They’re different as night and day…but it’s the right time for love.
Texas Montgomery Mavericks, Book 6
Porchia Summers was born into a family who gave her everything except affection. She acted out until her parents sent her to Whispering Springs before their high-society friends found out about her arrest record.
She builds a good life in Texas, but then the old boyfriend who got her in trouble tracks her down. Desperate to find a way to keep her past and present separate, she places a bid at a bachelor auction on the one man who’ll get her out of town for a few days.
Darren Montgomery is thrilled when Porchia wins him and a week of camping with his entire family in a charity bachelor auction. He’s also curious. He’s been flirting with the town’s sweet, sexy baker for years. Sometimes she flirts back, but she’s never let things go further than that. Darren’s not complaining, but he wonders just what’s going on behind Porchia’s pretty eyes.
Warning: Watch out for chigger bites, love bites, and secrets that bite.
Texas Hustle
Cynthia D’Alba
Dedication
Thank you to Porchia Gilbreath for her beta readings and for lending her first name for the book’s heroine. Also I have to give a shout out to Paula Farrell for reading the early chapters of this work. My gratitude knows no end for Delene Yochum, Tabitha Collins and Margaret Hughes (aka Book Partners in Crime) for their continued support and assistance with my book releases and parties. I seriously could not do it without you ladies. And no author has ever had a more responsive critique partner than Angela Campbell, who will drop everything to get me a fast turnaround when I need it. Finally, to my best friend in the world, my husband, whose idea it was to get into this writing biz and who continues to encourage me every day.
And I’m setting my editor, Heidi Moore, off into her own paragraph because she deserves special recognition. As usual, your edits were on target. You make me look better than I am. You push me to become a better writer. Thank you, Heidi.
Chapter One
It was still dark when Porchia Summers wheeled into the parking area behind Heavenly Delights Bakery. Her car’s headlights bounced off one other vehicle, an old, rusty Jeep that looked like it should be in a junkyard instead of her bakery’s parking lot. The Jeep’s owner, Mallory James, adored her car and took offense at any aspersions about its paint, or rather its lack thereof.
Light filtered from windows near the ceiling. While Porchia hadn’t designed the building, the construction was perfect for baking. The elevated openings were ideal to allow heat in the summer to escape. Plus, she’d gotten it at a bargain price.
She let herself in, wincing at the ear-splitting volume of the head-banging heavy-metal music blasting in the kitchen.
To her left, racks of cookies cooled. To her right, multiple ovens baked fresh muffins and pastries for the sales counter. In front of Porchia, Mallory stood with her back to the door, her hands flying as she moved fresh muffins and rolls into plastic bags for Whispering Springs’s three B&Bs and restaurants.
“Mallory. How’d last night go?”
When Mallory didn’t respond to Porchia’s shout, she picked up the remote for the portable system and lowered the volume. Mallory whirled around, hands fisted and ready for an attack. The minute she realized it was Porchia, she loosened her fists and greeted her boss with a lift of her chin.
“Morning,” Mallory muttered. “Sorry about the music. Must have lost track of time.”
“Not a problem,” Porchia said. “Everything go okay last night?”
Mallory shrugged. “Sure,” she replied in her usual understated tone.
Mallory had served as a Marine and come back from Afghanistan unable to deal with what she’d seen and the jobs she’d had to do. Working in an environment that required her to interact with people wasn’t possible. She’d approached Porchia about a job. Given that Mallory had grown up in a family that’d owned a bakery, Porchia knew she’d have been a fool to not hire her. However, Mallory’s only job stipulation was that she had to work at night. At first, Porchia hadn’t been sure how that would work. But it had turned out to be a win-win for both women. Mallory came in at midnight, did all the breads and most of the cookies, and left at seven when the rest of the bakery staff arrived. Before Mallory, Porchia had been at the bakery every day no later than four a.m. Since Mallory has started working for her, she’d had the luxury of sleeping until five most mornings, a serious bonus for her.
“Great,” Porchia said. “I’ve got a couple of things to do in the office before we open.”
She was headed toward her office when Mallory said, “Oh, the phone’s been ringing since about four.”
Porchia’s brow furrowed. “Who was it?”
“Don’t know. Didn’t answer it. Figured nobody was ordering a cake at four in the morning.”
Porchia nodded. Another one of Mallory’s idiosyncrasies. She refused to answer the bakery phone, and sometimes even her own cell.
“Well, you’ve got a point. I guess if it’s important, they’ll call back or have left a message. I’ll check.”
Mallory didn’t respond and went back to her packaging.
The bakery phone began to ring. Porchia hurried to the phone mounted on the wall to answer.
“Heavenly Delights.”
“Hello, Kat. Miss me?”
Every nerve in Porchia’s body ran blazing hot, then ice cold. A tremor shook her hand, banging the receiver against her ear.
“This is Heavenly Delights Bakery,” Porchia said. “There’s no one here by that name.”
The man on the phone laughed, a deep, haunting chuckle that sent shivers skittering down her spine. “Now, Kat. Don’t play games with me. Why, it’s been seventeen years since I’ve had the pleasure of your company.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied, imitating her mother’s dressing-down-the-staff voice. “You really have a wrong number.”
It took two shaky tries to get the receiver back into its holder. Her legs wobbled like gelatin as she made her way to the office. Once there, she closed the door and leaned against it, as though that would keep her juvenile history in the past. Her lungs had seized up the minute she’d heard his voice, and they still hadn’t relaxed. Her breaths came in pants and gulps as her lungs struggled to expand.
Porchia grabbed the edge of the desk and guided herself around the side until she could collapse into the chair. She rested her forehead on the desk, but that did nothing for the swirl in her brain.
Her desk phone rang. She had to answer it. Mallory wouldn’t and none of the other staff had arrived yet. It could be a bakery order. She did have a business to run.
“Heavenly Delights.” Her voice quivered as she spoke. She cleared her throat and said again, “Heavenly Delights Bakery. May I help you?”
“Yes, you most certainly can,” the man said. “Don’t hang up on me again, Kat. I don’t have a wrong number either. You can call yourself Porchia or Mercedes or Range Rover, for all I care. Doesn’t change who you are.”
“What do you want, Slade?”
When he chuckled, Porchia felt a thousand spiders walk up her body. The worst mistake of her life had been taking a ride in the car with Slade Madden.
“So you haven’t forgotten your old friend.”
“Not hardly a friend. More like a bad memory.”
“Well, this memory just did seventeen years in jail for you. Now it’s time for you to pay your bill.”
Images came racing back at her. Beer cans rolling around on the floorboard of the backseat. A flash of red as the car ran the stop sign. Bright headlights from the oncoming car. The lurch of her body as Slade jerked the steering wheel to avoid the car. A dingy white fence just before the hood of
the car slammed into it. Blood as it gushed from her legs and her face.
And all the sounds. Slade’s laughter. Her begging him to stop and let her out. The crunch of metal into wood. Her screams before, during and after the wreck. The gasping breaths of the old woman trapped under the car’s tires.
She’d lost everything that night. Her life had never been the same.
“I don’t owe you anything, Slade. You destroyed my life that night.”
“Bullshit. It was an accident. You know that. You could have testified in my defense. Hell, your old man had the right contacts to get my case tossed just like he did for his little princess. For the last seventeen years, you’ve been free to do whatever your little heart desired.”
“You’re wrong. There was nothing Dad could do.”
“Don’t give me that. He’s a judge. He knows everybody in Atlanta. He could have made some calls. Maybe I would have done a little time, like six months. Instead, my life went down the crapper. I had a full scholarship to play football and then it was on to the NFL. I could have made millions in the pros. You owe me, Kat. You and your family owe me. I figure seventeen years at, let’s say a modest sixty big, and that’s a cool mil. That should give me a new start on my life.”
“A million dollars. That’s insane. Even if I had a million bucks, and I don’t, I certainly wouldn’t give it to you. You are solely responsible for that night.”
Using her foot, she dragged the trash can closer to her. The tangy saliva tingling the back of her tongue suggested vomiting was eminent.
“Your family has the dough, and I bet your dad will do anything for his little girl. Hell, he’d never miss a measly mil. I might have been in prison, but don’t think I haven’t kept up with his success. You, on the other hand, took a while to track down. Clever girl. Thought the slight name change would cover your past. But you forgot. I’m smart. So get on the phone and rattle your dad’s piggy bank for my new start in life.”
Porchia hesitated. She hadn’t spoken to her parents since Labor Day weekend. Her relationship with them was strained at best, but she made herself see them for major holidays.
Her parents had been beyond disappointed with her actions that night. What respect they’d had for her disappeared, along with any semblance of trust. Even at fifteen, she’d known better than to get into a car with someone who’d been drinking, regardless of how popular the boy might have been. Just the first in a long line of poor decisions when it came to men, something her parents, and her conscience, never let her forget. For months afterward, they could barely look at her, speak to her. As soon as she’d been cleared of any responsibility for the accident, they’d sent her to Whispering Springs to live with her maternal grandmother, Lillian Summers, until all the talk died down.
As Porchia aged and matured and learned how the world worked, she’d come to believe they’d done what they’d thought best all those years ago, that in their minds, they were protecting her without damaging their social status. However, a scared and hurt fifteen-year-old Porchia had felt betrayed and abandoned by her parents. Two years later, when they’d asked her to come home, she’d refused, opting to remain in the loving home of her maternal grandmother and in Whispering Springs, where she’d found the joy of anonymity.
“You’re working off old intel,” she said. “Dear old Dad cut me off years ago.”
Slade was quiet for a minute. “I know you can get the money. You owe me and I want it.” His voice lost all his fake friendliness. Now it was rough and guttural and threatening.
She took a deep breath and stiffened her spine. She couldn’t let him know how scared she was of him.
“Fuck you. Go back into the hole you climbed out of and leave me the hell alone.” She slammed down the phone, her whole body shaking. When the phone rang again, she let it go to voice mail.
A couple of days passed with no contact from Slade. Porchia hoped he’d moved on, but in her heart, she knew she was kidding herself.
Friday morning, business was brisk, her pastries flying out of the store as though she was giving them away. She glanced at the clock. Almost noon. Someone from the fire station would be by soon to pick up all the unsold pastries from earlier this week. She’d made the firehouses a deal they couldn’t refuse…all the left over pastries from the last two days at sixty percent off. The deal was a win-win for both. She got excellent public relations from it and the firefighters got some cheap treats.
The bell over the door jangled, and Porchia looked up with a smile ready to greet her next customer. But it wasn’t a customer. Instead, her worst nightmare had just reentered her life. Slade Madden oozed into the shop. Her stomach roiled with the sudden influx of acid.
“Get out,” she said between clenched teeth.
“Now, Kat, is that any way to greet an old friend?”
The bell over the door jangled again as a probie firefighter came in to pick up the firehouse box. He stopped short when he caught sight of Slade. Not surprising. Dressed all in black—jeans, T-shirt, boots and leather jacket—Slade looked like Lucifer himself. Adding to his threatening appearance was a skull and crossbones tattoo on his neck.
“Um, is everything okay, Porchia?” The young firefighter’s eyes ricocheted from her to Slade and back.
“Everything is fine,” Porchia lied. She held out the box of pastries. “Here’s your box. We’ll settle up later.”
Chad, the rookie firefighter, took the box. “Thanks,” he said with a glance at Slade. “I can hang around until you finish with this customer.”
“No. That’s okay. You’d better get back to the station.”
As soon as the door closed behind Chad, Porchia held up a finger for Slade to not say anything. She went and closed the swinging door to the kitchen.
“I have other employees here, Slade, so make it quick and get out.”
“I don’t like my ladies hanging up on me.” He spread his stance and fisted his hands.
“Well, that’s fine since I’m not, and never have been, one of your ladies.” She swept her hand around the small bakery. “This is all I have, so if you came here looking for money, it’ll be like getting blood from a turnip. And, trust me, my dad won’t give you a dime. He’ll call the cops on you for some type of probation violation.”
If only her internal strength matched the grit in her voice, she’d be fine. But her insides were quivering like a puppy expecting to be hit. Luckily, she only had to channel her mother talking to their cook to get her haughty tone perfect. Forcing her spine straight, she squinted her eyes in what she hoped appeared to be a glare and tightened her lips across her teeth as though she were her mother ready to give her tsk of disapproval.
When he gave her one of his greasy smiles, she noticed he’d had a gold tooth put in his mouth. “No probation worries, my dear. I served my entire sentence. I’m a free man.”
“Great.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Now go away.”
She turned to go to the kitchen, but Slade was faster. He grabbed her arm and jerked her back against the counter. The hard edge slammed into her side and back, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream as the pain shot through her.
“Not without what’s due me.”
“Let go of me,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Hey! What’s going on? Is everything okay, Porchia?”
Porchia and Slade turned toward the deep, masculine voice. Porchia’s heart skipped a beat or more at the sight of Darren Montgomery standing in her kitchen door, a freshly baked apple fritter in his hand. Taller than Slade and more muscular, Darren wore a threatening scowl on his face. He pointedly moved his gaze down to where Slade’s fingers were pressing into Porchia’s flesh and then back up to Slade’s face. He took a step toward them.
Slade released her arm. “No problem,” he said, a used-car-salesman’s smile on his face. “I thought I’d forgotten to pay for my coffee. I wanted to stop the lady before she got away.” He glanced at Porchia. “I alway
s pay my bills. I’m sure you do too.”
Porchia rubbed her arm. “I’m fine.” She gave Slade a threatening look, or least she hoped he felt threatened. “He was just leaving, isn’t that right, sir? You’re all paid up here.”
Slade tipped an imaginary hat. “Real nice place you’ve got here. I’ll see you around.”
The minute the front door shut behind him, Porchia went on the offensive, wanting to distract Darren from any additional conversation about Slade. Her Grandmother Summers had been well loved and respected. That respect and goodwill had been extended to Porchia when she moved here. The very last thing she wanted was to darken her late grandmother’s good name or her own. So the less Darren—and everyone else—knew about her past, the better.
She cocked both fists on her hips. “What are you doing coming in through my kitchen? Callie let you in the back door again?”
Darren’s body relaxed and he grinned. She was positive this was the grin that got every girl in town picking out wedding dresses and checking church reservations.
“What can I say? I love Callie’s apple fritters.”
Her jaw tightened. Callie couldn’t make an apple fritter with instructions from an “Apple Fritters for Dummies” book. Porchia had made those fritters.
“Great. That’ll be two dollars.”
“Two dollars? Isn’t that a little steep?”
“Not when I know Callie fed you at least two more in the kitchen.”
The twinkle in his eyes let her know she’d hit the bull’s eye.
He tilted his chin toward the door Slade had just exited. “About that guy—” he started.
“Stop. Don’t say anything. It was nothing. Just a jerk being a jerk. It’s over.”
“Didn’t recognize him. Someone you know?”
“Nope. Never seen him before today. Probably just passing through town. Now, what are you doing here and why aren’t you at the D&R?”
Darren loved the cattle ranch he and his brother Reno ran. The ranch was a good hour outside of town, so for Darren to be in Whispering Springs on a Friday morning was definitely out of the ordinary.
Texas Hustle Page 1
