by Snow, Nicole
“They’ll be charged with that, too.” She walks to the door. “They had drugs and cash, lots of both. Plenty of illegal contraband in the truck to put them away for a while.”
I frown, wondering if that’s confidential. I don’t want her getting into trouble just for me.
And my frowny face grows when she opens the door. The one across the hall is still open, but the room looks empty.
Uh-oh.
I follow Shelia down the hall to the lobby. Drake is there and so are my parents.
Mom’s lips are pinched as she states, “Annabelle, we’ve decided we’re going to the diner for lunch.” Head up, she marches toward the door.
The lunch part is certainly a command, not an invitation. I glance at Drake.
There’s that mysterious look again. The one that says it’s my decision.
My backbone stiffens. He’s right. It is my decision, and making them is so much easier with him near. “Sure, we’ll meet you there.”
Mother spins about. “I meant you, your father, and I. Family only.”
I know what she meant. Everyone in the room knows what she meant.
Not letting my irritation show, I smile at Shelia, and then walk across the room to Drake. I wrap both of my hands around his arm. “Well, clearly. But there’s one teensy little problem...”
I start walking. Drake matches my steps.
He can’t possibly know how much I appreciate it right now. As we walk past my mother, I say, “Things are different now. Where I go, Drake goes. Where Drake goes, I go.”
He pushes open the door, and I smile back at her. “Sorta like you and Dad, really.”
She’s pissed, but it all boils down to the fact that she hasn’t got her hands on Gramps’ money. Too bad.
She’ll just have to accept it. A hint of guilt twists my stomach. She’s not in control this time. I know how important that is to her, to be in control of everyone and everything.
“So does your old man ever talk?” Drake asks once we’re back in his pickup.
“Sometimes. Not a lot, honestly. Mom does most of the talking for him. Always has.”
“For him?” He starts the truck. “Shit.”
For some reason, I burst out laughing. It isn’t really funny how strange and toxic the three of us are, though. Gramps was the only thing normal and happy.
“For all of us,” I admit. “That’s what she does. What she’s born to do, probably.”
“I gotta ask, do you really want to have lunch with them at the diner?”
I shrug. “Not really, but...if we don’t, they’ll drive out to the ranch, and I’d rather they didn’t come out there again.” I roll down my window and rest my elbow on the door as he backs up. “I honestly thought they would’ve flown back to California by now. Retreat, and try again in a few months. The fact they haven’t tells me a lot.”
“Like?”
“Like they aren’t leaving.” The weight in my lungs is so heavy “Not any time soon, Drake.”
Gramps probably knew this would happen too. I’m starting to appreciate his forethought more by the hour.
I’d be royally screwed right now if he hadn’t taken the steps he had.
I know myself. It’s so much easier to just give in to Mom’s demands. I’ve known that for years, and that’s what’s always come naturally.
But I can’t this time, and it disgusts me almost as much as it pisses me off.
* * *
We get to the restaurant first.
Stepping through the glass door with the jingly bell hanging overhead is like stepping back in time. The metal tables with the worn Formica tops, that at one time had gold flecks in, but are now stark white, are the exact same as when I was little. I’d eat here with Gramps every time we came to town.
The chairs were the same black Naugahyde then. So are the bench booths today, with black duct tape covering little rips and tears.
“Booth or table?” Drake asks.
“Mother hates booths, so...booth.” I shuffle over to the first open booth we see.
It’s crowded today, plenty of people at the tables.
“Brave, darlin’, deciding to poke the bear dead on,” Drake tells me, sliding into the booth beside me. It’s a tight fit, his huge body shadowing mine, reminding me how tall and thick and imposing he can be.
I smile. “Am I? Or am I just making a decision?”
He grins, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. ’Cause here we go.”
My parents slide in across from us a second later. Mom’s puckered lips could be due to the booth, but it could be because she saw us whispering.
I smile at her. “Slim pickings today. The only open table was by the bathroom doors.”
Luckily, that’s the truth.
Mom glances toward the short hall that leads back to the bathroom, and at the only empty table everyone using the hallway has to skirt around. Then she rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath.
“We could sit there if you prefer,” I say.
“It’s fine.” Her nose wrinkles as she glances around the room. “I see this place hasn’t changed a bit in fifty years. Not even the pictures on the walls. Just shameful. I’m sure the food is just as awful, too.”
Why did you even come here? I wonder, but I know better.
She wants to get to me.
Honestly, I always loved it when we came to town and ate here. It’s refreshing to go somewhere that doesn’t have a ten page wine menu, their go-to choices back in Portland.
I pluck the worn menus out from behind the ketchup and mustard containers, then pass them out to everyone else while looking at the board on the wall. Nudging Drake with my shoulder, I say, “Today’s special is two beef enchiladas.”
“You had four last night,” he says. “Have some variety, darlin’. Nobody can live by enchiladas alone.”
I love the way his eyes twinkle. Almost as if they’re smiling even when his lips aren’t. “You did good. I was starving.”
Because both my parents are looking at me, at us, bewildered, I lay my hand over the top of his. “I bet theirs aren’t half as good as yours. Let’s be real.”
“Burgers are their specialty. Old Mack in the back never screws ’em up.”
I may be pushing it, but I can’t help myself, threading my fingers through his.
Screw it. I want my parents to think there’s more between us than silly food jokes.
Because when the time comes, I don’t want them knowing about the proxy marriage. That could get really ugly. “Cheeseburger it is. I remember they were good, stacked up with so many onion rings I can never finish.”
“Ugh, all that deep-fried dreck. A salad would be a better choice,” Mom says, her eyes flicking across the menu. “On the other hand...iceberg lettuce and thousand island dressing? Lord, it’s like the land that culinary time forgot.”
Drake, catching on, rolls his hand over mine. “I’ll have the Mack Burger. Four kinds of cheese, deep fried pickles, and peppers that could curl your tail. Guarantee they’re better here than the ones we had yesterday.”
“Those weren’t bad for fast food, but the fries were a little cold.”
He grins at me. “Mine weren’t.”
I lean closer. “Then I’ll just have to eat yours next time, hot stuff.”
Okay. I know this is getting dumb. But I want to see how far I can push the lines before –
Mother clears her throat, more like a snarl than cutting in. When I look up, she’s leaning across the table.
“What are you doing, Annabelle? You two appear awfully friendly. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your mind for this ridiculous man.”
I’ve lost something, all right.
But I don’t even care when Drake’s fingers tighten on mine. It’s working.
The only thing being lost over lunch is Mom’s bitter, bruising cool.
10
There Be Dragons (Drake)
I know full
well what she’s doing, and it’s working.
Her mother looks like she’s just popped the world’s sourest lemon slice in her mouth.
Bella’s teasing plays havoc on me, too, in a completely different way. It’s an express ticket to hard-on city.
I have to shift in my seat to ease the tightness in my jeans. She’s too close, too playful, too good at putting filthy thoughts in my head by making me believe – if just for a hot second – that we’re a couple.
But I know it’s not true. Because if in some crazy universe it were, we damn sure wouldn’t be here arguing with Molly Reed.
We’d be back at the ranch, and I’d have her tied to the bed. Finding out how far we could push that old wooden frame before the damn thing snaps like a twig.
I get why she’s playing this game, to piss off her folks, but she doesn’t have a clue what kind of collateral damage she’s doing. I’ve got an ugly feeling my balls could rival a smurf, turning an angrier, deeper blue than my eyes.
“Of course we’re friendly,” Bella says to her mother. “Why shouldn’t we be? We live in the same house.”
“You hardly know each other,” Molly snaps.
Bella laughs. “Drake lived with Gramps for years. If he trusted him, so do I.”
Molly opens her mouth to bark back, but before she does, our waitress appears. Erin Cassidy today.
“Everybody trusts a Larkin boy!” Erin says, arriving at our table with four glasses of water. Her blonde hair is stacked high on her head and her lips are painted as ruby red as her fingernails. “Mr. Reed would’ve been plenty lost without this beefcake.”
I shake my head at her, smiling at the nickname she gave me years ago.
Her face softens as she recognizes Bella. “I’m so sorry about your loss, Bella. You know how much I loved your grandfather. How much we all did here in town.”
The shine fades from Bella’s eyes as she says, “Thanks, Erin. And I know that Gramps loved you all back just as much.”
Her ma lets out a not-so-subtle groan.
This woman is a royal bitch. I reach past Bella to put my menu away and make a point of gently brushing her cheek before I tell Erin, “Two orders of the usual. Less peppers for her.”
Erin nods, smiles, and writes on her notepad. “Cheeseburger, Mack style, crispy fries, and lemonade times two. Got it.”
“Yum,” Bella says. “Sounds perfect.”
“And the two of yo—” Erin shakes her head and does a double take on Bella’s father. “Well, glory be...are my eyes playing tricks or is that Gary Reed?” She laughs at her own joke. “I haven’t seen you since high school! How’ve you been, Gary?”
It’s the first time I’ve seen her old man’s face change in any meaningful way. The puppet actually smiles.
“Good, thank you,” he replies. “How about you, Erin?”
Amazing. He’s talking, too. I’d started wondering if he ever had a voice box installed.
“Awesome, Gary. Life’s been good to me. How’s...” Erin taps her pen on her pad. “Oh, what was her name?”
“Molly, and I’m fine.” For once, she sounds surprised, and actually a bit deflated that she wasn’t instantly recognized.
Erin levels a slow, thoughtful stare on Bella’s mother. “Oh, so it is you. Wow. You look very...different than I remember.”
Jonah told me about Molly’s non-stop train of surgeries and augmentations. They disgusted him.
I don’t have a problem with chicks doing whatever the fuck they want with their bodies. It’s none of my business.
But in this case, I wonder why the hell money couldn’t buy better surgeons. The kind that wouldn’t have made the changes look so obvious, so artificial, so off.
Her nose is half the size of a grown woman’s. And those lips? Let’s just say Mr. Botox isn’t kind in big enough doses to damn near mummify a human being.
I have to hide a grin because it’s obvious Erin knows exactly what she’s doing.
A little swipe of revenge, maybe, even if I hadn’t heard the backstory of how once upon a time Molly came between a couple kids named Erin Mackelmoore and Gary Reed.
Jonah didn’t hold back any secrets when it came to his son and daughter-in-law.
The mountain lion across the table realizes it once her shock wears off, too. Molly’s ears steam red and her thickly lined mascara framed eyes beam daggers at our poor waitress.
A nearly silent small gasp comes from Bella. I glance at her. Her eyes light up, and the way she’s biting her lip tells me she’s fighting a smile.
“For the record, I barely recognized you either,” Molly snaps. “Except I see you’re still dyeing your hair that shade of blonde.”
Christ, her tone. The only word missing before shade is shitty.
“Sorry, darling,” Erin says. “I was born with this hair.” She plants both hands on her hips. “I was born with everything and took good care of it.”
Molly’s nostrils flair. Her hair is blonde, too, but I’d guess it’s nowhere near the original color.
I tighten my hold on Bella’s hand.
Red alert signals flash in my mind. Fights between women over looks can make war zones look like playpens.
Unfazed, Erin just laughs and turns to Gary, shaking her head. “Oh, Gare-Bear...can’t say you weren’t warned.”
Gare-Bear? Is this real life?
Bella must be thinking the same thing I am because she’s fighting the laughter so hard her lips are going white.
“Did your father ever tell you that we were the prom king and queen together our junior year in high school?” Erin asks Bella. “Those days were fun.”
“Of course not!” Molly hisses like a cornered snake. “I’m sure he’s forgotten it ever happened. Some of us live in the present and don’t worship what happened thirty damn years ago.”
The two women lock eyes. For a second, I’m worried I’ll have to physically intervene to pull them apart.
Erin merely lifts a brow as she says, “Gotta warn you, too, Bella.”
Shit. Frowning, I wonder just how far she’ll take this spat, and how long it’ll take Molly to push Gary out of the way and start tearing out Erin’s hair.
“About what?” Bella asks.
“This guy.” Erin slaps my shoulder. “Drake’s kinda like our own hometown version of The Bachelor – except he never lets us have a tenth the fun as the show. Every woman under sixty in this town has been after him for years and they never so much as get to first base.”
Gary coughs across the table, hiding a smile. His snake of a wife sniffs, lips fluffed in a pout, eyes going to her glass.
I shake my head at Erin’s crude exaggeration. “Hardly. I’m a busy man. No time to get serious with nobody.”
“No time to make time for the right gal, you mean,” she fires back with a wink.
”Oh, really?” Bella sets her chin on my shoulder and looks up at me with sparkling eyes.
Fuckery, here it comes...
My body does the talking before my head. Even when I try to look away, she’s still there, her sweet tits pressed a little too snug against my arm.
Not feeling them, not thinking about them, is impossible.
I flex my toes in my boots to release some tension. I’d kill for a cold fucking shower right about now.
“Erin just loves to give me crap,” I say, taking in Bella’s big green eyes. “Should’ve known I had a heaping side of it coming along with my burger today.”
“Sure do.” The waitress grins and winks, this time at Bella again. “How else would I find my fun around here?”
Bella smiles and shakes her head, giving her hair this little wave bob that’s so fucking sexy my hard-on jerks in my pants.
“Do me a favor, Erin?” she asks coyly, waiting for the waitress to lean in. “Spread the word I’m just like my grandpa, always packing. I’m serious. I want to make sure any troublemakers know who they’re dealing with, and I mean worse ones than this guy.” She points at me with her
thumb.
Goddamn great. The last thing I need is an image of this light little minx being armed and lethal.
And if I’ve got a screw or two loose for wanting to screw her in nothing but cowboy boots and a holster, so be it.
Erin’s tinny laughter echoes off the old plastered walls. “I’ve always loved you, kid. Welcome back.”
Molly clears her throat loudly, wiping the mortified look off her face. “I’ll have a house salad, with vinaigrette dressing on the side, and lemon for my water. So will Gary.”
Bella giggles quietly as she lifts her chin off my shoulder and turns to face the table again.
“Coming right up!” Erin glances at Gary Reed over her oversized notepad, shaking her head as she writes.
Then she finally heads away, but not before giving me a wink I can’t even interpret.
There’s so much tension at this table I think I could tear into it with my knife and start carving it up for an appetizer.
“So how long did you live with Jonah?” Molly asks. It’s the first time she’s addressed me like a human being. Barely.
Fuck, her claws are out, ready to dig deep into my flesh. Let her.
I’ll take whatever she dishes out in order to keep her from turning those claws on Bella. Releasing her hand slowly and visibly, I stretch my arm along the back of the booth.
“Jonah brought me on about four years ago. Pulled me out of a blizzard. We got to talkin’ and he needed a guy. So I stayed.”
“A guy?” Molly’s too-thin eyebrow lifts. “What sort of 'guy,' pray tell?”
My jaw works in slow motion.
Then the unthinkable happens under the table. Bella lays her little hand on my thigh.
It’s so fucking hot I’m worried it’ll leave scorch marks on my jeans.
Damn it, she’s good at this game. Too good at winding me up in ways I didn’t know I could even get riled. Since when has any woman ever left her mark with a touch like a feather?
Since Annabelle Reed got in my blood, apparently.
“Well?” Molly asks, zero chill in her tone.
“Aw, Molly, what’s it even matter?” Gary cuts in. “Dad was too old and too proud. He probably needed this guy to look after him and never wanted anyone to know. That’s how my father was...so many secrets...”