by Marin Thomas
“Did you drop by to eat or chat?” A blue-veined hand wiped the counter with a damp rag.
“I’m meeting a friend.” Then he added, “You haven’t seen a strange woman wandering around here, have you?”
Mrs. P. nodded toward the front of the store. “She doesn’t look familiar.”
He swiveled on his stool and his eyes collided with…“Darla?”
“Hello, Leonard. How’s the used-car business?”
No. No way.
Had she played him for a fool and strung him along all these months? “Daisy?”
The corner of her mouth tilted. Damn if she wasn’t struggling not to laugh. “Sorry, I’m not your Daisy.”
He frowned. “Then how did you know—”
“A coworker has a MySpace page and found a used-car salesman named Leonard from Junket, Texas. She wondered if I knew you.”
Well, damn. This was embarrassing. “What brings you back to town after all these years?” Wow, she looked great. Better than she had in high school.
“Sissy’s new baby, Emma, is being baptized on Sunday and I’m her godmother.”
Sissy Keller—the name made Fletcher shudder. The woman had blistered his ears when she’d caught him cheating on Darla at the drive-in.
Before the next question left his mouth, the drugstore door opened and in walked a Texas Mary Kay disaster. Fletcher swallowed hard as he took in the woman. With her big-boned body and wide hips, his blind date could wrestle a swamp gator and come out on top.
Daisy towered over Darla’s five-seven height. The woman’s blond hair stood a half foot taller than in her MySpace photo. And he sure hadn’t remembered that big mole on her chin. Daisy smiled and Fletcher cringed at the ruby-red lipstick smudges on her teeth.
“You wouldn’t happen to know a Leonard Reynolds, would you?” Daisy asked Darla.
He moved out of the shadows. “That would be me.”
Daisy turned at the sound of his voice and her mouth sagged open. “But…but…”
But what? He moved forward and held out his hand. “I’m Leonard.” No sense telling her his real name when he intended to cut the date short.
She stared at their entwined hands. “I thought you were…”
“Were what?” Jeez, the woman had trouble getting her words out.
“I thought you’d be…smaller.”
Was that disappointment he heard in Daisy’s voice?
Smiling, Darla disappeared around an end cap. “What do you mean, smaller?” he asked.
Daisy waved her hand, drawing his attention to the costume jewelry adorning her fingers—fake emeralds and rubies. “I don’t care for men who are bigger than me.”
A snicker came from the next aisle over. Instead of being embarrassed that Darla was eavesdropping, Fletcher was relieved he hadn’t impressed Daisy.
“I guess you want to cancel our date,” he said.
“Ah…” Daisy sighed. “I’m sorry, Leonard.”
“Sure. Okay.” He shrugged.
Daisy paused with her hand on the door. “You’re not upset, are you?”
“No, why?”
“I don’t want you to stalk me on MySpace or say bad things about me on the Internet because I hurt your feelings.”
“I’m not that kind of guy.”
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Leonard. Sorry things didn’t work out.”
“Likewise,” he said, relief surging through him. Now that Daisy was out of the way he could concentrate on Darla.
AS SOON AS FLETCHER’S MySpace Daisy left the drugstore, Darla emerged from her hiding place in the next aisle.
“Whew. Close call,” he said.
Twelve years and a failed marriage had aged Fletcher—lines fanned from the corners of his green eyes and threads of silver mixed with the auburn hair at his temples. Older…but still handsome. Cowboy handsome. Rugged, masculine.
For a moment she lost herself in his gaze and the years melted away. Her mind retreated to the days they’d sat at this very soda fountain and planned their future. The sound of a throat clearing chased away the memories, leaving Darla shaken.
“You two ordering anything to eat?” the older woman behind the counter asked.
“Sorry.” Fletcher grasped Darla’s hand. “Mrs. P., this is Darla Baker.”
“Herb and Mary’s daughter?”
“Yes, ma’am. Darla, this is Helga Polanski.”
Darla tugged her tingling fingers free. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, dear. Your parents sure gave us a good deal on the store. We’ll always be grateful for their kindheartedness.” She lifted a pot from the warmer. “Coffee’s on me.” After filling two cups, she said, “I’ll be in the stockroom if you change your mind about lunch.”
“Thank you.” Darla slid onto a stool. Fletcher’s scent, a familiar cologne, competed with the aroma of strong java. She sipped the hot brew, counting on the caffeine to settle her nerves. She’d hoped to avoid running into Fletcher this weekend and now here she sat drinking coffee with the man.
“You’re staring.” She wasn’t a woman prone to perspiring but Fletcher’s gaze burned into her skin.
“You’ve changed,” he said.
The appreciative sweep of his eyes over her figure caused her heart to hiccup. After her last relationship had ended, she’d finally shed the extra fifteen pounds she’d gained during college and had carried around since. She’d hoped a new Darla would attract a different kind of man—one she could see herself marrying and spending the rest of her life with.
“Seriously, Darla. You look great.”
His compliment soothed the old wound Fletcher had inflicted on her eons ago. A small part of her—the young girl who’d believed the sun rose and set on Fletcher’s broad shoulders was pleased he’d approve of her new image.
He tapped her bare ring finger. “This surprises me.”
Darla’s boyfriend had caught her off-guard this past spring and proposed. Blake was a nice man, but in many ways boring. He’d asked her to wear his ring for a month and then give him an answer. She’d agreed. Thirty days later she’d said no. One failed relationship wouldn’t have been a big deal, but Blake’s proposal had been the third Darla had declined since graduating from law school.
“I came close—” She wiggled her fingers. And in case he believed she’d pined for him all these years, she added “—a few times.”
Darla had been surprised when her coworker showed her Fletcher’s MySpace page. His photo had unlocked all the feelings for the man—both good and bad—that resided in her heart all these years. The shock of that discovery led her to believe that her commitment issues with other men were tied to her unresolved feelings for her first love.
She’d thought she’d gotten over Fletcher’s betrayal. After high school graduation she’d left for college in Austin and he’d gone to school in Lubbock. Many times through the years she’d thought about him. Wondered where he was and who he was with. She’d discovered that old feelings die hard and she’d believed it best to spend as little time as possible in Junket to avoid running into Fletcher. She’d been relieved when her parents had sold the drugstore and moved to Nevada and she no longer had a reason to return to town. Then Sissy had called with the news she was pregnant with her first child and wanted Darla to be the godmother. After all these years Darla finally came home.
“I like your hair.” Fletcher possessed that country charm missing in metropolitan men. When they’d dated, the bull breeder’s son had found something nice to say about her every time they were together.
“Thanks.” The short bob was a drastic change from the waist-length hair she’d worn in high school and college. But her hairstyle wasn’t the only thing that changed. She wasn’t the same small-town girl who’d grown up in Junket. Attending college, then living and working in Dallas had curbed her Pollyanna views.
His twinkling eyes sobered. “So what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
&
nbsp; “You went to law school?”
The awe in his voice claimed her achievements impressed him. “I’m a lawyer for the Environmental Protection Agency in Texas.”
“That’s great.”
“I heard you’re divorced.” Sissy had sent Darla a copy of the Junket Journal’s front-page story on the divorce. Darla had felt genuinely sorry for Fletcher at having his and Sandi’s dirty laundry aired in such a public way. The newspaper had been another reminder of her love-hate relationship with small-town life.
“Been almost a year since Sandi and I split,” he said.
“You two have a son.”
“Danny. He’s seven.”
Darla had been in her first year of law school when her mother had phoned with the news that Fletcher and Sandi had had a little boy. The first twenty-four hours Darla had been numb. The second devastated. The third miffed. The fourth indifferent. On the fifth day the cycle repeated itself.
For years she’d held on to hope that one day she and Fletcher would end up together—Danny’s birth had ended that fantasy. Three failed engagements later, Darla began to suspect she’d only been fooling herself into believing she was over her first love.
“Does your son live with you?” she asked.
“Danny and I moved back in with my dad. It’s worked out well since Mom passed away and—”
“I was sorry to hear about your mother.” Darla had thought the world of Marilyn McFadden. She had sent a sympathy card and flowers, but hadn’t returned to Junket for the funeral.
“Dad likes having us around and I’m grateful for his help with Danny.” Fletcher shrugged. “The boy’s a handful.”
Jealousy reared its ugly head. She’d expected to be a mother by now. As a matter of fact she and Fletcher had agreed on three children when they’d mapped out their lives in high school. Her gaze clashed with his in the mirror behind the fountain and the sadness dulling his green eyes snatched her breath. Did Fletcher harbor a few regrets of his own? Before she had a chance to ask, the drugstore door opened.
Like a strong gust of wind a child blew inside, knocking over a holiday candy display. The cacophony echoed through the store and Darla pressed a hand to her lips to keep from laughing as the blond-haired boy stared slack-jawed at the scattered tins rolling in every direction.
Mrs. Polanski appeared, hands pressed to her cheeks as she surveyed the mess.
“I’m real sorry, Mrs. P.” The boy dropped to his knees and began collecting tins. “I didn’t mean to bust your shelf.”
“Not to worry, Danny. We’ll get things cleaned up in no time.”
Danny? Darla glanced at Fletcher who groaned and rubbed his brow.
“Hey, Dad.” The boy waved his arm wildly.
“Did I mention my son is a distant relative of the Tasmanian devil?” Fletcher said.
Stomach twisting into a painful knot, Darla braved a smile. Danny McFadden looked nothing like his father and everything like his mother, Sandi Rutledge.
“What are you doing here?” Fletcher met his son in the middle of the aisle.
Danny ignored the question and peeked around his father. “Who’s that?” The scowl on the child’s face took Darla by surprise. Joining the males she held out her hand. “I’m Ms. Baker. Pleasure to meet you, Danny.”
The boy reluctantly offered his hand, then yanked it away as soon as Darla clasped his fingers.
“Where’s Grandpa?” Fletcher asked.
“At the bank. He said I could come in here and get some gum.”
“Finish helping Mrs. Polanski clean up this mess.” Fletcher turned away and was unaware of the dark glare Danny sent Darla.
She wanted to reassure the child she had no intention of intruding into his life or laying claim to his father. Instead, she said, “I have to get going.” She’d stopped by the drugstore to buy a gift for little Emma’s baptism, but running into Fletcher and his son had shaken her and she needed fresh air.
“Stay for lunch,” Fletcher said.
She forced herself to make eye contact. “Sissy’s expecting me. I have to go.”
“How long are you in town for?”
“Until Monday.”
“I want to see you this weekend.”
“I…” She clenched her hand into a fist.
“For old time’s sake?”
Although she’d never admit as much—Fletcher interested her more now than he ever had. Green eyes simmering with heat, he inched closer, forcing her to tilt her head to maintain eye contact. Oh, my. Was he…
“Are you gonna kiss that lady, Dad?”
Fletcher’s head jerked and his cheeks reddened.
Thank goodness Danny had interrupted them or she would have made a huge mistake and kissed Fletcher back.
“Have dinner with me,” he whispered.
No denying the chemistry between them was still there. Dare she spend more time with Fletcher?
Dinner might lead to a kiss, which might lead to…
Or dinner might lead to finally being able to put Fletcher behind her once and for all.
“Yes, I’ll have dinner with you.”
Chapter Two
“Who’s this strange woman Danny says you were talking to in the drugstore earlier today?” Fletcher’s father came out of the house and stopped next to the built-in grill on the patio where Fletcher cooked fajita meat.
Right then Fletcher’s phone vibrated. He checked the number—Logan. No doubt his buddy was curious about the meeting with Daisy. Wait until Logan found out Fletcher had run into Darla at the drugstore. He let the call go to voicemail.
“It’s a long story, Dad.”
His father helped himself to a beer from the mini-fridge built into the outdoor kitchen. “I’m listening.”
Refusing to go into the MySpace details, Fletcher cut to the chase. “Darla Baker’s back in town for the baptism of Sissy Keller’s new baby on Sunday.”
“Darla was at the drugstore?”
His high school girlfriend was a sore subject between father and son. Daniel McFadden had loved Darla like a daughter and had been disappointed when the young couple went their separate ways following high school.
“What’s she been up to all these years?” his father asked.
“She’s an EPA lawyer for the state of Texas and lives in Dallas.”
“I’ll be darned.”
Darla’s law degree had taken Fletcher by surprise. She’d brought up the subject of becoming a lawyer when they’d dated but he hadn’t believed she’d been serious. If things had worked out between them would she have gone on to law school and put marrying him on hold after graduating from college?
“Single, divorced or married?”
He should have known his father wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d heard Darla’s life story. “She was engaged—” he left out a few times “—but things didn’t work out.” He wondered why. He’d have thought a hot shot corporate CEO or doctor would have snatched Darla up long before now.
Maybe she’s not over you.
Yeah, right.
The Darla that had walked into the drugstore didn’t have to settle for a man like him—a country boy who was boring in the handsome department. With her looks and career she could snag any guy she wanted. He and his father’s wealth attracted a fair share of interest from the opposite sex, but Darla didn’t need his money. The Lexus he’d watched her drive away from the drugstore in had proven that.
Anxiety twisted Fletcher’s gut. It had taken a long time to put Darla behind him. Now she was back, stirring up old memories and feelings. He never expected to have an opportunity to seek her forgiveness for what he did in high school and he didn’t want her to head back to Dallas before he told her how sorry he was.
Forgiveness? Go ahead and tell yourself that’s the reason you want to spend time with her while she’s in town. Face it, you think she’s hot.
There wasn’t much left of the small-town girl—that was visible anyway. She’d shed the girl-next-door loo
k. And Fletcher was intrigued with the new grown-up Darla—sophisticated, sexy and confident.
“What does she look like now?” His father’s question grabbed Fletcher’s attention.
Sexy. “She wears her hair short.” And her blue eyes reminded him of a cloudless sky.
“You attracted to her?”
“That’s a little personal, Dad.” His ex-wife couldn’t hold a candle to Darla’s stylish hair, trim figure and sophisticated clothes.
“I’d say it was damned important if you intend to get back together.”
“You’re jumping the gun.” Fletcher didn’t know where this thing with Darla would lead. Shoot. She had a life and a career in Dallas. His father was too old to handle the bull business by himself so Fletcher was stuck in Junket. Besides, Danny was his first priority and the last thing his son needed was his father bringing another woman into the family who might end up leaving them.
“I’d like to visit with her. Find out how her parents are doing.”
“She’s coming over for supper tonight.” He glanced at his watch. “Should be here in a half hour.”
“Why didn’t you say as much?” His dad tossed the empty beer bottle in the recycle bin. “I’ll make your mother’s famous cold bean salad.” The back door slammed in his wake.
After Fletcher’s mother died Daniel McFadden had refused to hire a cook or maid. His father hadn’t wanted a strange woman taking over what Marilyn McFadden had once called her domain. Good thing Fletcher knew how to grill meat. Most nights he threw a piece of beef on the cooker while his father microwaved a vegetable. Tonight he’d planned on serving fajitas with Mexican rice. And cold bean salad.
Danny joined him outside. “Grandpa says I can’t go to soccer practice ’cause we’re having company for supper.”
“You can’t go to soccer practice because you stayed home sick from school today.” His son played on an intramural co-ed soccer team. After today’s practice the team would take a recess until after the Christmas break. Danny wasn’t all that great at the sport, but Fletcher had encouraged him to join the team, hoping that for a few days a week the practices and games would take his young mind off his parents’ divorce.
