Chapter 22
A low, rhythmic beeping roused him and he forced his eyes to open, realizing it was the alarm on his cell phone. He’d set it for an early start to compensate for the drive. Sterling reached with his free arm to silence the intrusion and knew he had to get on his way to Fort Worth for the tournament today.
He untangled his arm from Candy and the sheets with care, not wanting to wake her. She might want to sleep in if she could.
After a quick shower, he set up the coffeepot to brew a fresh batch and proceeded to search for a pen and paper. He penned the note, and as he signed it, he wanted to write so much more. Get a grip cowboy. You’ve been training three years for this tournament.
After downing a quick cup of coffee, he walked back to Candy’s bedroom, leaned over the bed, kissed her on the forehead, and let his hand drift over soft, enticing curves. Wake up, sugar. I want to say good-bye.
She let out a soft sigh in response to his touch, but didn’t wake.
He retrieved his duffle bag and headed for the door, picking up his hat on the way out.
A deep breath of the fresh morning air steeled his resolve; he had a tourney to win and a few miles to drive to get there. Fort Worth, get ready, I’m coming to get my championship back.
* * *
Candy turned on her side as sunshine filtered through the blinds covering her bedroom window. Sterling.
Pulling the other pillow lying empty in the bed to her chest, she buried her nose in the soft cotton pillowcase, catching the slight lingering scent of him, and moaned.
“Sterling?”
She sat up.
“Sterling, you still here?”
No reply.
It was only 8 a.m., and damn if she didn’t feel like she needed to sleep another six hours, but she dragged her deliciously sore limbs from the warm bed in hopes she’d find him in her trailer still.
When she entered the kitchen, she kept going and looked into the living room—there were no signs of him. So much for a sweet kiss and a good luck wish. Disappointment settled around her heavily, a thick wet blanket of emotion.
Brushing her hair back from her face, she scolded herself for her foolishness. She wasn’t some naïve girl who thought sex meant anything more than just… sex. So what if they’d spent the last month together?
It didn’t have to mean anything.
Beyond no Sterling, the first thing she spied was a pot of coffee that’d been brewed at some point. The second was the note on the table. She poured herself a cup of the lukewarm brew, placed it in the microwave to warm, and read the note.
I had to leave early to get to my tournament. I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Call or text me, okay?
Wish me luck, darlin’.
Sterling
She set the note back down in its place on the table and grabbed her coffee from the micro. Should she text or call him? Maybe just leave it be. As she debated with herself, she toasted a bagel, slathered it with cream cheese, and wandered over to her living room.
Maybe they’d be broadcasting the tournament and she’d get to watch him compete. Would’ve been nice if she could’ve gone with him, but he hadn’t asked her. Honestly, what in Sam Hill made her think he would have? Nothing, that’s what.
Candy shook her head at her stupidity and bit down on her bagel. She was far smarter than this. It was, after all, just supposed to be fun and a few dates, and some really good sex. Best sex she’d ever had, in fact. Big deal, though; it was no relationship for damn sure.
She’d had a good, no, a great time with him, and if she ever got the chance to see him again? Well, she sure wouldn’t turn him away. A man on a mission was what Sterling was. Dead set on going pro again. He’d make it, too, and she doubted there was any room for her in his agenda.
With a sigh, she clicked on the TV and searched the guide to see if the tourney would be on at some point. Looked like the finals were scheduled to air tomorrow. It meant he’d be bowling all day working his way through to the eliminations.
She finished her small breakfast while watching the local news, then decided heading back to bed was a better idea. After depositing her dirty dishes in the sink, Candy crawled beneath the covers.
She just needed more sleep, a sure remedy for the sadness settling in her gut. With any luck, it’d be gone by time she woke up. If not, she figured she’d clean her little home top to bottom before heading to work. That ought to do it. Her last thought as she pulled the blankets over her head was maybe she’d text him later tonight and see how he fared. This way she wouldn’t distract him while he competed during the day. If she’d learned anything about bowlers all these years working at the alley, it was they were serious about keeping their focus. With her decision made, she fell back asleep.
* * *
Youthful vigor thrummed through Sterling stronger than it had in years. His shoulder was loose and limber and his goals clear as a summer sky. And there was Candy. Every time the thought of her crossed his mind, his lips curved into a smile. Why didn’t I ask her to come with me? Chances were she would have been bored anyway. She was already stuck working in a bowling alley, as it was. Why on earth would she want to spend the whole day watching him bowl? On the one hand, he knew she enjoyed being with him. And damn it all if he didn’t like spending every minute he could with her.
After he’d found a decent parking space, he tried his best to clear his mind as he gathered his duffle. Stepping up to the double-door entrance, he put his hand on the silver handle and pulled. The blast of energy slammed into him and rattled his nerves before he realized the symphony of tournament play was just what he had been missing. Layer upon layer of voices and music, the bright lights of the scoreboards, the shattering of pins—he was home.
Searching through the crowds for any sign of where he needed to go, he caught sight of the registration booth and moved his boots in its direction. His path led him through a maze of competitors, spectators, and employees. Lordy, this place is packed.
He stepped up to the registration booth and set his bag down at his feet. “Howdy, ma’am, I’m here to check in.” Wonder if anyone will remember me.
The woman, who appeared to be in her mid-fifties, looked up from her stack of papers to greet him. “Name?”
“Sterling Dey, ma’am.” Tipping his hat. “I prequalified in Las Cruces.”
“Let me see…” She flipped through a few pages, scanning them for his name. “Here you are. We were wondering if you were going to show up. Sign-in started half an hour ago. Not much time left for warm-ups.”
“Long drive.” He hooked a thumb behind his large belt buckle. “I’m good, though. I got some practice in last night.”
“That’s good. On behalf of the tournament, we’d like to wish you the best of luck this weekend.”
Sterling figured she must have the good luck wishes memorized like a charm if she had to do this all weekend.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He started to lean down to retrieve his bag from the floor.
“Sterling Dey… why does your name sound so familiar?” She tapped her pen against her bottom lip. “Wait, I know you. Aren’t you the one who hurt his shoulder several years ago after winning the PBA championship?”
He let out a brief sigh. “Yes, ma’am. Long story, but I’m back now. Gonna see if I got one more in me.”
“Personally, I thought it was a shame when it all happened.” She offered her hand to shake. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you back at it.”
“Thank you very much, ma’am.” Sterling shook her hand and was rewarded with a fine, genuine smile from the lady.
“I remember watching you back then. You had some real talent.” She withdrew her hand and gave him his packet of tournament information. “Go get ’em, cowboy.”
He took the manila envelope from her. “Gonna try my best.”
Retrieving his bag from the floor, he stepped aside from the booth and found a nearby corner to shuffle through the contents of
the packet he’d received.
He was in the first bracket, slated to start in thirty minutes. The woman was right, not much time at all for a warm-up. Gathering all the papers in one hand, he reached into his bag with his empty hand and looked for a sucker. Finding it, he unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth. Memories of his first meeting with Candy came floating by.
“You throw one heck of a ball. You ever think of goin’ pro?” she’d said, her vibrant green eyes staring up at him. “I knew you had too much talent for just any cowboy.”
His heartbeat sped up with thoughts of her racing through his mind. Let’s get to it. He grabbed his bag once more and headed to the spot scheduled for him. Candy may not have been at the actual tournament, but as far as Sterling was concerned, she was with him, cheering him on.
Sterling ripped through the first bracket of eliminations like a freight train. He’d been throwing his ball down the lane better than he ever had. He rubbed his shoulder, out of habit more than anything, and was surprised to find it didn’t ache for a change.
* * *
By time Candy arrived at Bowling Dreams for her Saturday night shift, she’d damn near tuckered herself out cleaning her small trailer. She’d scrubbed the bathroom so clean someone could eat in there, not like anyone would, though. All the cleaning had been a useless attempt to scrub Sterling from her mind. Well, it hadn’t worked, and walking into Bowling Dreams only made it worse.
She glanced over at lane ten and her cheeks flashed with warmth. Good Lord, would she ever be able to look at it again and not blush, and think of him? Just the thought of what she’d done with Sterling there had equal parts shame and arousal pumping through her body.
How confusing.
Candy stepped behind the front desk. “Hey, Mason.” She breezed past him into the back office.
“Evenin’.” Mason nodded.
She grabbed a fresh drawer from the safe and came back out to the front desk. “Got anyone on the roster for Rock-n-Bowl tonight?” She set the drawer down next to the register.
Mason grabbed the clipboard from below the counter. “Looks like about twenty so far.” He handed it to her. “Thinkin’ we might just have a few more. Folks are all riled up about the tourney in Fort Worth, I’m guessin’.”
She perused the list. “Damn, even the Turners are coming out tonight?”
He nodded at her and started cashing out the register so they could change shift.
“Tell you what, Mason. We’re probably the strangest town in Texas. You’d think we’d be all about rodeoin’ or farmin’. Nope, not the good citizens of Strawn. They bowl.” She let out an unladylike snort and put her drawer in the register once he’d removed his.
“You know the story as well as anyone. Hometown boy made it big forty years ago, and it was all uphill from there.” He chuckled. “Course he came back here afterward, built this place, married my mother, and along came baby Mason Jr.” He grinned and disappeared into the office, shutting the door behind him.
Candy shook her head and wondered, not for the first time, why anyone would ever come back to this place. Then again, that was forty years ago. A different time, maybe even a different place. She tossed a wave to Trudie when she poked her head out the service bar window, then set to preparing herself for what might well be the busiest night they’d see all year.
The place was full of energy tonight, and it helped a great deal to distract her. Candy only had time to think of Sterling a few thousand or so times, though she still hadn’t texted him. Heaven help me.
As things started to wind down and closing time neared, she pulled her phone from her back pocket and stared down at his number she’d saved in it. Too late to text him now. She had no idea how late the tourney went; it was probably long over by now and the poor man was likely catching up on some much-needed sleep. They’d been up quite late last night.
Candy shook her head, stuffed her phone back in her pocket, and checked out another customer. When the last bowlers were out of the building and the waitresses were milling about clearing tables, she checked the time. Dang, it’s midnight. What if he was waitin’ to hear from me? She pulled out her phone and typed a message. Fat chance, he ain’t waitin’ on me… But what if? Before she could talk herself out of it, she sent him the text. Just a simple question asking how he did, and an apology for not texting sooner.
She just hoped he was sleeping and would get the message in the morning.
Chapter 23
“This is your requested wake-up call for room six-oh-two. It is now seven a.m.”
Sterling listened to the programmed voice relay its message, hung up the receiver, and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. Dang, morning came way too early. After a good yawn and stretch, he swung his heavy legs over the side of the bed and let his feet drop to the floor. Staring at the clock on the nightstand, he cursed himself for staying up too late last night.
He’d had a rough time getting his mind to settle after a phenomenal day in the brackets. All he wanted to do was share his success with Candy, but after lying in bed watching TV, and his giving in to his new obsession of checking his phone repeatedly to see if it was working, exhaustion had won over. No call. No text message. Oh well, she probably had better things to do.
As a precaution, he allowed himself to check his phone one more time before he had to get in the shower.
One SMS Message
Candy: How did you do today? Sorry I didn’t text sooner, busy night.
Well, hell. If that didn’t beat all. Of course she’d been busy last night, Saturday night and all. Feeling downright foolish for staying up waiting to hear from her, he typed in a quick message.
Going great here, so far. 2 more eliminations 2day b4 finals 2night. Wish me luck.
He hit the send button and stared at the screen awhile longer. Against his better judgment, he typed one more message and hit send before he talked himself out of it.
Missin my favorite Candy. And I ain’t talkin bout my suckers ;)
He couldn’t help himself. Smiling, he tossed his phone on the nightstand, pushed himself out of bed, and started for the bathroom. He had a tournament to get back to.
By two o’clock Sunday afternoon, he had cemented his position in the finals and had earned the rest of the afternoon off. The last round ran long and pushed him through lunch. Starving and grateful for the break, he stood staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, refreshed from the cold water he’d just run over his head. Despite how great he had felt after yesterday, today had been a much bigger challenge and his shoulder was hollering at him for it.
The finals were scheduled for six that night. Plenty of time to ice down his shoulder at the hotel, grab a bite to eat and maybe even a nap. After drying his hands, he checked his phone for the umpteenth time. Still no reply from Candy.
Sterling put his phone back in his pocket in an unsuccessful attempt to put it out of his mind. Would’ve been nice to have her here for the final round.
* * *
The annoying ding of her cell phone rang out, letting Candy know she had a message waiting. Eyes still closed, she felt around for the phone on her night table, and damn near knocked the lamp over. Gripping the device by the charging cord, she pulled it toward her face and flipped it open. Sterling!
She bolted upright, holding the phone in her now shaking hands, and read the messa—wait, two messages? He’d sent her two messages! “Thank you, baby Jesus.” Bouncing on the bed, she squealed when she read the part about him missing her. That’s right, you do miss your Candy.
She started to type a text back to him, but stopped short, realizing his message had come in over three hours ago, and he was probably neck deep in the last eliminations. Glory, he’d made it this far; she sure as hell didn’t want to distract him with any girly nonsense.
With a deep sigh, she lay back down on her pillow and thought about all the different things she wanted to say back to him. Gah, could she get any cheesier? Probably. Did she care a
t the moment? Hell. No. Her cowboy had texted her back. Whoa! Her cowboy? That thought sobered her, right quick. When in the hell had he become her cowboy?
Candy let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed her eyes. Things had felt so perfect their last night together and she couldn’t help wondering if they could’ve had some sort of future together. Sterling was hers now.
Candy had planned to get the hell out of this town someday. Maybe he was the one to help her do that. It seemed impossible now, though. She turned over and prayed, while staring at the window blinds, she’d get to see him again.
A loud banging on her front door jolted her from her thoughts. Untangling herself from the blankets, as well as the cell phone still attached to its charging cable, she got out of bed.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Trudie, sugar. Open up. I brought goodies.”
Candy glanced at the clock, 4:30 p.m. Damn, she’d slept all day. She swung the door wide and stepped aside, letting Trudie pass.
“Land sakes, child. Were you sleepin’?” Trudie asked as she zoomed past Candy into the kitchen, her high heels tapping on the linoleum floor.
Where this woman got her energy, Candy had no idea. Maybe she ran on nuclear power? She sure glowed as if she did. At some point between last night’s shift and now, Trudie had dyed a hot pink streak in her bleached head of hair. From her flowing pink tank top, fitted Capri jeans, and high-heel slip-on shoes, Trudie was a work of art. Not classic art, but art just the same.
Spare Hearts Page 13