Even upon pain of death, Tamryn would never betray the slightest hint of a smile as she followed the proud bachelor businessman through the jumble that he designated as the emporium.
On the counter, amidst a stack of the local farm report magazines and home-canned peaches, sat a havey-cavey pile of screen-printed, grass green t-shirts. The bold gold lettering splashed across the front announced Darren's Dinerama—Some gooood eatin'.
With a quick tug, she pulled on the complimentary, oversized t-shirt and smoothed it over her hips. Her notepad came out from her back jeans pocket so she could begin her interview process.
The unmistakable aroma of home cooking filled the air and permeated everything around, which included her new shirt and her hair. With a sigh, she turned her attention back to Darren while he ran down a list of his featured specials.
Since the menu didn't contain anything that wasn't served in a dozen such small diners, Tamryn was able to give part of her attention to the pressing problem of how to get Kendall to soften his stance and decide to help her. There had to be a way to keep the newspaper from being sold to an outsider.
As Darren hurried away with an apologetic but pleased smile to greet a pair of timid customers, Tamryn settled into a ladder-backed chair in the dining area to ponder.
A half-hour, and one enthusiastic Darren later, Tamryn managed to weave through the crowd gathered in the emporium, with her interview notes sketched into a basic article, but not one inch closer to solving her problem.
She put her little car into gear and marveled at the filled parking lot and the number of patrons still arriving. She shook her head. Some things in rural areas never changed. Open a new place and your neighbors will come.
Tamryn eased forward when Kendall Reed's black sports monster shot past with a deep growl of its powerful motor and enough speed to burn up a week's worth of gasoline. Nothing but taillights shone as Kendall sped from sight like the hounds from Hades were hot on his trail.
Or maybe all those stewed prunes were taking effect. A grin spilled across her face.
Now, where could that man be going, and so fast? Nothing lay in that direction, except for the town of Sill River, its newspaper office, and a modest country neighborhood.
A tingle of curiosity got the better of her and she pulled out onto the highway in the opposite direction from where she'd planned. Kendall's car had long since moved out of visual range, but operating on a hunch, Tamryn pushed her foot down on the accelerator and allowed a tiny spark of hope to rise in her chest.
No longer a newspaperman? Tamryn crested the hill near the Sill River Syndicate, the news office, and let the car lose speed while she scanned the parking lot in front of the building. Sure enough, in the amber glare of the porch light, there sat Kendall's sports car. Oliver Benson's battered Oldsmobile was parked alongside it, and through the office windows, she could see two silhouettes.
As much as Tamryn wanted to confront Kendall with her questions, she drove past the building to search for a convenient place to make a u-turn. She still had an article to write up for the next edition and she wanted to cling to her possible delusions a bit longer. There could be a perfectly logical reason for Kendall to hotfoot it to see Oliver. Kendall had grown up in the area, she argued with herself. The two men might just be renewing an old friendship and comparing journalistic career notes.
"I'll just casually mention that I happened to see him at the Syndicate next time I see him,” Tamryn said aloud, “which will be tomorrow. And Mr. Townie can count on that."
Tamryn turned down the radio while she mentally wrote the rough draft of her article in her head. The song, Reasons to Hope, drifted through her car speakers. The lyrics seemed especially poignant tonight.
Don't you know? You've given me reasons to hope.
You've given me strength to hold on...
A sob built in her chest and for a fleeting moment, her resolve nearly crumbled, but no. Tamryn had made a promise to Ma Baxter, and to herself. Tamryn would fight her damnedest to keep the paper. Thanks to Ma Baxter and the people of Glen Meadow, after a lifetime of being dragged from pillar to post, she finally had a place to call home. And, the newspaper held the key to keeping that home.
She didn't plan to lose it. Not without a fight.
* * * *
Several hours later, Tamryn stood in front of her computer desk to stretch her tired muscles. With a click of her mouse, her write-up on Darren's Dinerama saved in the computer to wait typesetting in a few hours.
The clock above the doorway into Dwight Lister's office showed nearly midnight. Tamryn grinned at the whimsical clock that had been a fixture in the office since before she turned twelve and had become a fixture around the office, herself.
Dwight's wife, Maribelle, had given him the clock after years of him claiming to have a ‘nose for the news'. In reality, Dwight had a stomach for Pops’ peach cobbler, which led him to the best place in town for newsgathering. Everybody in town eventually wound up at Pops’ Diner, and the news and gossip flew around the restaurant as steadily as the burgers flew off the grill.
Maribelle often joked that until she found a stomach-shaped clock, the nose would have to do.
Tamryn would have to agree with Dwight, though. She didn't just work at Pops’ for the monetary tips, but for the news tips as well. And while Pops’ Diner definitely had an edge on the news, Flannagan's Market ran a close second, a reminder that had reaching into her desk drawer for a folded, green, cotton, apron that she stuffed into a tote bag alongside her waitress's t-shirt. Tomorrow morning would find her at Flannagan's before she reported back to the Bugle.
She headed for the door and clicked off the light switch. She made it to her car and nearly had the key inserted to unlock the door, when she heard the deep rumble and growl of a sports car speed past the building.
She watched the car as it moved out of sight again, instinctively checking her watch for the time.
Kendall spent over three hours with Oliver. It was plausible that they were just catching up on old times and not discussing the Bugle's profitability as she hoped.
At least he wasn't with another woman.
Tamryn stood stock-still and wondered just where in the heck that thought had come from? Of all the dumb things to cross her mind. What did she care if Kendall used his killer smile on some susceptible country girl who didn't know better, or wrapped his strong arms around her and pressed his lips against hers under this perfect moonlit night? She was way over her silly teenaged crush. She pressed her hands against her stomach to stop the fluttering.
Okay. She cared. A little. But only because she might have to use a bit of female persuasion with Kendall, and another woman in the picture might complicate things. That was her reason for caring.
Yeah, when Mr. Poke flies, that's your reason. It has nothing to do with his broad shoulders, kissable mouth and strong, capable-looking hands. Or about him being the only man to ever knock your senses for a loop. Nuh-uh.
Right.
She clambered into her car. She needed to concentrate on a plan of action to bring Mr. Kendall Reed to her way of thinking. Um, her thinking about the fate of the Bugle, she reminded herself.
Hadn't Pops always said she put the P in persistence? There had to be a way to sway Kendall and she would be the one to do it.
She rolled down her car windows to chase away the heat that rose in her face as she allowed her mind to roam her possible methods of persuasion. Who'd have thought she'd know so many naughty possibilities?
And, who would have known she was prepared to use each and every one?
* * * *
Kendall watched as Tamryn's Mustang sped past the darkened turnout he'd parked in along the side of the main highway.
He still couldn't wrap his tired brain around the news the attorney had dropped on him. Dropped, hell. Lambasted would be a more apt description.
How the hell could his mother have used all the money he'd sent to her over the years to buy th
e Glen Meadow Bugle? He could only imagine Tamryn's reaction. The thought brought a sickening cramp to his stomach.
She'd be thrilled. He actually did have the means to make her dreams come true.
Funny, he'd always dreamed that he'd be her Dream Come True.
After spending this very morning assuring her he couldn't and wouldn't do a thing to help her, he now had it within his power to give her everything she desired. He didn't want to help Tamryn stay buried in this town. Or, maybe it was more that he didn't want to be reburied in it.
Hell. He didn't know what he wanted anymore.
He bashed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel and swore until he began to repeat the same foul words. How the hell could they both get what they wanted and needed from this situation?
More than an hour later, Kendall slowly pulled back onto the highway to head home. A plan had formed. A resolution presented itself.
He had to find out what she really wanted for her life. Was the newspaper it, or was there room in her life for a broken-down, disillusioned newspaperman set on starting a new career? It wasn't asking too much, was it, for her to want him more than she wanted the newspaper?
Everything rested on Tamryn.
And that scared him to death.
CHAPTER THREE
Tamryn shut her cash drawer with a little more force than she'd intended. With a sigh, she brushed a strand of hair from her face. Tiredness radiated through her body and she thought sourly that it could all be blamed on Kendall Reed.
Why that man affected her so, Tamryn didn't know. She only knew that she'd spent a sleepless night imagining a least a dozen different scenarios to convince Kendall, all of which involved the use of Kendall's body and her own.
"First, you're a waitress and now, a cashier? What costume will I find you in next?"
Her tired eyes now snapped up to meet a steady green gaze. A vision of a French maid's costume flooded into her head and left her brain cells in a spin, but with no cohesive thoughts. Tamryn snapped her mouth closed to keep her rampant thoughts corralled. She drew herself up to her modest height while she tried to look unconcerned and disinterested.
"As a news reporter, I'd think. That's generally what I do, you know,” she replied airily. “Do you have groceries you need checked out, or are you just visiting?"
"A news reporter costume could be sexy, I'd think.” He rubbed his slightly stubbled chin while he pretended to mull over the possibility.
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. He looked a bit tousled and not quite as Gentleman's Quarterly as yesterday. He looked like he'd just left a nice, warm bed, as a matter of fact, and who's the hell was it?
She glared around Flannagan's to scope out any likely candidates before she realized what she was doing. “You're holding up my line. Do you need anything? Maybe some Pepto? You look a little ragged this morning.” Her tart speech earned her a slow, sexy grin and a pointed look around her check stand, unfortunately bare of any desperate-to-check-out shoppers.
"Yeah, long night and it looks to be a long day. Hope you rested well.” His unhurried gaze scanned her from the top of her head down as far as he could see of her body, which was shielded by the counter that separated them.
Her mouth flew open at his cryptic statement. “Why would you care how I rested, Kendall? I can't see that it's any of your concern."
"You'd be surprised, sugar, by just how much you've become my concern.” Kendall leveled a blistering stare on her which should have made her take a step or two back, but Ma Baxter taught her to have more backbone than that. Tamryn stood her ground just as Kendall turned away. “Ah, Mickey.” Kendall moved a few feet from her cashier stand to shake Mickey Flannagan's hand.
"I've got Bobbie coming in early to take over for Tam. Eleven o'clock soon enough?” Mickey's slight Irish burr carried across to Tamryn, and the impact of his words set her feet in motion.
"What's this all about, Mickey? I'm scheduled to work until four o'clock.” Tamryn butted between her boss and the most irritating Kendall Reed, on whom she turned her back to glare at Mickey.
Not her best idea, as Kendall's cologne seemed to wreath around her with an exotic tug, so much like she'd envisioned in her dreams last night. She did her best to lean away from him, to get some distance between them while she dealt with Mickey. Over, just what, she seemed to have forgotten while she tried to decided whether his cologne would be considered more tangy or spicy. Sexy, without question.
She stepped back to catch a tiny bit more of his fragrance, and froze. Clearly, she'd gone insane.
"The heel of your sneaker is scuffing the toe of my shoe.” Kendall's warm breath stirred the escaped tendrils of hair that lay at the nape of her neck. She leaned her head back slightly until she could see his face at her left shoulder. Her eyelids felt heavy and they fluttered briefly as she turned just enough to bring her lips close to his.
With the breathiest of voices, she whispered, “Then move the hell back.” She used her hip to bump Kendall away from her. The contact of her hip against his body startled her. Kendall, however just gave a low, rumbling chuckle.
"Hey now, Tam. You might oughta rethink how you talk to Mr. Reed now that he's—,"
"—now that he's going to be staying in town awhile.” Kendall cut the grocer's sentence short.
Tamryn's fists dug into her hipbones as she turned from one man to the other with suspicion. “I wish I knew what this was all about. Mickey, don't make me call Maeve on you."
"Aw, Tam. Don't bring my sister in on this. I'm the boss, see? Look, here's Bobbie now. You close out your cash drawer and go with Kendall. Things are just fine. You'll see.” Mickey laid a beefy paw on her shoulder in his version of an apology and comfort, before he hurried away, wiping perspiration from his brow, and muttering.
"What is going on? What gives you the right to come in and get me boosted from my job? I have bills to pay and oh, by the way, what gives you the right?” Tamryn's voice rose to a dangerously high level and her chest rose and fell in agitation until she felt breathless and dizzy. What had just happened here?
"Would you believe I have a proposition that I want to talk with you about?"
"I'd rather eat stewed prunes,” she snapped. She wheeled on her heel and headed off to the employee break room to punch the time clock and grab her purse. From the concerned and curious looks of the store patrons, she figured her hair must be on fire and flames were shooting from her eyeballs. Her jaw clenched when she slewed around and caught sight of Kendall as he trailed behind her.
"Go away, Kendall, you big pain in the a—,” her words caught in her throat when he pressed his warm fingers against her parted lips.
"Don't say what you'll regret, Tam."
She stood stock-still as he let his fingers glide across her mouth while his eyes were riveted on hers. Tamryn warred between biting that perfectly groomed finger, and letting her tongue flick out to taste the texture.
With a jerk of her head, she maneuvered away from his stroking touch and gathered her wits again. She was mad at him. Mad. The why of it would come back to her when her heart stopped racing. Tamryn turned to march away when his voice drifted towards her.
Damn him.
His words, which hung in the air between them, guaranteed that she'd march back to his side.
"What do you mean it's about the Bugle?"
* * * *
Kendall walked along behind Tamryn as she stalked towards his car. He'd requested she let him drive her while they talked. He hoped his health insurance policy would cover the damage she looked capable of inflicting.
Everything about her stiff posture sent out a warning signal that she was feeling just this side of porcupinish in nature. Or maybe a bit hedgehogish. He shook his head. He must be losing his journalist bent already. Were those even words? Well, whichever animal had the most prickly, tenacious demeanor—right now, Tamryn had it beat.
He fought to keep his lips still as she reached his
car and tapped her foot in impatience, her arms crossed firmly across her generous breasts. Okay, maybe not a porcupine or a hedgehog. A spirited kitten, maybe.
Except spirited kittens didn't have lusciously rounded curves. Kendall frowned and slowed his steps down. His trousers felt a bit less comfortable than they had been just minutes ago. The woman bothered him like no other female had in years. Which would just figure because when he dropped his bombshell, he'd be lucky if Tamryn left him any body parts to be bothered by.
Damn it.
"How about today, Reed? I do have a life, you know.” She slid into the passenger seat with only the tiniest bit of a huff. “Actually, after the stunt you just pulled, I'm guessing that you don't know I have a life. Or a job. Actually, I have several jobs, which I depend on for silly girlish type things—like shelter, food, and clothing. Little things like that."
Kendall caught the tail end of her continued muttering as he plumped into the drive's seat. He pinned a look of surprise on his face. “Did you just call me a useless rich boy?"
"If the Porsche fires up,” she said with a bat of her eyelashes and not a single ounce of remorse on her beautiful face.
He threw back his head and barked out a hearty laugh. “Well, you know I'm all about the money."
Tamryn released a long sigh and favored him with a look that gave him a bit of hope. “So I usually think when I look at you. In fact, I've been mentally referring to you as Mr. Townie. Although, today in your faded jeans and battered t-shirt, you look like you've come home. I like it. You look human, again. Almost like the country boy I used to know."
He thought about her words for a long minute. Was it a bad thing to get reacquainted with a bit of his country roots? He didn't hate Glen Meadow, after all. He just despised farming.
The picture swam into focus. He didn't have to farm. In fact, once the real estate deal went through to sell the family farm, the only thing he'd have left would be the house and the Bugle. He would be starting a career in photography.
And maybe, just maybe, he'd have an armful of Tamryn to sweeten his homecoming sojourn.
Pops' Diner, an Anthology [A Pops' Girls Anthology] Page 7