by Kim Boykin
Was it the challenge he loved, to take her away from the asshole? Maybe. A little. And what would he do with her if he had her? Other than the obvious. It was clear Rainey Brown was a handful. Did he really want that? Did he really need that? But he must because he was driving himself fucking crazy, and there was nothing he could do about it.
This wasn’t like him. Beck was a guy who craved control, anybody who runs their own restaurant does. He designed his place, decided everything, the menus, the wine, the staff, when they were open. Everything, right down to the kind of furniture polish they used. And yet he felt helpless. Rainey held all the cards. Rainey was in control and what had she’d wanted? To go back to that fucking dump of a motel.
She’s probably talking to that asshole right now. His phone buzzed and he started to ignore it, but it was Dillon, and Beck hoped he could gain a little ground or at least know what was going on with Rainey’s car since he hadn’t asked her.
“Dude, I was just at Rooster’s for a beer. Half your people were there complaining about you. What’s up?”
“I don’t know. I just had a bad night; I’ll make it up to them. So what’s up with you?”
“I got tired of listening to them dog cuss you. I’m walking over to The Watering Hole. Wanna go?”
“No. I’d better not. So how are you coming on Rainey’s car?”
“It’s so messed up from the anti-freeze bath the engine took. It’s bad. I don’t think I’ve ever had a car this bad. At least she kept her oil changed, but that hasn’t helped a whole lot.”
“So you gonna get it fixed or not?”
“Yeah, but I can’t cut her any slack on the price. I’d hoped once I got in there I could, but I can’t. I feel so bad because it’s Rainey. So if she gets within a hundred bucks, I’m just going to give it to her.”
The thought of seeing her taillights pulling out of town, felt like a kick in the gut. “Do me a favor, Dillon?”
“Yeah, man. Anything.” Beck heard him push through the door of the bar, and then the crowd noise.
“Don’t spot her the money.”
Dillon didn’t say anything for a minute. “You trying to keep her here, Beck?”
“Something like that.”
“I’d like that too.”
CHAPTER NINE
FRIDAY
God, Beck was as bad as Dillon for wanting to keep Rainey. He had to do something to get this woman out of his system. He needed to get laid.
He got dressed, drove into town and pulled in front of the Graff hotel. He went into bar. Brunette or redhead? Beck was good with either.
He found her, sitting alone at one of the tables near the entrance. In her come-fuck-me-heels, she was almost as tall as him, legs up to her neck, long dark hair. She watched him watching her for almost an hour and then they both laughed, tired of playing the game.
Before he could walk over her way, she started toward him. Gorgeous, short red dress, killer face. A man could forget a lot of things with that body.
“Hi, I’m Courtney,” she shook his hand.
“Hey Courtney. Where are you from?”
The bartender put another beer in front of him. “From the lady beside you.”
“Seattle,” she said. Beck grinned as she settled onto the stool beside him. “And you?”
“Born and raised here.”
She crossed her long legs and leaned forward. “They’re either busy or understaffed here tonight because you were supposed to have that drink fifteen minutes ago.”
He glanced at his phone and then toasted her. “You like to cut to the chase, Courtney.” Good, Beck did too.
“Exactly. So, what’s your name?”
Beck needed this. But why in the hell was it all of a sudden so hard to stop thinking about everything this woman wasn’t? She wasn’t petite. She wasn’t blonde. She wasn’t Rainey.
“Jim.” And where the hell did Jim come from? “Beck.”
“You want to get out of here, Jim Beck?”
She was facing him, her knees nudged slightly between his legs. This was what he came for; this is what he needed to get Rainey Brown out of his head.
He looked at his phone. No texts. No calls. Why the hell was he doing that? He needed to get his ass to Courtney’s hotel room. Now. He leaned forward, his lips just below her ear, barely touching. “Yeah, let’s go.” He motioned to the bartender to pick up her tab too, then grabbed her hand and headed for the door.
The way she was looking at him said she needed to get laid just as much as he did. He glanced at his phone and then turned all of his attention to her.
Her dark brown eyes studied him, promising him he wouldn’t be disappointed. But he was already disappointed. Who was he kidding? There was no getting Rainey Brown out of his head or his heart.
Before he could say anything, Courtney stopped in front of the elevator and nodded like she’d had an ah-ha moment, her smile thin. “Mind if I ask you something, Jim Beck?” He nodded. “You seem slightly distracted. Maybe more than slightly?” She held his hand up. “There’s no ring, but you’re kind of giving off a married vibe. Even if this is just for fun, I’m not that girl.”
The truth was, five days ago he would have had this woman screaming his name by now, his real name. But as much as he tried to make himself want her, he didn’t. “It’s complicated,” he said. How trite could he possibly get? “Yeah, I’m sorry, this was a bad idea.”
He thought she would be mad; if things had been the other way around, he might have been. Instead she let go of his hand and smiled like she’d saved him from himself. “Go home, Jim Beck.”
It was just after two in the morning when Beck started making croissants because that was all he could think of to do. After he got home from the bar, he’d tried to sleep, but was too amped up, his mind racing, trying to think of a way to keep Rainey in Marietta. And the best he could come up with was fucking croissants?
Some plain, some chocolate. He put them in a pastry box, grabbed his car keys, and looked at himself in the foyer mirror before he headed out the door. Without any sleep, he looked like shit, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it.
Now that he had admitted to himself that he had to have Rainey, Beck couldn’t imagine ever not feeling this way. But what if she left Marietta? Left him? What if he never saw her again? He’d probably be like one of those pathetic bloodhounds who gets the scent of a person and can’t stop searching until it finds them. Even if it takes forever.
He pulled his hair back in a ponytail and smoothed out his shirt. Oh, hell, he should at least change clothes, but he was running out of time. He sprinted to his closet and was pulling on a clean shirt as he headed to the front door. He stopped in front of the mirror again brushed the flour off of his jeans, grabbed the box, and jumped in the truck.
The back end slid a little on the curves as raced to catch her before she left for work. If he didn’t make it—. He couldn’t let himself think like that.
He parked on the street, blocking the driveway, but he didn’t care. He was almost to the door when she opened it. She looked shocked and maybe a little afraid.
“Hi.” He was breathless, presenting the croissant box like a peace offering. “I wanted to catch you before you left for work, Nell. These are for you.”
“You’re Deb Hartnett’s boy, aren’t you? Beckett.”
Beck didn’t bother to correct her. “Yes ma’am.”
“Is there a reason, you’re blocking my driveway and bringing treats?” her hands were on the bottom of the box. “My God, are these still warm?”
“Yes ma’am. I have a favor to ask.”
Nell took one of the chocolate croissants out of the box and took a bite, closing her eyes. Beck had been a little worried; he hadn’t made them in a while and he didn’t know if they’d be good. The blush on the old woman’s face said they were good enough. “Well, hurry up, you’re making me late for work.”
“You know Rainey’s trying to earn enough money to
get her car fixed?”
“Who doesn’t? One of the newspaper guys here in town wants to do a story on her for next week’s Sunday edition. You know how good folks are around here, always pitching in. Rainey doesn’t want to, but I bet if that story were to run, she’d have enough money to pay for her repairs outright, if not ride out of here in a new car. As it stands now, without the story, I think she’ll be close.”
“How close?”
“A hundred. Maybe a hundred and fifty dollars tops.”
“And what about you, Nell? Are you good people?”
“If you’re asking if I’d help Rainey, the answer is yes.”
“Please. Don’t.”
She looked down at the croissants and then at Beck. “You like that girl?”
“Yeah, I do. I don’t want her to leave. Not for good.”
“I’m not sure it’s right not to help her, but from the looks of it, you’re better than that baseball player guy. She’s told me a little about him—girl talk you know. Sounds like an asshole to me.”
“So you won’t help her?”
She popped the rest of her croissant in her mouth and then licked her fingers. “Promise me some more of the chocolate ones, and it’s a deal.”
“Thanks, Nell, you’ve got them. As many as you want. For life.”
Each morning the motel clerk swiped my Visa card with the tiny credit limit for the room rental, or I bought a meal, I held my breath. I knew it was close to being maxed out. And every time I even thought about those cute wedges I put on the card before I left Columbia, I wanted to kick myself for buying them.
Nell put the sandwich sign on the sidewalk out front, and I re-counted the money in the pickle jar. After I did the wedding party tomorrow, I’d only need $217.89, and I was hoping for a big tip from the bride’s mama. Audrey promised she’d tell everyone at the fancy hotel where she was staying about me, even the concierge. So, with some walk-ins, there should be more than enough money to pay Dillon.
At one point during the day, all five dryers were going with silver heads. I guess Nell must have told her friends about me, but then it was odd because I heard her on the phone turning customers away. A tourist came in to have her hair braided. She’d chosen one of those intricate waterfall designs that takes forever, but since it wasn’t on the menu, I was able to charge what I would normally had charged—fifty bucks. With the money from the wedding, I’d be about a hundred bucks short. If there was no tip.
Five o’clock rolled around and Nell was ready to go home. I’d hoped she’d keep the shop open for walk-ins but she just gave me a look when I asked if she was sure she was ready to go. I went through the pickle jar for the daily count. “After the wedding tomorrow, I may still be short, Nell. I know you don’t open on Saturdays and Sundays, but would it be okay if I came in after I’m done with the wedding party? Might get a few walk-ins.”
I was sure she would say no, but she didn’t. Just mumbled something about croissants and grabbed her great big pocket book. “Here’s the key. You’ll have to lock up and run the key by before you leave.”
“Well you know I’d come by and hug your neck. Say goodbye.”
My cell buzzed in my skirt pocket. I dug it out hoping it would be Adam. Or Beck.
“Hey Rainey, last night in Marietta, huh?”
“Yeah, Dillon. What are you up to?”
“Wanted to see if you wanted to grab a drink—with me. I’m heading over to Group Therapy, it’s a cool bar. You’d like it.”
I couldn’t afford free bar nuts much less a drink. “Thanks, Dillon, but I’ve got a long day tomorrow. Better not.”
“If you change your mind. Just call me, I’ll come pick you up.”
“Thanks. That’s sweet of you.” I ended the call and checked my phone for the umpteenth time. Nothing, Not even a text from Adam. Or Beck.
When I was at work, I tried hard not to think of Beck, but it seemed my thoughts always came back to him. When Nell and I were sitting at our stations, waiting for customers, and chatting, I watched for his car or his truck. And let me tell you there are a lot of white trucks in Marietta, Montana.
I had just fallen asleep when my cell phone rang. Beck. I shouldn’t have answered it. “Hey.”
“So what are you doing your last night in town?”
“Let’s see, I took a bath for an hour. Painted my toenails a different color. What about you?”
“I thought about you all day.”
“Beck, I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I know; I don’t want you to.”
“I have to go.”
“No, Rainey. You don’t have to go, and that’s the damnedest thing. You say you want him, but are you really sure about that?”
The silence, again, but this time uncomfortable as hell. Tears spilled down my face. I couldn’t answer his question. “Beck I—. I’m grateful to you for everything. Maybe if things weren’t the way they are—it would be different. But I have to go. Good night.”
CHAPTER TEN
I couldn’t let myself think about what Beck had said last night, I had twelve bridesmaids and a fussy bride’s hair to fix in time for a four o’clock wedding. I was at the bride’s home by eight and her mama, Rita, set me up in the master bedroom. She handed me a much-needed mimosa and introduced me to the girls who had sounded like they hadn’t sobered up from the rehearsal party last night.
Rita and Missy, the blushing bride, seemed to be cat fighting about everything, making me and the twelve bridesmaids a little nervous. They exchanged big-eyed looks with each other that said this was not a common occurrence, while I scoped out their hair. About half of them had long hair. I’d hoped I could just flat iron or curl their hair with a curling iron and then work on the shorthaired girls and the bride.
“Let’s get started,” I suggested pointing to a fancy brocade chair. “Who’s first?”
“Me. I’m Megan, I’m the maid of honor.” She sat down in the chair while a couple of the other bridesmaids rolled their eyes.
“Missy?” I said, interrupting her fight with her mom over where Missy’s stepmom would be sitting during the wedding. Apparently, Rita didn’t think the poor woman should sit with the family even if she’d married Missy’s daddy fifteen years ago and was family. “Missy? I need to know what you had in mind for the girls’ hair.”
She was definitely the most organized bride I’d ever had. She handed me a color-coded laminated sheet with everyone’s names and their desired do’s and went back to fighting with her mama. I scanned the sheet and wanted to cry. I was going to be was going here all day and half the night.
Meg wanted her hair flat ironed, which wasn’t normally a problem except Meg had tight kinky blonde curls. And being the maid of honor, it was apparently her job to jerk her head around from time to time to police the bridesmaids. No wonder they were rolling their eyes at her. But an hour later, her hair was straight, silky and gorgeous. At the rate I was going, I’d never get done.
And then I heard an angel in the hallway, and Nell walked into the bedroom with her tools, ready to help. Thank you, I mouthed. She waved it off and went right to work on the shorthaired girls.
But even with Nell helping, we didn’t finish until almost 3:00. I’d just finished up weaving flowers into the Missy’s fancy waterfall braids when she got that look in her eye. I liked Missy, she was sweet, but I didn’t have time to play therapist.
I tried to distract her with compliments, but she wasn’t having any of it. “Do you believe in forever, Rainey?”
“You mean loving someone forever? Yes. When you’ve found the right person.”
She held the hand mirror up and looked at the back of her gorgeous hair in the cheval mirror behind her. “But how do you know for sure when you’ve found the one? I mean don’t get me wrong; I love David. I just don’t know about forever. That’s a really long time.”
“Missy, that’s just all those mimosas talking.”
“I don’t know, Rainey, we’ve been toge
ther since high school, that’s already forever. How many forevers do I get in my lifetime?”
“Do you love him, Missy?”
“Yes.”
“If you woke up tomorrow and he wasn’t in your life—.”
“God, no. I love David. I can’t imagine that.”
I took the champagne flute out of her hand, put my hands on her slender shoulders, and looked into her reflection in the mirror. “You are beautiful. You are valuable. David sees that and you love him. So go. Marry him.”
She hugged me and led the parade out the door to the super stretch limo that was waiting to whisk the bride and her posse to the wedding. “You did a good thing,” Nell said as we were getting our tools together. “That girl loves that boy. I’ve seen them around town, she just had cold feet.” Nell handed me the money Rita had given her. “Sorry there’s no tip, kid. Rita went overboard on everything, including her own dress, trying to show up Missy’s stepmom. Shame. She’s a nice lady too.”
I tried to give her half of the money, but she refused. “Thanks, Nell.”
She dropped me back at the Cut ‘n Curl and wished me luck. Saturday must have been a big day for tourists in Marietta. The sidewalks were packed with people, but none of them came into the Cut ‘n Curl. It was after six when I called Dillon’s cell phone. “Hey, Dillon, I’m still a little short. Unless something changes, I’ll have to open Nell’s shop tomorrow and hope for some walk-ins.”
“You can settle up whenever you can, Rainey. I finished the car this morning; I’ll bring it over in a few minutes, I’m closing up for the day.”
“Thanks. That’s sweet of you.”
“It runs good now. I filled it up for you, even washed and waxed it.”
“I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to thank you enough, Dillon.”
“So what’s your plan?”