Nothing But Trouble

by Amy Andrews

  A grudging smile touched her mouth. “Definitely.”

  “Well…for what it’s worth, I’m…sorry you went through all that. ”

  An apology wasn’t much, and what was done was done, but he could acknowledge what she’d been through and its impact. He could be sorry that she hadn’t had the white picket fence upbringing she deserved. That hundreds of thousands of kids growing up in broken homes in this country deserved.

  Tonight, more than ever, he was grateful for his upbringing, for parents who loved each other and a community that took care of one another.

  He handed over her phone, and she took it, her cheeks pinking up as if suddenly embarrassed by her spiel, by what she’d given away. “Other kids have it much worse.”

  Sure. But one did not negate the other. Sensing she was closing off, he changed the subject. “So…why the ocean? You can get white picket fences all over the country.”

  She perked up a little at the change of subject. “It’s the first place I remember being happy, you know? That school trip I went on to California. It was so wild and beautiful and…free. There’s something so free about the ocean. And…everybody was just so damn…happy around me. Of course, the fact it was far, far away from Nebraska also helped. I don’t—” She shook her head. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like you and this place.”

  She looked around at the heavy brocade curtains covering the tall windows, at the embossed wallpaper and the high ceilings.

  “You remember how much you wanted this house as a child? It wasn’t rational or even possible at that stage, but it was there, in your gut.”

  “Yeah…” Wade nodded. He understood irrational pulls, he was feeling one now, feeling a warmness in his gut and a skip in his pulse as CC’s lashes made shadows on her cheekbones whenever they closed.

  “That’s how I felt after I’d been to California. So I headed there as soon as I was finished with school. Got my first job at a reception desk of a Rodondo Beach hotel. And, until you, I hadn’t moved from California.”

  And, too soon, she was going to be moving back. Christ. What would he do without her? He’d spent years building their working relationship, and she knew all his stuff. The way he liked things on his desk and what was his favorite takeout and which auto shop he used and which bow tie he liked best and…and when not to talk to him and who he went to for particular career issues and…who he confided in, who he trusted.

  It would take forever for someone else to learn it all. And who else would put up with his crap? “About that.”

  His heart beat double-time as his brain crowded with the words to say next, the dozen ways he could open a dialogue about extending her contract. But the next episode started, and she was returning her attention to the screen, shushing him quiet. So he shushed. Because sitting companionably with CC was preferable to her getting cranky.

  And he was a big, fat coward.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wade could not believe he was sitting in the bleachers at the Credence High School football field a week later, watching four buses loaded to the gills with women disgorge their cargo.

  But his mother had made him promise he’d be here, and CC had guilted him into keeping it.

  “Well hello, ladies,” Drew said, grinning as the sound of female voices and laughter drifted to them on the breeze. Even from this distance, the women of all shapes and sizes sparkled in the summer sunshine.

  Most of the town had turned out to witness the spectacle, as evidenced by the parked cars ringing the perimeter of the field. It made Wade feel less pervy sitting up here with his friends when the entire town appeared to also be staring.

  Sure, most of them were actually there to pick up one of the temporary arrivals as their hosts for the weekend, but they were still agog at so many women. Wade doubted Credence had ever had this many women, even in its heyday.

  One hundred and eighty, according to CC.

  “Who said all your Christmases can’t come at once?” Drew mused.

  Wade snorted. “Bah humbug,” he muttered, then threw back a fistful of Nerds.

  He was sure his face was somehow going to end up on the front of a tabloid, either from one of the women snapping a sneaky pic on her phone or one of the many telephoto lenses strung around the necks of so-called journalists currently fluttering around the women in the middle of the field.

  And no one could convince him any different.

  “Who brought the Grinch?” Arlo asked. “Or whoever the hell you’re supposed to be,” he added as he took in the baseball cap pulled low on Wade’s forehead and the dark sunglasses.

  The guys laughed, and Wade rolled his eyes. “I’m incognito, dickwad.”

  “You really need to work on your attitude toward law enforcement there, buddy.”

  “Bite me.”

  More laughter as Wyatt sat forward, twirling his hat between his legs. “They sure do look pretty.”

  Which, for Wyatt, was profuse praise. Wade would have thought this was the kind of place his brother would have run a hundred miles from, but his mother had tasked Wyatt with picking up the two women they were hosting for the weekend, and what his mother wanted, his mother usually got.

  She might have been little, but she was fierce.

  God knew what Wyatt was going to say to them, given how tongue-tied he was around the opposite sex, but maybe they’d be gaga for the strong, silent type. Wade didn’t know how long it had been since his brother had last gotten laid, but the guy clearly needed a bit of somethin’ somethin’.

  “Yeah, they do,” Tucker agreed. He’d shut the bar for an hour so he could also be here to check out the newcomers. “Sure hope they like to drink.”

  It was Wade’s experience that when women flocked together, they were all about the drinking. He expected it to be kinda wild at Jack’s the next couple of nights. “Been brushing up on your fruity cocktails?” Wade asked.

  “Just because you yokels only drink beer doesn’t mean I can’t mix a mean daiquiri. I even bought little umbrellas.”

  Wade laughed. He’d never thought he’d see drinks with umbrellas being served at Jack’s.

  A megaphone crackled to life and carried across the field. “Okay ladies, gather around.” It was his mother doing what she did best—corralling. “We have our mayor, Don Randall, to say a few words of welcome, then we’ll get you all situated with your hosts.”

  About half of the women followed the no-nonsense authority in Ronnie’s voice to a small raised dais supporting a mic stand and a preening Don. Several trestle tables had been set up next to the dais. CC and Cal were one of a half-dozen people sitting behind the tables, manned with clipboards, ready to let the visitors know where they were being hosted. Bob and Ray were there, as was Arlo’s sister.

  The other half were too busy chatting or hugging or squealing excitedly to follow his mother’s instructions. They were braver people than he. Clearly, these were the ones who were here to have fun. Something to tell their city friends about when they got home.

  Wade shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the thought.

  “If you would please, ladies?” His mother’s voice again, this time in that tone he knew so well. “We want to get you settled in with your hosts as soon as possible.”

  Arlo stood and pulled his hat low on his forehead. “That’s my cue. Looks like there’s some crowd control needed.”

  “Shit, man,” Drew lamented. “Some days your job just sucks, right?”

  “Well…it’s tough, I can’t deny, but someone’s got to do it.”

  Tucker laughed. “What a prince. Taking one for the team like that.”

  “I think the word you’re after is upstanding citizen,” Arlo said as he turned away and tramped down the bleachers like he had springs in his boots. As soon as he hit the grass, though, his limp, usually so subtle most people weren’t even aware he
had a prosthetic leg, suddenly became more pronounced.

  Upstanding citizen bullshit. Arlo was really working it.

  “He’s so getting laid tonight,” Drew said.

  All the guys nodded.

  …

  CC was thrilled with the turnout. It was warm in the sun, and she was grateful for her baseball cap and her icy cold Red Bull. Not that she needed it; the buzz from the crowd in the middle of the field was energizing. The chatter had risen tenfold as the host families had descended to claim their charges. It seemed like everyone was already getting on like a house on fire.

  There was only about a dozen women left to allocate, and then they could move on to the next part of the proceedings—checking all was going according to plan for the street party tonight.

  CC smiled at the next woman in the line. She had a small battered-looking carry-on sized case at her feet, which were shod in scuffed-looking sneakers. She looked about thirty, average height, average size, and was wearing jeans that were faded in the kind of way that spoke of multiple washes rather than designer labels. Her T-shirt was plain blue, and her hair, which might have been red once, was now a faded kind of chestnut and pulled back into a ponytail.

  “Come on over,” she said, waving her closer.

  Rather than dragging the case by its handle, she picked it up, and CC could see that it was missing a wheel.

  “Hi,” she said. “I’m CC, welcome to Credence.”

  The woman smiled, and it was warm and lovely, but CC was hit by how tired she looked. “I’m Jenny. Jennifer. Jennifer Charles.”

  CC consulted the printouts she’d painstakingly prepared for everyone helping with the check-in procedure. They were all arranged alphabetically according to surname, and every page had details of each visitor as well as which family was hosting them, including which family representative would be picking them up from the field.

  “Oh yes, Jennifer. Here you are.” CC was surprised to read that the woman in front of her was twenty-five, not thirty. She must have been really tired. “Oh, how lucky, you’re with the Carters.” CC nudged Wade’s father in the ribs. “Cal, meet Jennifer, your second guest.”

  She couldn’t have been any more different from the bouncy twenty-two-year-old blonde CC had checked in about twenty minutes ago. Roxy had been in tiny shorts and an even tinier T-shirt that was more boob tube than anything else. She’d been sporting two large suitcases—one apparently for her accessories, although, if they were as tiny as the rest of her clothes, CC wasn’t entirely sure why she needed such big bags. Wyatt had practically retreated inside his shell at the sight of her as he’d come forward to collect his charge.

  Cal looked up from his papers and smiled at Jennifer, reaching out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.” They shook hands. “Wyatt’s going to take you back to the farm.” Cal moved his body back and forward, craning his neck to see around the milling groups for his son. “He should be around somewhere. And Ronnie, that’s the mad woman with the megaphone—but don’t tell her I said that.” He chuckled deeply at his own daring. “She’s my wife. We’ll be along in a little while. Gotta check on some last-minute things for tonight.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  CC handed over the welcome pack, something they’d prepared to help their guests become acquainted with the town, and a copy of the program that had been organized for them over the course of the weekend.

  “Just a little something to help you navigate the weekend.” She spotted Wyatt’s hatted head a little ways off. Roxy was chatting away madly, and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

  “Oh, thank you.”

  Jenny scanned through the pages as CC waved her hand at Wyatt to get his attention. She didn’t know where Wade was, but she knew he was here. She could feel his eyes on her, which she’d been too busy to dwell on, thankfully. Because something had shifted between them since the night they’d folded bandages and she’d opened up a little about her childhood and why California was so important. It wasn’t something she’d ever done with Wade and, had he not shared the Jasmine story earlier that day, she probably never would have.

  It wasn’t that she’d felt she owed him. It wasn’t quid pro quo. But it had felt…right…in that moment. She’d wanted to tell him.

  And there’d been a sense of ease between them ever since.

  Ronnie approached with her megaphone, and CC performed the introductions. “So lovely to meet you,” Ronnie said, smiling pleasantly before picking up the megaphone and calling, “Wyatt to the registration desk, please.”

  CC clamped down on a smile as Wyatt reacted immediately. Any other time, she suspected he might take exception to his mother embarrassing him like this, but Wyatt looked relieved for any excuse to leave Little Miss Chatty. He strode over in long lanky strides in his usual efficient manner.

  “This is Jenny, darlin’,” Ronnie said as he approached. “She’ll be staying with us for the next two nights.”

  Jenny turned to face Wyatt just as he was pulling up, and what happened next was like something out of a cartoon. Wyatt performed a double-take at the first sight of Jenny, and neither of them did or said anything for a beat or two, they just stared.

  Ronnie nudged CC in the ribs and glanced at Cal, who was also watching the interplay between his son and their guest.

  Finally, Jenny stuck out her hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Wyatt.” She didn’t look so tired anymore.

  Wyatt, to his credit, had the wherewithal to remove his hat before sliding his hand into hers. CC was sure she saw his Adam’s apple bob—twice. “Likewise, ma’am.”

  Neither broke the handshake, they just looked at each other like neither had seen a member of the opposite sex before. Ronnie was beaming at the exchange.

  “It’s just Jenny,” she finally said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jenny laughed then, and so did Wyatt and it was warm and sincere, and then Jenny was beaming and it was like being dropped into the middle of a headlight factory.

  “Maybe you should be getting this young lady home, Wyatt?”

  Ronnie’s interruption brought the two of them out of their trance, and Wyatt dropped her hand and quickly glanced away from Jenny, cramming his hat on his head. “Sure,” he said, picking up her bag.

  “I can get that,” she said, reaching for it.

  He looked at her again. “I got it.”

  She dropped her hand. “Thank you.”

  Wyatt just nodded and said, “Let’s go.”

  Jenny smiled at them and said, “See you later, Cal, Ronnie,” and turned to follow Wyatt, who was three paces ahead.

  “Well…I’ll be…” Ronnie’s hand fluttered around her throat as she and Cal and CC watched Jenny and Wyatt depart.

  “Chemistry,” Cal said, nodding.

  And CC had to admit he was right. The air had bristled between Jenny and Wyatt. She was happy for Wyatt. The guy might be quiet and not quite the dazzler that was Wade, but he was a good, kind, decent man and, in a world full of jerks, that wasn’t to be sneezed at.

  Maybe this crazy idea hadn’t been so crazy after all.

  …

  Wyatt barely dared to breathe as he steered the ATV to the bottom field where the hogs were grazing. On the seat behind him sat Jennifer, her thighs warm and soft along the outside of his, her arms around his waist.

  “You can go faster, you know?” Her voice was low and throaty, like she had a cold, and it tickled his ear and, if possible, his pulse picked up even more. Could she feel his heart pounding through his abdomen?

  Go faster? And have this end quicker? No way.

  He couldn’t get his head around what had just happened. Thinking about it had his hands trembling around the handlebars. He’d been ready to head for the Rockies when Roxy had landed on him with her bags and her fancy nails and her incessant chatter
about the heat and the lack of wifi and Instagram.

  She was very pretty, with a cute nose and a smattering of freckles. But way too outgoing for him—not that she was in Credence for him, but he’d known if they were all like this he’d be staying home tonight. His own shyness was magnified tenfold by such extroversion, and he didn’t need to feel any more awkward than he already did around women.

  Roxy thought everything was cute and wanted to take a picture of it for her Instagram followers, of which there were apparently many. In twenty minutes, while he’d politely listened, she’d told him all about her best friend’s recent operation for bigger boobs and showed him the pics on Insta, how her boss was having an affair with one of the customer’s wives, and recounted the disasters of her last date with a guy she just should have swiped left on.

  These also all seemed to be hysterically funny, if her constant giggle was any gauge. He hoped it was just because she was nervous, otherwise her lack of filter was staggering. He couldn’t imagine confiding any of his secrets to her. And he wondered how hilarious she’d find him still being a virgin at his age.

  For him, it was no laughing matter. Just thinking about it made his ears hot and his chest tight. It was embarrassing and…weird.

  Roxy would probably want to take a snap of his cute virginal dick and put it on Insta.

  Hashtag fortyyearoldvirgin.

  Then his mother was hollering at him through that dang megaphone he’d been wishing someone would take off her, and he’d met Jenny, and everything he’d always known was missing was suddenly right in front of him. It was such a ridiculous thing to feel in one instant, one tick of time, but he’d never been more certain of anything. Maybe she didn’t flash and sparkle like Roxy, who had preferred some alone time with the house wifi than a tour of the farm, but it felt like he’d been made for Jenny, that he was put on this earth for her.

  Maybe she didn’t feel the same way. His experience with reading women was, after all, pretty much zero. But he thought he’d felt a connection.

  The shyness he always felt around females didn’t seem to be as acute around her, either. He was never going to be as slick as Wade, but he felt like he could actually talk to Jenny instead of stammer like a fool and kick the ground.