TAKE A CHANCE (Chance Colorado Series)

by Mayhue, Melissa

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Logan standing in the middle of the road, his wide shoulders highlighted in the rays of Tanner’s headlamp.

  Okay, she was wrong. It not only could get worse, it just had.

  * * *

  “Knock it off, Shayla.” Logan peeled his ex-fiancée’s fingers from his face and backed away, putting some physical distance between them.

  “What?” she asked, holding her hands up innocently, fluttering her long, fake eyelashes. “I’m only trying to thank you for saving my kitchen. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, we might have had an expensive tragedy in here instead of just a smelly little electrical fire. It’s what you do, Logan. Accept it. It’s who you are. Responsibility always was your middle name.”

  “Whatever,” he muttered, making his way back to the front of the kitchen. “You need to get an electrician in here to take a look at that mess of wires. And, for the record, I’ll be checking the files when I get to the fire station on Monday. Looks to me like your kitchen is overdue for a fire inspection.”

  His hope tonight had been to try to sneak in and avoid Shayla as much as possible, not to end up with her arms wrapped around him. The fact that she was right didn’t help him feel the least bit better about the situation. And she was right, both about his saving her restaurant some major damage and about his actions defining him. When he’d smelled those wires burning, there was nothing he could do but track down the source.

  He shook his head, as if he could physically clear away the last few moments. If he’d had any sense at all, he’d have insisted that Allie pick another place for their evening out.

  But he hadn’t.

  Instead, he’d walked right into a predictably uncomfortable situation. On top of everything else, he’d ended up wasting a good chunk of their evening together dealing with the kitchen staff and the fire in the wiring.

  A thread of guilt warned him he should have thought to send someone out to tell Allie what was going on, but he hadn’t thought of it at the time. He hadn’t really thought, period. He’d just acted, like he always did.

  It didn’t come as a total surprise when he reached the dining room and Allie was nowhere to be found. It was a disappointment, though. He’d hoped for better from her. Still, she had every right to be annoyed with how long he’d left her sitting there all by herself.

  A quick check of the table showed that she hadn’t touched her refilled drink or her dinner.

  “Hey.” He reached out to slow Spencer down as the waiter passed by. “Did you happen to notice when my friend left?”

  Spencer, hands loaded down with plates, shook his head. “No, and I pay attention to anyone who heads for the door. Last time I saw her, she was headed back toward the restrooms. Oh, and somebody mentioned a lady back there not feeling well, so maybe that could be her?”

  Logan rubbed a hand through his hair and headed for the area Spencer had indicated. This was great. Beyond great. First, his family descended on them to mess up their first date. Now, on their second — the one that was supposed to make up for that ruined first one — not only had he deserted her with no explanation, it appeared she might have gotten ill while he was gone.

  Was there even a way to go about making up for a crappy makeup date?

  He paused in front of the door to the ladies’ room. After debating his next move, he chose at last to simply wait a few minutes. The Golddiggers bar was even busier than its restaurant. He doubted he’d have to wait long before another female showed up who could check behind the closed door to see if Allie was inside.

  Sure enough, within minutes the door swung open and two giggling women stepped out into the hallway.

  “Logan! What are you doing skulking around outside the ladies’ room?” Lila Murphy grinned at him, looking very different from her normally prim and proper demeanor behind the counter at the post office. “Wait a minute. Is there a fire? I told you I smelled smoke, Gayle. Should we be getting out of here?”

  Sure enough, though someone had thought to prop open the exit door, a thin layer of smoke still hung against the ceiling in the hallway.

  “No need for concern, ladies,” he reassured. “I’ve already checked it out and everything is fine. But could I ask you to do me a favor?”

  “Anything you need,” Lila said.

  “Would you mind checking to see if there’s anyone else still in there?” He nodded toward the door they’d just come through. “I seem to have misplaced my date.”

  “There’s not,” her friend answered. “We made sure no one was in there when we went in. Sorry.”

  “You know how it is,” Lila said with a wink. “Girl talk and all. Chance is a real small town, Logan. Everybody gossips, but a little discretion on a Friday night can save a whole lot of apologizing come Monday morning.”

  The two women said goodbye and giggled their way back out into the restaurant, more than a little unsteady on their feet.

  So Allie wasn’t in the ladies’ room. And, at least according to Spencer, she hadn’t left the restaurant through the front door.

  Maybe, like Lila and her friend, Allie had smelled the smoke and decided to get outside through the nearest exit.

  Logan hurried to the end of the hallway and out through the door, where he paused in a pool of yellow light under the old light pole. The alley was empty in both directions.

  If she came out this way, she could have gone anywhere.

  He had almost decided to return to the pickup in case she’d gone there to wait for him when he noticed a footprint at the edge of the ring of light. It was smallish, spread out in the front where the base of someone’s foot had squished into the mud, but with only a small hole where their heel should be.

  High heels? Could be. Just as it could belong to anyone. Still, it was worth a follow-up.

  Heading down the alley toward the edge of town, he waged a silent argument with himself with every step he took. Doubt over his decision to come this way gnawed at his mind even as images of Allie waiting for him at their table flashed through his head.

  His night, like his life, was filled with second-guesses over choices he might have made differently.

  His steps slowed to a stop and he scrubbed his fingers over his forehead. Was he just making a bigger mess of the evening than he already had? Surely Allie wouldn’t have come this far out of her way. Why would she? Even if she’d thought the restaurant was on fire, surely she’d have circled around to get help.

  He was about to give up and turn back when he noticed an odd shape on the grate crossing the dry streambed. A closer inspection revealed a shoe. Allie’s shoe, if he wasn’t mistaken.

  Any doubts he’d had morphed into outright worry as he pulled the high heel from the grate. He couldn’t think of any reason for her to have come this way or to have left her shoe behind.

  He moved forward again, more quickly than before, his measured steps evolving into a jog. It was dark out here. Dark enough that anything could happen to a woman limping around in one shoe.

  No shoes, he corrected himself as he found the second abandoned high heel, this one mud-caked, lying in the middle of the road.

  Adrenaline washed into his system as he stood and surveyed the distance, the need to do something, anything, rising in his throat. Farther down the road, a couple of wavering lights caught his eye and he headed toward them at a full sprint.

  Reaching the lights brought him to a faltering stop and sent his emotions, already high on adrenaline, plummeting over the edge.

  Tanner knelt on the ground, his arms passionately wrapped around Allie, her dress gaping open, exposing her bra.

  It was like some horrible bout of déjà vu played out in the open, on the ground, instead of in the back seat of an SUV. Only this time, the woman was Allie, not Shayla.

  Not sure if he wanted to confront this little scene or turn and walk away, Logan rode the wave of his heightened emotions.

  “W
hat the hell is going on here?” he demanded.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Tanner countered, not making any attempt to move away from Allie or even to let go of her. “And where’s your truck?”

  “Where have I been?” Logan’s head whirled at the accusation in his friend’s voice. “I’ve been searching for my date. Who, apparently, is pretty damn comfortable there on the ground with you.”

  “You think…” Tanner growled something under his breath before standing up, lifting Allie to her feet like a ragdoll in the process. “Yeah. Right. That’s it. I came out on a run tonight for the sole purpose of stealing your date. Because we all know I’ve always preferred my women puking their guts out. What kind of an idiot are you, O’Connor?”

  Puking? As if a plug had been pulled, Logan’s anger drained away, leaving him feeling weak and empty as the emotion morphed into guilt, all in the space of a heartbeat. Spencer had mentioned something about Allie being ill.

  “The worst kind of idiot, apparently,” he said in answer to Tanner’s question. “What happened?”

  “You tell me.” Tanner guided a whimpering Allie the few steps toward Logan and propped her against his chest. “Though if I were a betting man, I’d guess that you were stupid enough to let her drink those margaritas at Golddiggers.”

  “Yup,” Allie muttered, her head rolling against his chest. “’Ritas.”

  “You’ll be better sometime tomorrow, darlin’,” Tanner reassured her before turning back to Logan. “Even I can’t handle more than one of those. Everybody in town knows about them. They go down smooth and come up hard.”

  Christ. This was his fault. He’d ordered the second and the third ones for her himself while he’d nursed the same bottle of beer all evening.

  “I had no idea.”

  He’d never considered this particular drawback to picking a spot he’d personally boycotted for the past two years.

  “You’ll want to do something about those feet of hers, too,” Tanner advised. “She had an encounter back there with a sticker patch. You better get her home.”

  “Home? I don’t think so.” If Susie saw her like this, there was no telling what effect it would have on her condition. “Maybe over to the fire station until she sobers up?”

  Tanner’s head began wagging his disagreement before Logan’s words were even out of his mouth.

  “Bad idea. Very bad idea. You don’t want Chance’s early risers to see her coming out of there in the morning. That just opens all three of us up to a whole new level of gossip that we do not want.” Hands on his hips, Tanner scanned both directions on the road. “Your place, maybe. Where’s your truck?”

  “Still parked at Golddiggers. Whatever I do, I should probably get ahold of Dulcie. She’s over keeping an eye on Susie this evening.”

  “First things first. Let’s get your little lady to the fire station. You can deal with the mess in her feet while I go get your truck and deal with Dulcie. Then you can take Allie out to your place until she’s sober enough to go home. Sound like a plan?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Logan agreed.

  A plan, all right. Just a very bad plan.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The earth could shake until the planet fell apart for all Allie cared. The end of the world would simply have to happen without her participation.

  She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, but even that didn’t help. The shaking would not stop.

  Neither would the deep voice whispering in her ear.

  “Come on, Allie.” A voice from her dreams. “I know you want to sleep, babe, but we have to get going. I promised Dulcie I’d have you home by six.”

  Home by six? But she was home. She must be. If not, where could she…

  Snippets from the past few hours began to fall into place, filling in the big, black hole that currently served as her short-term memory.

  Her, staring at a pair of large pajama pants, trying to figure out how to get her feet to go into the holes while the whole world spun around her.

  Her, face down on a sofa while someone gently rubbed her back.

  Her, retching into a white porcelain bowl while someone held her hair back.

  “Argh,” she groaned, not wanting to face any of the memories coming back to her now.

  All these years she’d comforted herself with the idea that, as bad as the night of her senior prom had been, at least the worst was over and she could go through the rest of her life knowing she’d never experience a more humiliating moment.

  She’d been wrong.

  Reluctantly, she blinked open her eyes to face the latest catastrophe she’d created for herself.

  “That’s a girl,” Logan encouraged, helping her to sit before taking a seat on the rumpled blanket next to her. “Just take it slow and easy and you’ll be fine.”

  She’d be fine? Only if the new definition of fine included the insides of her head pounding their way out through her ears.

  “Where are we?” She didn’t recognize anything.

  “My house,” he said, one large hand still rubbing comforting circles on her back. “Didn’t want your mom to see you all, you know…”

  “Drunk as a skunk,” she filled in when he paused. “Thank you for that. Oh my God, did you say your house? Your family?” The very idea of bumping into his sister or, heaven forbid, his mother made her stomach threaten to empty itself again.

  “Don’t worry about it.” His hands were on her shoulders squeezing rhythmically, soothing muscles she hadn’t even realized needed soothing. “We’re at my house, not the ranch house. No one else is here but us. I hate to rush you, Allie, but I need you to get dressed so we can get you back home, okay? Here, let me help you up. Careful.”

  He was handling her like some fragile china doll, and though she couldn’t say she actually minded, she hardly needed such treatment.

  Or so she thought until she stood and the bottoms of her feet throbbed as if she’d been beaten with sticks.

  She groaned, a sharp, breathy noise forced out of her body, far beyond her ability to control. “What on earth did I do?”

  “Your feet?” Logan swept an arm under her legs and lifted her, fitting her against his chest. “You took a stroll through a sticker patch after you abandoned your shoes. I’m pretty sure we got them all out, but you’re going to be tender for a day or two.”

  She laid her head against his chest, listening to his voice rumble as he talked. There was no memory of the sticker patch, just some fuzzy, murky half-memories of wandering around in the dark. Maybe it was just as well. Maybe there were some things she didn’t want to remember.

  Unlike this moment. This moment she wanted to remember forever.

  “You’ll probably want to grab a quick shower,” he suggested as he set her on her feet in front of the open bathroom door. “I tried to keep your hair out of the way through the worst of it, but I’m not sure I was totally successful.”

  But definitely not this particular moment. This particular moment she’d be more than happy to forget. As soon as possible.

  She closed the door behind her, taking a moment to lean against it and look around the bathroom. Her clothes, a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, were neatly folded on the sink, right next to a big, fluffy towel.

  A vague memory of his saying something about Dulcie giving them to Tanner floated through her mind, but it didn’t really matter. She’d been too busy enjoying the feel of his words rumbling in his chest to worry about what he’d actually had to say.

  Too bad Dulcie hadn’t sent her toothbrush. Her mouth tasted like goats had been sleeping in there. A bottle of mouthwash caught her eye and she poured a hefty swig into a tiny paper cup and sloshed it around in her mouth until she couldn’t stand the burn any longer.

  She stepped out of the big pajama bottoms and pulled the overly large T-shirt over her head, wincing as she lifted her arms. A quick check in the mirror revealed a bruise the size of her hand on her side. She’d have to remember to ask if she�
��d wrestled any bulls last night. And what the bull won after winning the match.

  Climbing into the warm shower, she allowed the hot water to flow over her face and into her hair. What a godsend! It felt so good, it was even worth the pain of standing on her poor, wounded feet.

  Try as she might to remember, the whole sticker incident was a blur. In fact, a major portion of the evening was a blur, though some of it was coming back to her in bits and pieces. She remembered wandering down a dark alley. Remembered making her way down a hallway that could have been straight out of some old horror film. Remembered smoke. A fire, maybe? She did have a vague memory of being really upset when she’d left the restaurant, so that might make sense.

  She leaned over to rinse soap from her hair, and the movement set her head pounding. At least it was only a headache now, not that awful, nauseous spinning she’d felt last night.

  Not like when she’d come out of the ladies’ room. Not like when she’d peeked into the kitchen.

  Not at all like when she’d seen Shayla and Logan kissing.

  * * *

  Urging Allie to hurry up again was the last thing Logan wanted to do. She no doubt felt awful this morning considering the night she’d had. If only he’d known enough to warn her against that second drink, he might have saved her going through all this.

  But he hadn’t.

  What he had done was spend the night rubbing her back and holding her hair as her body had rejected the alcohol she’d poured into it. But not even that was enough to make up for what she’d gone through. And now he needed to force her to move faster, because they were running out of time. The alarm he’d set would be going off soon to warn them they needed to get moving if they were going to get her home before six, like he’d promised Dulcie they would.

  The water in the bathroom had stopped running quite a while ago, but he’d heard no other movement behind the door. Worry over her physical well-being began to outweigh any concern over getting her home too late to conceal the fact that she’d been out all night.