by Gail, Stacy
“No, he never lied to me. And Bitterthorn isn’t a hick town.”
Payton’s jaw almost unhinged. “You’re the one who always called it that. What, did you suddenly wake up one morning and discover that you didn’t have it so bad here after all?”
Deborah’s eyes hardened. “Watch your tone.”
“Mom.” She exhaled slowly and wrestled with the chaos inside. “Please. I’m just trying to understand why you’re still here.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” Though her tone was steely calm, there was the slightest tremor in Deborah’s hand as she lifted the water glass to her mouth. “But contrary to how it may have appeared to you, I did know what I was getting into when I married your father.”
“It never seemed that way to me.”
“We fought in front of you, which is a terrible thing for parents to do. But even worse, we never made up in front of you. So I guess in your memory, the battle never ended.”
That made Payton pause, because her mother was right. In her mind, her parents’ marriage had been one never-ending tussle between two hopelessly disparate people. “Did that battle ever end, Mom? Really?”
Her mother tilted her head. “We found our own kind of peace. But it wasn’t perfect, especially for you. After your father’s death—and the blow-up you and I had afterward—I had my eyes opened to a few not so pleasant realities. The first being that I’d been blind to the great life I’d had in my hand, because I was too busy reaching for something else.”
“That’s...understandable.” On automatic Payton tried to defend her mother’s actions; she couldn’t do anything else when the pain in Deborah’s tone struck a resonating chord of hurt in her own heart. “You didn’t want small-town life.”
“I didn’t know what I wanted.”
She searched her mother’s eyes. “Did you even love Dad?”
Surprise rippled across Deborah’s face, followed closely by pain. “No child should be made to even think that question, much less ask it. Yes, Payton, I loved him,” she said, pressing on when Payton wanted to point out that she was no longer a child. “I loved him with my whole heart. I just didn’t love him as well as I should have.”
“I shouldn’t have come down on you so hard after the funeral.” She reached for her mother’s hand, at long last loosing the apology that had been festering inside her for years. “Some of the things I said were unforgivable. You’d just lost your husband.”
“And you’d just lost your father. And everything is forgivable.” With a sad smile, Deborah’s fingers tightened on Payton’s. “I’ve learned it’s best to move on and try to make each day better than the one before. It sounds simple, but come to find out the greatest things in life are usually the simplest.”
The bitter knot of resentment Payton had held on to for so long began to melt. “I’ve missed you, Mom.”
A shimmering glaze flooded Deborah’s eyes. “I’ve missed you too, baby.”
“Deborah, my dear! You look as lovely as always.” Both pairs of brown eyes looked up at the jovial voice, and Payton found a pudgy, balding man stuffed into an off-the-rack suit and wide floral tie had stopped at their table. “And who is this pretty young lady? I thought I knew just about everyone in town.”
“Ah. Prentice Fields, my daughter, Dr. Payton Pruitt. She’s in town for the high school reunion that took place a couple of days ago. Payton, Mr. Fields decided to share his vast banking expertise with the lucky citizens of Bitterthorn.” Deborah’s gaze glanced off of hers, and Payton wondered if the jovial Prentice had caught her droll tone. “He moved here a few years back from the Fort Worth area and was given the job of managing Farmer’s Bank.”
“How fortunate for Farmer’s Bank.” Curiosity piqued, Payton kept her smile firmly in place and waited to see the response.
“It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it.” Ducking his balding pate modestly, he still managed to puff up his stout chest. “Little dot-on-the-map towns like Bitterthorn have a tendency to wither up and blow away if their financial roots aren’t deep enough. Heaven knows it was in terrible shape when I first got here from my vice-presidential position at one of the nation’s leading banks.”
When he paused, Payton obliged him. “Impressive.”
Her mother covered her mouth with her napkin.
“I do what I can.” Again, there was the modest ducking of the chin that was beginning to look more and more like he was taking a bow. “When I decided to retire out here in Bitterthorn, naturally I wanted to do my best to help out the community. Knowledge is only valuable when it’s shared.”
“Of course.”
“So when Mayor Weems herself begged me to take on Farmer’s, what could I say?”
“You really had no choice.”
“None at all.” Prentice Fields looked at Payton in satisfaction before offering Deborah a wink. “I have to say, Deborah, your daughter does take after you. Not only is she as pretty as a picture, but she’s sharp, too.”
“I’m very proud.” Deborah’s smile was an elegant work of art.
Prentice Fields seemed to think so as well. His jowly cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat explosively. “Well. A pleasure to bump into you, Deborah, as always. Enjoy the rest of your visit, sugar,” he added with a wink to Payton before strolling off to pay his bill.
“You have my sympathies.” Torn between compassion and hilarity, she turned brimming eyes to Deborah. “I do believe that man is sweet on you.”
“God help me, please.” At the fervent prayer, Payton dissolved into giggles as her mother glared at her. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like since he came here? I’m surprised he didn’t hire a brass band when he moved into our little ‘dot-on-the-map’ town.”
“I suppose you could do worse.” Payton choked down another wave of laughter at her mother’s appalled glare. “Kidding! You know, little joke, ha-ha?”
“That is nothing to laugh about, young lady.” Haughtily regal, Deborah waited for the waitress to plonk down their chef salads in front of them. “Too bad he doesn’t look like Cary Grant. His lack of personality might be easier to stomach if he did.”
“They can’t all be Prince Charmings.” Grinning, Payton traded salad dressings with her mother. “Sad to say, but a lot of them are flat-out frogs.”
“And what do you know about Prince Charmings?”
Payton sighed, irritated that the image of Wiley sprang to mind. “They don’t exist, and there’s no such thing as happily ever after. Ask me about frogs. I feel have a decent understanding of them. The last one I dated couldn’t figure out which lily pad to land on, so he tried for three at once. Needless to say, he landed in the drink.”
Her mother looked as though she didn’t know whether to be sympathetic or laugh. “Don’t you believe in happily ever after?”
Payton almost choked. Considering the battlefield Deborah’s marriage had been, that was one question she thought she’d never hear from her mother. “Uh, no. Mainly because I enjoy living in reality.”
“And it’s never occurred to you that one of those rarely discovered reality-based princes might be right under your nose?”
“My nose isn’t that big.”
“I raised a smart aleck,” Deborah lamented to the world at large. “Payton, sweetheart, haven’t you heard that denial isn’t just a river in Egypt?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So.” Deborah poured on bleu cheese dressing. “Do you want to talk about your meeting with Wiley?”
“Ugh. No, thank you. I don’t even want to think about Wiley.”
“I’m afraid you’re not going to have much choice in the matter.”
“Why? Oh, hell,” Payton muttered and sank down into the booth. But it was too late. Wiley was already heading straight for them, a determined glea
m in his eye.
Chapter Eight
Wiley grinned when Payton’s unguarded gaze ran slam-bang into his. There it was—the quickening of his blood, the electric zing along his nerves. It was a sensation he experienced every time he stepped into a courtroom to battle a worthy adversary.
As an adversary, Payton would be his toughest yet. He could hardly wait to pin her down and make her beg for mercy.
“Hello, ladies.” His grin widened when Payton’s fist closed on the cracker she was holding. “Mabel’s is certainly popular this time of day.”
“Isn’t it?” Saccharine-sweet, Payton smiled. “Pity there aren’t any tables left.”
“Pity.”
Across from Payton, Deborah Pruitt smiled. “Wiley, I have an idea.”
“Mother—”
“Why don’t you join us?” Deborah waved a hand toward Payton. “There’s room.”
Payton’s eyes fairly boggled. “No, there isn’t.”
“Thanks, Deborah.” With his pulse thrumming in anticipation, Wiley sat next to Payton. Then, just to bug her, nudged her with his hip. “Scoot over, seat hog.”
She looked like she wanted to give him a nudge that would sprawl him on the floor before sliding over a few meager inches. “Make. Yourself. Comfortable.”
“Thanks, I will.” To prove it, he reached over and snitched a crouton.
“Wiley.” Her voice was icy enough to freeze all of Texas and half of Mexico. “Try that again and I will stab you with my fork.”
“Really?” He ached to find out what she’d do if he stole a kiss, but her mother was watching. “Would you stitch me up afterward?”
“Don’t bet on it.”
“My, my.” He shot Deborah a glance. “Is she in a bad mood, or is it just me?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Better not. I like my illusions.”
“What are you doing here?” Payton demanded, clearly unable to offer up the silent treatment.
“What am I doing here?” All innocence, he turned bewildered eyes to her. “I’d think that would be obvious. Most people eat lunch this time of day.”
“I meant, what are you doing here? You could have tried The Dirty Duck.”
“I prefer the scenery here.”
Payton glanced around the crowded diner filled with brown vinyl booths, an old-style lunch counter, whirling brass ceiling fans and hanging plastic Boston ferns that had been dusted sometime last year. “Yeah, I can see the attraction.”
“I doubt it.” He went for another crouton and sneaked it away just under Payton’s slapping hand. “Easy, Doc. Don’t you believe in sharing?”
“No. Go away. Get your own.” She looked positively betrayed when Deborah dissolved into laughter. “Mother, why did you invite him to join us?”
“Payton, don’t be rude.” Still chuckling, Deborah sent Wiley an apologetic glance. “Really, I tried to teach her proper manners.”
“One can only do one’s best with one’s children,” he agreed with a solemn nod. At the sound of Payton choking he glanced over. Something melted deep inside when he saw it was a surge of humor, not anger, gaining strength in her eyes.
A woman who couldn’t hold a grudge was truly a gift from heaven.
“Wiley, my mother and I were talking.” The smile that started in Payton’s eyes spilled onto her lips as she glanced at Deborah. “Really talking.”
“Ah. I’m interrupting.” He grimaced in chagrin before scooting to the edge of the bench-style seat. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you two are talking. I’m a firm believer in communication. It can shine light into places that have been withering in the dark.”
“Amen,” Deborah murmured.
“I didn’t say you were interrupting, exactly.” The words shot out of Payton before he could push to his feet, surprising him. That surprise slid into breath-stealing shock when she rested a staying hand on his shoulder. “You’re here now. You might as well stay.”
Stay. Heel. Sit. Whatever she wanted him to do, he’d do it gladly, just as long as she kept touching him. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” She gave his shoulder a little squeeze. If he could have purred, he would have. “I’m sure.”
“Okay, if you insist.” He moved carefully back into place, not wanting to dislodge her hand from where it rested. But it slid away anyway, and it took most of his strength to stop himself from reaching for her fingers and putting it back. “It seems you’re in the mood to communicate a lot today.”
She gave him a sidelong glance that turned him inside-out. “What do you mean?”
“I got the impression you had something to say when you dropped by my office.”
“Oh, that. Was that before or after I was treated like a child?”
He winced. “I deserve that.”
“That, and more. Since I was being treated like a child, I gave serious thought to acting it out and kicking you in the shins.”
Thank God she knew the meaning of restraint. “We could talk now, if you’d like.”
“Oh. Um...” This time she glanced at her mother, who waved them on.
“Why don’t you two have a quick chat outside?” Deborah’s smile bordered on smug. “Her salad can wait.”
* * *
Her mother had no right to grin like the cat that ate the canary, Payton decided as she and Wiley headed toward the front of the diner. Deborah knew damned well she wanted nothing to do with Wiley. She was just about to point that out when a waitress cruised by, a fleet of steaming plates parked on her arms.
“Hey there, good lookin’,” she called out to Wiley. “Leaving so soon?”
“Not now, since I know you’re here.” He gave the pert redhead his patented lady-killer smile even as he held the diner’s glass push-bar door open for Payton. “Hey, Jilly, I know Charlie is the Pruitts’ waitress, but could you get a burger and fries sent over to their table? I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Except for my croutons,” Payton muttered for his ears alone.
Jilly nodded. “Poor baby, we’ll get you fed.”
Poor baby. Payton scoffed as they headed out into the crowded parking lot. The man was a freaking marvel. He didn’t even have to try to have women eating out of his hand. If science ever decided to study him, she wouldn’t be at all surprised to find Wiley Sharpe exuded intoxicating levels of pheromones.
Too bad she wasn’t immune.
She thought they would talk once they were outside the diner, but instead Wiley headed past the whitewashed side of the building all the way around to the back alley that ran behind the restaurant. He didn’t come to a stop until he was safely ensconced between a pickup truck and the building’s closed and locked loading bay, far out of the way of the lunch crowd.
“Okay, this is about as private as I can make it under the circumstances.” Squinting against the glare of the midday sun, Wiley stopped and folded his arms. “Let’s hear whatever it is that’s bugging you.”
“Whatever it is,” she gritted out, irritated beyond reason that even squinting the man was GQ gorgeous. “Fine. I’ll tell you what’s bothering me. No one talks for me. Especially not some slick-talking former basketball jock masquerading as my lawyer.”
“Masquerading?”
“Wiley, I don’t have a lawyer.”
“Now you do, if you want one. I’ll bone up on my medical malpractice.”
“Better make it criminal law,” she advised while struggling not to smile. But damn, it was difficult when he was doing his best to charm the socks off of her. “Over the past few days, I’ve given serious thought to murdering you. You ever tell me to run along again and I will.”
“Payton, I couldn’t help myself.” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “That Thorn
e guy has a way of getting people to say things they don’t necessarily want to say. It made me go into hyper-protect mode.”
She watched his lips glide over her knuckles, mesmerized in spite of herself. “News flash, Wiley. I can handle myself.”
“I also didn’t like the way he looked at you.”
That brought her distracted gaze to his. “The way he looked at me?”
“Yeah. Or the way he held your hand.” With his eyes locked on to hers, Wiley turned her hand over to warm her palm with the tender caress of his mouth. “Or the way he kissed it.”
“Whoa.” Payton’s thoughts scrambled into a white-noise tangle when his lips nuzzled her palm, so blatantly seductive she had to lock her knees to keep from melting at his feet. “Chandler didn’t kiss my hand.”
“He wanted to. I can tell these things.”
“He was just being friendly.”
“He can be friendly without touching you.”
“Really?” In belated defense she stepped back, and wished with all her heart she could obtain the emotional kind of distance just as easily. “Like you are with every female who crosses your path?”
His grip tightened in silent warning. “Elaborate.”
“I don’t have to. Not when Jilly is still basking in the glow.”
“Crap, are we back to that?”
“No. Ugh, no.” Disgust overtook the irrational flash of jealousy and she shook her head. Who knew she could be such a shrew? “I’m sorry. That was stupid.”
“Damn straight, it was.”
“Just as stupid as you going into hyper-protect mode around Chandler Thorne.”
He winced. “Ouch. Why does it hurt when you’re right? You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”
“You’re a strong man, I’m sure you’ll find a way to cope.” At his crooked grin she couldn’t help but soften. “And this isn’t what I wanted to discuss with you when I went to your office.”
