by Virna DePaul
And even the thought of that had my stomach twisting and brow furrowing.
So fine. Fuck it. Someday she’d belong to someone else.
But for now, she belonged to me.
I wished like hell I’d gotten her cell phone number or email. Right then, I decided to find the number for Evangeline’s. Call and ask someone on the staff for her number. Or leave her a message there. I’d left her that note, and if Aimee was the woman I thought she was, she’d understand, but something was suddenly burning in my chest, warning me that I needed to get hold of her, and get hold of her fast.
* * *
Aimee
The Friday night crowd at Evangeline’s was a little subdued and had cleared out early, I realized tiredly as I cleared a few glasses off the bar. We weren’t even up onto closing time yet, but not many people were left in the joint. Remy was busy checking on a backorder in the office, so I’d offered to watch the bar for a bit. A summer storm had blown in early in the day, shutting down electricity to the entire town and wreaking havoc with the phone lines. I’d taken the rare opportunity to sleep in a little, since I’d had no way to do my usual early morning baking. But I was still bone-deep exhausted, even with the extra few hours of sleep.
I had a sense my exhaustion had less to do with my perpetual lack of sleep and more to do with the fact Corbin had walked out on me, without a word. Just the mere thought of being abandoned made my stomach pitch and heave. I’d been grateful when, by mid-afternoon, the power had come back on and I’d dragged my exhausted ass over to Evangeline’s to help with the dinner and night crowd. Beth—for once—was feeling well enough to handle her shift, but because of the storm, Remy needed a little extra help, and tips for a bartender were good. And I needed every damned dollar I could put into my bank account, with my loan about to be signed.
I turned when I heard the door open, frowning when I saw Cindy walking in without my Uncle Daniel.
“Hey Aimee,” Cindy called.
“Hi, Cindy. Where’s Uncle Daniel? And why are you here? Thought Bayou Beaux were playing in New Orleans for the week.”
“Elmer Lamell called. He wants us playing at his daughter’s wedding tomorrow night—her band backed out ’cause of the storm. Tallulah’s a sweet gal—of course Daniel said yes. Sent me back early to grab our sound system stuff. We were hoping that Corbin would still be in town, that mebbe he’d play with us at the weddin’. He’d tol’ us he was sticking around Pontmaison for a bit. Did he ever take a room at Miss Cecily’s?” She gazed at me with innocent, wide eyes—the kind of wide eyes gators had before they bit you.
My cheeks heated up. “You set him up. You set us both up, sending him out to Miss Cecily’s the way you did. You should be ashamed of yourself for meddling that way.”
Cindy grinned. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m not,” I argued.
“Those cheeks of yours are as red as an apple in September. What happened between you two? Because something did, and you can’t hide it And where is he?”
“He’s gone, Cindy. He’s never coming back.”
“What? But he said he’d stay until we got back. And the way he looked at you… You sure he’s gone?”
“Sure as I am my granny’s pushing up daisies. We were getting to know one another and then one day he just up and left, cleared out his room without a word.”
“Maybe something happened and he had to leave town fast,” she argued.
“Without leaving a note? And I never gave him my number, but he could have called Evangeline’s landline. Nope. He’s not coming back, Cindy. He’s just…gone. And I really don’t want to talk about him anymore.”
She took some time in responding, allowing me to wallow in my misery for a tad bit longer, then finally said, “Well, sugah, it sucks he left, because I can see it hurt you. I hope that in that ‘getting to know one another’ stage, there was at least some good stuff thrown in?”
I wanted to shout that yes, there’d been good stuff, but it wasn’t worth experiencing due to the pain that came afterward, but I hesitated. Cindy looked so worried and guilty, probably because she was blaming herself for sending Corbin to Miss Cecily’s in the first place—and I couldn’t lie. The truth was, Corbin had given me something good, something I’d always remember, and despite everything, they were memories I’d cherish.
I’d just have to make sure I learned my lesson and never make the same mistake again.
“Yeah, he gave me good stuff, Cindy. So no worries. He didn’t break my heart.”
He’d definitely cracked it, but I’d heal. I’d heal and move on and pursue my dreams. And someday, when I had a good man, and a child I doted on, I’d think of Corbin and if not smile, at least be comforted that I’d done something reckless in my life. Something wild.
And it hadn’t broken me.
Cindy patted my arm then headed toward the stage.
The door blew open again, letting in Brad and Elmer. I flinched. Why couldn’t they have found somewhere else to get a drink tonight, of all nights? I gave them a weak smile as they bellied up to the bar. I poured the two Lamell men their drinks in as friendly a manner I could muster. But as I turned to go, Brad reached out a hand and grabbed my wrist.
“Excuse me?” I said, raising an eyebrow high and yanking my arm back.
Brad responded by flashing me a big cheesy grin. “I hear your date for tomorrow night is no more.”
Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. Great. Even Brad knew Corbin had taken off. The humiliation burned. Bad enough I’d had Cindy’s sympathy, now I had Brad gloating about it?
“Means there’s no reason why you can’t go with Brad now, is there?” Elmer’s smile was genuine. He seemed to be holding onto some sort of fantasy that I’d end up with Brad, but didn’t he understand Brad and I were so very wrong for each other?
“Hey, Aimee.” Remy’s voice interrupted the conversation, which was a good thing because I had no idea what to say to Elmer to convince him to drop the idea of me and Brad. “Found this on the floor in the office. Looks like it had fallen off the desk or somethin’.” He handed me an envelope which had my name handwritten on the front. When I hesitated, he said, “Go ahead, open it. Whatcha waitin’ for?”
Brad and Elmer’s eyes were on me, an almost mocking smile on Brad’s face. I shot him a look but didn’t have the time nor the inclination to figure out what his attitude was all about. Because a tiny spark of hope had lit within me. Could Cindy be right—had Corbin left me a note? With shaking fingers, I ripped the envelope open. Inside was my weekly paycheck from Gator Ventures and a note from Earl.
I stared, the numbers not quite making sense. The amount Earl had written the check for was a good hundred dollars short. I flipped the check over to see Earl’s chicken-scratch handwriting on the back of the pay stub.
Check reflects payment for hours performed. No hours given on day of accident. Next time don’t let tourists fall out of the boat.
I crumpled the note and threw it into the trash.
“I had a little conversation with ol’ Earl the other day,” Elmer said. “Heard about the mishap, and the fact you weren’t gonna get your full paycheck. This won’t cause a problem with you gettin’ the money pulled together for the loan now, will it, missy?”
The threat in his words was real, and I heard it. A hundred dollars might not mean a lot to some people, but when you’re pinching every penny, the loss stung. “I’ll make the payment, Mr. Lamell, don’t you worry,” I said firmly, but inside worry clawed at my gut and my knees wobbled.
* * *
Corbin
I’d only slept a few hours and had arrived at O’Hare early, only to find my flight delayed. A big-assed summer storm coming off the Gulf of Mexico had butted heads with some weather pattern coming down from Canada. The mutual mayhem had delayed the flight, which had then been rerouted to Dallas before hopping over to Lafayette. The morning flight that should have gotten me to Pontmaison by noon had taken an additio
nal ten fucking hours. I was beyond pissed.
But the trip had sucked more because I hadn’t been able to reach Aimee. I’d called the landline number to Evangeline’s before the flight took off but the phone had just rung and rung, going unanswered. After I landed, I called again, twice. This time I’d gotten through. Remy, the bartender, had answered both times. The first time he’d said she wasn’t there and refused to give me her cell phone number, then the second time he’d mumbled something about Aimee being busy and had promptly hung up on me.
I put pedal to the metal in the GTO, doing my best to avoid potholes and rocks on the road to Pontmaison, a dull feeling hitting my stomach. Aimee wasn’t going to turn into another Kara, right? Punishing me for not being there twenty-four/seven, not picking up the phone at the first ring, not answering texts the second they’d been sent? Fuck. I couldn’t exactly ask Remy if Aimee was avoiding my calls. If I’d just gotten her cell number myself, I could just call her privately and not rely on whatever weird bullshit was going on at Evangeline’s.
Once I finally got back to Pontmaison, I headed straight to the roadhouse, sending dirt and gravel spraying when I slid the GTO to a sudden stop. But when I rushed into the bar, the place was like a ghost town. Daniel wasn’t around, but Cindy and their unconventional washboard player were sitting on a couple of stools on the corner stage, playing a bit of acoustic guitar to the few people who were left.
Damn it. Maybe I should have dragged my ass out to the boarding house first to check if Aimee was there, but Remy had said Aimee was working. I’d assumed she’d still be there by the time I arrived.
Cindy saw me walk in, and she immediately spoke into her mic, saying she needed to take a quick break. After setting down her guitar, she came over to the bar and glared at me. If she were actually tall, that death-stare of hers would have been terrifying. As it was, I felt like my balls were on the damn line, even if I wasn’t quite sure why.
“What the hell are you doing here? You forget something?”
“I had a—” I began, but she poked one finger into my shoulder hard.
“Seriously, what makes you think that you can just come back here after how much you made Aimee cry?”
Her words shocked me…and filled me with an uneasy feeling of dread and distaste. “What?” I asked, but she turned and stalked out of the building. For a moment, I stood there, stunned, wondering if I’d been wrong about Aimee, after all. Was she just like Kara? Clingy and controlling? Unable to let me out of her sight without freaking out? Unable to accept that sometimes I’d have to do things on my own and willing to talk shit about me to others in revenge?
My stomach churned but I forced myself to take a deep breath. No. I refused to believe it. Not about Aimee.
I followed Cindy out onto the porch. “Hey!” I called, and she froze and turned to face me. “You don’t get to say I made Aimee cry and then walk off. You owe me an explanation.”
Cindy rolled her eyes with exaggeration, adding that extra bit of “fuck you” to me. “I’m serious. How do you just show up here after ditching Aimee? Sneaking off without so much as a word like a real coward, that’s what you did. Do you know how humiliated Aimee was? She put up a good front, but I saw her crying. I’ve half a mind to skin you myself and then let Daniel feed your remains to the frigging gators.”
“Whoa!” I said, my worry for Aimee building, along with frustration at how this situation was unfolding. “I didn’t sneak off. I tried to find Aimee to explain about this commitment that came up, and when I couldn’t, I left her a note under her office door.”
“Bullshit. She never got a note.”
“I left one explaining everything,” I said, feeling like I wanted to tear my hair out. “Ask Beth. She gave me the paper and pen. And that asshole Deputy Brad saw me write it. He even offered to give it to her, in fact. I know he’s the long arm of the law or whatever bullshit you guys have around here, but he seems about as trustworthy as a big, fat New York sewer rat. I didn’t trust him, so I slid it under Aimee’s office door.”
Cindy narrowed her eyes. “You really left a note for Aimee?”
I held my hands up, palms facing her. “Swear to God.”
She swore and shook her head. “Fucking Brad.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to get a good picture of what a rat bastard he is. He helped himself to that note, didn’t he?”
“I know he did. We may never be able to prove it, but he’s a jerk and he’s been pressuring Aimee since forever to go out with him. If he saw a way to easily get you out of the picture, that asshole was going to take it,” she answered, her eyes blazing. “He’s the worst, and I hate that he’s the long arm of the law. He’s always on one or another good ol’ boy power trip.”
I shook my head, pissed as hell, and dug my car keys out of my pocket. Time to go find Aimee and make things right. But first, I needed to set things straight with Cindy. Playing with Bayou Beaux had given me a way back into that part of me that loved music, that felt a connection to the world, and I didn’t want to fuck that dynamic up. “Okay, well, I’ll find a way to deal with Brad, but Cindy, you have to believe me that I didn’t mean to abandon her. I know about her mom and her bio father, and how her mom always ditches her. I know how hard it is for her to trust anyone. If one of my best friends hadn’t been in a shit spot back in Chicago and if I hadn’t owed him big time, I never would have left at all. There’s no way I would have done that to her.”
“I believe you. You say the word ‘Brad’ and I think there’s some serious foul play involved. And I think I know what he was up to by stealing that note.”
“Yeah, he was making me look like an absolute fucker. Like I ran off without telling Aimee.”
She shook her head and jerked a thumb back at the quiet Evangeline’s. “It’s more than that. The reason the place is so dead tonight and the rest of the band ain’t here is because there’s a wedding tonight.”
“That wedding Brad was trying to talk Aimee into going to as his date,” I said flatly. “That’s tonight?”
“Yessiree.”
“Where’s the wedding?” I ground out.
Cindy shook her head. “You’re too late. The reception was out at the Grange. They shut that place down at ten. She’ll be at home by now, or headed there.”
I didn’t wait to say goodbye. Just jumped in the GTO, revved the engine, and headed to the boardinghouse.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Aimee
“And that’s how I made sure we won the state championship against the Jayhawks back in 2009,” Brad said, swerving widely to avoid a tree on the way down the bumpy road to Miss Cecily’s.
I clutched the handle on the door harder and was glad the seatbelt held firm. What I wasn’t glad of was that my beat-up Chevy had died a painful death right when I’d tried to leave the reception to come home. I’d stayed behind a bit, packaging up what was left of the wedding cake, and most people had already taken off, headed for home. Most people, except for Brad.
I should have known he’d hang around until I was gone. I’d done my best all night to avoid him, but he’d put on a big public display of asking me to dance, saying how beautiful I looked in my formal red dress and with my hair up. I’d brushed off his compliments, but then noticed how Elmer looked like he was close to apoplectic every time I turned down Brad’s invitation to dance. So I’d danced with him, annoyed at how he’d let his hands drift to just above my ass, but giving Elmer a big fake grin over Brad’s shoulder at the same time. I had less than a month to go to make my down payment—I wasn’t about to mess up this chance at getting my own bake shop. After all, it was my future.
I was tired, cranky, and miserable as Brad whipped around the curves in the road, trying to show off, I assumed, but really just getting me pissed off. I glanced over at him, and could see how women would think he was handsome—heck, I’d thought he was a little cute back in high school—but knowing I’d never want to look at him day in and day out the way I did with C
orbin.
I sighed. Love just wasn’t for me, I figured. I was destined to be an old lady with lots of cats.
Finally, thank you Jesus, finally, we made it to Miss Cecily’s. Brad pulled to a stop but didn’t unlock the car or make a move to get out. Southern politeness had me sitting there, too, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to get out.
“You know, darling, why didn’t we ever work out?”
“I was young and naïve and then I wasn’t.”
“You mean you think I’m a mistake?” he asked, his tone gruff. Then he reached out and stroked my hair. I stayed still, waiting for Brad’s common sense to come back. “I’m not. I think we could be great together.”
I pulled away and his hand fell on the console between us. “Brad, you know when I said it was over, I meant it. I don’t do second chances. And there’s nothing between us. Not on my end, at least.”
“We should talk about it, though. About us.”
I sighed. “There is no ‘us.’ And I don’t have to talk about this anymore. I want to get out so that I can get some rest. I’m appreciative of the ride home, and I know you were just doing me a polite favor. Don’t make the ride home more than it is.”
“You think you’re too good for me? Come on. Who’s the star quarterback and a deputy, and who’s the stuck-up bitch who doesn’t even know her daddy’s name?”
Anger twisted in my gut as he said that. Most people in Pontmaison were kind enough never to mention that or they never held what had happened against me. “That was mean. I don’t deserve that.”
Brad glared at me. “I told my father you weren’t good enough for me.”
“What does your father have to do with this conversation?”
“He wants us to get married.”
I blew out a harsh breath. “Brad, you’re an adult. You don’t have to do what your dad wants you to do. Just tell him what he already knows—we wouldn’t be good together.”
