by Jennie Marts
“True,” he agreed. He was warming to the idea of spending more time with her. He picked up the slim jim and wiped it on his pant leg, leaving a trail of mud on the already-muddied fabric, then shoved it into his back pocket. “But you know, today was the easy part. Spending the next couple of days with my family, and my brothers, is no easy task.”
“They can’t be that bad.”
“You’ll see.” And he’d see if she’d last one day or if she’d head for the hills after a few hours with his crazy family. “We’re having a barbecue out at the ranch tomorrow afternoon. Do you want to come out for that? It would give you a chance to get to know a few other people who will be at the wedding. And you can see if you can handle being around my brothers.”
“Sure. I like a challenge.”
“I’ll remind you that you said that after the barbecue tomorrow.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You serious about this? Really?”
“Sure. I was going to spend a few days in Creedence anyway, and who knows, this could be fun.”
“Well, I’m not promising fun, but I don’t think you’ll get bored. We’ve got three more full days until the wedding, and besides the barbecue, Rock has this alumni hockey game scheduled that we’re all either playing in or helping out with, so you’d probably get stuck serving hot dogs at the snack bar with my mom and Quinn. And there’s the rehearsal dinner, of course. Then the wedding itself. That seems like an awful lot to do just to pay a guy back for loaning you his shirt. You sure you’re up for all that?”
His family would probably scare her off by the second day.
She shrugged. “I’m always up for an adventure. And it sounds like fun.”
“Okay, then it sounds like we’ve got a deal.” He held his hand out to shake.
She hesitated just a moment, as if contemplating what kind of crazy scheme she’d gotten herself into, then put her hand in his and squeezed. “Deal.”
The handshake didn’t seem like enough, and he was tempted to suggest sealing the deal with a kiss. But the woman had just agreed to spend the next several days with him as his date. He probably shouldn’t push his luck. “I’ll pick you up for the barbecue tomorrow around noon,” he said. “You staying at the Lamplighter Hotel?”
“Um, yeah, I think that’s the name of it. But don’t bother picking me up. I’ll come to you. Just give me the address of the ranch.”
He pulled out his phone. “What’s your number? I’ll text it to you.”
She gave him her number, and he texted her the address. “And now you have my number too, in case you want to call or text me to say you’ve changed your mind about being my date.”
She tapped the screen of her phone, then his phone chimed.
He looked down at the text message she’d just sent him. I haven’t changed my mind about being your date. Or the whisper.
Mason couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face.
He texted back, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. He hesitated over the emojis, trying to pick the most appropriate one. Should he do the smiley face that was blowing a kiss? No. Too obvious. And too girlie.
What about just a heart? No. Still too feminine and too high school. He was a man. Grunt. Grunt. He scrolled through several screens.
Tess tilted her head to see his screen. “That’s a lot of thought going into a simple emoji.”
He shrugged. “I’ve learned women can read a lot into a simple emoji. I want to get it right.”
“I’m learning something about you right now.”
He raised his eyes.
“You’re kind of a perfectionist.” She grinned and nudged his shoulder. “Don’t think about it. Just pick something you like.”
He looked down at the screen he was on, tapped two pictures, and hit Send.
Her phone chimed, and she opened the message and burst out laughing. “You picked the emojis of a taco and a mug of beer?”
He grinned. “You said to pick something I liked. I like tacos and beer.”
“Noted.” She laughed again and pressed the phone to her chest. “I think this might be the most romantic text I’ve ever gotten.”
“I aim to please.” He aimed to figure out a way to kiss her good night. He shifted from one foot to the other. Where was the emoji for nervous idiot?
He had an idea and tapped out a message, then hit Send.
Her phone chimed, and a grin cut across her face as she saw his message. It had only had two symbols: a pair of red lips symbolizing a kiss and a question mark.
She tilted her head and offered him a shy smile.
He debated going for the brief peck on the cheek or really going all in with the full lip-crushing kiss.
Ah hell—just do something.
He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.
It was a good kiss—although he would have been happy to have it linger a little longer—and it was definitely better than the chaste cheek peck he’d been considering.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, opening her car door.
“See you tomorrow.” He offered her his most charming smile, still tasting the sweet flavor of spearmint lip gloss she’d left on his lips.
* * *
Tess bunched up the spare sweatshirt she’d had in the car and tried to pretend it was a feather pillow. Closing her eyes, she also tried to pretend she was in a cozy bed, instead of curled up in the back seat of her car in the alley behind the library.
She hadn’t planned on sleeping in her car, hadn’t planned any of this, but when Mason asked her to be his plus-one at the wedding, it was too good to pass up. The chance to be around his family was just what she needed. She tried to stuff down the part about also getting to spend the next three days with the handsome cowboy and what a dork she must have sounded like when he asked her.
She’d tried to come off all cool—as if it was totally normal for her to hang out with celebrities and professional athletes, like she was so flirty and fun that she could easily pull off a weekend spent with a hunky guy trying to start small-town speculation about their “whisper” of a relationship. Where had that even come from?
And seriously? I’m always up for an adventure?
What kind of bull-pucky was that? She wasn’t ever up for an adventure. She was the least adventurous person she knew. She didn’t even like to try new kinds of toothpaste or shampoo. She’d used the same brand of both for years.
She didn’t recognize half the stuff that was coming out of her mouth.
She did owe Mason a favor—or seven—for bailing her out so many times that day, and it wasn’t a hardship to be his fill-in, but writing an exposé on his brother wasn’t a great way to pay him back.
Guilt churned in her stomach, like acid bubbling against the inside of her gut. This wasn’t the kind of person she was; this wasn’t the kind of story she wanted to write. And she hated deceiving Mason. He was a good guy. As far as she knew.
But she’d thought the last one she’d dated was a good guy too. And look how that had turned out!
Tamping down the small inner voice that told her Mason was the real deal and she was being a real shit for doing this to him, she pulled the emergency blanket she always carried in her car—thank goodness for that—tighter under her chin.
Her acting as his date wasn’t a totally terrible plan.
And he’d said she’d be helping him out too. He’d seemed genuinely annoyed by the well-meaning guests’ comments on his marital, or nonmarital, status. So she was really doing him a favor. It was a win-win for everyone.
Mason would get to attend his brother’s wedding in peace, and she’d get to spend time with Rock and Quinn. Plus, there was the added benefit of getting to cozy up to the cute cowboy. What could go wrong?
She looked around the inside of her car, her lodgings for the night, and let out a sigh. For start
ers, she had fibbed about staying at the Lamplighter Hotel. About staying at any hotel. She couldn’t afford a hotel, couldn’t even afford the gas to get up and down the mountain again for the next few days.
No, she was stuck. Stuck in Creedence, stuck sleeping in her car, because what she really couldn’t afford was for her grandmother to lose her house.
She’d already called Mimi and told her she was staying up in the mountains for the next few days. She hadn’t explained the exact situation, but she’d assured her grandmother she was working on a story that would help their situation.
Tess’s mind raced with a thousand thoughts, and any hope of sleep she had was dissolving. Maybe she should work. Dragging her cavernous purse toward her, she pawed through the contents and pulled out a pen and a pink steno pad. She always carried one, or five, in case inspiration struck and she needed to scribble down a story idea.
She’d only been planning to be in Creedence for one day, so even though she’d brought three outfits, hair spray, and an emergency makeup kit with her, she hadn’t brought her laptop or any electronics beyond her phone.
It seemed she was stuck with the old-school way of writing, which was fine with her. Sometimes, tackling an article with a pen and paper brought out a different side of her creativity. And she needed to come up with something creative if she was going to sell her boss on not only letting her stay with the magazine, but paying her big bucks for this article.
She held the notepad so the security light from the library illuminated the paper and jotted a headline at the top of the page: Bad Boy Bachelor Becomes a Bridegroom.
Hmm. Not bad. She wrote down a couple more.
Hockey-Playing Cowboy Gets Lassoed.
Does the Quickie Wedding of NHL Cowboy Mean He Scored a Goal, or Is He Going to the Marital Penalty Box?
Ugh. Funny. But no good.
Gordon didn’t want funny. He didn’t want light. He wanted dirt.
She drew a line, then wrote, All the dirt I know on Rockford James, followed by a short list of statements and questions to dig deeper into.
Rock’s very handsome and known for his bad-boy ways. So why is he all of a sudden getting married?
This wedding was planned and executed in a very short time. Why?
Is Quinn using him for his money? Gold digger?
Quinn is already a single mom. Did she get knocked up by Rock to trick him into marrying her? Could her son actually be his?
High school sweethearts—but why are they suddenly back together now? Could Quinn be blackmailing him? Why?
What else could be involved? Drugs? Prostitutes? Gambling debts?
This list made her tired. And disheartened. She hadn’t spent much time with Rock and Quinn, but they seemed genuinely happy. And like nice people.
Quinn had left her own party to find and loan a perfect stranger a pair of her shoes—which Tess had just realized she’d forgotten to return. She’d bring them with her to the barbecue tomorrow. But still, that didn’t sound like the kind of person who’d blackmail her high school sweetheart.
But who knew what people did these days? As her scant dating history proved, she wasn’t the best judge of character. She let out a sigh and shoved the notebook between the front seat and the center console. She’d work on the story again tomorrow.
Her head was starting to pound, and she couldn’t afford to get a headache now. She suffered occasionally from migraines, especially on days with major weather changes, and always kept her prescribed pills with her. Although now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen the bottle in her bag when she’d been digging for a pen. Oh well, she could check tomorrow. Right now, she needed to sleep. She lay back down, pulled the meager blanket over her, and closed her eyes.
If only her brain would close the way her eyelids did. She couldn’t seem to shut down all the thoughts that were flying around in her mind—worries about her grandmother, random lines of text that she might be able to use in the story, the feel of Mason’s lips on hers as he’d given her the quick kiss. She tried counting to one hundred, tried imagining she was on a warm beach, but nothing worked.
Her eyes popped open as a low rumble of thunder sounded.
A flash of lightning lit up the sky, and fat drops of rain hit the roof of her car. She’d parked behind the town library, convincing herself it would be safe and no one would notice her car there. The library was on the north edge of town, across the street from the Lamplighter Hotel, so she’d gotten close to the truth on that one.
She’d driven up and down the streets of Creedence twice, looking for a good place to “camp.” Thinking of it as camping made it feel a little less desperate and scary. There was an actual campground outside of town, but even a rustic tent site—one that might be out of the way enough for the other campers not to realize that she didn’t have an actual tent—was thirty-five dollars. And she barely had thirty-five cents.
Besides, plenty of people had spent a night or two in their cars and been just fine. And it was safer, and warmer, than a tent. She’d settled on her current spot because her parents had often taken her to the library as a kid, and the building itself evoked feelings of warmth, security, and safety. And it was fairly secluded, with a good-sized alley running behind it that backed up to a forested hillside. The only thing behind the building was a steel Dumpster. And now her.
A shiver ran through her. As much as she told herself that it was a small town and no one would even know she was there and the library would be safe, if she were being truthful, she’d have to admit that she was scared to death—scared that someone would find her back there and drag her from her car to attack her. Or worse, break into her car and attack her.
She had no idea who all these random people were that were always looking to attack her, but she was sure they were out there. Another flash of lightning, followed by a loud roar of thunder, had her pulling the blanket over her head.
Then another sound, right outside her door, had her blood chilling and her heart thundering against her chest as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The tinny crackle of a can being rolled across the pavement as if a foot had kicked it. A foot belonging to a serial killer. Or a psychopathic rapist. Or worse—a clown.
What if a clown serial-killer psychopath was standing outside her car window peering in at her right now? She had to open her eyes, had to pull down the blanket and check. But she couldn’t.
Fear paralyzed her. Just like with public speaking, fear of the unknown was feeling more dire than facing what was really out there in the darkness.
I can do this. I am strong. I can do this.
She repeated the mantra, steeling herself but keeping her eyes shut as she pulled the blanket down to her nose.
She couldn’t breathe.
Seriously, if a clown was standing there, she’d scream, wet her pants, and most likely vomit—not necessarily in that order.
Do it.
She forced her eyes open, letting out a tiny squeal of fright as she did.
No clown staring menacingly into her car window.
No serial killer at all. Her breath came out in a stuttering shake. There was nothing there. Nothing to be scared of. It must have been her imagination.
Another sound, like someone—or something—scratching at the side of her door, had her yanking the covers back over her head.
Holy crap! Something was out there. Something was really out there.
She had to look. The sound came from somewhere low on her car. What if someone was under her car, waiting for her to step out so they could slit her Achilles tendon, leaving her crippled and crawling away from the car?
She’d seen way too many horror movies. This was ridiculous. She had to check it out. It wasn’t as though she was going to be able to sleep anyway. Not with a knife-wielding serial-killer clown waiting under her car.
A high-pitched w
hine sounded, and Tessa’s racing heart shattered. That was a whine of an animal. An animal in pain. The thought of an animal hurting was enough to break her out of her frozen stupor and get her to crawl across the back seat to peer through the window.
A gasp escaped her lips as she saw a small scruffy dog huddled under the Dumpster. It must have tried scratching at her door first, then headed for the shelter of the trash receptacle.
She squinted her eyes, trying to see through the rain. In the dark, it was hard to tell what color the dog was through the mud coating its fur. Poor thing. It looked like a drowned rat. She had to do something.
Pushing open the back door, she let out a whistle and called to the dog. “Come here, boy. Come on.”
The dog crept forward a few inches but didn’t leave the relative safety underneath the Dumpster. The rain pelted the side of the back seat and splashed against the door. Tess pulled the door shut, trying to think of what she could use to lure the dog to her.
Her purse still lay on the floor of the car, and she dug through its contents again, finding the napkin with the roll and cookie that she’d pilfered from the buffet table earlier that day.
Why she’d taken a roll and a cookie was beyond her. She hadn’t really been thinking, just knew that it wouldn’t hurt to stockpile a little grub, and the barbecued pork had been way too messy for her bag.
So, she’d settled for the carbs and figured a cookie sandwich was better than nothing. She’d been saving the food to have for breakfast, but this little guy looked like he could use it more than she could.
She opened the back door again, then broke off a piece of the bread and held it out toward the dog. “Here, boy.”
The dog inched forward again, his nose lifting to sniff the air. The rain pelted the ground in front of the Dumpster. But the lure of food must have outweighed fear of the rain, or her, because suddenly the dog shot out from its hiding spot and sprinted for her car door.
Reeling back, she laughed as the little dog launched himself into the back seat and onto her lap. She fed him the chunk of bread, then reached around and pulled the back door shut and locked it as he happily chewed his reward. Now that he was in the car, she could see he was light brown and beige and had soulful brown eyes.