Nothing but Trouble

by Beverly Barton

  She cried out silently, startled by the feel of Peyton’s hard body, so obviously in need of hers.

  “You aren’t having an affair with Mike Hanley, are you?”

  “No, of course I’m not.”

  “I’m not having an affair with Donna Fields.”

  “I know.” She dared to look up at him then, and realized that if she didn’t escape right now, she would be lost—they’d both be lost.

  When she tried to pull away from him, he held her close. “Peyt, don’t do this. We’ll both regret it.”

  “Do you want me to let you go?”

  “Yes.” Tears gathered in her eyes, one lone drop falling onto her cheek. “Please.”

  He released her immediately, the music continuing, the other couples dancing on to the sweet, sad melody. Tallie walked away. Watching her, Peyton stood alone on the dance floor.

  Her vision obscured by the veil of tears covering her eyes, Tallie accidently bumped into someone as she exited the dance floor.

  “Excuse me.” Not even glancing at the man, she shifted her body to move around him.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Where are you going in such a hurry, sexy gal?”

  At the sound of his voice, Tallie blinked away her tears as she jerked her head upward to face Eric Miller’s smirk. “Leave me alone.” She tried to pull away from him.

  “Aw, now, don’t be like that.” Eric slipped his arm around her waist, dragging her up against him. “Come on and dance with me. I promise you won’t run away from me the way you ran away from pretty boy.”

  “I don’t want to dance with you, Eric. You’re drunk.” Exerting all her strength, Tallie tried to escape from Eric’s tenacious embrace.

  “Ah, sexy gal, I like the way you wiggle around. You’re getting me all hot and bothered.” He cupped her buttocks in his hands.

  “Get your hands off me!” Tallie screamed, taking advantage of the moment to give Eric a shove.

  The sudden push catching Eric off guard, he staggered backward, releasing Tallie. She turned, intending to rush away as quickly as she could, but before she moved two feet, Eric caught her by the shoulder.

  “I ain’t through with you, sexy gal. Not by a long shot.”

  “I think you are.” Peyton stood directly behind Tallie, his gaze dead center on Eric’s sweaty face.

  Eric laughed, the sound a blend of cockiness and inebriation. “You don’t do my thinking for me, Rand.”

  “This time, I do. And any time when Tallie’s involved.” Peyton grabbed Eric’s meaty hand where it clutched Tallie’s shoulder. “I warned you what would happen if you ever touched Tallie again.”

  “I’m scared to death.” Chuckling, Eric flung Peyton’s hand away.

  “Please, Peyt, think about what you’re doing,” Tallie said. “If you get in a fight with Eric, think what the newspapers will print.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Fancy Pants, you’d better think of your reputation. Wouldn’t want your old man turning over in his grave, would you?”

  “Move away from him,” Peyton ordered Tallie.

  Tallie obeyed. But instead of removing herself from between the two men, she planted herself squarely in front of Peyton, only inches separating their bodies.

  “They’ve got bouncers in this place,” Tallie said. “Let them handle this.”

  “Aw, come on, sexy gal, let Senator Rand’s little boy come out and play with me.”

  “Don’t let him goad you into a fight.” Tallie tugged on Peyton’s sleeve. When he gazed down at her, she saw something in his face that she didn’t recognize at first. The controlled, debonair, modern man had vanished, replaced by an angry, savage, fierce warrior. “Peyton?”

  Lifting Tallie off her feet, Peyton set her aside. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could barely think. Oh, God, Peyton and Eric were going to fight. Over her. She had to stop this madness.

  Eric crouched slightly, his big body swaying, preparing for an attack. “I’m ready anytime you are, Rand.”

  “I don’t want to fight,” Peyton said, standing straight and tall, only the hard, cold glint in his eyes revealing any sign of emotion. “But I will not allow you to continue harassing Tallie. Do I make myself clear?”

  Eric grinned, righted himself, pulled back his arm and threw the first punch, aiming it directly at Peyton’s stomach. Acting quickly, Peyton avoided the hit. Filled with hot fury, Eric reared back, his eyes focusing on his opponent.

  “Think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Eric stomped the wooden floor, snorted, then spit on a spot between his spread feet. “I’m going to mop the floor with you, pretty boy.”

  Eric lunged at Peyton, who again outmaneuvered the heavier man, but when Eric tried again, he landed a blow to Peyton’s shoulder. Peyton thrust out his fist, striking Eric on the jaw. Eric staggered back only a fraction, then swung out again.

  Making their way through the crowd of onlookers, Sheila and Susan hurried to Tallie’s side.

  “What happened?” Sheila asked.

  “Eric grabbed me and tried to force me to dance,” Tallie said. “Peyton demanded that Eric leave me alone.”

  “I can’t watch this,” Susan said. “It’s so ridiculous for two grown men to fight.”

  “Please, go find the bouncers.” Tallie scanned the crowd, searching for help. “I don’t understand why they haven’t stopped this.”

  “I heard someone say that the bouncers were handling another fight by taking the guys out to the parking lot,” Sheila said.

  Peyton and Eric, well-matched in height and muscle, landed several more blows before Eric, heavier and half-drunk, showed signs of weakening. Eric sported a bruised jaw and a blackening eye while Peyton’s only battle scar was a bleeding lip.

  The moment Tallie saw blood trickling from the side of Peyton’s mouth, she cried out, momentarily distracting him from the task at hand. Taking advantage of the situation, Eric struck, landing a resounding blow to Peyton’s midsection, knocking the breath out of him and toppling him to the floor.

  While Peyton struggled to regain his breath, Tallie flung herself at Eric, her small, round fist moving upward, making contact with Eric’s nose. She heard the crunching sound and saw the spurts of bright red blood before she realized what she’d done. Eric bellowed like a wounded bull, staggered back into a nearby table, all the while covering his nose with his hand as blood poured down over his mouth and chin, dripping onto his shirt.

  “Oh, hell’s toenails,” Tallie said.

  Eric moaned in pain, then hollered, “You broke my nose, damn you!”

  Peyton rose to his feet, preparing to continue his defense of Tallie when he realized that she’d done a fairly good job of protecting him. Seeing the three muscle-heavy bouncers dispersing the crowd as they made their way toward the fight scene, Peyton slipped his arm around Tallie, drawing her back and away from Eric Miller.

  “All right, folks,” the oldest of the three bouncers, probably no more than twenty-three, said. “The show’s over. Go on back to your tables.”

  The band had never stopped playing the whole time Peyton and Eric had been fighting, but the crowd’s cheers and taunts had drowned out the music. Now, Tallie could hear the squeal of a guitar and the swish of a brush across a drum. An aching pain encompassed her hand. Staring down at the instrument of Eric’s downfall, Tallie groaned when she noticed the swelling and beginnings of discoloration across her knuckles.

  “Somebody want to tell us what happened here?” the blond, mustached bouncer asked.

  “She broke my damned nose,” Eric said, pointing at Tallie. “All I did was ask her to dance, and she broke my nose.”

  “This man was drunk and harassing the lady,” Peyton told the bouncers. “This isn’t the first incident. I’d warned Mr. Miller to stay away from her before.”

  “So you two were fighting over who was going to dance with this woman, huh?” the second bouncer, all of maybe twenty-one years old, asked.

  “No, we were not fighting over
who was going to dance with the lady.” Peyton’s patience was wearing thin. “Unless the laws were changed without someone’s informing me, I believe a man is well within his rights to defend himself.”

  “Eric hit Peyt first.” Slipping out of Peyton’s hold around her waist, Tallie marched over to the oldest bouncer, the one she assumed was in charge. “This whole thing is Eric Miller’s fault. The man can’t take no for an answer.”

  “Are you Peyton Rand?” the blond bouncer asked. “The big Jackson lawyer who’s fixing to run for governor?”

  “Oh, no,” Tallie moaned. That’s all they needed! If this man recognized Peyton, then there was a good chance word would be all over Marshallton by morning. Good grief! There was no telling how many people at the Pale Rider knew who Peyton was.

  “He most certainly is.” Lowell Redman, his sheriff’s badge gleaming brightly even in the smoky room, put his hand on the blond bouncer’s shoulder. “What seems to be the problem, Tip?”

  “A routine fistfight,” Tip said. “Apparently, these two men had a slight disagreement over this wo—” he glanced at Peyton “—this lady.”

  “Yeah, and she broke my nose,” Eric said. “What are you going to do about that?”

  “I’m going to let you spend the night in jail,” Lowell said. “After my deputies take you by the emergency room to have your nose checked.”

  “Hey, what about Rand? Ain’t he going to jail?” Eric, blood still dripping slowly onto his shirt, nodded toward Peyton.

  “No, Mr. Rand is going to take Ms. Bishop home.” Lowell motioned to the two younger bouncers. “Take Mr. Miller to the manager’s office to wait for my deputies.”

  “This ain’t fair,” Eric complained as the two bouncers led him away.

  “Any problems on your part, Tip?” Lowell asked. “If not, then I think you’ve detained Mr. Rand long enough.”

  “We’re sure sorry about this, Mr. Rand,” Tip said, then turned to Tallie. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  “I’m fine.” She wasn’t fine. Her hand hurt like blue blazes, her head throbbed unmercifully and she was worried sick about this latest Tallie-got-Peyton-in-the-news incident. Word of this was bound to get out.

  “First time I ever saw somebody as little as you down a guy that size.” Tip chuckled, but when no one else laughed, he said his goodbyes and followed his assistants.

  “Looks like I got here a little too late for the sideshow,” Lowell said.

  Peyton grinned. “You got here just in time to save me from a real hassle with those boys. They weren’t in any mood to listen to my explanation.”

  “I suppose our having a drink would seem a little anticlimactic at this point, wouldn’t it?” Lowell glanced over at Tallie. “I don’t think you’re doing so good. You look as white as a sheet.”

  “No...I...I’m okay. Really. Just—”

  Sheila and Susan hovered around Tallie, Susan lifting Tallie’s injured fist.

  “Look at your hand. It’s swollen and red and—”

  “Hush!” Tallie cut her eyes in Peyton’s direction.

  “Get her some ice,” he told Susan. “Go tell the bartender you need some ice wrapped up in a towel.”

  “No, please,” Tallie said. “I just want to get out of here. I want to go home.”

  “Come on, we’ll take you.” Sheila nodded toward the exit.

  “Have you forgotten that the three of us came in separate cars?” Tallie asked. “Besides, I’m perfectly capable of driving myself home.”

  “I’ll take you,” Peyton said. “We’ll get someone to pick up your car.”

  “I’m going home now,” Tallie told them. “No ice pack for my hand, no friends trying to figure out who’s taking me home. Like I said, I just want to get out of here.”

  With all eyes on Tallie, no one said a word. Sheila and Susan nodded. Lowell shook his head. Peyton turned and walked away.

  Susan handed Tallie her purse. “Are you sure you want to go home alone?”

  “I’m sure.” Tallie gave Sheila a hug. “Why do these things happen to me? Why can’t I stay out of trouble?”

  “What happened tonight wasn’t your fault,” Susan said.

  “Susan’s right.” Lowell smiled at Susan, his blue eyes brightening when he looked at her. “Eric Miller is trouble for everybody, not just you. Sooner or later, he’s going to wind up in prison.”

  “Look, everybody, the night’s still young.” Tallie hung her small black purse over her shoulder. “There’s no need for y’all to leave. Stay here and entertain our sheriff.” She turned to Lowell. “When’s the last time you spent the evening with two beautiful women?”

  Lowell’s grin reminded Tallie of a little boy’s. There was a childlike innocence to the way he smiled, the way a pale pink blush crept into his cheeks, in the adoring way he looked at Susan.

  “Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure.” Lowell’s smile widened.

  Tallie gave Susan a nudge forward. “Ask Susan to dance, and Sheila will go back to the table and order a round of drinks for y’all.”

  With a few hesitant steps, Lowell stood directly in front of Susan. “Would you like to dance?”

  Susan glanced over at Tallie, who smiled and nodded. “I’d like that, Sheriff Redman.”

  Lowell escorted Susan onto the dance floor. Sheila patted Tallie on the back. “Good job there, Ms. Cupid. Lowell’s had an oversize crush on Susan for quite some time.”

  “She needs a good man in her life.”

  “I agree,” Sheila said. “But there’s just one problem with Lowell and Susan dancing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Lowell forgot to make a call for his deputies to pick up Eric Miller.”

  Tallie laughed. “He’ll remember in a few minutes. Besides, it won’t hurt those overgrown little boys the management hired as bouncers to baby-sit Eric for a while.”

  “Tallie, you really should take care of your hand.”

  “I will as soon as I get home. You go on and order those drinks, and play chaperon.”

  The night air hit Tallie in the face the moment she stepped outside the Pale Rider. Pleasantly warm and refreshing, with a hint of rain. Taking in a deep breath, Tallie rummaged in her purse for her keys. Her right hand hurt something awful, so much that tears of pain glazed her eyes. Using her left hand, she inserted the key into the lock of her 1980 black Camaro. The car had been Caleb’s pride and joy. When he’d wrecked it one spring night before he left for college, he’d tossed Tallie the keys and told her if she repaired it, it was hers. She spent several years restoring it. Now it was her pride and joy.

  Slipping inside, Tallie rested her head on the steering wheel. Her good sense told her that it wasn’t her fault Eric Miller wouldn’t leave her alone, that he’d created a scene and Peyton had stepped into the middle of the situation. But her emotions nagged her, reminding her that trouble seemed to follow her wherever she went. No, that wasn’t right, she realized. Trouble followed her whenever there was the possibility that Peyton Rand would be around to bail her out of the jam.

  Was it really her fault or was fate playing some sort of cruel joke on her? The last thing she wanted was to create any more problems for Peyton, to see his name linked with hers in the newspapers.

  Tap. Tap, tap, tap. Jerking her head around, Tallie faced the tapping noise. Peyton stood on the opposite side of her car, pecking on the window. She leaned over and unlocked the door. He slid inside.

  “Here, let me see your hand.” He lifted her hand in his. “Mmm-mmm. Looks rough, sugar. You really let him have it, didn’t you?”

  “What are you doing out here, Peyt? I thought I told you—”

  “Like you said, old habits die hard. I guess I’m used to taking care of you.” He reached inside his pocket, pulled out a small white towel and held it down on top of her bruised hand.

  She drew back her hand. “That’s cold!”

  “It’s a makeshift ice pack.”

  “Peyt, what am I go
ing to do with you?”

  “I think that’s my usual line, isn’t it?”

  When she saw the grin on his face, part of her wanted to slap him, another part wanted to break down and really cry, yet another part wanted to kiss him and kiss him and never stop kissing him.

  “Sooner or later you’re going to have to take out a restraining order against Miller.” Peyton looked into her eyes, those pale brown eyes that spoke louder than any words ever could.

  “You’re probably right. It’s just that I don’t think Eric is a real danger to me. He’s just got this...this thing for me.”

  “He’s big and strong and determined. And he’s a drunk. That combination makes him dangerous.” Peyton ran the tip of his thumb over Tallie’s wrist just above where he held the ice pack to her bruised knuckles. “You’re out alone tonight, Tallie. No shotgun. No Solomon. You’re not taking very good care of yourself.”

  “It’s been a month since the shooting at my house. Not a single, solitary soul has bothered me. And what happened in there tonight with Eric happened in front of dozens of people. If you hadn’t interfered, the bouncers would have taken care of things.”

  “I couldn’t stand by and let Miller paw you.” Peyton leaned over, across the console, until his breath fanned the curls around Tallie’s face. “You didn’t want him to touch you, and God knows, I didn’t want him to touch you.”

  “Peyt, this is crazy, and we both know it.”

  “What’s crazy?” he asked innocently. “That I brought you an ice pack for your injured hand? That I care what happens to you? That I’ve been going out of my mind for weeks now, wondering how you’re doing, trying to think of any excuse to call you or come see you?”

  “I can’t believe this is happening.” Tallie pulled back, jerking her hand away, letting the ice pack fall on the console. “I’ve spent the last eight years chasing you, and you’ve spent the last eight years running. I’ve used every little problem I’ve ever had to draw you into my life, and you’ve fussed and fumed about wanting nothing more than to get rid of me.”

  Peyton retrieved the ice pack, took Tallie’s hand back in his and laid the towel atop her knuckles. “So, what’s your point?”