Ain't Misbehaving (9781455523801)

by Cannon, Molly

  “Who the hell knows? She makes all the right noises about being over him. But, he hurt her pretty badly. When he asked for a divorce, I honestly don’t think she saw it coming. This is all she needs right now. I appreciate the heads-up, Jake.”

  “Sure. So, do you still need to beat me up?”

  Pounding his fist on his thigh, Linc looked as if taking a poke at him would make his day complete. But he grumbled, “Nah, I’d probably just break my hand, and Dinah wouldn’t speak to me for a month.” He stood up and walked to the door. Pausing, he looked back at Jake like he’d just realized something significant. “You care about Marla Jean, don’t you, Jake?”

  One side of Jake’s mouth kicked up in a half smile. “She’s your sister, Lincoln. Of course, I care. Now get out of here and go do some work. Don’t you have a business to run?”

  “Consider me gone.” He sketched a salute and walked out of the office.

  Jake continued to stand at the window, watching Lincoln stride down the sidewalk toward the building that housed his accounting firm. Across the way, Bertie Harcourt swept the front steps of the Rise-N-Shine after the lunch rush, and from the corner of his eye he caught sight of the old-fashioned red-and-white striped barber pole standing guard outside of MJ’s Barber Shop. Everything looked normal—just another weekday in downtown Everson, Texas.

  So why did Jake’s world suddenly feel so off kilter? If he was honest with himself, he’d admit the reason had everything to do with Marla Jean. But he meant what he said to Linc. He wasn’t the right man for her. Trouble was, for the first time in his life, a small part of him wished he could be.

  Once lunch was over, Marla Jean returned to her spot on the sofa. Alone at last. Her dad had gone back to the barber shop for the afternoon, and her mother decided to make another completely unnecessary trip to the grocery store.

  Several books were stacked on the end table beside her, and she shuffled through the pile, trying to decide if she was in the mood for a Regency romance about a duke with amnesia or a mystery about an unbalanced blonde with a thing for short men. She decided on the duke just as the doorbell rang.

  The front door opened, and Bradley stuck his head inside while she was still adjusting her crutches, trying to pull herself to her feet. “Marla Jean?”

  “Bradley?” She collapsed back onto the cushions. He was the last person she’d expected to see.

  “Can I come in? I need to talk to you about something.”

  In the middle of the day? Bradley didn’t leave the car dealership in the middle of the day for anything but golf. “Come on in. It sounds serious.”

  He shambled into the living room, hands stuffed in his pockets, not meeting her eye. “I guess you could say that.” He glanced up for a fleeting moment before returning his gaze to the flowery pattern of the area rug. He cleared his throat and said, “I didn’t want you to hear this from anyone else first.”

  “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “Can I sit down?”

  “Please, sit.”

  He looked at her father’s recliner but opted for the orange side chair instead. “I hear your parents are home.”

  “Yes, they were coming home for Thanksgiving, anyway, but they decided to come early to give me a hand.” She waved at her foot.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have asked. How is your foot?”

  “I broke some toes, but I’ll live.”

  “That’s good, I mean it’s not good, but knowing you, it won’t slow you down for long.”

  “I’m hoping to get rid of these crutches tomorrow.”

  “And Milton and Bitsy? I trust they’re doing okay?”

  “My parents are fine, Bradley. I don’t think you dropped by to inquire about my parents’ health.”

  “No, no.” He laughed a little, the way he always did when he felt nervous about something—or guilty.

  “Well, what is it, Bradley? I’m imagining all sorts of horrible things. Are you sick? Are you dying? Holy mackerel, just spit it out.”

  He did his nervous laugh thing again. “It’s nothing horrible. In fact, it’s good news, at least I hope you’ll be happy for me.”

  Marla Jean suddenly knew what he was going to say, but she sat still waiting for him to speak the words out loud. Waiting for him to make it real, because once he did, their life together would officially be history. Not that it wasn’t already, but this would be the final nail in the pine box holding the stinking corpse that was their dead marriage.

  “I asked Libby to marry me, and she accepted. I wanted you to hear the news from me.”

  Even though she’d been expecting it, the crutches slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor. Bradley was going to marry Libby. It wasn’t really a surprise. Somewhere out there in that hazy, nebulous part of her brain that tried to envision the future, she’d known this would happen. How did she feel about it? How the hell should she know? Numb, depressed, pitiful for caring. On top of that, he wanted her to be happy for him.

  “Great. You’re getting remarried.” She hated being stuck on the couch, passively sitting there while things happened around her. And Bradley’s sudden try for civility made her sick. Acting so considerate, so caring. She had the sudden urge to take him by the collar and drag his butt out the door and throw him off the porch just to watch him roll. Then she’d tell him to have a nice life. It wasn’t as if he’d been going out of his way to be pleasant to her lately. “I’m not sure how this concerns me.”

  “Now, Marla Jean, you know how Everson is. Once word gets out it’ll be all over town in no time, and I wanted you to be prepared. I’d like to think we’re still friends.”

  “Friends? I can see why you’d like to think so. Because if the good folks of Everson think we’re still friends, you come out smelling like a rose in all this, don’t you Bradley? See, they’d say, ‘He’s not a bum for cheating on his wife and leaving her for another woman. See—they’re still best buds. If he was a scumbag, she wouldn’t give him the time of day.’ But friends don’t treat friends the way you treated me the other night.”

  He looked exasperated. “What did you expect, Marla Jean? You whacked Libby with the bathroom door right in front of everyone.”

  “Fine, if that’s what you want to believe, go ahead. And since you’ve made your big announcement I think you should leave.”

  “I’m sorry, Marla Jean, but I don’t think you realize how hard this has been for Libby. She’s very concerned that the whole town thinks she’s a home wrecker.”

  “Excuse me if I don’t have any sympathy for what she’s going through—since it was my home she wrecked.” The last part was shouted, and she clamped her mouth shut, not wanting to lose control in front of him.

  “You should blame me for that, not Libby.”

  “Okay, let’s talk about you, Bradley. You say we should still be friends, but did you stop and think for one minute how hard it was for me to go to that football game? I haven’t been all year because I didn’t want to deal with all the gossip.”

  He had the nerve to smirk. “That’s a good one. Try not giving everyone in town so much to gossip about.”

  She ignored him. “I was tired of being poor, pitiful dumped Marla Jean, tired of sitting home alone, so when Harry asked I said sure, what the heck? And when I got to the game, there you were sitting in our old seats, surrounded by all of our old friends just like it used to be. Except for one minor detail. I’d been replaced, and don’t think everyone in the stands didn’t have their eyes peeled, watching to make sure I wasn’t going to fall apart at the sight of you and Libby together.”

  He held out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Oh shut up, Bradley. And don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t about you.”

  “What’s it about then?”

  “It’s about what happened at the pizza parlor after that. I was having a nice time, thinking how glad I was I’d decided to go to the game, until I happened to walk out of th
e bathroom at the exact same moment Libby was walking in. It was like some cosmic joke, and it might have even been funny if you hadn’t decided to run across the room so you could scold me like a schoolgirl while the entire town watched.”

  He had the sense to look ashamed. “I might have overreacted, but you’ve been running wild lately. What was I supposed to think?”

  “You’re supposed to think it was an accident, but you were too busy posturing, protecting poor little Libby from mean ole me.”

  “You hit her in the face.” He sounded petulant like he still wanted to justify his outrage.

  “The door hit her in the face. If I’d wanted to take a swing at her I wouldn’t have hidden behind a door to do it.”

  “Okay, okay, you’re right. You have my sincerest apologies, Marla Jean.”

  “That didn’t sound too sincere, but I’ll accept it, anyway. Besides, I’d never hit a woman who was that much older than me. I was taught to respect my elders.”

  He looked appalled. “That was a low blow.”

  “Oh, lighten up, Bradley.”

  “So, does this mean we have your blessing?” he persisted.

  She grabbed the crutches from the floor and struggled off the couch. “Don’t press your luck. It means the two of you deserve each other.”

  He stood there with an imploring look on his face.

  Finally, she gave in. “All right. I hope you and Libby will be very happy together.”

  As he grabbed her up in an awkward hug, one of her crutches dug into his ribs before she could maneuver it out of the way. “Thanks, Marly Jay. That means a lot to me. By the way, I think Harry is a nice guy. You could do worse.”

  “Let’s make a deal, Bradley. You stay out of my love life, and I won’t offer Libby any advice on how to plan the wedding.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Howdy, Miz Bandy. Where to?” Bo Birdwell jumped out of his taxi and opened the back door. Everson’s only cab driver was tall and lanky with skinny stork legs and a smile that couldn’t contain all his teeth. On duty or off, he always dressed in blue jeans, a plaid cowboy shirt, and a baseball cap featuring farm equipment covering his red hair. “Let me help you with those crutches.”

  “Thanks, Bo. I just need a ride to town.”

  “No problem. I’ll have you there in a jiffy.”

  That was true. The ride would be over before she could settle back in her seat. It was only a few blocks to downtown, but it was too far to manage on crutches.

  He got back in the driver’s seat, set his meter, and took off. “Have you heard the big news?”

  “I’m not sure. At lunch Dad was carrying on about Cal Crimmins and his seventy-five-pound pumpkin.”

  “Seventy-five pounds? That thing’s gettin’ bigger by the minute. But no, I was talking about the wedding. Miss Libby and Mr. Bradley are planning a big to-do…” He looked in the rearview mirror, and his words trailed off to nothing.

  “That’s okay, Bo. In fact, I heard all about it this afternoon.”

  “Me and my big mouth. I didn’t mean to speak out of turn.”

  She waved a hand, dismissing his concern. “Not at all. I’m sure they’ll be very happy together.” She glued a smile on her face, but it must not have been very convincing. Bo kept giving her pitying glances in the mirror the rest of the trip and didn’t say another word.

  After Bradley finally left the house, Marla Jean had felt restless and penned in. All she wanted to do was get out. She wasn’t supposed to drive yet, and even if she’d wanted to try, her mother had her car. Her only option had been to call Bo and his cab to take her into town.

  She didn’t have a clue what she was going to do once she got there, but it was better than sitting in her parents’ house stewing about the things she should or shouldn’t have said to Bradley.

  Maybe she’d stop by the barber shop and see how they were managing without her, but she knew the answer to that. They were managing just fine. She wasn’t in the mood to have it rubbed in her face. That would only make her feel more useless than she already did.

  Maybe she’d go to the diner instead and eat a big piece of pie. Maybe two or three. As she was weighing her options, the taxi slowed down in front of MJ’s and across the street she spotted Jake’s Porsche parked in the lot by his office. Good old Lucinda. Suddenly she knew exactly where she wanted to go and why. Bo pulled the taxi to the curb and dropped her at Jake’s Home Remodeling Services.

  She had a proposition to make.

  Letting the cool autumn breeze calm her nerves, she stood on the sidewalk, taking a moment to collect herself. The noises of everyday activity on Main Street eddied around her as she stared at the door to his business. While she’d been sitting at home on the sofa, talking to Jake had seemed simple enough, but now standing outside his office, she knew she was out of her element. She wanted to come across as casual and sophisticated, not pathetic and desperate. Taking a fortifying breath, she grabbed the metal handle with her sweaty palm, pulled open the door, and walked inside.

  “Jake, how’s it going?” Her voice sounded frail so she added a bright smile to bolster it.

  He was sitting behind his desk, a big, old-fashioned wooden thing, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal strong wrists, his black hair neat and suspiciously short, and he wore eyeglasses perched on his nose as he pored over the house plans in front of him. The glasses made him look serious, studious, and good-looking in a whole new way. Like he needed more ways to look good. At the mere sight of him, a tremor rolled through her body and she came to a wobbly stop.

  “Hey, Marla Jean.” He sounded half friendly, half wary, but he stood up and waved her toward an upholstered chair. “You better sit down before you fall down.” He came over to help with a hand under her elbow for support, and then took the crutches, leaning them against the wall. “What brings you to town? I saw your dad over at the barber shop.”

  The mere touch of his hand on her arm distracted her, made her feel addled and lightheaded, but still, when he let go, she wished for it back. Straightening in her chair she fought for composure. If she was going to get through this, she needed to stop being such a goose.

  Speaking of the barber shop, she studied his head of hair as he walked around his desk and said, “I can see that. Dad gave you a haircut, didn’t he?” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “What happened to that tricky cowlick of yours that only good old Floyd Cramer over in Derbyville can manage?”

  Jake ran a hand over his hair, smoothing his errant curls, though one refused to cooperate and fell right back onto his forehead. “Marla Jean, your father’s cut my hair since I was eight. He understands my cowlick better than anyone in the world.”

  “Mmm hmm. I see how it is. You’re just never going to let me cut your hair, are you?”

  He ignored her question and asked one of his own. “So, besides giving me a hard time, what brings you by? Lincoln said you were getting around better.”

  “Oh, he did? Does that mean you and Lincoln are back on speaking terms?”

  “We came to an understanding.” He sounded rather grim.

  “I hope it didn’t involve locking me away in a tower somewhere.” At this point, she was only half joking.

  He laughed. “No, in fact, I told him you were a grown woman, and he should back off, give you some space.”

  “Why thank you, Jake. Maybe by some miracle, he’ll listen to you.” Without warning, she changed the subject. “I guess you’ve heard the big news?”

  “You mean Cal and his pumpkin? He’s prouder than a man with a six-legged dog.” He leaned back in his chair.

  “No, I mean Bradley and Libby.” She tried to sound breezy.

  “Oh, so you’ve heard.” He picked up a pen and clicked it a few times before putting it back down.

  “I’ve heard.” She tried a smile on for size.

  Jake let out a big sigh. It could have been relief or resignation, she wasn’t sure, and then he said, “I was actually a witness to the whole
thing. He went down on one knee and everything.”

  She held up a hand. “Spare me the details.”

  “Sorry. It was just the last thing I expected when we went over for dinner Saturday night. I’ll tell you, you could have knocked me over.”

  She wrinkled her nose and gestured toward his black eye. “Well, we already know you can’t take a punch.”

  “Ha ha. How did you hear?”

  “Bradley was thoughtful enough to stop by the house and tell me himself.”

  “Are you okay?” She could see concern in his eyes, but it wasn’t the pitying kind of looks she’d gotten from Bo on the ride over, and for that, she was grateful.

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I was a little thrown at first, but it’s not like I didn’t see this coming.” She’d been over Bradley for a while now. It had been the marriage she’d had trouble letting go of.

  Jake nodded. “I only hope Aunt Libby knows what she’s getting into.”

  He was sweet to worry about his aunt, but she had other fish to fry at the moment. “Enough about the happy couple. I wanted to talk to you about something else entirely.”

  The wariness she’d sensed when she first walked in was back. “Okay, shoot.”

  “I’m going to start looking for a house. To buy,” she clarified. “I need a place of my own, and since you buy houses and fix them up, I thought you could steer me in the right direction.”

  He seemed to relax a little when he realized the topic wasn’t personal. “Sure, I’ll give you the name of my realtor.”

  That wasn’t the kind of help she’d had in mind, but she didn’t want to get off track. “Thanks, but that can wait. I have something else I want to talk about first.” She sat there feeling the tips of her ears grow hot while she built the courage to continue.

  “I’m listening,” he said when she didn’t elaborate.

  Taking a deep breath she barreled ahead. “About the other night? Before Linc walked in on us?” Something in his expression gave her pause, but she plunged ahead. “I think we should finish what we started. Jake, would you like to have sex with me?”