His First and Last (Ardent Springs #1)

by Terri Osburn

Chapter 2

  Lorelei woke up when her head smacked off the passenger door window as Spencer’s truck bounced through the potholes in Granny’s driveway. She’d been having a vivid dream that included Spencer, herself, and a hot tub. The memory of it hurt more than the bump on the head.

  “You still snore,” Spencer said. No good morning sunshine. No you’re pretty when you sleep. Only a reminder that she snored. Jerk.

  “Then I guess we’re all caught up.” Lorelei yawned, stretching her back as much as possible with the seat belt on. “I can’t believe Granny hasn’t fixed this driveway.”

  “We’ve filled in the holes a couple of times, but the rains wash it back out again.”

  We? What the hell did he mean we?

  The truck stopped in front of the old garage, which looked freshly painted. Maybe we had painted that, too. As soon as Spencer slid the vehicle into park, Champ bolted over the side, barking his head off as if alerting the entire county to their arrival. Lorelei preferred to make a quieter entrance, but she had to admit she was excited to see her grandmother.

  It had definitely been too long.

  By the time she’d climbed from her seat and crossed behind the truck, Granny appeared on the porch. Lorelei gave in to the urge. Kicking her shoes off in two different directions, not caring one flying fig where they landed, she followed Champ’s example and bolted across the yard, slowing enough not to knock the older woman off her feet.

  Everything Lorelei needed was in that hug. Love, acceptance, joy. Even the hint of sadness for more than a decade apart made the embrace all the more honest. How long had it been since she’d felt honest contact with another human being?

  Years.

  “Step back and let me get a look at you,” Granny mumbled against her shoulder. Even without shoes on, Lorelei was half a foot taller than the woman who’d raised her. “You were beautiful when you left here all those years ago, but now you’re absolutely gorgeous. As I knew you would be.”

  “Granny,” Lorelei said, “it’s not as if I haven’t sent you pictures.”

  “Pictures don’t do you justice.” A soft hand tapped Lorelei’s cheek. “I’m so happy you’re home.” Another tight squeeze around her middle, and then the woman jerked back. “You must be starving. I’ve got the chicken and dumplings in the Crock-Pot, but let’s get you settled in first.”

  Granny stepped to the side, yelling, “Spencer!” only to find him standing on the bottom step holding two suitcases. “You’re such a good boy. Would you mind taking those up to Lorelei’s room? You know which one it is.”

  Either Spencer had been given a tour of the upstairs in the last twelve years, or all those nights he’d climbed the hickory tree to get in her window, he could have come through the front door.

  “No problem.” Spencer wiped his boots on the worn welcome mat as Granny held open the screen.

  “You’ll stay and have dumplings with us, too.” Granny smiled at Lorelei, looking very satisfied with herself. After all these years, she couldn’t think . . .

  “Granny?” Lorelei crossed her arms. “Spencer and I aren’t picking up where we left off. You know that, right?”

  Tiny round glasses slid down a pert nose as her eyes went wide. “I never said you were.”

  She may not have spoken the words, but the message in those blue depths shone loud and clear.

  “You stay here, Champ. I’ll bring your food out in a minute.” Granny tugged Lorelei inside, shuffling across the scratched hardwood floor to the kitchen. “I made a fresh pitcher of sweet tea for you. I know whatever they have out there in California doesn’t come close to my sweet tea.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Lorelei stared back at the beast breathing against the screen door. “Granny, did you say you were going to feed Spencer’s dog?”

  “Sure,” she said, tittering about, grabbing a glass, then opening the fridge to fetch the pitcher and some ice. “Not that Spencer doesn’t feed him, but when he works late, I make sure Champ gets his dinner.” Granny reached for another glass. “I make sure Spencer eats, too. I swear, that boy would work himself to skin and bones if I didn’t keep on him.”

  So now she was a dog sitter? And fed Lorelei’s ex on a regular basis? Something smelled fishy in Farmville.

  “Where exactly does Spencer live?”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Her voice went up an octave as if to show surprise, but Lorelei recognized bad acting when she saw it. Hell, according to critics, she was an expert at it.

  “Come clean, old woman, and stop trying to con a con. Does Spencer live here with you?”

  “In the house? No, of course not.” A tall glass of tea was pushed across the large center island. “Drink up now. Before all the ice melts.”

  The half-dozen ice cubes chilling the tea would take longer than a few seconds to melt. Granny was dancing around something. Before Lorelei could press further, Spencer returned, setting his cowboy hat on the back of the couch before joining them in the kitchen. His light brown hair was cut close, with specks of blond scattered throughout.

  Lorelei resisted the urge to run a hand through it to fluff where the hat had flattened it. She’d done that often when they were young.

  “Bags are on the bed. Ginger was checking them out when I left, so they should be covered in white hair in no time.”

  Distracted from her living arrangement quandary, Lorelei asked, “You still have that cat?”

  “I do. Ginger turned seventeen this year.” Granny smiled with pride. “She’s going to be so happy to see you.”

  “That cat hated me.”

  “She did not.”

  “She bit me. Twice. And I still have the scar on my arm from where she clawed me.”

  Pulling three large bowls from the cupboard, Granny moved to the silverware drawer. Everything was still in the same place, as if no time had passed since Lorelei left.

  “You were always poking at her,” Granny said. “You can’t blame her for biting you when you provoked her.”

  “I never provoked that cat,” Lorelei defended, choosing to stick with her selective memory. She might have poked. Once.

  “You were always poking at somebody or something,” Spencer piped in as he lifted the glass of tea to his smirking lips. “That was part of your charm.”

  Instead of coming to Lorelei’s defense, Granny joined in the mirth. “That was your way of getting attention. My, you longed for attention. It’s why I wasn’t surprised when you ran off to become famous.”

  “I didn’t run off to become famous,” Lorelei corrected. “I left to pursue an acting career.”

  “You can’t get famous doing that,” Spencer mumbled, eliciting another cackle from Granny, who had the grace to smother the sound once Lorelei shot her a warning look.

  “We’re only playing with you, darling.” The lid came off the Crock-Pot. “I expected you to grow a sense of humor over the years. You always were too serious for your own good.”

  Granny filled the bowls with chicken and dumplings, the smell sending memories bouncing through Lorelei’s brain and making her mouth water. She wanted those dumplings, but she didn’t have the strength to endure an evening of these two pointing out every one of her flaws.

  “If you two don’t mind, it’s been a long day. I’d like to eat my supper in my room.”

  Spencer and Granny exchanged a look that said they both felt sheepish. Good. Lorelei may have been a class A brat, but she still had feelings. She carried her bowl and tea to the base of the stairs before remembering the mystery of Spencer’s home address.

  “Spencer?” she said, turning back toward the kitchen. “Where do you live?”

  Another glance was exchanged. They were definitely up to something. Soft brown eyes met hers. “I rent the apartment over the garage.”

  That meant she could see his place from her bedroom window. And he could see her as well, if she left the curtains open. A shiver of awareness shot down Lorelei’s spine, threatening to make her knees week
. Flashes of teenage groping filled her mind.

  Then again, there’d been no groping with Spencer. He’d always taken the time to make her feel special.

  Lorelei shook her head to send the pictures back where they belonged—in the past.

  “Right. Well. That explains it.” Keeping her face expressionless, she smiled at the two people she’d loved and left. “Good night then.”

  Spencer watched Lorelei disappear up the steps. “You were right, Rosie. She’s lost.”

  “I don’t know what happened to her over there, but it changed her. Hurt her.” Rosie carried her bowl to the kitchen table, where Spencer joined her. “I’m just happy to have her home, where we can help.”

  “The last thing she wants is our help,” he said, pushing in Rosie’s chair before taking a seat in his own. “That part is clear.”

  “What did she say on the way up here?”

  “Not much.” He shrugged one shoulder. “She didn’t even ask why I was there to pick her up.”

  Just as she hadn’t flinched at the news that Spencer lived over the garage. He’d been Rosie’s tenant since shortly after his divorce five years ago. Having little to no relationship with his mother, and wanting nothing to do with her family, who were scattered around the back roads of the county, he’d been a bit lost when the life he’d built fell apart.

  Rosie had been a sorely needed lifeline. Thankfully, she’d never blamed him for Lorelei’s sudden departure all those years ago, and she offered him shelter when he couldn’t afford anything else. In fact, she’d been more family to him than his own flesh and blood had ever been.

  “You’re kidding.” Rosie slid a napkin across her lap. “I expected that to be her first question.”

  “Nope. She acted as if my being there was no big deal. As if nothing had ever happened between us.” Which had hurt more than Spencer would ever admit. At least if she’d been angry, he’d know she still felt something for him.

  “That’s a bad sign.” Concern etched the older woman’s face. “She’s worse off than I thought. But we won’t give up on her. She needs us, and we’re going to take care of her.”

  Spencer was more than willing to take care of the woman he’d never stopped loving, but revealing that fact too soon would put Lorelei’s shapely bottom right on a plane bound for parts unknown. He’d have to wait her out. Keep a casual distance, but show her he was there when she needed him.

  Lorelei had never asked for help a day in her life. Learning that she was on the brink of being homeless had taken all of Rosie’s efforts, and then she’d only gotten her granddaughter to come home by promising to offer shelter and nothing more. If Lorelei thought for one minute they were plotting, making her sound like a fixer-upper project, the visit would end in the morning.

  Time was what Lorelei needed. Which was good, since he had all the time in the world. Spencer couldn’t rewrite the past, but he’d be damned if he’d let the past repeat itself.

  Champ barked, pulling Spencer out of his thoughts.

  “Oh, I forgot to feed him,” Rosie said.

  “No problem.” Spencer fetched the dog’s bowl from the pantry, then tossed in two scoops of the dry food Rosie kept on hand. “I’m surprised he’s been patient this long.” He added an extra scoop for good measure.

  Setting the bowl on the porch, he gave the dog a pat on the head. “You came around eventually, didn’t you, buddy?” Spencer had found Champ wet, scared, and hungry, cowering on the side of the road two years ago. It took an hour to get him in the truck, and another six months before the dog stopped flinching every time he tried to pet him.

  “Lorelei will come around, too.” He watched the dog eat. “I can wait.”

  The dream was more like a flashback. Eighteen-year-old Lorelei stood near the founding father statue in the town square wearing tattered Daisy Dukes and a faded Matchbox 20 shirt. Anger, fueled by a lethal combination of hurt, desperation, and pride, threatened to send her over the edge. Lorelei had just told Spencer she wanted to move to Los Angeles to chase her dream of being an actress, expecting him to share her excitement, lift her off the ground, and tell her how fabulous their life on the coast would be.

  Only Spencer wasn’t excited at all. He was obstinate, telling her she wasn’t going anywhere because she was going to marry him and stay in Ardent Springs, where they belonged. How dare he tell her no, as if she were some petulant child asking permission? Lorelei shoved a lid on her temper and calmly explained that she could never be happy in their hometown.

  The place where no one ever said anything nice about her. Where the church ladies tittered to each other every time she crossed their paths. Where her peers excluded her, acting as if she were somehow tainted and contagious.

  But most of all, where her mother had been judged and vilified and taken from her much too soon.

  “I need to do this, Spencer. Come with me,” she pleaded.

  He shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere, and if you loved me, you wouldn’t be either.”

  Spencer’s words flipped something in her brain, and her temper boiled over. Their raised voices had drawn a crowd of onlookers, providing Lorelei with the perfect audience. She’d tell these people what she thought of them. No one in this town had ever cared one ounce about Lorelei Pratchett, so why should she spare their precious feelings?

  “This town is nothing!” she’d yelled, making sure everyone could hear her loud and clear. “You’re a bunch of worthless, judgmental hypocrites, and you can all go to hell.”

  Turning on Spencer, she dragged the engagement ring with the almost nonexistent little diamond over her knuckle.

  “You’re no different than the rest of them,” she accused. “I don’t need you or your crappy ring.” With that, she flung the piece of jewelry through the air, running in the opposite direction before it ever hit the ground.

  And she kept running. Lorelei ran until her lungs burned and the lights of the town square had ceased to fill the night. Until she could see nothing in the darkness, but she could still hear them. The taunting voices tormenting her brain.

  “Go, you little brat.”

  “We won’t miss you around here.”

  “You’ll never amount to anything, just like your mother.”

  The last voice jerked her from the dream, and Lorelei woke to the sound of incessant barking and what sounded like someone relieving himself outside her window. The dream wasn’t new, but she hadn’t experienced it in several years. She should have guessed coming home would bring it all back to the surface. Roused memories she’d spent twelve years burying in her psyche.

  Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she waited for her heart rate to slow before throwing off the old wedding ring quilt Granny’s granny had made and padding to the window seat.

  What she saw made her wonder if she’d gone from dreaming about the ugly past to what life could have been if she’d stuck around.

  A gorgeous man, wearing nothing but low-slung jeans and cowboy boots, pointed a garden hose straight up in the air, shaking drops of water from his sun-bleached hair and laughing as his dog danced in circles, trying to catch the falling mist on his tongue.

  So this is what she’d given up.

  Spencer had always been able to find pleasure in the simple things in life. What he’d ever seen in her, Lorelei didn’t know. She’d certainly never earned his misplaced love. And whatever it had been, that part of her was gone now.

  Lorelei’s brain told her to leave the window, but her heart wasn’t letting her go anywhere. She enjoyed watching them play, as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Of course, the dog didn’t. But how had Spencer stayed so happy over the years? He’d been through some rough times of his own. A failed marriage to some hometown girl Lorelei didn’t know. A lost child, though she’d never bring that up to him. Even she wasn’t that heartless.

  Besides, breaching such a deep hurt would open up an intimacy between them that Lorelei didn’t want to encourage. Encouraging anything
between her and Spencer would only lead to trouble. To more hurt when she once again caught a plane out of Tennessee.

  Then again, if he knew what she’d become, that she’d been “the other woman” who’d destroyed a family, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her anyway. Spencer deserved better than Lorelei Pratchett. He always had.

  Sliding onto the cushioned bench, she pulled her knees to her chest and watched Spencer alternate between washing his truck and sending his dog into water-filled fits of joy. He’d make a good dad someday. She wished that for him. To find a woman who would give him the family he’d always wanted.

  Knowing Spencer, he wished the same for her.

  Though right now she wished he’d put a shirt on. Why couldn’t he have developed a beer belly and gone bald? That might have made it easier to remember she wanted nothing to do with men, especially this man. Then again, Spencer would still be a sweet, generous, reliable guy regardless of his outward appearance.

  He’d still be her Spencer.

  Before Lorelei sunk too deep into pondering her high school sweetheart’s positive qualities, the smell of Granny’s nut bread drifted into the room. After a quick trip to the bathroom to brush her teeth and splash water on her face, she charged down the steps the same way she had as a girl.

  Upon reaching the kitchen, Lorelei gawked at the spread before her. Breads, muffins, cloverleaf rolls, and an array of cookies covered every available surface.

  How had she not noticed the smell before now? She would have loved to spend the morning baking with Granny, just like in the old days. The memory tasted almost as sweet as the treats spread out before her.

  “Please tell me you didn’t do all of this for me,” she said, stepping up to the island. “I’m going to put on ten pounds the first week I’m here if you did.”

  Lorelei reached for a muffin, only to have her hand slapped.

  “Don’t get any ideas. These are for the bake sale tomorrow.”

  “Bake sale?” The church must be in need of new hymnals or something.

  “For the theater,” Granny said, slicing brownies and stacking them on a blue platter. “I’m sure I told you in my last letter.”