by A. J. Pine
“I understand. I’m undecided about going back to Florida. I might start looking around at other places,” Lila said.
“I thought you were happier there than you’d been in Memphis or in Little Rock.”
Lila shut her eyes tightly but all she could see was Brody in that tight, sweaty T-shirt. Her therapist said that she kept moving to hunt for happiness but she had to find it inside herself first. Maybe it wasn’t Brody that drew her back to Happy but the whole big picture where she had to prove to everyone that she was no longer that wild kid who was constantly in trouble. When she did that, she could move on.
“Lila?” Daisy raised her voice.
“I was thinkin’,” she said quickly. “I was happy in Memphis and in Little Rock and I do love teaching in Panama City Beach. Maybe I’ve just got a travelin’ bug that begins to bite me after a couple of years.”
“Or maybe Happy is the only place that feels like home for both of us.”
“I kind of doubt that, but who knows? We’ll see what happens this summer. I’m off for a little country ride and then I’m going home to read a boring book until I fall asleep,” Lila said.
“Promise me you will be careful on that thing. I hated it when your daddy rode one and even more when he put you in front of him and took you all over the county,” Daisy said.
“I promise.” She took a long, deep breath. “Good night, Mama.”
As Lila hung up, she caught a movement in her peripheral vision. A black cat with a white blaze on his face was sitting on top of a tombstone and staring right at her.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” she called to him.
He didn’t budge. She held out her hand and called out to him again. Finally, she got up slowly and started walking that way. “You’re a pretty boy. Where do you live?”
When she was close enough, she reached out to pet him but like a lightning streak he jumped down and in seconds he’d disappeared, knocking over a fresh wreath of daisies in his hurry. She straightened the flowers, made sure the metal tripod was secure in the ground, and then noticed the name on the tombstone—Weston Dalley. Birth and death dates recorded right there. Brody’s grandpa had died June 1, twelve years ago. On the other side of the granite tombstone was Hope Dalley, birthday engraved but no death date.
“I know how much you loved him, Brody. I’m so sorry that you lost him.” She went back to her father’s grave and laid a hand on his tombstone. “I miss you, Daddy. I miss those afternoons when you took me for a ride down through the canyon, so this ride is for you.”
Helmet on and a kiss blown toward the skies in hopes that her father would know that she was thinking of him, she headed off to the east. Her idea was that she would ride through the canyon, but when she got to the lane leading back to Henry’s ranch, she slowed to a crawl and turned. The white picket fence around the yard shined in the moonlight. The long, low house felt empty even from that distance, but then it probably hadn’t been lived in for years. Molly said that Henry’s sister left it as it was in hopes that he’d come home someday.
The old barn drew her in. Heeding her mother’s warnings, she drove slowly, keeping her eyes open for potholes. Scraggly weeds grew between fresh tire tracks left by trucks. She parked the bike close to the side door, which squeaked when she opened it just as it had done years ago.
Sitting on a bale of hay, she imagined a big green tractor between her and the door. That’s where she’d gotten her first kiss and it had been from Brody. It had plumb set her insides on fire and every one after that had had the same effect.
A big, white cat made its way from the stacked hay toward her, rubbing around her legs and purring until she picked it up and held it close to her chest. Two cats in one night—one wary of her, the other wanting to be loved. Was this one of her mother’s omens? And if so, should she pay attention to the cemetery cat or the one that liked her?
She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. She sniffed again and then one more time. The cat smelled just like Stetson, the cologne that Brody used to wear back in high school. She glanced around the barn but didn’t see anyone—most likely another kid used the same kind of cologne and had been out here earlier waiting for his girlfriend.
The cat hopped down and disappeared into the dark shadows, leaving Lila alone. She brushed the white hair from her dark T-shirt and jeans and inhaled again. The smell still lingered, so someone had been there. It couldn’t have been Brody, because at thirty, he’d be taking his women to something a little more upscale than an old barn.
Chapter Four
So where have you been?” Jace asked.
“Out for a walk. Don’t have many free evenings when nothing is hollerin’ at me to come take care of it,” Brody answered.
“Amen to that, brother. We’ve worked on these two ranches our whole lives but owning one is a lot different. It’s a twenty-four-seven job.” Jace started toward his truck.
Brody followed him. “You’re sure enough testifyin’ but I’m grateful to Granny for this. If we worked our whole lives and saved every penny, we couldn’t buy something like Hope Springs.”
“Or Prairie Rose.” Jace nodded. “Fred and the guys are already itchin’ to take our money. How much you got to lose?”
“Not more’n ten dollars but at a cap of a quarter we shouldn’t lose too much,” Brody chuckled.
Fred met them at the door and ushered them into the dining room. They took their places around the table and Paul shuffled. “So what do you think about Lila bein’ back in town? Y’all goin’ to get things started where you left off?”
“Lord almighty, this boy has so much on his platter that he ain’t got time for women,” Fred said. “He’s got a ranch to run, kids to help his sister raise, and a granny to take care of.”
“He’s always got time for women, especially Lila.” Paul winked dramatically.
“What makes Lila so special?” Jace asked as he arranged his cards.
Brody sorted through the hand he’d been dealt and bit his tongue to keep from giving them a list half a mile long.
“I’m not sure but there’s sparks all over the place whenever she’s around him.” Paul nodded toward Brody.
“We here to talk women or play poker?” Fred asked.
“At our age we can do both. That woman on the television says it’s multitasking.” Paul reached for a cookie from a full platter in the middle of the table. “How’d you get your wife to let you have all these when all the other women are takin’ stuff to my house for that social thing them women do every month?”
“I didn’t ask,” Fred answered. “I just emptied the cookie jar into a plastic bag and hid them until she was gone. Got some cold beers and soda pop in the ’fridge when y’all get thirsty. And there’s a bag of pretzels if you want something salty.”
Brody laid a card down and held up a finger. Paul slid one across to him.
“You gettin’ serious about playin’ or just wantin’ us to hush about Lila?” Fred asked.
Brody nodded. “Maybe a little of both.”
“If I were in your boots, I’d damn sure move in a hurry.” Paul threw away three cards and motioned for more. “Young cowboys around here are going to come sniffin’ around that café real soon when they hear that somethin’ that pretty is workin’ there.”
“Why don’t you hush? You’re worse than an old woman at meddlin’ in people’s business,” Fred fussed at him.
“Have some pretzels and beer and don’t tell me what to do,” Paul shot back.
Jace chuckled. “You reckon when we get old, we’re goin’ to be like these two, Brody? And I thought there was a couple more guys who would be here.”
“Old!” Fred gasped. “We’re like fine wine. We get better and see things clearer with age. Y’all young whippersnappers would do good if you were half as smart as us when you get to be sixty.”
“Just us four. The others all had stuff to do,” Paul said.
Brody looked at his terrible hand and thought of the hand life had dealt hi
m. Grandfather and father both passing away the same summer that Lila had left. Going straight to work on the ranches rather than going to college like he’d planned. Now like Fred said, helping Kasey raise three kids, helping Jace organize and run Hope Springs. He loved the work but sometimes the weight of it all was pretty damn heavy. But a picture of Lila flashing through his mind brought a ray of light the likes of which he hadn’t even realized was possible.
Still, after that last night and twelve years’ worth of water under the bridge, there was probably no way she’d ever want to start anything new with him. He’d blown his chance and the bridge had burned, leaving them on opposite sides of a deep gully.
“Brody!” Paul raised his voice.
He laid all his cards but one on the table, keeping the queen of hearts. “Guess I need a wheelbarrow full,” he said.
Paul slid several cards across the table. “Not too lucky tonight, are you?”
“It can change,” Brody said.
“Never too late to change or to start over,” Fred said.
“You gettin’ all philosophical on us, Fred?” Jace threw down two cards.
“Just callin’ it like I see it.” He shoved a quarter out to the middle of the table.
“I’ll see your two bits and raise you four,” Paul said.
Brody’s hand had improved enough that he wouldn’t lose too heavily on the first go-round. His mind kept wandering back to Lila. He’d rather be sitting in the hayloft with her than playing poker with Fred, Paul, and Jace but he didn’t have that option. He glanced down at the queen of hearts and smiled.
“He must be about to take all our money,” Paul said.
“Nah, he’s thinkin’ about a woman. Poker don’t put a grin like that on a man’s face,” Fred argued.
Jace pushed three quarters out to the middle of the table. “I’ll raise your four bits and add two more to it.”
Brody laid his cards on the table. “Y’all got me. I’m out.”
“Can’t believe a Dawson has a bad luck streak,” Paul said.
“We’re playin’ poker, not talkin’ women, remember?” Jace teased.
Brody punched him on the arm. “You’re as much an old woman as these two are.”
Fred laid out a full house and raked in the quarters. “I’ll have enough to buy a hamburger at the Happy Café if my luck holds out.”
A vision of Lila in those tight jeans flashed through Brody’s mind and he bit back a groan.
Lila hadn’t awakened that Saturday morning with dancing on her mind, but when the café closed, she’d turned on the radio and danced through the top five country songs with the mop as a partner. She hadn’t been out to an old country bar in years but the music brought back memories of the time when she and Brody managed to get into the Silver Spur with fake IDs. They’d drank beer and danced until thirty minutes before curfew, then drove like bats set loose from Hades to get home in time.
She was dressed in skinny jeans, boots, and a sleeveless Western shirt after she’d applied makeup and curled her hair. She’d worked hard for the past years to subdue that wild inner child, but tonight she was turning it loose and letting it come out to play. She listened to a Blake Shelton CD on the way to the Silver Spur and wiggled her shoulders to the beat. The words to his song would be her theme song for the night. She’d leave when the place shut down or when they ran completely out of cold beer.
The parking lot was pretty full when she arrived. That meant that she would have plenty of guys to dance with. Lila held her breath as she walked through the fog of cigarette smoke and ignored the whistles of several cowboys who’d already drank too much. She had her money out to pay the cover charge but the bouncer waved her on in.
“Ladies’ night every first Saturday. Free cover charge and beers are two dollars until ten o’clock. Enjoy,” he said.
“Thank you.” She shoved the money back into her small purse and went straight toward the bar.
The dance floor was full of line dancers and the sound of their boots hitting the wooden floor was music to her ears. She hiked a hip on a bar stool and ordered a beer.
A tall, blond cowboy with pretty blue eyes claimed the place beside her within seconds. “How about I buy you a drink? I’m Rick, short for Derrick, and you’re Angel, right?”
“No, I’m Lila, short for Delilah, which is about as far from Angel as you can get. But that’s a pretty good pickup line, Rick,” she answered. “I’ve already got a drink ordered but thank you.”
The line dancers made a beeline for the bar as the next song started. When the first guitar strands of “If You’re Gonna Play in Texas” began, Rick held out his hand and she put hers in it. He led her to the middle of the floor and wrapped his arms around her. She was grateful that they were the same height and his nose wasn’t resting between her breasts. He was smooth on the dance floor and dancing with him was fun.
The band’s singer stepped up to the mic. “We have a request for ‘Sideways’ by Darryl Worley. This isn’t the Rendezvous Club like he sings about but it’s definitely time to get a little sideways in the Silver Spur for most of you folks and there’s plenty of fiddle in this one.”
The blond cowboy was pretty smooth on his feet and Lila was enjoying the dance until a petite redhead tapped her on the shoulder. “Mind if I have a turn at this cowboy?”
Lila stepped back and someone grabbed her hand, spun her around in a swing dance, and then brought her back to his chest. Her heart knocked against her chest so hard that she thought it would fly out of her chest when she looked into those cerulean blue Dawson eyes.
“Brody?” Of course it was Brody. No one else created such turmoil in her body, soul, and mind.
“Lila.” He smiled.
“I thought you were too busy for a night out or maybe I should say two nights since you played poker with Fred and Paul last night. I sure didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“How’d you know that I was at Fred’s playin’ poker?” he asked.
“Rumors are nourished and fed at the café.” She grinned. “Paul and Fred came in for their usual afternoon snack and gossip session. I don’t know how they get anything done on their ranches.”
“They’ve each got a good foreman and lots of hired help. And I probably shouldn’t take two nights off in a row but I heard that you might be here tonight.”
“Oh, really?” She raised both dark brows.
“The café isn’t the only place that gossip flourishes.” He smiled. “Molly was fussin’ about you and it got back to Kasey.”
She should walk away and not look back but she was enjoying being close to him too much to do that. “I don’t imagine your granny and your mama will appreciate that,” she finally said.
“Right now I’m not real concerned about what anybody thinks.” He drew her closer and buried his face in her hair.
Every nerve in her body was aware that she was in his arms and all her hormones kicked into double time, begging her to drag him out to the truck and fog the windows. When the song ended, another line dance started. He kept her hand in his and led her back to the bar, where they claimed the last couple of stools at the very end. He held up two fingers and pointed to the Coors bottle the guy beside him held. The bartender nodded and brought two ice-cold longnecks to them.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“About?”
“You. Why didn’t you call me after you moved?” he said.
“My heart was shattered, Brody. Why did you stand me up that night?” She couldn’t tell him that she’d called the ranch but when his mother answered, she’d hung up.
“I didn’t want to see you cry again, so when the guys asked me to go with them, I went. And...” He paused, leaving a big empty space hanging over their heads.
“You didn’t want to be seen in public with me without a crowd around us, right?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry. I wish I could go back and redo that night, Lila. But there was another reason.”
; “And that is?”
“I didn’t want you to see me cry,” he said. “I really do wish I could get a redo.”
“Sometimes it’s too late to do what you should have been doing all along, Brody.”
It had taken a lot of therapy for her to realize that Brody had been a complete jerk. That the way he treated her wasn’t her fault and that she had been worthy of a decent relationship even if they were just teenagers.
“I tried to sweet-talk a phone number out of Molly and Georgia both. I still can’t believe that she retired and moved so far away. She and Molly were an institution at the café. I knew they’d have some way to get in touch with your mom but they wouldn’t budge. Then I sent a letter to you, thinking they would forward it to your new address but it came back stamped with ‘refused’ in big red letters.”
“Mama was tired of watching me get hurt. She knew we’d been sneaking around and that I was…that I’d had a big crush on you for years.” She couldn’t make herself say that she’d been in love with him. “Then when you finally asked me out for real, you stood me up. If a letter had come, she would have burned it.” She lowered her voice. “And your folks thought I was a bad influence on you and everyone else. I just wanted you to like me, Brody, but that ship has sailed and I burned the bridge between me and you. It’s too late for us.”
“Then we’ll have to build a new ship and a new bridge.” He ran a rough hand down her cheekbone. “You’re still as beautiful as I remember and it’s never too late.” He parroted Fred’s words from the night before. Or was it Paul who’d said that? Either way, it was good advice.
Sitting so close that his arm grazed hers when he took a drink of his beer, looking like sex on a stick, smelling exactly like that white cat in Henry’s barn—the wild child inside her wanted to come out and play so badly. But she wasn’t that girl who’d fall all over herself for a little attention from Brody Dawson. When she’d started college at Penn State, she’d become the girl who studied hard, got good grades, and graduated with honors. According to her therapist, she’d been out to show everyone that she’d amount to something.
