by Sun Chara
“You did that on purpose,” Michael accused, affronted.
“If you say so.” Johnny curved his mouth in a satisfied grin.
Samantha snuggled back in her place, wondering what to make of Johnny. As each day passed, he became more puzzling, aloof. She took a deep breath and exhaled in force. As difficult as it might be, she determined to enjoy the day’s outing.
A tense silence filled the cab, broken only by the hum of the motor while Johnny navigated the road for several more miles.
“Downtown Main Street at your service,” Johnny finally announced, glimpsing the other man’s reflection in the mirror with his mouth hanging open. “Something the matter, Scott?”
“It’s no more than a pit-stop in the middle of nowhere.” He took a comb from his pants’ pocket, glanced in the mirror and slicked back his hair. “I could blink and miss it.”
“If you don’t like it ” – Johnny flipped his sunglasses off and hooked them on his T-shirt pocket – “There’s a bus across the street you can hop on.”
“Wouldn’t give you the satisfaction, leprechaun man.” He stuffed the comb back in his pocket, snapped his shirt cuffs and adjusted his Pierre Cardin cravat. “This might be a prime location to check out the locals.” He shot him a haughty nod. “With Samantha.”
Johnny slid into a parking space and hopped out, striding around to help Samantha out, but the other had already vaulted from the back seat and beat him to it. Johnny gulped down his annoyance, his Adam’s apple working overtime, and swiped his damp palms across his T-shirt sticking to his chest. Wouldn’t do to make a scene in the middle of Main Street, but then again— Before he changed his mind and decked Michael on the chin, the other man sidestepped him, leading his wife on.
“Samantha, shall we?” Michael offered her his arm.
“Goodsprings, Nevada.” She took his arm, strolling along the sidewalk, gazing at the storefront of Flossie’s Ice Cream Parlor. “What a charming place.” She peered at various photos displayed in the shop window and caught Johnny’s dour reflection in the glass. “The old and new frozen in time.”
Like her life, she thought, caught between her past and her future.
“Would you like an ice cream cone?” Michael asked.
She shook her head, not thinking she could stomach it … or anything right now. “Maybe later.”
By this time, Johnny loomed on her other side, and he stood so close to her, his arm bobbed against hers. Sizzle shot into her, and she bristled, shifting a step away from him.
Johnny noticed her maneuver.
A strained silence coiled around them.
For a moment, Samantha stood stiffly between the two men, but then she pushed unpleasant thoughts aside. “Come on,” she invited, looping her arm with Johnny’s too. “I’m ready to go shopping.”
But Johnny didn’t move.
He shuttered his gaze, studying them. His heart pounded. Sweat broke across his chest. Air expanded in his lungs. He raised a fist, muffling the sound blasting from his mouth. He mocked a cough. Then, Johnny did the hardest thing possible and nearly burst a blood vessel in the process. He unhooked her hand from his elbow and handed her over to Michael, carte blanche.
“You two go along.” A pause, a narrowing of his eyes, then, “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Startled, she stared at him, her features pinched in query. Before he could retract his idiotic words, she masked her uncertainty and turned to Michael. “I’d like to start with the library,” she said, a slight quiver in her voice. “Is there one here?”
Aww, man. Maybe this psych stuff wasn’t such a good idea.
“Sure.” Johnny pointed to the brick building down the street. “The supplies could wait, if you’d like me to show you arou—”
“I wouldn’t dream of coming between you and your supplies.” She patted his arm and turned back to the enemy. “Michael, shall we go?”
Johnny watched them stroll away, his belly clenching and his mouth lined with sawdust. At that moment, she glanced at him over her shoulder and wiggled her fingers. “Bye.”
He nodded and, bashing down bile rising in his throat, stalked in the opposite direction to the hardware store, every muscle in his body taut.
In the fastest time in the history of mankind, Johnny wheeled a cart laden with lumber, rolls of paper, paint brushes, electrical gadgets and an assortment of other construction supplies to the checkout counter. After he dumped the load in the back of the Chevy pickup, he trotted to the library and through the automatic doors, the air conditioning smacking his sweat-drenched body.
He scanned the interior. Once, twice. Not seeing them, he strolled up and down each row of shelves, searching. Finally, at the back of the room behind the last shelf, he caught them.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Michael had cornered Samantha between two rows of bookshelves, his hand splayed on the wall near her shoulder. Bending his head, he whispered something in her ear.
A giggle, and she pressed her hand against his chest.
Johnny blanched, his blood icing in his veins.
He’d lost.
Her.
His baby.
Their life together.
A future.
It finally smacked him between the eyes. He couldn’t compete with money and class like that of the Scotts.
Then, a voice in his head whispered, you goon, you’ve got money. Five million buckaroos. So what? He didn’t want to buy her or her love or their life. He wanted her to want him for who he was. Johnny Belen, from the wrong side of the tracks with dreams in his head, love in his heart and empty pockets. Yeah, he wanted her to want him. Period.
With his world crashing before his eyes, Johnny spun away and almost tripped over his own feet. Wait a minute. Samantha might not want him as her husband, and as much as that gutted his insides, there was a baby that would want him. Need him. He’d make sure his son or daughter knew him. He wouldn’t forfeit his child, no matter what. He had five million dollars to make sure of that.
He pivoted, his hard gaze raking over them. “Am I interrupting anything?” Marching forward, he closed the gap, each step like lead. “Or are you two ready to leave?”
Michael pulled away, and Johnny collided with her clear gaze.
“You’re back so soon, Johnny.” She extended a home decorating magazine to him. “What do you think of this?”
He dismissed the trade, his eyes drilling deeper into her, demanding to read the truth. A suspended moment, and she snapped the journal closed, handing it to Michael. “I’d like to sign this out, please.”
“Sure.” Michael took it from her numb fingers and sauntered ahead to the checkout counter.
By the time they met him at the exit, there seemed to be an ocean of discontent dividing them.
Oblivious to the undercurrent between them, Michael said, “Ready for lunch?”
“Too much work to do,” Johnny muttered. “We’ll eat at the house.”
Samantha’s heart pitter-pattered in her chest, and she wondered what happened to make Johnny look at her with such icy disdain. Just a moment ago Michael had loomed over her, and, feeling claustrophobic, she’d tried to push him away. Now she jumped at the chance to escape the dour-faced Johnny. “I’d love to, Michael.”
“Where to?” Michael took her arm and guided her out. “There must be a local hangout.”
“How about the Bar & Grill?”
“Isn’t that where Mira … whatever works?” Johnny asked, walking a little behind the two, not missing a thing. “Aka The Pioneer Saloon and Café, aka The Tavern, aka The Pub.”
“You remember?”
“Sure do,” he said his gaze probing. “Not much gets by me, Mrs. Belen.”
“The Bar & Grill it is.” Michael walked forward, stopped, and glanced up and down the street. “Which way?”
An imperceptible sigh skimmed Johnny’s mouth. “This way.” He stomped ahead, leading the way. “I’d like to see if this woman is real or
a figment of my wife’s imagin—”
That did it. Samantha marched fast forward as quickly as her overladen condition allowed, grabbed his elbow and twirled him around. “Hey, I did not imagine that sweet lady.”
Johnny raised his hands. “Okay. Don’t get upset. If she’s real, no problem.” He tilted his head as if studying her. “But if she’s not, we-ell …”
“What are you implying?”
“Why nothing, sweetheart.” He grabbed her hand and looped it through his elbow. She didn’t pull away. Perhaps all was not lost. He glanced over his shoulder at Michael.
A perplexed look riddled the man’s face as he wondered what just happened and glanced down at his empty hands. About time the tables turned in Johnny’s favor. He lifted the corner of his mouth in a crooked smile. Now that he had Samantha on his arm, he’d make the most of it.
“Coming, Michael?”
Less than five minutes later, Johnny pushed the saloon-style doors open and escorted Samantha inside. Music blared, but the air was cool and clean due to the no smoking signs. While Michael paused outside admiring a pinstriped suit in the shop window next door, Johnny searched for an empty table. He spotted a booth by the window with a wide girth that would accommodate Samantha.
Ambling beside him, Samantha glanced about and waved, smiling. Johnny followed her gaze and the returning wave and grin from the person behind the bar. “You know the bartender?” he asked, surprised.
“There is the figment of my imagination.” She chuckled and shuffled in the booth.
“That’s Mira—”
“Mirabella,” she said. “Tough as nails, sharp as a razor and quick as a whip.”
“Gotcha.”
“About time.” She slanted him a glance from beneath her lashes, wondering if her words had a Freudian implication.
“Good thing she’s on our side.” He slid in the booth, facing her.
“Too true.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, what with her super powers …”
“Now wait a minute.” He chuckled and felt a lightness in his spirit. And suddenly it was like old times, he and Sam teasing each other good- naturedly. “Don’t get carried away.”
“Remember the cherry pie.” She shook her finger at him. “You gobbled it down and wanted more.”
“Yeah.” Wanting more was right. But not food. He gazed into her bright eyes and half parted lips. Wanting to bend down and capture them … tasting her. “It was the best I’ve had,” he admitted, tenderness stirring inside him for this woman who carried his child.
“And the clean house that I didn’t take a broom to,” she said. “I should’ve taken one to you, though, Johnny.”
“Oh really?”
“Mmm.” She gave him a pixie smile that turned his insides to mush.
He grunted and rubbed his cheek with his knuckles. He should’ve known it couldn’t last. From beneath his brows, he paced the ‘thorn’ closing in and ready to gouge his side.
“Good.” Michael hurried across the room, smoothing his windblown hair. “You found a table.”
“We won’t mind if you want to head back out,” Johnny hinted. “The hundred and twelve-degree temperature shouldn’t faze a tough guy like you.”
“Of course not.” He slid in beside Samantha. “I promised Samantha a country-style lunch.”
“More research?”
“Sure.” He smiled into her eyes. “Local folklore and country cooking.”
“Home cooking is what you mean, young man.” Mirabella suddenly appeared beside their table, wiping her hands on her dime-sized apron that barely covered her cowgirl uniform.
“Yes, ma’am.” Michael propped up to attention.
So, this was mamma’s choice, Mirabella thought. She shook her head and glanced at heaven. What now?
You’ll come up with something … a chuckle … out of this world. The message tickled her solar plexus.
Hah, hah, she transmitted back, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. Do I get double vacation time for this?
After the assignment, we’ll discuss it.
Mirabella smirked to no one in particular. It might not turn out the way You’d like. Free will ’n all that.
It will be the best.
Hope you’re right.
I know it.
And she did, too. He always got it perfect. Right now, though, she wasn’t sure how it would happen. Samantha sat quietly staring out the window. Johnny’s face reflected a storm brewing. Michael leaned back, resting his arm on the vinyl padding behind Samantha’s shoulders and looking like he owned the premises.
“This place turn a profit?” he asked.
Samantha smiled and made the introductions. “The most amazing neighbor you’ll ever meet, Michael. She’s a wonder.”
“I bet,” said Johnny.
Mirabella gave him a stern look. “You placing bets on me, young man?”
“No, ma’am.” Johnny suddenly felt like a schoolboy beneath her studious gaze, yet she looked no more than twenty herself. Yeah, twenty going on sixty, by her manner and speech. Wonder how she did it. He flashed her his rakish grin. “Just admiring my surroundings.”
“Me included?”
Johnny chuckled. “Absolutely.”
“’Bout time I got appreciated.” She winked, belying the severity of her words.
“You are that, ma’am.”
“You include your lovely and very pregnant wife in that sentiment?”
“Always, ma’am,” he said, mesmerized by her brilliant smile.
She considered him for a moment longer from the corner of her eye, and thinking she’d put him on the spot long enough, patted his shoulder. “Good man.” Then she turned to Michael, who was busy brushing imaginary dust off the table. Hmm, another germ-conscious human.
“We do okay in the profit department,” Mirabella answered his question. “And the table’s clean.”
Michael glanced up and smiled, showing his dimple.
So, he can turn the charm on when it benefits him.
“I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t.” Michael tilted his head at just the right angle. “I might buy this place.”
“Not for sale.” A young waitress walked up to their table, her dark curls bobbing around her face, her violet-blue eyes serious.
Michael crossed one leg over his knee and raked his wolfish eye over the girl. “Everything has its price.”
Mirabella wanted to kick him.
“Ouch!” Michael placed a hand under the table and rubbed his shin.
Mirabella crinkled her eyes in amusement. Samantha had done it for her. “Some things, young man, don’t carry a dollar sign.”
“Like love.” Samantha peeked at her husband, and her tremulous smile faded. He had his face behind the menu like he’d already dismissed the conversation circulating the table. Of course, she knew better. Alert, he caught every word and then some.
“Is there such a thing?” the girl asked, her eyes shadowed, a wistful twist to her mouth.
A silent moment, then they all erupted at once, except for Johnny.
“Of course,” Samantha said.
“Nowadays?” She set three glasses of water on the table and took her order pad from her apron’s pocket. “It’s like looking for the proverbial needle in a hay stack.”
So cynical for one so young, Mirabella thought. “Perhaps you should let it find you.”
The waitress snapped her head up, a flicker of a smile on her mouth.
“Oh, it’ll find you alright.” Michael guffawed, wagging his foot. “Especially when the path is paved with crispy green bills.”
“Doesn’t last,” Johnny muttered into the menu, finally voicing his thoughts.
Samantha’s heart sank. Was that a message for her? That he didn’t love her anymore? That he wanted their marriage over like that letter had implied? She set her own menu on the table, suddenly having no interest in food.
“Now that’s where you’re wrong, young man.” M
irabella took him to task and turned to Samantha. “Isn’t that right, dear?”
Near tears, Samantha shoved Michael from the booth. “Excuse me, I have to use the restroom.”
“Janey here will take your orders,” Mirabella said, looking directly at Michael.
He blinked at her in confusion.
A smooth operator this one. Too slick. The kind that eventually bumbled over himself. Mirabella chuckled. “I’ll be behind the bar if you need anything.” As for the other one, Johnny Belen, he had his insides in knots wondering where he stood with his wife, when all he had to do was … A customer caught her attention, and the thought drifted away.
Janey scribbled Johnny’s order on her pad and turned to Michael. “What will you have?”
Michael wiggled his eyebrows and dimpled his cheek. “I’ll start with one of you.” He winked.
Johnny bolted upright. So, that was his game. He glanced at the waitress, but instead of taking offense, she giggled. “Not on the menu, today, sir.” She fluttered her lashes at him.
“How about tonight?”
Johnny cocked his head, his eyes shuttered, his ears tuned in.
Janey smiled, not giving him a direct answer. When she reached out to take the menu from his hand, his fingers tangled with hers for a nanosecond. A definite signal.
“I’ll take the house special,” Michael said, watching the sway of her hips as she walked away.
Johnny had thought of Michael as the court jester, but a sleazy goon was totally another angle. How to tell Samantha was a tight fix. His shoulders slumped, and he slouched lower in the booth. She wouldn’t believe him. Think he was badmouthing the friend of the family. He exhaled a sigh. He’d just have to wait it out. Watch for the right moment, then full speed ahead.
Glancing over his shoulder for Samantha, Johnny caught Mirabella smiling at him while shaking a concoction in the shaker. What was everyone so happy about? He wanted to smash chairs against tables and very possibly one or two over rich boy’s head.
A sudden beeping noise pierced his thoughts, just as Michael pulled a miniature high tech transmitting device from his pocket. Looked like something a scientist would have to explain how to operate. Yet the bimbo must’ve figured how to use it, because he was talking into it. Hmm. Maybe not such a bozo after all.