Larkspur Road

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Larkspur Road Page 12

by Jill Gregory


  Even if it killed her.

  Edging her way through the throng of cowboys and the women in short sparkly tops and tight jeans who were flirting with them, she passed chattering tourists wearing stiff new cowboy hats and boots they’d purchased at Ponderosa Earl’s. People were lined up three deep before the crowded bar.

  Then she spotted the huge Happy Birthday signs and banners strung up all along the back half of the restaurant and began inching her way in that direction as the jukebox blared a Carrie Underwood tune and couples swayed close together on the dance floor.

  One of those couples, Mia noticed with a slight jolt, was Deanna and Zeke. Their arms were locked around each other and they were grinning goofily into each other’s eyes like a couple of lovestruck teenagers.

  Unfortunately, at that exact moment, Deanna happened to glance over and her gaze fell on Mia. She immediately turned back to Zeke, stood on tiptoe to give him a big sloppy kiss, and then inched even closer against him—about as close as she could get with her cute little baby bump. She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled a beatific smile straight at Mia.

  Give me a break, Mia thought, but something twisted painfully inside her.

  She was glad for Zeke—he seemed genuinely happy. But the sight of him and his smugly pregnant wife made her feel strangely empty inside. Not jealous—not of Deanna. But sad. Mia envied what the two of them had found together, envied all they were about to share—babies and birthday parties, noisy game nights and vacations. A laughing, busy, happy home, with a family to grow and nurture.

  Something she hadn’t ever managed to achieve, she reflected wistfully. And who knew if she ever would….

  A couple of older ranch hands in Wranglers and checkered shirts headed toward the pool table, blocking her view of Deanna’s smug smile. She wove her way toward the back of the bar, dodging waitresses wearing short red skirts and skimpy black sequined tops who bopped between tables with trays of food.

  “Mia!” Lissie’s voice reached her above the din of music and talk and laughter. She was waving her arm back and forth near a cluster of long tables a few yards from the dartboard. Tommy was seated beside her, holding a beer, deep in conversation with Rafe, Sophie, and Lissie’s cousin Decker and his wife, Leigh. A score of other friends chattered at surrounding tables, along with Tommy’s parents and his sister Susie with her husband, Jack. But she saw that Lissie had saved her a seat beside her own.

  “Well, don’t you look all sexy and amazing.” Lissie flashed her a welcoming grin.

  “You’re pretty spiffy yourself.” Lissie was radiant in a low-cut pink silk top and dressy black capri pants.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” Shoving back his chair, Tommy ambled over, wrapping her in a bear hug that nearly cracked her ribs.

  “Happy birthday, you.” She squeezed him back.

  “How’s your aunt doing?” Sophie asked, pushing one of the baskets of barbecued chicken wings along the table toward her. She followed this with a huge family-sized bowl of the Double Cross’s special Whooper Dooper salad as Mia slipped into her seat.

  “Don’t ask. She wouldn’t let me in when I got to the cabin. Talked to me through the door.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I wish I was. All she kept saying was that she didn’t want my charity.”

  A thoughtful expression came over Sophie’s face. “My grandmother says Winny was always…different. But not even opening the door when you drove all the way out to her cabin? It’s hard to understand, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not giving up. I’m going back tomorrow to check on her and give it another shot. But I did leave supper and your beautiful pie on her porch. I just hope she had the sense to go get them after I left.”

  “How about a beer, Mia?” Rafe interrupted. “Or would you like wine like my wife?”

  “Beer sounds good, thanks.” Mia used tongs to heap salad on her plate and snagged a couple of chicken wings.

  As Rafe ordered her a cold one, Sophie eyed the big plate of salad. “Um, you might want to leave some room. We have nachos and guacamole coming any minute now. Pizza and steak burgers and fries to follow.”

  “Too bad you guys don’t know how to order enough food for a crowd,” Mia said with a laugh.

  “Oh, that’s nothing. Wait until you see the birthday cake Sophie baked.” Lissie nibbled at a chicken wing and delicately licked sauce off her fingers. “Big enough for everyone in this entire place to have a slice. Devil’s food with sour cream fudge frosting. Tommy’s favorite.”

  “Oh, God. I need to save some room,” Mia muttered. But the knot inside her was relaxing. Now that she was here, she was glad she’d come. It felt good to be with her friends as Johnny Cash crooned from the jukebox and a group at the bar started singing along. As all around her people she loved talked and joked and laughed. She almost forgot about how awkward it would be when Travis arrived…if Travis arrived….

  “Uh-oh, don’t look now, but here comes lover boy,” Lissie said suddenly. “Looks like he still has the hots for you.”

  Mia froze as for one insane moment she thought Lissie was talking about Travis. But of course it wasn’t Travis. She just had Travis on the brain. Lissie didn’t have a clue what had happened the other night between them—not unless Travis had told her, which was highly unlikely. Travis no doubt wished he could click an undo button just as much as she did.

  Flicking a glance behind her, she saw that the man wending his way through the crowd straight toward her was Boyd Hatcher, a burly, red-haired wrangler who worked at the Lazy Q Ranch. She’d known him since grade school and had always felt a little sorry for him because his older brother, Lane, had been killed playing on the railroad tracks when Boyd was eleven, and Boyd had worshipped his big brother.

  She’d always tried to be nice to him because of that loss, but the last time she’d come to the Double Cross, with Rafe and Sophie, he’d made a pest of himself. He’d obviously been drinking and had cut in while she was dancing with Coop Miller. Then he kept coming over, trying to buy her a drink and repeatedly bugging her to dance with him until she finally did, once, and then left.

  He’d called her several times for a date in the weeks that followed. After turning him down the first few times, Mia had started screening her calls.

  Her stomach dropped as she saw the intent smile on his rough-hewn face.

  “Tommy, get up. Quick. Dance with Mia. Right now,” Lissie whispered urgently.

  But Mia shook her head as Tommy started to rise from his chair. “It’s okay. One dance with the guy won’t kill me.”

  Hadn’t she promised herself she’d dance tonight? Boyd had nearly reached their table and she didn’t want to make a scene. Not at Tommy’s party.

  “It’s no big deal,” she told both of them. “I’ll be back in time to hog the nachos.”

  “And if you’re not?” Lissie demanded.

  “Then send the cavalry to cut in.” She laughed just as Boyd clapped a hand on her shoulder.

  “Hey, Mia. Long time no see.”

  She slanted a glance up at the man looming over her. With a quiver of unease she realized that he looked more than a little drunk. There was a bleary light in his close-set gray eyes.

  Great, just great.

  “They’re playing our song.” He winked at her. “How about it?”

  Conway Twitty’s cover of “I Only Have Eyes for You” wafted from the jukebox.

  That’s our song? Mia thought. I don’t think so.

  But it was only one dance, she reminded herself, and if she turned him down now it would be awkward for both of them, what with the entire table of guests looking on.

  “Sure,” she said lightly and stood up.

  Dancing with a slightly inebriated Boyd Hatcher was about as much fun as cleaning an outhouse, she realized very quickly as he stumbled yet again and his booted foot stomped on her toes.

  “Ouch.”

  He swore as she winced. “Crap. Sorry about that. My big stu
pid feet. I’m kind of clumsy when I’m distracted. You distract me somethin’ awful, Mia, so it’s actually your fault.” His smile was sloppy, almost leering. “I think you’re about the prettiest woman in this whole entire town.”

  “Will you think I’m pretty on crutches?” she asked with a forced smile, wondering when the damned song was going to end.

  “Ha-ha! The lady’s funny as well as beautiful. I like me a woman with a sense of humor. Not to mention a great pair of knockers.” He gazed down at her chest with an appreciative grin spreading across his face like pancake syrup on a plate.

  Classy, she thought. Boyd had never been offensive before. It had to be the liquor. But Mia had had enough.

  “I need to head back to the party now.”

  Her tone left no doubt she was done. The song had come to an end anyway and a George Strait tune now blasted through the Double Cross as she started to pull away.

  But Hatcher had other ideas and grabbed her arm, yanking her back.

  “Oh, c’mon. One more little dance. What’s your hurry?”

  “I’m with friends. It’s a party. People are waiting for me.” She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grasp. “Boyd. Let me go.”

  He grinned and pulled her up against him. All around them couples were dancing; people at tables and booths were singing along. Between the music, the conversations, and the singing, the din was deafening.

  Mia planted her feet, refusing to dance, straining against his grip. “Let me go, Boyd,” she repeated, her amber eyes turning icy.

  “Hey, c’mon. You don’t fool me. I know your type, Mia Quinn.” He winked at her, then bent his head close to hers as she struggled to break free. The smell of beer and Old Spice filled her nostrils.

  “You always were a hot little number. Even in high school when Travis Tanner was doing you. You’re just playing hard to get.”

  Anger darkened her eyes. He had one thick hand at her waist, and the other gripped her arm like a vise. He wasn’t listening to her—either because he was too drunk or he didn’t care.

  “Someone should have taught you that no means no.” She glared straight into his eyes as his hand began to slide downward from her waist, his fingers skimming over her bottom. “One more time. Let go of me, right now.”

  “Or what?” He laughed and nuzzled at her neck.

  But his laughter choked off abruptly, turning to a yelp of pain as she rammed her knee into his balls with every ounce of her strength.

  “Fuck!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. He let her go, staggering back, his face scrunching in pain as everyone in the Double Cross stopped talking and turned to stare. From a distance she thought she heard Tommy shout something as she stepped away from Boyd. Then she saw that Tommy was on his feet and Rafe had already sprung out of his chair.

  She started toward them, back toward the table, hoping to head them off, but before she’d gone more than two steps Hatcher grabbed her arm roughly and hauled her back to face him. Anger glittered from his eyes.

  “You little bitch, what the hell did you do that for?” he bellowed.

  She yanked her arm free and nearly stumbled backward and that was when everything seemed to happen at once. Travis must have just come in, because he caught her from behind, strong arms steadying her. Then he moved around her fast, shoving Boyd away from her, slamming him up against the wall. An instant later Travis’s muscled arm was wedged against the other man’s throat.

  “Now, that’s a hell of a way to treat a lady, Hatcher. I think you’d better leave before I decide to break your face. And that would be just for starters.”

  Travis’s tone was deadly calm but Mia could see the tightness in his jaw, the controlled fury in his eyes. She was terrified he really might hurt Boyd if the other man dared to open his mouth.

  He was a good three inches taller and far stronger than Hatcher, and he looked like he might easily snap the red-haired wrangler in two at the slightest provocation.

  “Travis. No.” Quickly, she touched his arm. “It’s all right, let him go.”

  “You should head back to the party and have a seat, Mia.” He spoke quietly, without taking his eyes off Hatcher’s reddening face. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

  “Not until you let him go.”

  “Did he hurt you? Are you all right?”

  “No, he didn’t, and I’m fine.” She swallowed, remembering it was Travis who had taught her that defensive move back in high school. He’d told her that if she ever needed to get away from any guy, kick or knee him hard in the balls. Made her practice ramming her knee upward until she dissolved in laughter.

  “It was nothing, honestly. Let him go. I don’t want anything to ruin Tommy’s party.”

  Hatcher was struggling futilely, and he looked scared. Mia feared he’d pass out any second for lack of oxygen.

  Frank Custer rushed over. He was one of the older Lazy Q ranch hands, and a nephew of Sheriff Hodge. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Hatcher? Getting rough with Mia that way. Sorry, Mia.” He threw her an agitated glance.

  “He’s just been drinkin’, that’s all,” Frank told Travis. “He don’t think sometimes. He keeps that up, he’ll lose his job for sure. But I’ll get him outta here, Travis, and drive him home.”

  “That’s a good idea, Frank,” Mia said swiftly.

  Travis said nothing, just increased the pressure on Hatcher and watched him squirm. Then Deputy Zeke Mueller came ambling up. He’d left Deanna at their table and now eyed Hatcher with a frown. He might be off duty but he was still deputy sheriff of Lonesome Way and it was his job to keep the peace.

  And he’d seen Hatcher grab Mia.

  He planted himself right beside Travis as Frank stepped back a pace, then Zeke studied the man wriggling on the wall like a pinned bug.

  “Evening, Mia, Travis, Frank.”

  “Evening, Zeke,” Travis returned calmly, never taking his eyes off Boyd’s face.

  “You okay, Mia?”

  “Zeke, I’m fine. Tell him to let Boyd go,” Mia demanded.

  “You h-heard her. Let me…go,” Hatcher choked out desperately.

  “You know, he’s not looking too good, Travis,” Zeke commented thoughtfully, his voice slow and calm, as if they were talking about the chances of rain on Tuesday. He shrugged. “I guess it’s best if you do let him go.”

  “I’m taking it under consideration.” Impassively, Travis surveyed the man caught in his grasp, who was no longer even bothering to struggle.

  “You hear that, Hatcher?” Travis’s tone was low and even. “Mia’s worried about you. So’s Frank. Deputy Mueller here thinks I should let you leave without a broken jaw or a black eye. So I’m going to respect that. Consider yourself lucky. I’m going to give you a break because they all asked me to. But that only holds if you walk out of here without saying another word. Not one word. Got it?”

  Hatcher, red faced and struggling to breathe, managed a nod.

  Travis waited another ten seconds before dropping his arm from Hatcher’s throat. He stepped back, making sure he was positioned between Mia and the other man just in case.

  He needn’t have worried. Hatcher didn’t have any fight left in him. He slumped toward the floor, coughing, but the deputy caught him by the arm and hauled him up.

  “You shouldn’t be driving in your condition.” Zeke eyed him with a frown.

  “I’ll get him home.” Frank rushed forward to grip Hatcher’s arm. He practically dragged the other man toward the door.

  “Much obliged, Frank. Drive careful, now.” The deputy watched until the older wrangler had guided Hatcher outside.

  “You have a nice night, Mia,” her ex-fiancé said softly; then he met Travis’s gaze in a brief silent look, lawman to lawman, before turning on his heel and returning to the table where his pregnant wife waited.

  Mia hadn’t noticed how quiet it had grown in the Double Cross until that moment. She’d been too focused on Travis’s hold on Hatcher.

  But sud
denly everyone in the place started talking at once and it was bedlam as she stood there beside Travis in the midst of all the hubbub.

  “Are you sure you’re all right? He really didn’t hurt you?”

  There was something like fear in his face.

  She shook her head, her emotions tumbling.

  “I’m fine. I told you. I’d handled it.”

  Their eyes met and for a moment the rest of the room faded away. She saw only Travis. Not the eighteen-year-old boyfriend who had left her behind so many years ago, but the man he had become during that intervening time. The man who loved his son and stood up for him. The man who’d just stood up for her even when she didn’t want him to get involved.

  Electric sparks streaked again down her spine. They might have been back in the front yard of her house again, beneath the night sky, alone except for Samson, and she could almost feel those strong arms around her, holding her close and tight. Safe.

  She could taste the deep kisses they’d shared, feel the solid warmth, drink in the scent of him as he’d held her, touched her….

  It had felt so natural, that instant fire between them, neither of them holding back….

  And then Tommy and Rafe bounded up, along with Big Billy, the Double Cross’s giant, tattooed bartender-owner, marching right behind them.

  “Everything okay out here?” Big Billy demanded gruffly. “We had a problem in the kitchen and all of a sudden, all hell started breaking loose out here.”

  “Everyone’s all right, Big Billy,” Lissie assured him as she and Sophie breezed right around him and everyone else to stand on either side of Mia.

  “Come on, let’s go sit down.” Sophie tucked Mia’s arm in hers. “We saved you some nachos.”

  “Yeah, I think there’s been enough fun-filled drama for one night,” Lissie added.

  “Only for one night?” Mia glanced back and forth between them. “For the year, is more like it.”

  As Big Billy lumbered back to the bar, Lissie turned to Travis and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Good job, bro. Wish you’d cleaned his clock, though. I always knew that spitball thrower was nothing but trouble.”

 

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