Looking for Trouble

by Victoria Dahl

  So he walked out. “Call me when you get to California,” he said from the doorway. “I’ll show you a cove that no one else knows.”

  When his foot hit the first step, she closed the door. Alex walked on.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ALEX CRACKED HIS eyes open, then squeezed them tightly shut at the piercing light that greeted him. His mouth felt dry as dirt and his head ached. He was hungover. Great. This town continued to bring out the best in him.

  He tried again, easing his husk-dry eyes open and focusing on an unfamiliar wall. Where the hell was he? He remembered going back to that dive bar. He remembered ordering Scotch. Several times. That same blond bartender had been there, giving him the same friendly once-over.

  Shit. He hadn’t ended up at her place, had he? Surely he’d remember something of the sex, if not the ugly reasoning for it.

  He rolled over and lifted his head from the pillow. No. Not her place. Just a different room in the same motel. He remembered now. He’d checked out that afternoon and when he’d come back last night, his old room had been rented out already.

  “Fuck,” he breathed, letting his head drop. Even if he’d never see Sophie again, he was glad he hadn’t ruined their affair by ending it with someone else. It wouldn’t have been a high note after what he’d had with Sophie. With her, it was something...different. Intense and brutal, yet still sweet. He hadn’t thought those things went together. Thank God he hadn’t fucked it up.

  Well. He’d screwed it up in all kinds of ways, but at least he hadn’t gotten drunk and fallen into bed with someone else. That would’ve tainted everything. And if Sophie had ever heard about it, it would’ve hurt her. Alex dared a glance at the clock and cursed. He was supposed to meet Shane at their mom’s house in fifteen minutes. He needed a long, scalding shower and several cups of good coffee before he’d be fit company. Neither of those were going to happen, but he forced himself out of bed anyway and fired up the pitiful one-cup coffeemaker.

  The shower was scalding, at least, but it only lasted two minutes. The almost-hot, high-acid coffee was waiting for him when he got out. Alex downed it in three gulps. He was out the door five minutes later.

  Clouds greeted him and he felt the occasional drop of rain hit his neck as he drove. It was a shitty day to leave town, but that seemed like the appropriate way to go at this point.

  He gave the door a perfunctory knock before letting himself in, moving quickly to avoid staring toward Sophie’s house like a kicked puppy.

  “Hello?”

  Shane walked out from the kitchen. “Thank God you’re here. I’m starving and the only thing around is stale bread and a bunch of leftovers that do not look recent. Mom seems good. She’s in the bathroom. We’ll leave as soon as she’s ready.”

  Alex glanced toward the kitchen. “I don’t smell coffee and I could damn sure use another cup.”

  “Yeah, you look like shit. Not the relaxing night you were hoping for?”

  He shot his brother a narrow look.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “It was pretty damn bad.”

  “Well, at least you’re on your way out of town.”

  “Yeah, at least,” Alex muttered. “How’s Merry?”

  “Better. She bounces back pretty quickly. We’ll pick her up on the way to the restaurant.”

  “I can’t believe that place is still open.”

  “And still the best breakfast in the state.”

  Alex shot a look toward the hallway. “I’m going to head over and start in on some corned-beef hash by myself if she doesn’t hurry up.”

  “Give her another minute. She’s moving slow lately.”

  “Good thing, or yesterday she might have jumped right over those chairs and pounced on Sophie’s back.”

  Shane smiled. “She was pretty riled up. Hey, at least she taught us to follow our passions in life.”

  Alex snorted and shook his head, then started down the hall. “Let’s get this circus going. Mom?” He tapped lightly, not wanting to intrude. “Are you ready?”

  She didn’t answer, so he knocked harder. “How long has she been in there?”

  “Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.”

  Alex frowned, suddenly picturing an open window and curtains flapping in the breeze. What if she’d decided to bother Sophie again?

  The door was locked, so he pulled a pocketknife from his jacket and turned the locking switch. “Mom, I’m coming in. Stop me now if you’re not decent.”

  She didn’t stop him. She didn’t say a word, and Alex felt real worry as he slowly opened the door. The worry exploded into alarm when he saw her slumped on the floor between the toilet and the bathtub, her head tipped back and mouth open.

  “Shane!” he yelled, rushing in to touch a hand to her neck. Her pulse was steady, but seemed slow to him. He heard his brother curse from the doorway. “Call an ambulance!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s passed out. I’ve got a pulse.” He looked around for a pill bottle or some other hint of trouble, but saw nothing but hair spray and deodorant and other normal bathroom items. “She’s cool. No fever.”

  He stroked a hand over his mother’s hair as Shane began talking to 911. “Mom.” She lay limp against the wall. “Mom,” he said again, patting her cheek this time. Her eyes fluttered a little, but when she mumbled something, the words were incoherent.

  Shane came back, the phone still near his ear. “They’re on their way.”

  “She’s coming around a little. Mom, are you hurt anywhere?”

  She breathed something about a car, then shook her head. Shane handed Alex a blanket. He draped it over her, then scrunched it up on the edge of the tub and eased her head down toward it.

  “Has anything like this happened before?” Alex asked. Shane shook his head. “Could she be doing drugs?”

  His brother raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Aside from what her doctor has prescribed, I can’t imagine.”

  “Maybe you should find her prescription. The hospital will probably want to know.”

  Shane disappeared for what felt like an eternity, before returning with empty hands. “There aren’t any down here. Did you check the drawers?”

  Alex pulled open the bathroom drawers but found nothing. Finally, the ambulance squawked to a stop in front of the house and the bathroom became controlled chaos as the paramedics checked and poked and prodded before loading her onto a stretcher. She shook her head in vague protest.

  “I’ll meet you there,” Alex said as Shane climbed into the ambulance with her.

  For the first time in his life, Alex had been stopped from leaving, and he was thankful. If he’d left, the guilt would’ve kept him from ever coming back.

  * * *

  “GIRLS’ NIGHT OUT!” Lauren shouted as she pushed her way into Sophie’s house.

  “That’s not funny,” Sophie said.

  “It’s not supposed to be funny. It’s Sunday. We have a date, remember?” Lauren waved her hand and Isabelle popped inside, too.

  Sophie groaned, but Lauren was unsympathetic. “She already knows what happened, so you don’t have to worry about telling her.”

  Was that supposed to be a relief? “I am not going out with you two.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, one, I don’t feel like it, for obvious reasons. And two, you can’t be seen with the town slut.”

  Isabelle smiled. “Are you kidding? That’s exactly who I need to be seen with. If a rumor spreads that I’m a slut, maybe I’ll get a date this decade.”

  “Yes,” Lauren agreed. “And it’ll really cement my identity as the bitch who entranced the gullible widower of a truly nice woman.”

  “God,” Sophie groaned. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m too miserable. I’ll
probably break something if I try.”

  Lauren pointed toward the hall. “Go get dressed. We’ll wait. And put on some makeup. You look like you’ve been crying all day.”

  “Shit.” Sophie felt her composure begin to crumble. She pressed a hand to her eyes.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Lauren sighed. She tugged Sophie down to the couch and wrapped her arms around her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to hide.”

  “I know,” she said, even though she didn’t know. She’d done lots of things wrong for lots of years. Alex had helpfully pointed that out.

  “Listen, you’re going to have to get this over with. People are going to whisper. Better to meet it head-on with your best friends right next to you. The longer you hide in here, the harder it will be.”

  “I should go see my dad,” she mumbled.

  Isabelle offered a disapproving snort. “It’s almost seven. You’re not going out to your dad’s tonight.”

  She was right. Sophie had been putting it off in half-hour increments, and now the whole day was gone, wasted hiding under blankets on her couch. She’d wanted to go see her dad, but she hadn’t known what she would say. There were a hundred things. A thousand. And none of them were right.

  “It was so awful. You guys have no idea.”

  “I was there, remember? It was awful, but do you know who people were talking about when it was over? Not you. Her. I’m not going to patronize you and tell you no one was excited about your involvement, but most people felt bad for you, Sophie.”

  Was that true? She’d felt like Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter, standing there while the whole town judged her a whore.

  Lauren nudged her. “Go wash your face and brush your hair and get dressed.”

  Isabelle nudged her other side. “We’re not taking no for answer. You need to get out. Isn’t that what you always tell me, even when I really, really don’t want to go?”

  Sophie groaned. “I’m not up for flirting with men tonight.”

  “Oh, please,” Lauren said. “This has nothing to do with men. We won’t even look at them. We’ll growl if they come near. This is just about us.”

  She wanted to curl up under the blankets and cry some more, but that was probably a pretty good reason to listen to her friends. “Okay,” she sighed, then smiled when the whole couch bounced with their celebration. “But I won’t look pretty,” she warned.

  “We don’t care,” Isabelle said. “We’d still do you.”

  “You’re so sweet.” She stood up and trudged toward the bathroom, then winced when she saw her eyes. She really did look like she’d been crying all day. And night.

  Fifteen minutes of intensive reconstruction made enough of a difference that she could go out without looking like a hospital patient, but she wasn’t quite up for heels and stockings. Instead, she pulled on the jeans she’d worn the other night and a loose cashmere sweater. Maybe the ivory color would make her look innocent. She grabbed her brown leather boots and rejoined the girls.

  “Oh, my God,” Lauren exclaimed. “You look almost presentable! Good job.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Let’s go. I’ll drive. Your only job is to get drunk.”

  “And ruin Isabelle’s reputation.”

  Isabelle gave her a thumbs-up.

  Despite Sophie’s bravado, her stomach hurt the whole way to the bar. She clenched her hands tight and tried not to change her mind. She could quit her job, move back home, order everything she ever needed online. She’d never have to see another person again. After all, she’d never been brave about anything. Why start now?

  She opened her mouth to say she didn’t want to do this, but Lauren slapped her leg. “We’re here!”

  “No,” Sophie groaned. “The saloon?” This time of year, it would be packed with locals. “Why don’t we go to that wine bar on—”

  “Oh, did I forget to tell you to wear your big-girl panties? I must have, because you’re obviously wearing some sort of inferior underwear.”

  “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t. Have you eaten anything?”

  “Yes. I made a pot of mac and cheese for breakfast and then I ate it all day.”

  Lauren got out and rounded the car to open Sophie’s door. “Good. I don’t think pretzels will be able to absorb this much alcohol.”

  Isabelle gave another thumbs-up.

  Sophie really did love these women, even if they were pains in her ass right now. No one else had bothered to check on her today. Her dad was dealing with his own sorrow. And her brother was a shit. And Alex...Alex had moved on. Good riddance.

  So why did she have to blink back tears as she got out and followed her friends into the Crooked R Saloon?

  It had just been a fling. And he didn’t understand her. He didn’t know what it was to have other people depend on you. He was selfish and placeless and—

  “Stop frowning,” Lauren ordered. “Look like you don’t give a damn.”

  “I need a drink,” she snapped.

  Lauren poked Isabelle. “Go talk to that hot bartender. Sophie needs a martini, stat. We’ll find a table.”

  Sophie glanced behind the bar and almost spun around. Benton was there. A really cute, really sweet guy that she’d accidentally slept with when she’d thought he was only here for one ski season. She didn’t want to see him tonight. She didn’t want him to see her.

  But when he glanced up and caught her eye, he just offered a wide grin and a wave. He didn’t look pitying or scandalized. She waved back.

  His hair was done up in wild twists tonight. They should have made him look a bit mad. Instead they made him look like an even-more-beautiful sibling of Lenny Kravitz. He had to be the most popular bartender in town, but he still had a friendly, open smile for Isabelle as she leaned close to order.

  He was nothing like Alex, who scowled way more often than he smiled, and who would definitely move on like she expected him to. He didn’t know how to listen or comfort. He didn’t seem to know what she wanted to hear. But he also made her shiver with something close to fear when he touched her and told her what he wanted.

  Shit.

  “You’re frowning again,” Lauren said as she tugged Sophie to a table and sat down. “But that’s okay. No one is even looking at you. See?”

  She was right. Sophie looked around and saw that nobody seemed very interested. Only one face turned toward her, a woman Sophie recognized as a library patron. But that woman just gave a chagrined smile and looked back to her drink.

  But Sophie was unconvinced. “They’re probably waiting for a few more people to get here to be sure the mob is effective.”

  “Or it’s really not as big a deal as you think it is.”

  Sophie felt almost resentful of that. It was a big deal. It was a goddamn community disaster.

  Or just a personal embarrassment, she chided herself. She slumped in her chair as Isabelle returned with drinks. “A martini for Sophie, and beers for us. Well, one beer for you, Lauren. You’re driving.”

  “Hey, you have to drive home from my place.”

  Isabelle shrugged. “I’ll crash on your couch if I need to.”

  “Only because Jake is working overnight. Otherwise, I’d kick your ass right out. Speaking of overnight friends...” Her gaze slid to Sophie. “Did Alex ever find you yesterday?”

  Sophie shot Isabelle a panicked look, but she seemed unsurprised. Right. Everyone knew now. She only raised interested eyebrows.

  Sophie tried to look just as casual. “Was he looking for me?”

  “Yes. I came by your house and he was there.”

  “Well, he didn’t find me, so he left town.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah. ‘Ah.’ And then I came home last night and found his mother sitting in
my living room.”

  Lauren gasped, while Isabelle muttered “No fucking way.”

  Sophie felt a brief moment of vindication. That she wasn’t the bad one. That that woman was seriously wrong in so many ways. But then she felt guilty. “Guys, I think she’s truly unwell. She was confused. She thought I was my mom. She asked where her husband was.”

  “Oh, no,” Lauren sighed.

  “Yeah. I think maybe it’s something more than just meanness on her part. I guess time will tell. In the meantime, I expect to wake up to find the word slut spray-painted on my house any day now.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Lauren offered with a sympathetic smile.

  “Me,” Isabelle chimed in.

  Sophie laughed then. Really laughed. She realized that half her martini was gone and her friends were smiling at her and she didn’t care who was looking. It really wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t a community disaster or even a personal one. At this point, twenty-five years removed from that awful day when two parents had gone missing, it was really just a sick old woman trying to work out her heartbreak however she could. She didn’t want to be alone with her hurt. Sophie couldn’t understand that, but maybe she could forgive it.

  Isabelle took a swig of her beer and shook her head. “I can’t believe you had sex with a hot guy with tattoos. I hate you, Sophie. I hate both of you.”

  Sophie patted her hand. “If you want a boyfriend, you need to get out and—”

  “I don’t want a boyfriend. I’m terrible with men. I’m awkward and inattentive and not feminine and cute like you. I’ll be forty in a few years, for God’s sake. I just want to be used like a cheap rag. Several times a month. Is there a service for that? Dark room? No talking? Big cock?”

  Sophie laughed again. And this time she couldn’t stop. She laid her head on her hands and laughed. Isabelle was so blunt about everything, but she’d never said anything like that before. But the laughter tipped over into tears. “Oh, God,” Sophie sobbed.

  “Hey.” She felt Lauren’s hand on her back. “Are you okay?”

  Sophie only laughed harder, but she raised her head as she wiped the tears from her eyes.