand and squeezed as her eyes grew large. “Did Dad tell you about my dress?”
“No, he didn’t get a chance.”
“You won’t believe it. We had our final fitting this morning.”
“Did you have a half-day of school or something?”
“No, I went in late. Not much going on at the end of the year.”
Travis chuckled and knocked his elbow into Brody’s side. “You remember what it was like senior year.”
“Better not talk about it in front of your daughter.” Brody winked at Carly. “Tell me about your dress.”
“It’s gorgeous. Right, Dad?”
Travis slapped on a smile as his head began to pound. Gorgeous wasn’t the word he was thinking of.
“I can’t wait to see you in it on Saturday,” Brody said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
“Riley said I was smokin’.”
“Smokin’, huh?” Brody laughed as he shot a devilish look at Travis. “That must be some dress.”
“Most dads would hate it, but not mine. He’s way cooler than that. Most dads would say it’s too revealing.”
“Is it?”
“No. All the important parts are covered.” Carly giggled and stepped out of Brody’s hug, pulling her cell phone from her back pocket. “I’ve got to go. I’m babysitting for Darla in a half hour.”
“Oh, yeah? Where’s Meghan?” Travis finally found his voice again, relieved for the change in subject.
“She’s got a class. I’ve been babysitting the twins after school a couple of days a week, just until Jason or Darla gets home. Saving up money for senior week at the beach.”
Travis wrapped his arm around Carly’s shoulder and tugged her close. “All right. Go get ’em, kid.” He pecked a kiss on her temple and then pulled out his wallet. “Here’s a twenty.”
“Dad, you don’t have to give me money every time I stop in to say hi.”
“Really? You sure that’s not the real reason you come to see me?”
“Dad!” Carly snatched the bill out of his hand and kissed his cheek. “I’m not babysitting tomorrow. Want to go out to dinner?”
“You buying?”
“Whatever.” Carly shook her head as she strolled back to her car. She laid on the horn as she turned onto Main Street.
“Pete is going to pull her over for disturbing the peace.” Travis’s grumble couldn’t hide his affection for his only child.
He’d been smitten from the moment she was born. Carly could do no wrong in his eyes. The first few years had been tough on him as a new dad. Being in the Air Force helped support his young family, but he was away often. He’d missed a few key moments like her first steps and first words. The divorce had driven a wedge in his life, and he’d gone off to lick his wounds. He’d been absent the next few years until he returned to Highland Springs, and since then, he’d done all he could to make up for the lost time.
“Carly’s excited about that dress. Looks like Maggie has no choice but to go through with it, huh?” Brody nudged Travis, pulling his focus away from the Mustang disappearing through the intersection.
“Seems so.”
“What do you have to say about that?”
“What can I say?” He shrugged and walked toward Brody’s truck. Maybe he’d get the hint and leave. Travis knew where this conversation was headed.
“You can tell her the truth. Tell her she’s making a mistake.”
“Is she?”
“You know damn well she is, Travis.”
“Little Buddy Garrett seems like a good enough guy.” Travis leaned against the truck and crossed his arms. Why wouldn’t Brody give up? They’d been over this a million times before.
“That’s bullshit. You said you didn’t trust him. She’s marrying the wrong man.”
“Oh, yeah? And who is the right man for Maggie? Tell me that.”
“You know who. You’re just too chickenshit to tell her.”
Right now, he could punch Brody Fisk right in the mouth. He’d done it before. He could do it again. The last time he’d hit Brody was in middle school when he’d cheated him out of some baseball cards. Brody had promised to trade with him, but gave his cards to Tucker instead. They got in a big argument, and Travis punched him square in the jaw. It was a stupid fight, but they made up quick enough. They’d been best of friends ever since.
But if Brody kept this up, Travis might have to rethink their relationship.
“Out of respect for our long-standing friendship, I’m going to ignore that last comment.”
“Why? Because you know it’s the truth. How long are you going to standby as she marries another guy?”
“It’s beyond my control. If Maggie wants to hitch her wagon to Buddy, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“You can tell her you still love her. That you two should be together.”
“Jesus.” Travis chuckled, but he didn’t feel an ounce of humor. “Time to sing another song because this one is getting old.”
“This isn’t a joke. She’s getting married on Saturday.”
“Too late.”
“It’s never too late. You can stop her from marrying Buddy. Just tell her how you feel.”
“There’s no point.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t love me back. Hasn’t since the day she walked out on me.”
“Come on, Travis.”
He ignored his friend’s plea and reached for the door handle on Brody’s truck. “I’ve got work to do. You better get going.”
Brody climbed in and hung his head out the window. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”
Blood boiled in Travis’s veins. He’d never been so mad at Brody. “You do that, and we are through. You got it? Friend or no friend, you stay the hell out of my business.” He turned on his heel and stormed back to the garage, slamming his office door.
Who the hell did Brody think he was, threatening to go to Maggie? This wasn’t high school. They were adults, all grown up, and able to make their own choices. So what if she was getting married on Saturday? There was nothing he could do about it. She’d made her decision. They’d had a few close calls with each other over the years—times he thought they could work things out. But they never did.
She didn’t love him. It was as simple as that.
He’d accepted it, so why couldn’t his friends? It didn’t matter if he still loved her—had never stopped loving her. She was in love with someone else. He’d just keep on doing what he’d been doing for years. Get back to work and forget about a future with Maggie.
Chapter 3
Thursday morning, Maggie dragged herself out of bed. The bones in her feet creaked and a twinge of pain stabbed her lower back. She didn’t have a fever, so she knew it wasn’t the flu, but she’d been lethargic for the past week. Maybe she had arthritis. Not the elderly kind—though she felt thirty years older—but the serious kind. Rheumatoid arthritis. That would explain her aches and pains, and her sudden need for a nap as soon as she had returned home from Hilda’s yesterday. A whole afternoon wasted because she couldn’t seem to get off the couch.
Today she had to push through. There was no time to fret about her physical condition, she had a million things to do. First, she had to go into the bar to take inventory and work up the liquor order. Next she had to stop by Beautiful Blooms to sign some checks. And this afternoon she had a hair appointment. Meeting with a doctor would have to wait. She’d suck it up until after her honeymoon.
After a quick shower and three cups of coffee, she unlocked the backdoor to the Brass Rail and let herself into the cool, dark space. She dropped her purse on the desk in her dad’s office—it would always be his office—and trudged into the storeroom to check the liquor supply. Flipping the switch, the fluorescent strip blinked to life, and she screamed.
“No!”
A s
hallow pond had formed in the middle of the room, water splashed onto her pant legs as she rushed in. The liquor cartons stacked on the floor were soaked through and coming apart at the seams. Water was everywhere and beginning to creep into the hall.
“Where is this coming from?”
She rushed out of the storeroom and into the bar, frantically running from corner to corner, shoving chairs and tables aside. In the back part of the space, water crept toward the pool tables. It was almost as deep as the five-inch platform used for a stage. She charged into the mechanical room, nearly ripping the door off its hinges, and discovered the source of the leak. The hot water heater was spewing liquid from underneath.
“No, no, oh, no.” Maggie pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket and called the first person she could think of.
“Kane’s,” a craggy voice barked into the phone.
“It’s me.” Before she could say another word, she burst out crying. Fat, wet tears plunged down her cheeks and a glob formed in her throat, shutting down her vocal cords. Dammit, she hated it when she cried. A flooded bar was the last thing she needed two days before her wedding.
“Mag, what is it?”
“I . . . the . . .” A guttural sob escaped from deep within her, and she dropped to the wet floor. Her head fell to her knees as violent tears racked her body. Her cell phone was still pressed to her ear.
“Is it Carly? Did something happen to her?”
“No,” she squeaked out.
“Where are you?”
“Bar.” A sharp pain stabbed her throat.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
When the call ended, Maggie let loose a stream of mournful tears. Why was this happening now? It was supposed to be the happiest time of her life. A leaking water tank and wet floor shouldn’t have thrown her into the depths of despair. There was something seriously wrong with her.
Her jeans were soaked through, and mascara had surely streaked down her cheeks. Travis would be here soon, and he couldn’t find her like his. She climbed to her feet and hurried to the bathroom, using a paper towel to clean her black striped face. Her eyes were red and swollen, and somehow through the ordeal, her hair had popped from its elastic band. She looked nothing like a bride-to-be.
Hearing pounding on the front door, she quickly fingered her hair back into a ponytail, flipped off the bathroom light, and ran across the bar.
Travis burst in, twisting left and right as if he were looking for the bad guys.
“What’s the emergency?”
“Water. Everywhere.”
“What?” He stopped his frantic survey and spun around. “Your pants are soggy. What the hell happened to you?”
“The hot water heater is leaking.”
He ran his hand over his head and released an audible sigh. “Christ, I thought you’d been robbed or raped or stabbed. Why didn’t you tell me it was just the hot water heater?”
“I’m sorry. I’m a bit overwhelmed.”
“I can see that.”
Yep, he’d noticed her scary appearance.
“You look like hell.”
His honest assessment hurt.
“It’s back here past the stage, right?” Without waiting for confirmation, Travis crossed the bar and found the source of the flood. “Shit, this thing’s been going all night. Why didn’t you turn off the water valve?”
“I didn’t know.” Maggie splashed into the room behind him as he turned the metal wheel.
“I showed you this before. Right here. This is where the cold water comes into the tank.”
“Sorry.”
“I told you it needed replaced the last time.”
“You said it had a bad element or something.”
“The damn thing is over thirty years old. Your cheapskate father should’ve replaced it years ago.”
“Hold it right there, mister.” Her dad wasn’t perfect, and he may have indeed been a cheapskate, but no one—not even Travis Kane—could talk smack about her father. “He’s not here to defend himself, so keep your nasty comments to yourself.”
Travis tossed a scowl her way, but heeded her warning, continuing to poke and prod parts of the machine. His T-shirt stretched across his firm back, and his biceps flexed as he searched for the cause of the leak. He’d been tall and lanky as a teenager, but had filled out to a trim, chiseled man. His jeans stretched over his muscular thighs and tight butt, and tingly warmth quivered in her belly. She hated his wooly dreads, but he was still smoking hot after all these years.
Too bad he was such a jerk.
“It looks to me like the inner tank is shot. I don’t see any dampness in the relief or the drain valves.”
“Whatever that means,” she mumbled, tearing her gaze from the thick bulge at the back of his upper arms.
“The insulation is wet inside.” He stood up, flicked his hair over his shoulder, and trained his crystal blue eyes on her. “You need a new tank.”
“I can’t deal with this right now.”
“Well, darlin’, if you hope to open sometime today, you better deal with it.”
“But, I . . .”
“The health department would shit a brick if they came in here and found out you were washing glasses in cold water.”
“We would never do that.”
“Then you better deal with this tsunami. Unlike you, most people don’t like wet feet.” He glanced down at her jeans, tipping his head around to her backside. “Or a wet ass.” He wiggled his eyebrows and chuckled.
“Shut up.”
A pleasant tingle surged south, but it didn’t hide the fact that he infuriated her. Why couldn’t they have a civil conversation without him patronizing her? She couldn’t do anything right in Travis’s eyes.
“I’ll head over to the plumbing supply and get you a good tank. We’re not too busy today at the garage, so one of the guys can help me.”
“Thank you, Travis.”
“Huh?” He cupped his hand around his ear. “Come again? Did I just hear a thank you from Maggie Timbrook?”
“Yes, damn you, I said thanks. I always thank you.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“Then why do you come when I call if I’m so unappreciative?”
“Somebody’s gotta do it.” He splashed out of the mechanical room and headed toward the shed behind the building where they stored tools and equipment. “Got the key?”
Maggie pulled her key ring from her front pocket and tossed it to Travis. He went into the dark shed and returned with a garden hose and a bucket.
“What are you going to do with that?” She followed him back to the hot water heater.
“Drain the tank.”
He squatted beside the tank, attached the hose to a spigot, and soon water was filling the bucket. “That should take about an hour. In the meantime, I’ll pick up a new tank for you.”
“Okay.”
“Empty that bucket every once in a while.”
“Of course.” Why did he have to treat her like she was stupid?
“While I’m gone, I suggest you sop up all this water with the shop vac.”
“Shop vac?”
“It’s out in the shed.”
“Oh, okay.” Maybe Penny knew how to work it. She wasn’t about to ask Travis how to do it. She didn’t need another tongue lashing.
He stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to work a shop vac.”
“I do,” she squeaked.
“Yeah, right. Maybe Little Buddy can show you how.”
“His name is—”
“I know his name. Get your next husband to show you how to work it.”
“He’s out of town.”
“Well, I hope to hell he gets back in time for your nuptials.”
Maggie folded her arms below her breasts as fire simmered in her veins. “He’ll be back tomorrow tonight.”
“Not a minute too soon.”
“He’s finishing up some
sales calls before the wedding. We’ll be gone ten days on our honeymoon, so he wanted to wrap everything up.”
“Yes, he’s a very important man, I’m sure.”
“He is. He just got promoted to district sales manager.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like he’ll be away from his bride even more now.” A sinister smile formed on his face. “You know what that means. Lots of lonely nights on the road. Plenty of temptations.”
“Buddy would never cheat on me.”
“That’s what you said about the last one.” Travis brushed past her and headed for the door. Maggie was on him like a gnat on flypaper.
“How dare you? That was a low blow even for you, Travis.”
“I just call ’em like I see ’em.”
“Buddy is the kindest, most honest, devoted man I’ve ever met.”
“Yep, a real Boy Scout. Then again, that’s what you thought about the last two.”
“I can’t believe—”
“How well do you really know Little Buddy?”
“I’ve known him most of my life. We grew up together. You know that.”
“He’s been away from here a long time. You’ve dated him for what? Six months? More than half that time, he’s been away on sales calls.” Travis flicked his fingers in air quotes. “For all you know he’s got another wife and family in Little Rock.”
“He does not.”
“Shit, he could have an STD. Have you been checked out lately?”
“Oh my God. I don’t believe you. You’re just jealous because I found the one.”
Whatever Love Means Page 3
