by Gina Ardito
We do? “I look terrible in pink,” Bo replied.
Bonnie waved a hand. “You know what we mean.”
Not really—which only confirmed Rob’s accusation about her lack of femininity yet again. But she feigned eagerness to be polite.
Ian leaned over the bar. “Hey, boss. You want anything?”
“Just water, please.” If Drew planned to keep his head about him, she probably should, too.
“You okay?” he asked. “You look kinda flushed.”
“I’m probably a bit sun-kissed,” she replied. “I was out in the canyon.”
“Without sunscreen?”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Were her many caretakers planning to be involved in every aspect of her life? She shrugged. “It was after five.”
“That don’t matter. The sun here is a lot stronger than you’re used to.”
An arm snaked around her waist, and she turned to see Drew behind her. “Everything all right, sweetheart?”
“Aha!” Shiloh crowed. “I guess we now know who watched the sunset with her. Drew, good to see you again.”
“She’s been kissed all right, but I don’t think it was the sun that’s made her cheeks all red,” Abby added with a smirk. “I’d ask how you’re doing, Drew, but it looks like you’re doing really well for yourself.”
Everyone laughed—except Bo. “You know what?” She placed her hand on his forearm. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t you want your water?” Ian asked.
She shook her head. “No. Forget it. I’ll get water at Drew’s place.”
A chorus of “Oooooh” rose up from the people around them.
“This is serious between you two?” Abby asked.
She wanted to say it was nobody’s business, but Drew beat her to the punch. “Too soon to tell, but if it becomes serious, we won’t try to hide it the way you and Cooper did.”
“We did not hide it.”
Shiloh giggled. “Only because you were both lousy at it.”
“Okay, that’s probably true.” Abby touched her hand, stopping Bo in mid-slide off the bar stool. “When I was trying to decide what I wanted to do about Cooper and me, I took off one night, packed my stuff, and drove out of town. Gave myself twenty-four hours in a motel room to really think things through, to figure out what mattered most to me and where I belonged. I came back to the canyon and Cooper. I’ve never regretted it. This place, it gets to you.” She tapped her heart. “And the men in this area only make it that much harder to say goodbye.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Shiloh lifted her plastic pint of beer in salute.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Shi,” Bonnie retorted, “just jump Waylon’s bones and get it over with.”
“You think I should?”
“Yes!”
While the sisters continued their conversation about Shiloh and her Waylon, Bo slid a sideways glance Drew’s way. “I guess that’s my fair warning about the men in this town, huh?”
“You said it, darlin’,” he crooned. “Not me.”
Everyone else broke into laughter again, but unease flitted around Bo, and she sought an escape route.
“Ladies,” Drew said, as if he sensed her need to move, to get out, to stop with the small talk. “It’s been nice seeing y’all again, but I think Bo and I should get going. Have a good evening.”
“G’night, Drew,” Abby said. “Bo, think about joining us next Sunday. It won’t be Frito chili pie, but we’ll make do.”
She had no idea if Abby was joking or serious, so she smiled and gave her a noncommittal, “I’ll see what I can work out.”
Chapter 11
Outside, the night was warm velvet, dotted with platinum stars, as Drew led Bo through the parking lot to his Jeep. They climbed into their respective seats and buckled up before he started the engine and pulled out onto the road.
While he drove, he considered how best to approach the conversation they desperately needed to have. Silence filled the interior, broken only by the low hum of the motor. Beside him in the passenger seat, she squirmed from left to right and right to left, flexing her fingers and cracking her knuckles. Her gaze flitted to the cup holder, and he realized she was probably looking for a pen or a coffee stirrer she could gnaw on. She came up empty. He’d have to stow a few pens in the car for future anxiety attacks. In the meantime, he—
“For God’s sake, say something!”
At her outburst, he offered a bemused expression. “What would you like me to say?”
“Anything! Tell me about your day at work. Comment on the weather. Catch me up on your favorite television show.”
“Don’t like silence?”
“Can’t stand it,” she muttered.
“How about if I turn on the radio?”
“Sure. Just none of that country music—unless it’s that Willie guy.”
He spared her a quick smile, then refocused on the road. “You do realize you’re in Texas now, right?”
“Doesn’t mean I’m ready to trade in my love of a good heavy bass and the fun tones from a synthesizer for a nasal twang and a few basic guitar strums any five-year-old could master.”
Rather than debate their musical tastes, he opted to change the subject. “I see you’ve made friends with Abby Wilson.”
“I like her. And her sisters—though, I’m not sure they liked me.”
“Of course they did.”
She shifted in her seat. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. I admit it was touch and go there for a minute or two when you didn’t react the way they expected about ‘doing girl things…’”
“You noticed that?” Her volume increased as did the speed of her words. “Do you think they did? Were they angry? Insulted?”
“No. You pulled it off and managed to charm them in your own unique way.”
“Maybe,” she replied and stared out the window. The silence returned for a few minutes, until, at last, she sighed. “I’ve never been good at girly things, you know. That’s what happens when you grow up around men. I mean, why do girly things have to be about appearance? Hair, nails, dresses, shoe, makeup. Why is it, if I have an interest in beer or chemistry or Robert Ludlum thrillers, I’m less of a woman than some Manhattan call girl who charges by the hour and can tell you her favorite brand of mascara and what lotion to use to minimize your pores?”
Her outburst took him by surprise, but he rolled with it, trying to find the humor in what she said. “A call girl in Manhattan, huh? You know a lot of them?”
“Just one.” The words came out icy as sleet, each one hard and pelting.
He allowed the silence to reign again, leaving her to her thoughts and simultaneously upping her tension. By the time he pulled into his driveway, she was cracking her knuckles and exhaling heavily every thirty seconds. He figured she was ready for him.
“You know, you’ve never told me anything about your life in New York. About your ex-husband. I’m assuming he’s in some kind of legal trouble.”
She whirled to face him, eyes rounded with surprise. “How’d you know—oh, right. Quinn mentioned the appeal. I should’ve realized you’d pick up on that.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I can help.”
“There’s nothing you can do for me,” she replied with a slow shake of her head. “And if you help Rob, I’ll kill you.” She unclipped her seatbelt and climbed out of the Jeep, as if to run away from the topic.
He wouldn’t let her. “What are you afraid of?” he demanded as he followed her rush to reach the porch.
“I told you. I’m not afraid of anything,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I’m not some scared little girl who needs a man’s protection, you know. I was raised by my dad and four older brothers. Not one of them ever took it easy on me. In fact, I had to be better than them to prove I wasn’t a scared little girl. I was one of only three women in my class at VLB. Even when I received my degree and came home, there weren’t a hundred breweries lined up to hire a female b
rewmaster. I paid my dues, starting out doing jobs way beneath my education level. But I wanted to eventually own my own craft beer brewery. So I did the grunt work and proved I wasn’t some scared little girl every single day. I’ve spent most of my life proving I was competent, capable, and strong. It took a long time, but eventually, I flourished. Then, just when life was going smoothly and I finally felt like I’d made it, my ex-husband tossed everything I’d built into the toilet over a ‘girly-girl.’ And now it looks like he’ll get away with it thanks to some stupid legal technicality!” She threw her hands up in surrender. “On top of that, I’m thirty-five, broke, and starting over at a time when most people are already established and building up. I don’t own a car, a house, I don’t even have a retirement plan. Tell me I screwed up my life; I’ll agree with you. Tell me I was naïve; I won’t argue. But don’t you dare tell me I’m afraid. I’m not afraid.”
“Yeah, you are. What is it? Are you afraid if I know the full truth about you, I’ll hate you? That I’ll somehow judge you and find you lacking?”
She stopped at the front door without turning around, but her head dipped.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” he whispered when he caught up to her. He placed his hands on her forearms to pull her into an embrace, if she’d allow it. Her posture remained rigid, so he remained still. “Bo, tell me. I promise, I won’t think less of you when I know the truth.”
She tilted her head to stare at the stars beyond them, saying nothing. After several silent moments, her shoulders sagged. “Can we go inside first? If I’m going to talk about Rob, I need to sit down.”
He pulled his keys from his pocket and placed them in her palm, then cupped her fingers around them. “Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.”
****
Where should she start? Talking about herself never came easy, but talking about the ugliest episode of her life challenged her pride and her fortitude to extremes beyond human measure.
As if he understood her difficulty, Drew poured a few ice cubes and a heavy splash of scotch into a tumbler and placed it on the side table to the left of where she sat on the couch in his living room. “In case you need a little liquid courage.”
“Thanks.” She grabbed the tumbler and gulped some of the amber alcohol, appreciating the burn in her throat and the warmth spreading through her chest. Sheehan’s, of course. The diamond label stuff—top of the line. Still, she didn’t begin right away. Her throat was too dry to push the words out. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how…” She shook her head. “This is really hard.”
“It doesn’t have to be. You want me to tell you about Maura first?”
“Maura?”
“My ex-wife.”
She wasn’t really interested in his past romances, but if the focus didn’t stay solely on her, telling him what he wanted to know might be easier. “Maybe.”
He reached for her tumbler. “If I’m going to talk about her, I’ll need some of this.”
She grabbed the crystal glass and hugged it to her chest. “Not on your life. Get your own.”
“Okay.” He got to his feet, returned to the bar, and poured himself a healthy dose of the same liquid courage. Before she could argue, he returned, bottle in hand, and refilled her tumbler, too. “Here’s how this is going to work. I’ll tell you something about Maura. You can ask up to two questions about anything I’ve said, then you’ll tell me something about…?”
She supplied the missing name. “Rob.”
“Rob,” he repeated. “I get to ask you up to two questions on anything you say. Then it’s my turn again. Deal?”
A giggle escaped her lips. “This is the weirdest dating game I’ve ever played.”
“Do we have a deal?”
“Yes.” She took another gulp of the scotch and nodded. “Go ahead. You start.”
He took an even bigger swig of the scotch than she did. “Maura and I met in my first year at Texas A&M. In high school, a girl like her wouldn’t have given me the time of day. I was always the class brain, a socially inept dweeb, and she was…” He blew air through pursed lips in a high-pitched whistle. “She was on the cheerleading squad, part of the homecoming court, and one of the prettiest girls on campus. She asked me out the first time.” Another swallow of booze. “Questions?”
She shook her head.
“Your turn.”
“I met Rob at a charity event about five years ago. He was charming and funny and…” She shrugged. “I’m not. I was intrigued with the whole ‘opposites attract’ thing. We dated for a while, and when he asked me to marry him, it just seemed like the next logical step.”
“Did you love him?”
She gave him a sharp look, but couldn’t hold onto it and surrendered into a sad smile. She wagged a finger at him. “You caught that, huh? I thought I did, but now, I’m not so sure. Do you have a second question for me?”
“No, I’m good for now.” Another drink. “Maura was a teacher.”
“Rob was an investment banker.” She drained her glass, picked up the bottle beside him, and poured almost to the tumbler’s rim. “Your turn.”
“She worked in the Chicago public school system while I went to law school and studied for the bar. After I passed, she assumed I’d choose some fancy firm in the Chicago area.”
“You didn’t?”
He drained his tumbler and indicated she fill him up again. Once she complied, he took another sip before continuing, “I wanted to come home to the canyon, help people who needed me but normally couldn’t afford me. Second follow-up?”
“Second? I didn’t ask a first question.”
“Yes, you did. You said, ‘You didn’t?’ That was a question.”
“That was hardly a question. I was merely prompting you to continue.”
“Nevertheless, it counts as a question. Do you have another follow-up or not?”
She frowned at him. “Unh-unh.”
“Then you’re up.”
“Rob and I both worked after we got married. I was the brewmistress for the Old Goat, a craft brewery in SoHo. He started his own firm, Green Province Financial.”
He paused with the glass halfway to his lips and tilted it in her direction. “Green Province. Where’ve I heard that name before?”
“In the papers, probably,” she retorted, sharp and curt. She winced at the attitude she’d laced into her words. “Follow-up?”
“Not yet.” He scratched his head and blinked rapidly. The alcohol, no doubt, was affecting him. He’d probably hoped to loosen her up, but had miscalculated. “Where was I? Oh, right. The canyon. Maura was miserable here.” He slid to the edge of the chair and said in a stage whisper, “In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t exactly the cultural hub of Texas. She’d been looking forward to society teas and becoming a patron of the arts once I was an established attorney. The best I could offer her was Saturday nights at the Sugar Shack for dancing and drinks.”
“How long did she stick around?”
“She told me it was over on our fourth anniversary.”
She saluted him with her tumbler. “Congrats. That’s twice as long as Rob and I lasted. At least, you heard it from her. I found out from the NYPD.”
“Wow. That’s different.”
She stared at the Berber carpet, visualizing patterns in the twisted threads of blue and gray. When she spoke again, her throat ached with the words. “Yeah, well, I married a guy who embezzled hundreds of thousands of dollars from local charities.”
“Green Province. Now I remember!”
Oh, goody. He’d heard of the scandal. Well, at least she wouldn’t have to give him too many of the gory details since he was already familiar with the sordid tale.
“That was your Rob? Robert Carlysle?”
Jeez, he could even call up the name! She grimaced. “I guess it made the papers here, too.” So much for anonymity in a new state.
“No, it didn’t. The only reason I’m familiar with the story is because my brother was going
to invest in one of GPF’s investment deals. I did some research and advised him it didn’t seem legit a week before the scandal broke.” He must have considered how that sounded to her because he wrinkled his nose. “Sorry.”
She gulped more scotch. “Don’t be. I’m relieved you talked your brother out of investing. I honestly don’t have a dime left to reimburse him the way I did the other victims.”
“You reimbursed the victims? How much did that cost you?”
Another gulp, and she shook her head. “Sorry. You’ve used up your two questions.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I didn’t think so either, but you established the rule.”
“Come on. Have a heart. You can’t leave me hanging there.”
The easygoing tit-for-tat they’d established disappeared in a fog of bitterness. “I guess you haven’t figured out yet, I have no heart.”
“Yeah, you do. It’s just buried right now.”
She stared into the glass. “Maybe some things are better left that way.”
“You’re not.” Another salute of the tumbler, this time a bit unsteady. “How much did you reimburse your ex’s victims?”
“Every dime I had. And when all the money from my trust fund was gone, I sold everything I had. My apartment, the furniture, all my jewelry, including my wedding and engagement rings.” A harsh laugh slipped from her throat. “No big loss there. I never planned to wear them again anyway.”
He let out a low whistle. “The DA came down hard on you.”
“The DA had nothing to do with it. There was no link between me and what he did, except him claiming I was the catalyst. The court determined I was as much a victim as everyone else Rob ripped off. That’s what happens when your husband falls in love with a hooker, sucks every dime out of every available source to pay her hourly rate so he can keep seeing her, and then blames you for not being feminine enough to keep him attracted to you.”
“Is that what he did?”
Her cheeks suffused with heat, and she filled her glass with the last few ounces from the bottle. “Can we change the subject, please? I think it’s your turn now.”