His First and Last (Ardent Springs #1)

by Terri Osburn

  “Lorelei, we need to talk.”

  “Yes, we do,” she said, stopping at the corner of the tent next door. “But we need to get out of here first.”

  “What?” he asked, as she frantically waved a hand for him to come to her. Maybe someone had already asked her about Mike. They probably wouldn’t say how they heard, which meant she’d have no way of knowing he’d been the source. “Hold on.”

  He loosened the two knots that held the front and side flaps of the booth up, letting them fall to the ground. Slipping out the back, he used the same ropes to tie the flaps back together at the bottom so they wouldn’t blow up in the wind. After making sure the entire booth was secure, he hustled over to where Lorelei remained in the shadows.

  “I need to tell you something,” he said, and then spotted his ex-wife lurking behind Lorelei. “What’s she doing here?”

  “She’s with me,” Lorelei said, taking him by surprise. “Or rather, with us for now. I’m taking her to the house, and we need to go.” Turning her back to Spencer, she nudged Carrie back in the direction they’d come.

  “Hold on one minute.” Since when did his ex-wife and Lorelei have slumber parties? “What do you mean you’re taking her to the house? To her house?”

  He couldn’t be sure, but Spencer would have sworn that Lorelei rolled her eyes. “No, to my house. Would you come on?”

  As he stood in place, watching the two women disappear into the night, Spencer struggled to understand what was going on. Why would Lorelei take Carrie anywhere near her house? As far as he knew, they’d only ever talked the one time in Brubaker’s bathroom, and that hadn’t been a friendly exchange, based on what Lorelei had told him.

  “Come on, Spencer,” she hissed in the distance.

  Realizing he wasn’t going to get any answers standing still, he broke into a jog to catch up. “Why are we in such a hurry?” he asked.

  “I’ll tell you once we reach the truck.” Lorelei stayed close to Carrie, as if protecting her from something. When Spencer turned to slide between two booths to reach the light of the street, she whispered, “We need to stay over here.”

  “Lorelei, you’re not making any sense. What’s going on?”

  “I said I’ll tell you at the truck.” She tugged on his sleeve. “Would you please hurry?”

  Carrie had yet to say a word, nor had she looked Spencer in the eye when he found her standing with Lorelei. He didn’t know when they’d entered some crazy spy movie, but he was willing to keep the questions in check until they were all three inside the Dodge.

  “Now,” he said as soon as they were buckled. “Explain.”

  “While you drive,” Lorelei said, waving a hand toward the steering wheel.

  Spencer dug deep for patience. Once the truck was rolling down South Margin, he asked again. “Now?”

  Lorelei looked to Carrie on her right, who nodded yes to whatever unspoken question was being asked.

  “I found Patch smacking Carrie around on the street not far from Snow’s place. So I kicked him in the nuts and we ran.”

  “Patch hit you?” Spencer exploded, leaning around Lorelei to see his ex-wife.

  “Watch the road!” Lorelei screamed, slamming a hand on the dash. Turning back to the windshield, Spencer jerked the wheel to keep the truck from driving onto the sidewalk.

  With anger and adrenaline pumping in his ears, Spencer squeezed the wheel in a white-knuckle grip as he asked, “Does he know you’re pregnant?”

  “You’re pregnant?” Lorelei burst out.

  With her eyes turned toward the passenger window, Carrie answered both questions. “Yes and yes, but it hasn’t changed . . . things like I’d hoped.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Spencer asked, turning right onto Fifth Street.

  “I’d think the answer to that would be obvious.”

  Carrie had him there. But still. She couldn’t think he wouldn’t have helped her. Then he remembered Lorelei’s part in the evening’s adventures.

  “And what were you thinking?” he asked the woman pressed against his side. Patch Farmer wasn’t a small man. Besides the fact that he deserved a kick in the balls for laying his hands on any woman, Spencer didn’t like the idea of Lorelei putting herself in harm’s way. “Why didn’t you find a cop or something? They’re all over the festival.”

  “It’s not as if I had time to think,” Lorelei said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I saw the slap and reacted. And I hope the moron is still trying to pull his sack out of his windpipe.”

  Spencer took off his hat and tossed it onto the dash, then ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t you think he’s going to come looking for her at your house?”

  Lorelei turned to Carrie. “He doesn’t know who I am, does he?”

  Carrie shook her head. “I don’t think so. He’s not originally from here, and I’ve never mentioned you.”

  “Then we’re good.” Though she sounded confident, Lorelei’s quick glimpse behind them revealed her concern.

  Silence loomed for nearly a mile before Spencer asked, “So what happens tomorrow?”

  The women exchanged another look. “We haven’t gotten that far yet,” Lorelei answered.

  “Great.” Spencer ran his hand through his hair again. He still needed to tell Lorelei what had happened with Becky, but he didn’t want to have the conversation in front of Carrie.

  No one spoke the rest of the way home. Once Spencer cut the engine, Lorelei had to wait for Carrie to climb out first. They rounded the truck and headed for the house.

  “Lorelei, I still need to talk to you.”

  Both women stopped, and Lorelei said, “Go on up to the porch, Carrie. I’ll be right there.” Once his ex was out of earshot, she said, “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

  In all likelihood, the news wouldn’t spread too far by morning. And if Lorelei was dealing with Carrie’s mess, she wouldn’t be encountering any locals before then.

  “I guess so.” Taking her hand, he asked, “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  She shook her head with a half smile. “As usual, I have no idea.”

  Dropping a kiss on her knuckles, he whispered, “Thanks for saving her.”

  Lorelei offered a kiss on Spencer’s cheek in return. “So far, I only saved her for tonight. I have a feeling this is about to get very messy.”

  That was probably the understatement of the night. Patch didn’t seem like the type to let Carrie walk away without a fight. He only hoped they could find a solution that would keep her safe.

  After watching Lorelei disappear with Carrie into the house, Spencer climbed the stairs fighting the temptation to walk back to the truck, go find Patch Farmer, and do what he’d wanted to do for the last five years. There was certainly more than reasonable grounds to do it now. But then he couldn’t talk to Lorelei first thing in the morning if he were in jail for assault and battery.

  At least he had the night to figure out how he was going to tell her.

  Chapter 27

  Carrie stopped four feet inside the door looking as if she might bolt. “I really don’t want to be a burden. Maybe I should go to a motel.”

  Lorelei pulled two glasses from the cupboard. She would have liked a tall glass of wine, but they’d have to settle for sweet tea. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. Pull up a stool,” she said, indicating the backless wooden stools on the far side of the kitchen island.

  “But I—”

  “Carrie,” Lorelei said with force. “Sit. Down.”

  With a quick nod, the younger woman did as ordered. “What are you going to tell your grandmother? She lives here, too, right?”

  “She does.” Granny and Pearl had been playing bingo at the festival the last Lorelei knew. They’d probably close the place down. “My grandfather built this house in 1965, and Granny has been here ever since.” After sliding a glass Carrie’s way, Lorelei sipped her own with a hip resting against the counter. “I’ll tell her only what you want me to tell her.”<
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  Running a finger around the rim of the drink, Carrie kept her eyes down. “I never had any grandparents, really. My dad’s parents were hard people. The only thing I remember about visiting them was the immediate threat of being beat if we even considered acting out of line.”

  “What about on your mom’s side?” Lorelei asked.

  “They didn’t like Dad, so we rarely saw them.” She lifted the tea to her lips saying, “They died before I was old enough to go to school.”

  Setting her glass on the island counter, Lorelei leaned on her elbows, considering the woman across from her. She’d clearly been living with abuse her whole life, if what she said about her father being like Patch was any indication. Life with Spencer must have felt like landing in paradise. Yet she’d thrown the safety and security of a good man away, only to land back in hell.

  Questions danced on the tip of Lorelei’s tongue, but she and Carrie were still mostly strangers. Saving her from a beating didn’t mean Lorelei had any right to pry into her life or her psyche.

  “How far along are you?” she asked, choosing to stick with the present situation.

  “Not quite three months.” Settling a hand on her stomach, she added, “I’m starting to show already. They say that happens with your second pregnancy.”

  So much for staying in the present. Did Lorelei have a right to ask about the child that Carrie and Spencer had lost? She’d never asked Spencer, and he hadn’t brought it up. Not that she expected him to. In fact, the few times they’d talked about a future together in the last several days, neither had mentioned kids at all.

  “I thought having a baby would make Patch happy,” Carrie said, closing the window of opportunity to ask about the first pregnancy. “But I was wrong.”

  Unable to hold in the one question she most wanted answered, Lorelei said, “Why didn’t you leave before? When the abuse first started?”

  Carrie rubbed her cheek on her shoulder, met Lorelei’s gaze for half a second, and then returned to staring at her glass. “No place to go,” she said. “No job, so no money of my own. I’m sure it sounds insane to you, but at least with Patch I have a roof over my head and food to eat. That’s important, especially with the baby now.”

  The explanation did sound insane to Lorelei, but then the only reason she’d finally agreed to come home from LA was because the alternative was being homeless. Maxwell had been paying her bills until his wife walked into the picture. Pride had kept her on the West Coast for longer than was rational, and though she didn’t say as much, pride likely played a role in Carrie’s decisions as well. Lorelei would be a hypocrite to condemn this damaged woman for a fault she had a more than passing experience with herself.

  “Tomorrow, then,” she said, standing up again. “We’ll research shelters in the area, look into your legal options, and make a plan. Do you want to contact your mom? She’s in Louisville, you said?”

  “I called Mom a couple weeks ago. Going there isn’t an option.”

  Lorelei took a second to process that statement. What kind of a mother refused shelter to her pregnant, abused daughter? But again, none of her business.

  “Right.” This definitely called for something stronger than tea. Lorelei stepped into the pantry and returned with a large Tupperware container. “Have a cookie,” she said, pulling the teal lid off the bowl.

  Carrie hesitated, but succumbed to sugary temptation. Biting into a chocolate chip cookie, she caught a crumb that fell from her lip and said, “These are delicious.”

  Considering how much of Carrie’s personal life Lorelei had invaded this evening, she gave the woman a bow. “Lulu’s Home Bakery, at your service,” she said with a flourish.

  Light blue eyes went wide. “You’re Lulu’s Home Bakery?”

  “That I am.” Lorelei popped a piece of a cookie into her mouth. “But I am swearing you to secrecy. I keep this bit of information quiet for a reason, which I’m sure you can guess.”

  “The only thing I’ve ever been good at is pie,” Carrie said. “And that took me years to get right.” Swallowing the last of her cookie, she added, “After what you did for me tonight, you can consider your secret safe with me.”

  “Good.” Lorelei collected the crumbs from their snacking into her hand and brushed them off over the garbage can under the sink. “Come upstairs and I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping. I don’t know when the guest room was last used, but other than some dust on the furniture, it should be clean enough.”

  “I can sleep on the couch,” Carrie said, following Lorelei to the stairs. “I really don’t want to put you out.”

  “What’s the point of having a guest room if you’re going to put a guest on the couch?” Running into Ginger at the foot of the stairs, Lorelei said, “This is Ginger. She’s mean.” Carrie bent down and the cat came right to her, purring up a storm as the newcomer rubbed behind her ears. “Okay,” Lorelei said. “She’s only mean with me. Good to know.”

  Halfway up the stairs, Carrie said, “I really appreciate all that you’re doing, and I hope I can repay you someday.”

  “This is probably going to get worse before it gets better,” Lorelei said, brushing off any talk of repayment. “Let’s wait and see if you’re still thankful in a few days.”

  Carrie didn’t respond. For now, Lorelei could provide a warm bed for the night and a good breakfast in the morning. What would happen after that was anyone’s guess. This could work out with few bumps, or they’d all be living in a crazy Lifetime movie within the week.

  But one thing was for sure. The next few days would be anything but boring.

  Spencer barely slept as guilt and fear warred for supremacy in his mind. Though he wanted to believe that Lorelei would forgive him, a sliver of doubt hovered low in his gut. He still couldn’t believe he’d let Becky push him so far. The run-in with the mayor had affected him more than he realized, and Spencer hit a breaking point when Becky kept insisting on something he knew was false.

  There was only so much slandering of Lorelei that Spencer could tolerate, and he’d apparently hit his limit.

  By the time the sun broke the horizon line, Spencer was dressed and anxious, but he knew better than to expect Lorelei to be awake at the crack of dawn. If his guess was right, she and Carrie had spent time talking before the night was over. Something about which Spencer wasn’t sure how he felt.

  He shared a complicated past with both women, and he intended to spend a complication-free future with one of them. Did this new development mean the pair would become friends? That Carrie would become a regular part of his life again? Spencer didn’t hate his ex-wife, and after what he’d learned last night, he felt more protective of her than he had in years.

  But he also didn’t want to sit around over coffee reminiscing about the past.

  Once the clock on the back of the stove glowed eight thirty, Spencer slid on his boots, but he left the cowboy hat on the table. He didn’t need it for this particular mission. As Spencer’s foot hit the last step, a pickup truck came flying up the driveway, throwing gravel in every direction and bouncing through the potholes hard enough to give whoever was driving a bad case of whiplash.

  The green Ford had barely stopped before Patch was out of the truck and charging Spencer’s way.

  “Where’s my goddamn wife?” Patch said, grabbing the front of Spencer’s T-shirt.

  “Get off me, Farmer,” he said, shoving the man back. But Patch’s reason had left him.

  “She ain’t got no place else to go, so I know you have her.” A drop of spittle dangled precariously on the edge of Patch’s bottom lip. “She’s mine and I want her back.”

  Spencer broke the man’s grasp on his shirt for the second time. “I don’t have your wife.” Which was true. Carrie wasn’t with him. “Now get out of here before you do something you’ll regret.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Farmer said, shoving up his sleeves. “You can’t keep her from me.”

  “Why’d she run from
you, huh, Patch? What did you do to her to make her leave?” Provoking the already furious man wasn’t the best idea, but Spencer had passed mildly pissed himself. “Maybe you should pick on somebody your own size.”

  Patch’s eyes went wide with fury as he lunged at Spencer again, but before the two men locked together, a shot rang out from the porch. Both turned to see Rosie Pratchett marching toward them carrying a shotgun pointed at the sky.

  “Get off my property right now,” she yelled at Patch. “You’re not welcome here. Now go.”

  Farmer had the sense to throw his hands in the air. “I only come for my wife.”

  “Spencer doesn’t have her. Now go on, before I fire at something other than the clouds.”

  Keeping his eye on the older woman, Farmer climbed into his truck and backed out of the driveway, leaving Spencer standing next to Rosie, dazed and confused.

  “Since when do you keep shells in that gun?” He knew Rosie had a gun in the house, but as far as he knew, she hadn’t bought ammunition for it in years.

  Rosie kept her focus on the retreating Ford. “I had one left in a box in the pantry.”

  Which meant two things. She’d been bluffing when she’d threatened to shoot Farmer, and Rosie kept live rounds next to the baking soda and pancake mix.

  Once the truck disappeared from sight, she turned to Spencer. “Are you all right?”

  Straightening the front of his shirt, he answered, “I’m fine. Are you?”

  Dropping the gun onto her shoulder, she said, “Fit as a fiddle. Come in and have some breakfast.”

  By ten o’clock, Lorelei was still reeling from the fact that Granny had chased off Carrie’s husband with a shotgun. She’d been sleeping until she’d heard raised voices outside her window. By the time she reached the window seat, Granny had fired the shot and was charging across the yard like a geriatric angel of vengeance.

  Lorelei had stayed up the night before, waiting for Granny to get home to explain why Spencer’s ex-wife was sleeping in their guest room. In typical Granny fashion, she’d declared that Carrie would stay with them as long as she needed and no man would lay a hand on her again.