Falling For You

by Brenda Novak

  Someone started the jukebox and an old rock song by AC/DC vibrated through the room. “No one’s laughing,” Booker said.

  Rebecca didn’t answer.

  “Have you told your father?”

  Giving up on drawing circles, she scowled at her wet finger, wiped it on her jeans and nodded.

  “And?”

  “He was too upset about Josh’s truck to give the lack of a wedding a second thought.” She assumed a deep, booming voice. “‘For hell’s sake, I’m the mayor around here, Becky. What did you think you were doing? You could’ve gone to jail, dammit. When are you gonna grow up and realize you can’t get away with making an ass of yourself at every opportunity?”’ She shrugged as carelessly as she could manage. “You know the litany.”

  “Litany?”

  She laughed. “Never mind.”

  “Doyle lives in a world of absolutes,” Booker said, surprising her by commenting further on the subject. “He doesn’t understand you.”

  “He doesn’t want to understand me,” she replied. “In any case, he’s right, I guess. What I did to Josh’s truck was pretty bad.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “We shouldn’t have gone out there in the first place.”

  Booker squinted at her through the smoke of his cigarette. “If Buddy means so much to you, why don’t you call him back? You could ask him for a second chance.”

  Rebecca shook her head adamantly. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

  “How do you know?”

  She stubbed out her cigarette. “Because of what I did to Josh’s truck.”

  Booker had been about to take another drink of beer, but now he set his mug on the table. “How does he know about Josh’s truck?”

  Rebecca sipped her own drink. “Word spreads fast in this town.”

  “Buddy doesn’t live in this town.”

  She discovered a sudden interest in those dancing.

  “Who told him, Beck?”

  She ignored him.

  He nudged her. “Beck? Who told him?”

  “I did,” she admitted at last.

  “And why did you do that?”

  She slung one arm over the back of her chair, feeling belligerent. “I just don’t see any point in pretending to be something I’m not. Buddy’s mother said he could never be too cautious, and I told him she was right to be worried about me, that I’ll be making three-hundred-dollar-a-month payments to Josh Hill for quite some time.”

  “And that’s why he broke it off?”

  “Maybe.”

  “So what Josh did wasn’t enough. You had to finish the job?”

  “Quit harassing me,” she said. “If Buddy and his precious mother don’t want a woman like me to wear his ring, I’d rather find out now than when I’m living in the middle of Nebraska.”

  “You wanted him to break it off.”

  Rebecca scowled at the accusation. “Of course I didn’t.”

  “Then why didn’t you wait to tell him about the fire until everything calmed down?”

  “One call from Josh, and Buddy would’ve found out. He’s afraid of marriage, so I thought he should see the real me. I needed to know if he could take it.” Rebecca heard her voice wobble and used the excuse of pushing her sunglasses up on her nose to give herself a moment. “Obviously, he couldn’t.”

  “Right.”

  “What? I didn’t end it on purpose,” Rebecca said at his knowing expression.

  Booker sipped at his beer, then licked the foam off his top lip. “We both know better than that.”

  “I can’t believe you think I purposely blew up my engagement!”

  He winked at her, gave a little salute and took another drink of beer.

  “I did no such thing!” She drew some more circles in the moisture on the table, then added, “Buddy wouldn’t have been happy with me, anyway.”

  The door opened and a brisk wind whipped into the room. Rebecca looked up to see Mary Thornton, accompanied by her usual entourage. She knew Booker had seen her, too, when he muttered one of his favorite expletives.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Rebecca took another drink of her margarita and made a dismissive motion with her hand. “I’m not going to leave just because Mary’s here. I have no problem with Mary. I have no problem with Josh, either.”

  Booker cocked a doubtful eyebrow at her as Mary made a beeline for their table, her clique trooping after her.

  “I ran into Dilma Greene at the gas station a couple of days ago,” she said as soon as she was close enough to speak. “She said it was you who set fire to Josh’s truck. Is that true?”

  Those at nearby tables turned to gawk, probably shocked to witness the perfect Mary Thornton exhibiting such negative emotion in public.

  Rebecca clamped her jaw shut so she wouldn’t vent the frustration that had been boiling just beneath the surface since Buddy first mentioned his great-aunt and her father set up that silly truce between her and Josh. Her knuckles went white, but she made sure the words that came out of her mouth were admirably civil. “I’ve apologized about the truck, and I’m going to pay for it.”

  “Why would you set fire to anyone’s truck, let alone Josh’s?” Mary demanded.

  Rebecca shrugged. “Ask Josh.”

  “I have. He says he doesn’t know.”

  “Then neither do I.”

  Mary’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can get away with anything,” she said, her voice dripping with disgust. “When the rest of us were in school, you’d go joyriding in your father’s Lincoln. When the rest of us were learning survival skills on the eighth-grade camp-out, you were tossing Josh’s wallet down the toilet of the outhouse to see if he’d go after it. When we were decorating the floats for Homecoming, you were—”

  “It wasn’t your truck,” Booker cut in. “So why don’t you let Josh and Rebecca deal with the problem?”

  “Josh’s stuff is as good as hers,” someone behind Mary piped up.

  Mary’s expression faltered for a moment when she glanced at Booker. But then she folded her arms and drew herself up to her fullest height. “You stay out of this,” she said primly.

  “Or what?” He chuckled.

  Mary didn’t seem to have an answer, so she turned back to Rebecca. “What you did really upset Josh. He called me in the middle of the night, acting strange. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Then the next day, he couldn’t even—” another of her friends snickered from behind, which seemed to make Mary rethink what she was about to say “—well, he wasn’t himself. He hasn’t been himself ever since.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, he’s already gotten his revenge,” Rebecca said.

  “I heard Buddy broke up with you,” Mary replied. “And I can understand why he would. Lord knows we were all surprised he wanted to marry you in the first place. But what happened between you and Buddy doesn’t have anything to do with Josh.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Rebecca said. Then she got up and shoved past Mary and her friends, suddenly eager for the open space and cool air of the outdoors.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  JOSH WAS JUST GETTING OUT of the old Suburban he was driving now, which was normally one of the ranch vehicles, when he spotted Mary’s brown Camry across the Honky Tonk’s parking lot. He hadn’t planned on seeing her this weekend. After the incident in his office two weeks ago, he’d told her he wanted to take some time off, maybe go skiing with his brother for a few days. But his brother hadn’t been interested in leaving town—at least not with him. Mike was seeing a woman from McCall he’d met at a horse show. He’d probably spend the night with her, if not the entire weekend, just like he had last week. Which left Josh pretty much on his own. He’d considered calling his old buddies Randy and Dexter. But they were both married now, and he wasn’t sure he could take any more talk about kids and wives and positive discipline and whether or not perpetuating the myth of Santa Cla
us damaged a six-year-old’s psyche. Lately, when he was with them, he felt like an apple that had been left on the tree through the winter.

  He could change that, he thought, eyeing Mary’s car again. Mary was a nice person. She claimed to love him, and she had a great son. If he became Ricky’s stepdad, he could go right into coaching Little league and soccer with Randy and Dexter, instead of starting at the very beginning, with a squalling bundle that did little more than eat and sleep.

  Raising Ricky appealed to him more than anything else about living with Mary. He certainly didn’t care for her parents. They still doted on their only daughter, treated her as though she was barely sixteen. But hey, lots of people didn’t like their in-laws. He could tolerate having Gene and Barb over for various holidays. If only he could see himself feeling anxious to tell Mary about his day. If only he could see himself wanting to make love to her over and over again, the way he wanted to make love to Rebecca….

  Besides, if he didn’t want to hold Mary now, didn’t even really want to see her, how was marriage going to change that?

  It’s just too soon. I’m trying to force it when I need to give myself time. We’ll fall in love eventually, and then we’ll marry and everyone will be happy.

  They were perfect for each other. Everyone said so, even his own parents.

  Golden Boy marries Golden Girl… Rebecca’s words niggled at the back of his mind, but he pushed them away. Now that he’d talked himself into proposing to Mary—eventually—he couldn’t see any reason to avoid her tonight. He might as well go in, he decided. He had nothing better to do.

  The snap of a twig drew his attention to the back of the building. Someone stood in the shadows beyond the Honky Tonk’s floodlights, at the edge of the dirt and gravel that comprised the bar’s overflow lot. Someone who seemed sort of familiar…

  He closed the Suburban’s door and sauntered closer, but by the time he reached the walkway, whoever was lurking behind the bar had disappeared into the darkness. He wondered where he or she had gone but didn’t think much about it until he rounded the corner of the building and nearly ran into Booker Robinson coming out the front entrance.

  They both stepped back and regarded each other warily. “Where did she go?” Booker asked, his voice clipped.

  “Who?” Josh asked.

  “Rebecca.”

  Immediately Josh thought of the person behind the building, remembered the flicker of recognition he’d experienced and knew it had to be her. But he didn’t want to give her location away before finding out what had driven her into the cold. “I don’t know. Why? What’s wrong?”

  Booker slanted him a withering glare. “Why don’t you ask your girlfriend?”

  “Did Mary say something to her?” he asked, alarmed to think that she might have involved herself. He and Rebecca had enough difficulty keeping peace between them without the interference of others.

  Booker didn’t answer. He was too busy scanning the area. Then he brushed past, straddled his bike and roared out of the lot.

  Josh let him go. He needed to talk to Rebecca, had wrestled with himself over calling her ever since she’d set fire to his truck, and figured now was as good a time as any. At least he knew they’d be alone. For a while, at least.

  Shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat, he walked to the back edge of the building. There he leaned against the corner and searched the darkness until he made out the shape of someone sitting on a fallen log in the frosty grass.

  “Booker’s looking for you,” he said. He knew his voice had carried across the distance, but he received no answer.

  “Come on, Rebecca. I know you’re there.”

  “Maybe I want to be alone,” she said.

  If she didn’t want to be with Booker, she sure as hell wouldn’t want to be with him, especially after everything that had happened. But Josh couldn’t bring himself to leave. He had something he wanted to say, something he hoped would finally erase the image of tears streaming down her face.

  “I want to talk,” he said.

  “We don’t have anything to say to each other. I’ll make my first payment at the end of the month.”

  “This isn’t about the money.”

  “Then what?”

  He crossed the gravel lot and lowered himself onto the log, careful not to sit too close for fear he’d chase her off. “Bit dark for those, don’t you think?” he said when he saw she was wearing sunglasses.

  She shrugged.

  “Mary told me about Buddy,” he said. “I hope you know I never planned for that to happen.”

  “That’s exactly what you wanted,” she said. “Why else would you have called him?”

  That was a good question. One Josh couldn’t answer simply. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. He knew that much. He’d just wanted to…what? What could he possibly have hoped to achieve?

  “I didn’t think it would go that far,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “Well, it did. And now you can gloat.”

  “I’m not gloating.” Truth be told, he felt lousy, deluged by a jumble of emotions he was half-afraid to name. Guilt played a part, of course, for causing Rebecca so much pain. But he envied Buddy, too. After only a few short months, Buddy had been able to capture Rebecca’s heart—all of it, judging by how upset she seemed over the breakup. He, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to garner anything more than her dislike, and that was after twenty-some years. Even when they weren’t fighting, even when he tried the charm that generally worked on other women, she wanted nothing to do with him.

  The only exception was that night almost fifteen months ago. If not for those few minutes in her arms, he probably wouldn’t care so much. He wouldn’t know what he was missing, would never have dared hope he could breach her defenses. But now Rebecca was all he thought about, and it angered him that he cared, that he had to talk himself into seeing Mary, that he had to rely on the expectation of coaching Ricky to make marrying her palatable.

  Picking up a smooth, round rock, he tossed it into the trees. “I want to call another truce,” he said.

  “There’s no need. I’m not going to do anything to you. You can go ahead and move on with your life and never think of me again.”

  How he wished it could be that easy. He’d tried putting her out of his mind, but no amount of effort seemed to make that possible. Thoughts of her came to him at the damnedest moments—like when he was trying to make love to Mary.

  “Then what about being friends?”

  “That didn’t work out so well the last time.”

  He tossed another rock and listened to it bounce along the ground until it came to a skittering halt. “Well, whether you agree to be friends or not, I don’t want any money for the truck. I started the fight, I’ll accept the loss.”

  Rebecca remained still and silent for so long, Josh turned to see if she’d somehow slipped away into the trees. The rustling of his coat as he moved was the only noise, besides the music drifting toward them from the Honky Tonk. But she was still there, hugging herself for warmth and staring out across the parking lot.

  “Are you sure?” she finally said without turning to look at him.

  “I’m sure.”

  “That should make my father happy,” she said, but the sarcasm in her voice told Josh the statement wasn’t as straightforward as it sounded.

  “We wouldn’t want to disappoint Doyle.”

  “You couldn’t disappoint Doyle. He’s always thought you walked on water.”

  Josh considered this, weighed it against other comments Rebecca and her father had made in the past and had to ask, “Is that what you hold against me, Beck?”

  She stiffened. “Of course not. My father likes a lot of people I don’t. And he doesn’t like a lot of people I do. Take me, for instance,” she said with an unconvincing laugh. “Anyway, you can’t help how others feel about you any more than I can.”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “Th
at you can’t help how others feel about you?”

  “That your father doesn’t like you.”

  “I can’t throw a football,” she said with a shrug, as though that should explain everything.

  “What’s football got to do with anything?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Josh found another rock and threw it after the first two. Rebecca had never been easy to figure out, and she wasn’t proving any easier now. “Are you going to explain it to me?”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me why you hate me so much. How am I any worse than Booker?”

  “You’re not any—” she started, then stopped. “What does it matter?” she said, instead. “Everyone else has always adored you. You’ve never needed me.”

  What if he needed her now? Would that make any difference?

  Josh closed his eyes and thought of the night he’d held her in his arms, tried to recapture her subtle scent. But she was too far away and too bundled up. He could only smell the cold air and damp earth.

  “What about last summer when I took you home from here?” he asked, despite the warnings in his head telling him not to bring up that subject again. He knew Rebecca would rather not acknowledge the fact that they’d almost made love. He knew it would be smarter for him to pretend the incident had never occurred. But…he had so many questions. Why had their lovemaking felt so right, even though they’d always been enemies? Why had she responded to him as greedily as if she’d lost her heart to him years ago? Why had the feel of her soft, bare skin, the feel of her arching into him, turned him on like nothing he’d ever experienced? And why had she eventually shut him out? Sure, his brother had come home, but Mike wouldn’t have bothered them. “Beck?”

  “What about it?” she responded, sounding leery.

  “You didn’t seem to mind me so much then.”

  Her shrug looked a little forced, but Josh couldn’t be sure. “We didn’t know what we were doing, remember?” she said. “We were both drunk.”