Ain't Misbehaving (9781455523801)

by Cannon, Molly

  “Sorry?” Marla Jean had a feeling she’d regret asking for an explanation.

  “Chasing after Jake the way you have been. It won’t do you any good. He feels sorry for you, but that’s all.”

  Marla Jean’s scalp prickled with outrage, but she took a deep breath and managed to ask calmly, “And why exactly should he feel sorry for me?”

  Genna looked at her like she was thickheaded. “Well, it’s not just Jake. It’s the whole town. If my husband dumped me for a woman old enough to be my grandma, I wouldn’t want to show my face. But look at you, out and about. I actually admire that, Marla Jean.”

  She decided to ignore the whole town part and focus on the Jake part since she had no doubt he was the bone of Genna’s contention. “Jake and I have been friends since we were kids, Genna. I don’t need your two cents on what he’s feeling.”

  With a flip of her blonde hair Genna informed her pointedly, “As long as you realize a friend is all you’ll ever be, sweetie, then we’re cool.”

  Marla pulled some towels from the metal dispenser hanging on the wall and dried her hands while struggling to keep a lid on her temper. “Your concern is real touching, Genna, but if you want to know a secret, sweetie, I’m not the one who’s been doing the chasing.”

  So what if it was just so he could play the big brother. Genna didn’t need to know that. Pleased at having had the last word, she threw the paper towels into the trash can, turned on her heels and marched toward the bathroom door, pushing it open with greater force than necessary.

  “Ow!” A yowl of pain came from the other side of the door as she felt it smack into something solid.

  Opening the door, Marla Jean came face to face with the woman who’d caused the whole town to feel sorry for her. Libby Comstock staggered and fell into her arms.

  Chapter Nine

  Oh, Miss Comstock, I’m so sorry.” Marla Jean stepped forward to catch her. This part was just plain awkward. Marla Jean had called the woman “Miss Comstock” since she was a little girl. Just because Bradley was boffing her now didn’t mean she suddenly felt comfortable addressing her by her first name.

  Miss Comstock swayed a bit, holding one hand over her nose. Her eyes were red and watering. Terrific. Marla Jean had managed to avoid a direct confrontation with the woman for months, and now she’d bashed her face in with half the town as witnesses.

  Right behind her, Genna came barreling out of the bathroom all in a tizzy. She pushed Marla Jean out of the way and put an arm around the older woman. “Oh Lordy, Miss Comstock, let me help you.”

  “Libby? Mon amour, are you all right?” Bradley came rushing over, his face filled with alarm, his beret slipping down over one eye. He took one look at her and wheeled around. “What did you do, Marla Jean? Did you hit her?”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Bradley. Of course I didn’t hit her. I mean, I hit her with the door, but—”

  The room had gotten quiet as people close by stopped eating to watch the drama unfolding.

  “You hit her with the door?” Bradley’s voice was loud and filled with accusation.

  “Simmer down, Bradley,” Libby croaked. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  Genna surrendered Libby into Bradley’s care, and in a voice that projected, a voice she probably hadn’t used since her cheerleader days, she declared scornfully, “Really, Marla Jean, you ought to be ashamed.” Shaking her head, she walked away.

  Marla Jean thought Genna ought to be ashamed of that chicken fried excuse of a blonde hairdo she wore on her head, but right now she had more pressing matters on her hands.

  “I feel just awful.” Marla Jean reached out her hand in a feeble gesture of apology.

  “You should feel awful.” Bradley batted her hand away and wrapped his arm around Libby’s waist, while glaring daggers at Marla Jean.

  Libby still had her hand over her nose and her voice quavered. “Nonsense, it wasn’t Marla Jean’s fault, Brad. Can we just go sit down, please? I’m still a little wobbly.”

  “Of course, ma chérie.” He led Libby away murmuring French sweet nothings, but not before he glowered at Marla Jean once more for good measure.

  “I really am sorry,” she offered again as they walked away. Whispered conversation picked up again around her, and she saw the not-so-discreet glimpses in her direction. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Over at the table she could see Harry deep in conversation with the father of one of his players. Thankfully, he seemed to have missed the entire incident. How, she didn’t know, but he was busy talking football, so he probably wouldn’t miss her if she slipped outside for a few minutes, either.

  It occurred to her as she scurried to the front door of the restaurant and stepped outside that she’d been spending a lot of time during her evenings out walking around in parking lots.

  Pacing up and down the first line of cars and trucks, she tried to control the flush of anger and mortification rushing through her. Where did Bradley get off acting so indignant? And why did she feel like some kind of bully? If Libby hadn’t been so much older than her, she wouldn’t be feeling bad at all. It would have felt like some kind of cosmic justice that placed Libby on the other side of the door at the exact moment she was marching out of it. The woman had stolen her husband for Pete’s sake, and smacking her in the face seemed like a piddly-assed punishment compared to what she really deserved.

  And it wasn’t as if Marla Jean had done it on purpose, but of course, she would be painted as the bad guy in all this. Just because the woman was old. That had to be some kind of reverse ageism.

  She wanted to lash out at something, and the tire on the pick-up truck in front of her was handy. She hauled off and gave it a swift kick, and nearly doubled over in pain.

  “Shit, mother friggin’ son of a bitch,” she yelled, getting a disapproving look from some late-arriving parents. Sinking to the ground, she cradled her foot. Under her breath she muttered, “Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.” It felt like she’d broken all five toes.

  “What the hell are you doing, Marla Jean.”

  Jake’s deep voice seeped through the fog of her misery. Great. Jake acting all high and mighty was all she needed. She continued to rock back and forth. “I just broke your aunt’s nose, and now I’m looking for some more old ladies to beat up. What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “I heard what happened with Aunt Libby. Are you all right?” He squatted down on his haunches beside her.

  “Just peachy.” She struggled to her feet, wincing when she tried to put weight on her foot.

  He offered his hand to help but she ignored it. “What’s wrong with your foot?” he demanded.

  She nodded at the pick-up parked in front of them. “I kicked that tire, and it kicked back.”

  He looked at the Dodge Ram truck and then looked back at her. “You kicked my truck tire? Are you nuts? I swear you can find more ways to get into trouble than any ten women I’ve ever known.”

  “So, who asked for your two cents? And a thousand apologies. I didn’t realize it was your truck. Geez, you seem more worried about your precious truck than you do your aunt.” Figuring she should go try to salvage what was left of her date, she limped back toward the pizza place. Her toes were swelling up inside her boot with every step.

  Before she realized what he was doing Jake scooped her up into his arms. “Aunt Libby is fine. And I don’t give a rat’s ass about my truck, but you can barely walk. I’m taking you to the emergency room.” He opened the truck door and started to set her inside.

  “You can’t do that. Harry will be wondering what happened to me by now, and Genna isn’t going to like it if you disappear.”

  “Harry should have been paying closer attention, but you’re right.” He nudged the truck door closed and still holding her in his arms started marching toward Romeo’s front door.

  For a moment she bounced along with her arms wrapped around his neck, forgetting to be incensed by his overbearing manner. His stubborn chin was
right at eye level and he smelled like leather and a hint of aftershave. Then she came to her senses and tried to wriggle out of his hold. “What are you doing, Jake? Let go of me this instant.”

  He ignored her, pulled open the restaurant door, and walked inside. If she’d thought people were staring at her before, it was nothing compared to the wide-eyed ogling she was subjected to now.

  Linc stood up as soon as they walked in the door. “What’s going on, Jake?”

  “Marla Jean hurt her foot. She needs to go to the emergency room.”

  “You okay, sis?” Linc and Dinah both hurried over.

  “I’m fine, Linc. Just call off your guard dog.” She shoved at the unyielding wall of Jake’s chest, but he ignored her.

  Harry charged into the front room. “What in the world? What happened, Marla Jean?”

  “It’s nothing, Harry. It was stupid, really. I hurt my foot. Put me down, Jake.” She said the last part under her breath, a little more adamantly this time.

  “She needs to go to the emergency room, and I’m not going to stand around discussing it, so ya’ll can follow or not. That’s where we’ll be.” Jake made the announcement and then turned to leave.

  “Hold on, I’m coming, too,” Harry announced. He ran back to their table and grabbed her jacket and purse.

  Marla Jean felt awful. This was a big night for the football team. “Harry, you should stay here with the team and celebrate. Lincoln will make sure I get home okay.”

  He glanced at the team and back at her, looking torn. “Are you sure?”

  The muscles in Jake’s arms bunched beneath her as he shifted her in his arms impatiently.

  “I’m positive,” Marla Jean insisted. “But I’ll make it up to you. What if I cook dinner one night next week?”

  Harry smiled and handed the purse and mum-laden jacket to Dinah, who was hovering nearby. “That would be super. I’ll call tomorrow, and see how you’re doing.”

  “Great. I’ll look forward to it.” Marla Jean was glad he was taking it so well.

  “Yeah, great,” Jake said. “If you two are through filling in your social calendars, we better get going.”

  “In a minute, but first, put me down. I mean it, Jake.”

  He didn’t look happy, but he stood her on her feet. She hobbled two steps over to Harry who met her halfway. “I had a great time tonight, Harry.” She leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. It was short and chaste, but it got the crowd murmuring. Harry stood stock still, looking all but bowled over when the kiss ended. Jake snorted and swept her back up into his arms before Harry had a chance to kiss her back.

  Marla waved at Harry over Jake’s shoulder as he turned and headed out the door. “Bye, Harry. I’m really sorry.”

  That seemed to break Harry out of his stupor. His face bloomed into a grin as broad as a side of beef. “Bye, Marla Jean. I’ll call first thing tomorrow.”

  Marla caught a glimpse of Bradley and Libby staring from their table. Bradley was looking at her with a creased brow, like she’d disappointed him somehow, again, and she had the urge to flip him the bird. She resisted because she was a mature woman, and because her toes hurt like somebody had taken a croquet mallet to them.

  Looking around for Jake’s date, Marla Jean asked, “What about Genna?”

  Jake’s expression revealed nothing when he said, “Genna took off a few minutes ago. She implied that I wasn’t much fun tonight.”

  “Oh.” After her encounter with Genna in the bathroom, Marla Jean didn’t know what to think about that.

  Jake was already halfway to his truck, and since she didn’t seem to have much choice in the matter, she held on tighter and gritted her teeth against the pain.

  “We’re right behind you, sis,” Linc yelled. Marla could see all the purple and gold ribbons from her mum streaming behind Dinah as they hurried to their car.

  Jake didn’t even slow down. This time when he set her inside his truck he scooted her to the middle and turned her so her foot was straight out on the bench seat. “Is that all right?”

  “I’ll live. And thanks, Jake.” She decided she might as well give in to the inevitable and quit fighting him every inch of the way. He was an obstinate man, and it seemed come hell, high water, or a plague of locusts he was taking her to the emergency room.

  He scrutinized her for half a beat, like he didn’t quite trust her sudden change in demeanor, but then closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side. Once he was behind the wheel he reached around her, fastening the seatbelt. “Lean against me, if you need to. I’ll try not to hit too many pot holes on the way.”

  “What? No Lucinda tonight?” She grimaced and stretched out her leg, happy not to be stuffed into his beloved sports car.

  “Genna doesn’t like Lucinda. Says she cramps her style, but I think she’s jealous.”

  “I bet.” She didn’t really give a hoot what Genna did or didn’t like, but talking kept her mind off the pain. “So, what kind of rough, tough name might a pick-up truck of yours be blessed with? Rambo? Elvis? Rooster Cogburn?”

  He patted the dashboard of the Dodge like it was his prizewinning hound dog. “Don’t be silly. Marla Jean, meet Gertrude. If you ask real nice you can call her Miss Gertie for short.”

  He put Gertie in reverse and backed up. Lincoln pulled in behind him and tooted his horn. Jake gave a wave in the rearview mirror and took off like it was a matter of life and death.

  Marla Jean closed her eyes, leaned against Jake’s shoulder, and tried to ignore her throbbing toes. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Gertie.”

  Jake paced around the waiting room, trying not to feel like ten kinds of foolish. He’d practically kidnapped Marla Jean from her date with Harry Beal. Harry could have taken her to the emergency room. Lincoln and Dinah could have driven her, for that matter. But he hadn’t allowed himself to stop and think. He’d just reacted.

  It was fortunate that Genna had gotten fed up with him and left with Scott Barley. She told him that she and Scott were going to go play pool at Clicks, and he could tell she wanted him to object.

  He hadn’t been able to dredge up the energy. He kissed her on the cheek, and said he’d talk to her later. She’d told him not to bother. Maybe he’d send her some flowers tomorrow, try to make amends. It wasn’t her fault he’d been in such a lousy mood, and knowing Genna, she was probably having a high old time with Scott Barley at this very moment. Out of sight, out of mind. That was the way she always played the game. But none of that excused his lack of attention.

  Right after Genna left, he’d seen Marla Jean rush out of Romeo’s and without asking himself why, he’d gotten up to follow her. It should have been her date or her big brother looking after her, but Linc was occupied with his new wife. He glanced into the other room and saw Harry talking to a group of parents and players. Obviously, he wasn’t concerned about her, either. And then he noticed his Aunt Libby and Bradley Bandy. Her hand was covering her face and the slime ball was patting her back soothingly. His instinct was to go after Marla Jean, but familial duty and genuine concern for his aunt won out.

  “Are you okay, Aunt Libby?” He approached their table in time to hear Bradley ask if she wanted to leave.

  “Oh, Jake.” She looked happy to see him. They hadn’t talked much since she’d taken up with Marla Jean’s husband.

  Ex-husband.

  “What happened?” he demanded glaring at Bradley like it must be his fault.

  His aunt answered, “It was so silly. I walked into the bathroom door just as someone was coming out.”

  Bradley got all huffy. In a strident voice he announced. “Not just someone. It was Marla Jean.”

  The man could be such a dipshit. No wonder she’d hurried outside like hunting dogs were nipping at her heels.

  “Now, Bradley, it was an accident. My nose is a little sore, but I’m going to be fine. Please stop making such a fuss over it.”

  Jake laid a hand on his aunt’s shoulder. “Well, if you’
re okay, I’m going to go check on Marla Jean. I’m sure she’s upset about what happened.”

  His aunt reached up and patted his hand. “Thanks, Jake. And tell her not to worry about it, for goodness sakes.” She hesitated and then asked, “We’ll see you tomorrow night, won’t we?” She sounded so uncertain it broke his heart.

  “Ma and I are both looking forward to it.” She squeezed his hand, and before he said anything to Bradley he’d regret, he left to find Marla Jean.

  And now here he was, prowling around the emergency room waiting to hear how she was doing. Lincoln and Dinah had gone with her once the nurse called her to the back, and he’d been left in the waiting room feeling about as necessary as a ninth leg on an octopus.

  The woman wasn’t his concern. That was the same argument he’d been having with himself for the past week. He wasn’t her brother, either, but damn it, somebody needed to take care of her. She’d hate that. She’d told him as much last Saturday night at Lu Lu’s. But she’d been sitting out in the parking lot all alone kicking tires, for God’s sake, and that wasn’t right.

  Linc came out of the gray swinging doors and waved him over. “She wants to see you.”

  Jake was past Linc and through the doors in a flash. “Is she okay?”

  “The doctor said she’ll be on crutches for a while. She really did a number on her foot. She has a sprained ankle, two broken toes, and she cracked two others.”

  Linc pointed him to the examination room. Dinah smiled as he came in and moved to stand by Lincoln. Marla was sitting on the table with her foot wrapped in an ACE bandage.

  “Hey Jake! Did you know they had to cut off my boot?” She had a loopy smile on her face.

  “I’m sorry.” Jake saw a pair of cowboy boots on the floor. Girly beige boots decorated with green vines and pink flowers. One had been irreparably sliced open. “I hear you broke some toes.”

  “Yep. Broke ’em in two. Just like that.” She giggled and tried unsuccessfully to snap her fingers.

  Linc shook his head. “You never could handle pain pills, sis.” To Jake he said, “They make her downright goofy.”