Small_Town_Siren_Google

by Lexi Blake, Sophie Oak

  Sam frowned but squeezed her hand. “I suppose that is what you would think. Sorry, Jack and I live outside of Willow Fork. We call it town. I’ve heard people here talk about going into town, though. I suppose they do mean Tyler. Is there something wrong?”

  She stared at the frosted glass of the door. It was a Sunday night. It might not be too crowded. Back when she was growing up here, Sunday night had been an important church and family night. It was possible there might not be trouble. She didn’t want to wreck her first fancy date with them by having to explain she wasn’t welcome in most of Willow Fork’s fine establishments. It might put a damper on the mood. It also might make them think twice about seeing her. If they really understood what an outcast she was with the important people in Willow Fork, it might force them to face the fact she could hurt their business.

  “No,” she forced out with a too-bright smile. It had been over twenty years, after all. It might be perfectly fine. “I was surprised. Delbert’s didn’t have a bar the last time I was here.”

  Sam held the door open for her. “I expect things have changed over the years, sweetheart. Both Delbert’s and The Treasure Cove became private clubs about eight years ago. I like to think of it as progress. Now there are two whole places in town where you can get beer. I’m going to start lobbying the city council to let us buy it at the grocery store. I have to buy in bulk when we go into Dallas.”

  “I’m sure that’s inconvenient for you.” She looked around the place. She had only been in here once, and that had been her sixteenth birthday. Her father had told her it was a special occasion, and they’d all gotten dressed in their Sunday best. It had been a wonderful night.

  He died a month later.

  The place hadn’t changed much. There was new carpet on the floor, but she caught a glimpse of the crisp white linen on the tables and the single rose and candle in the middle of each. That was the same. The lobby area still had antique couches for people to sit on while waiting for a table. The place was surprisingly full this evening.

  As they approached the hostess station, she realized that hadn’t changed, either. There was still someone snooty standing there. The hostess was an icy-looking blonde who warmed up considerably once she got a look at Sam.

  “Mr. Fleetwood.” The young woman had a voice that sort of grated on Abby. Icy Blonde completely ignored her, preferring to grant her chilly smile to Sam. “I saw your name on the reservation list. I made sure to give you and Mr. Barnes the best table in the house.”

  “I appreciate that.” Sam’s hand pointedly came to Abby’s waist, and he drew her to his side. “We all appreciate it.”

  Icy Blonde did not notice. It was like Abby didn’t exist. She leaned forward and looked around to make sure no one could hear her. “I was thinking we could hook up afterward. I get off at ten. You and I could go back to my place. We can invite Jack, too, if you want.”

  Sam’s ready smile faltered slightly. He pumped that charm right back up though. “I’m afraid I have to pass, Cecelia. I have a girlfriend now, and she might have a problem with it.”

  “I certainly would, Sam.” Abby was surprised at the blatant rudeness of the young blonde. Abby didn’t recognize her, but she looked a bit like a girl she’d gone to high school with. Helen Smith had been two years older, and she’d gotten pregnant young, so this was more than likely her daughter. The fact that she was competing for men with girls her daughter’s age made her queasy.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I was mistaken. She doesn’t seem like your usual type. She’s much more…mature.” The blonde sneered, finally giving Abby her full attention.

  Sam laughed. “Hell, everyone’s mature compared to me. At least that’s what Jack says. If you’re talking about age, she’s only five years older than me. Trust me, she’s one hundred percent my type.”

  But maybe she was too old for him. Self-doubt and insecurity crept into her brain. What the hell was she thinking? She was older than them. She had a past that could really cost those men a lot. She had no intention of staying in this horrible, small-minded town. Now she wished she’d put on that sweater Jack advised her to wear. The dress that seemed so perfect before now felt cheap. It was cheap. She had bought it at a thrift store.

  The blonde got back to business with a haughty shrug and told them their table would be ready in five minutes.

  Sam glanced around the lobby, obviously putting the whole thing out of his mind. “Hey, that’s Dave Klein, Abby. He’s our feed supplier. We do a whole lot of business with him. I need to go say hello. You wait here for Jack, all right?”

  She nodded, a little shell-shocked. She watched Sam greet a man in a big Stetson with a handshake and stood there feeling ridiculously vulnerable. Everyone was staring at her and talking behind their hands. Gossiping. The town ran on gossip, and not in a good way.

  The blonde stared down her nose, and Abby could practically hear her thoughts. She was wondering why anyone would pick an almost forty-year-old mom over someone as firm and young as her. As for the rest of them, they were thinking that Abby Moore had come back into town and immediately taken up with not one, but two men.

  She was still living up to her reputation.

  Maybe she should tell Jack she wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Her stomach was in a knot. They would take her home, and then she would do what she should have done in the first place. She would get her mom back on her feet and look for a job in Austin. She could chalk up the whole thing to a crazy midlife crisis and get back to reality.

  A deep masculine laugh brought her out of her dark thoughts. Across the lobby, Sam was talking and laughing, his blue eyes full of mirth. He was so beautiful. He made her feel lovely and young. He deserved better than what she would bring him.

  Was she ridiculous for falling for them? For wanting more with them?

  “Oh, no, no, no,” a firm voice said from behind her.

  She turned and saw the owner of the restaurant hurrying toward her with a stern look on his face. Luther Delbert was older, but he still looked imposing enough. A thin, tastefully dressed man in a three-piece suit, Luther was every inch the wealthy host of the establishment. There had always been an aristocratic air about him, and now his slender face was pinched with distaste.

  “This won’t do.” He turned to Icy Blonde with a frown. “Who took this woman’s reservation?”

  Icy Blonde looked briefly satisfied. Her eyes crossed the room as though making sure Sam was occupied. “I certainly didn’t, Mr. Delbert. She just walked in.”

  Abby was about to protest when Luther Delbert hooked her elbow with his right hand and started to pull her toward the door. Her shoes caught on the carpet, and she pitched forward, falling to her knees.

  “Get up,” Delbert said, his voice low but clear. The man obviously didn’t care that everyone was watching now. “Your kind is not welcome here. How you have the gall to walk in here I have no idea, but I won’t serve you, do you understand? I would lose the business of the good people of this town.”

  Suddenly there was a warm hand reaching down to envelope hers.

  “Abby? Are you all right?” Concern and confusion marked Sam’s handsome face.

  She blinked back tears as she let Sam haul her to her feet. Her knees ached where they’d met with the tiled floor and she nodded mutely. What the hell had happened? Humiliation had happened and every person in the restaurant had seen it, bore witness to how unwelcome she was.

  “I apologize for the drama, Mr. Fleetwood.” Delbert’s voice was all smooth and silky now as his professional demeanor took over. “Your table will be ready in a moment. If you don’t mind, I’ll escort this…lady out. She doesn’t have a reservation.”

  “Oh, I mind.” Sam clutched at her hand and looked around at the crowd, a fierce frown on his face. “What the hell is wrong with you people? You don’t help a lady when someone assaults her?”

  Quiet filled the room and Sam flushed a dull red. Some of the patrons were whispering int
o their cell phones, others texting away, getting the news out to the town that Abby Moore had caused trouble. Again.

  Though he kept holding her hand, it was obvious he was beginning to get the picture. Some of the older patrons turned their backs on her. She tried to step away, wanting to get the focus off of Sam, but he wasn’t having it. If anything, he pulled her closer.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Every head swung to the front of the lobby where Jack Barnes stood in a tailored suit, looking like the devil himself. Sam sighed beside her, and his hand went firmly around her waist.

  “Not at all, Mr. Barnes.” Delbert wiped the bitter look off his face in favor of a gracious smile. “We’re having some trouble with an unwelcome guest, but I’ll get it sorted out very quickly. If you and Mr. Fleetwood would care to step into the bar, the first beer is on the house.”

  “He pushed her down, Jack.” Sam’s voice was tightly coiled.

  Jack’s eyes flared briefly at that statement, and then an arctic chill settled in his dark green orbs. She took a deep breath because she was intimidated, and she knew that look wasn’t directed at her. Luther Delbert seemed to shrink right before her eyes. The lobby had gone deadly silent as Jack stared at the owner of the nicest place in town.

  “She fell,” Delbert explained as he seemed to realize there was something going on he failed to understand.

  He looked back and forth between Abby, Sam, and Jack as a revelation seemed to slowly dawn on him.

  “I guess I’m not used to the heels. I lost my footing.” She wanted to get out of there. The debacle had drawn enough attention to them. She could see the feed store owner whispering something to another customer. The words were too low to hear, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t like what he was saying.

  She’d known better and now she was going to get them in trouble.

  “Because he grabbed you.” Sam looked the owner directly in the eye. “You told her you wouldn’t serve her or her kind. What the hell is that supposed to mean? What is her kind?”

  “Sam.” Jack’s voice was deep and deliberate. “I think Abigail would prefer another place to eat tonight. Why don’t you take her out to the car and we’ll find something more suitable. I promised to take her someplace classy, and it’s obvious I made a mistake by bringing her here.”

  She couldn’t force herself to look at Jack as Sam laced his fingers through hers and started to lead her out. All she could think about was how much this incident might cost him. Sam stopped briefly in front of Jack’s enormous frame.

  “You gonna take care of this?” Sam’s question was low.

  “Yes,” Jack promised. “I think I would like to have a private discussion with Mr. Delbert.”

  She walked out, pulled along by Sam. Her feet beat against the tile in a staccato rhythm. Like she was a zombie shuffling along. She supposed Jack was going to stay behind to try to smooth things over. It had to be done. She hated the fact that she’d pulled them into her trouble, but she should have known better. A blessed numbness overtook her as Sam gently maneuvered her toward the parking lot.

  Nope, nothing had changed at all.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam watched Abby laugh as Christa ordered another round of drinks, the bar loud and vibrant around them. The girls were enjoying those pink fruity things the women on TV liked. He didn’t care what it was. It was loosening her up, and after the scene at Delbert’s, Sam would have given years of his life to put a smile back on her face.

  “Tell me you’re going to crucify that fucker, Jack,” Sam said as his partner sat back down at their table at The Barn. It was hours later, but the rage still simmered close to Sam’s surface.

  It had taken everything he had to walk Abby out of that place and soothe her wounded pride. He’d gotten her back to the car and then made a few calls while she retouched her makeup. Sam hadn’t missed the tears in her eyes. The first call had been to David Sandberg and his wife, Polly. They were old friends of his who ran The Barn. Sam had been explicit in his instructions, and he hadn’t been disappointed.

  Abby had smiled when she was shown into the small, private dining room at the honky-tonk. It was located in the back of the building and mostly used for storage, but it was quiet, and Polly had done wonders turning it into a romantic space. She’d gone all-out in the twenty minutes she’d had. By the time they’d escorted Abby in, the space had been transformed with an intimate table and pretty tablecloth, china and silver for the place settings, and candles the only illumination in the room. The light made everything soft and gauzy, and he’d watched Abby relax as Polly played the gracious hostess. She had soft music on and glasses of wine ready for them. He and Jack were really more beer drinkers, but they could handle a glass of wine on occasion.

  They had carefully avoided the subject of the scene at the steak house after Abby had tried to apologize and Jack quickly shut her down. He let her know that there was nothing to be sorry about. It was their fault for taking her to a place that would treat her like that.

  Slowly but surely, she’d started to laugh again as they enjoyed their quiet meal. Sam and Jack told her all about the pitfalls of cattle ranching in the modern age, and Abby told them stories from her life as a trauma nurse.

  It had been nice to share a meal with her. He had done it many times over the last month, but this was different because all the cards were on the table.

  “I’m gonna kick his ass, you know,” Sam stated flatly.

  Jack’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “You’ll do what you need to do, Sam. Make sure to let me know what your alibi is so we can have our stories straight.”

  Sam nodded. Mike Wade sat down at the table with his second longneck of the night. Sam had been thrilled to see Christa and Mike were at The Barn. Abby could use a girlfriend.

  “So the rumors are already all over town.” Mike looked over to the bar, his gaze finding his wife and Abby.

  “That was fast.” He shouldn’t be surprised. It was a small town and everyone in that lobby had a cell phone and knew how to use it.

  “Oh, I bet it wasn’t five minutes after it happened that Christa got the call.” Mike took a long swallow of beer. “She’s friends with one of the bartenders. Christa said the staff thought Luther would have a heart attack after Jack had his talk with him. The way they told it, the man went white as a sheet and left for home early. What the hell did you say to him?”

  “I pointed out a few facts of life he has overlooked up to this point,” Jack said evenly. “I explained to him that he had roughly six months’ worth of business left, so he should start looking for a new career or move to a new town. He did that sputtering thing. You know, the one where people tell you they don’t believe you, or you can’t do that. I find that part of these conversations very annoying. I greatly prefer to move on to the part where he realizes I’m going to bury him. Men handle this one of two ways, I’ve found. They get pissed off or they cry. Luther, it turns out, is a crier.”

  Mike whistled. “Damn, Jack, what did you tell him you were going to do?”

  “Offer The Treasure Cove a thirty percent discount on all our products. Pull our beef out of Delbert’s, obviously. I happen to know that the owner of the Cove has had trouble getting a loan to redecorate and expand his selection. He wants to hire a new chef. I believe I feel like investing in a restaurant again. This one turned out well.”

  “Damn straight.” Sam loved it when Jack plotted. Sam would have simply kicked the man’s ass, but this was much better.

  Of course, he would still kick the man’s ass, but Jack’s revenge was longer lasting. Sam’s would just make him feel better.

  “If that doesn’t tempt the good people of Willow Fork away, I’ll buy the property and kick him out,” Jack finished. Like Sam, Jack had ditched the jacket and tie. He watched Abby with an unmistakably possessive gleam in his eyes.

  Mike nodded. “Well, I’m with you. I believe in retribution. There are people in this town who more than deserv
e a little justice coming their way for how they treated Abby. I saw they already towed the car.”

  “Yeah, her new one will be delivered tomorrow.” Sam grinned at the thought of Abby tooling around in her brand-new convertible. He’d ordered it himself when Jack had informed him Abby needed a new car. Sam had chosen a pretty pearl Mercedes. It would look nice with Abby’s auburn hair.

  “She’s going to put up a fight, you know,” Jack mused.

  “That’s half the fun.” Sam sat back. He was looking forward to Abby’s reaction when she got the car. “She looks awful cute when she’s yelling at us.”

  “That she does.” Jack turned to Mike after taking a long swig of cold beer. “This is really all about some boy who died more than twenty years ago? I don’t understand what the problem is. From what I’ve heard, Abigail wasn’t even in the car with him.”

  Mike rolled his eyes and sighed. “Abby and Adam had a big fight that night. Practically the whole town heard it. They said some awful things to each other. You gotta understand, Adam was wild. He ran off, got drunk, and killed himself driving too fast down the highway. One of his friends said he was trying to get to Abby so they could make up. He wouldn’t have been on the highway if he hadn’t been trying to see Abby. It’s ridiculous, but they blamed her. Adam’s mama, Ruby, claims Abby changed him. Back then, the Echols family ran this town. I suppose they still do. They used to be the biggest employers in Willow Fork. Ruby’s dad ran a textile mill. It closed down shortly after Abby left. It hurt the town, but the Echols family didn’t seem to lose much cash.”

  “Then why does everyone follow their orders?” Sam had noticed a certain portion of the town practically worshipped at the old biddy’s feet.

  Mike shrugged. “I suppose it’s a habit. People want a king. Especially in a small town. I guess that person is usually the town’s mayor or the richest family or the biggest employer.”