Texas Grit

by Barb Han

  The line at the counter took a couple of steps back.

  “Everything’s under control, folks. Mrs. Banner, bring Elsa over here. Harper will take care of both of you.” Other than embarrassing Carrie, which he was, Brett was also frightening customers and her employees. And that was aggravating. Carrie had worked too hard to build her shop into the success it was becoming for one person to trample all over her sacrifices.

  “Keep your voice down,” she warned Brett. Carrie moved to the opposite side of the shop, far away from where Harper was handling a scared-looking Mrs. Banner.

  “You need to listen,” he continued, stalking around the side of the counter.

  “We can talk in my office.” Carrie turned, but Brett clasped her arm again. Eric, who had been watching the exchange, made a step toward them.

  “It’s okay,” she said to Eric, peeling Brett’s fingers off her. “He’s not going to do anything he’ll regret.”

  With that, she shot a warning look toward Brett.

  “If you’d return my calls, it wouldn’t be like this,” Brett accused. Did he really believe any of this was her fault?

  Wow. That was a choice.

  “Keep it up and I’ll call the sheriff,” she muttered under her breath before turning her attention back to Eric. She motioned toward the customer who was waiting for him to retrieve her waffle cone. “Take care of Mrs. Whittle. I can handle this situation.”

  “How hard is it to answer when I call?” Brett demanded. Harper’s shoulders tensed when Brett slammed his fist against the wall. “Or are you seeing someone else?”

  Carrie needed to get him out of the shop and away from her customers.

  “Let’s talk about this outside.” Carrie pushed past him as the door opened and the bell jingled. She glanced up. Dade?

  Embarrassment flamed her cheeks, thinking he was about to come face-to-face with one of her biggest mistakes. She told herself that she’d have that reaction no matter who walked through the door, but a little piece of her brain protested the lie. Her bad choice being paraded in front of the one person she really wanted to impress was the worst feeling and shrank her other accomplishments to zero.

  The shop hadn’t been open twenty minutes and it felt like all hell was breaking loose.

  “What are you doing here, Dade?” She tried to sound calm, but her heart raced inside her chest. Brett caught up to her, anger radiating from his five-foot-ten-inch frame, so she didn’t wait for Dade’s response. Instead, she turned to Harper. “Can you take care of my friend? He did a huge favor for me last night and I promised him dessert on the house.”

  “Who’s this guy?” Brett gripped her elbow possessively, his fingers digging in harder this time.

  She took in a fortifying breath, not wanting to cause an even bigger scene in her place of business or in front of her friend. “Not now.”

  “When, Carrie? You don’t talk to me anymore. You’re not returning my texts or calls.” Brett clamped harder. “You start accusing me of leaving stuff on your car and then this guy shows up.”

  “Then maybe you should take a hint and leave her alone,” Dade ground out. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and his blue eyes glared a warning at Brett. She couldn’t help but wince as she sidestepped Brett’s grasp, praying Dade would let this go.

  Brett had no idea what he was getting himself into.

  “Thank you, Dade,” Carrie said, trying to keep the peace in front of her customers. There were already too many side glances coming her way. “The Vanilla Bean-illa is amazing on the waffle cone dipped in chocolate. I highly recommend it.”

  “Sounds like the breakfast of champions, but I’ll wait until the line dies down.” Dade motioned toward the door.

  “Things are a little hectic right now. Give me a minute. I’d like to thank you for last night.”

  Well, that really set Brett off. He started to say something, but seemed to think better of it when Dade’s lips thinned and anger pulsed from him.

  “I’ll be back after I speak to my friend,” she said with a glance toward Brett.

  “Do you need help talking?” Dade asked, his gaze firing warning shots at her ex.

  Carrie couldn’t hold back a smirk. “I got this.”

  Brett seemed to shrink in Dade’s presence, and she couldn’t help but enjoy seeing him cower a little bit. He’d been a bully so far and deserved to be backed down. She would’ve preferred that he listened to her, but this worked, too.

  “Let me know if that changes.” He winked, and she should ignore all the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Dade was being kind by stopping by. It meant nothing more to him, and she needed to keep her own emotions in check. Besides, his life was in chaos right now. It was most likely easier to think about helping someone else. He probably just needed a break from the media and being on the ranch. And speaking of complications, she made a note to herself to remember to drop off a gallon of Samuel’s aunt’s favorite ice cream on the way home from work. She hadn’t seen the woman around lately and meant to ask Samuel if everything was okay. He was a quiet person to begin with, and his aunt did all the talking on the few occasions she’d stopped by the shop. Carrie hadn’t seen Ms. Hardin in a while. Days? A week? Carrie wasn’t sure.

  “Will do.” She led Brett outside, away from the gawking line of people and toward the trees. The August heat came at her from all angles—the sun above, the pavement below and even the breeze was hot. Typical August in Texas. It might take a while, but the weather would eventually change. Like everything, she thought as she spun around to face Brett. Heat radiated off him, too, in the form of anger and impatience...and possessiveness. He didn’t own her and she didn’t owe him an explanation for being with Dade last night.

  Could her association with any crime, victim or not, impact her business? She wanted to say the idea was crazy. Reality was writing a different story. Panic gripped her. She could not lose the one good thing in her life.

  “I already told you that I needed time away from this.” She jerked her arm free from Brett’s grasp. “And what you’re doing right now isn’t helping your case.”

  “What you really mean is us,” he ground out, and she could see that he was working himself up.

  “Okay. Yes. I don’t want to be together right now.” She wasn’t used to fighting for her own needs. The last foster home had trained that out of her. “Why don’t you give me a chance to miss us?”

  His anger softened to frustration, and she thought she might be making progress until his gaze narrowed and his hands fisted.

  “You’re not giving us a chance.” The fire was back in his eyes.

  The movie theater at the end of the strip mall was letting out, and a line of people spilled into the parking lot. This was probably not the best time to tell Brett he had no chance, especially with the way he’d been behaving since the breakup. He needed a couple of weeks to cool down and then they could have the conversation that had been brewing inside her for weeks.

  “I don’t want to hurt you. But give me a chance to think about what I want. You already know how many hours I work—”

  “I backed off before and look where that got me.” He’d been more and more demanding that she spend time with him in those last few weeks, and she’d pushed back at every step.

  “You have to stop texting me every five minutes and leaving gifts at my house...” Before she could finish her sentence, he threw his hands into the air and walked a tight circle.

  “Then what? What is it, Carrie? Because I don’t have to think about whether or not I want to spend time with you.” Anger radiated off him as he smacked his fisted hand against his other palm.

  Nothing good could come of such heightened emotion. She hoped she could ease him down. The idea of causing another person pain didn’t sit well, yet he wasn’t giving her another out. She’d been through enough hurt in one lifetime
and hated the idea of causing that horrible feeling in someone else.

  Carrie took in a slow deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. On the one hand, false hope was bad. On the other, everyone was staring at them, and this whole scenario was escalating. She was losing patience and Brett was on the verge of just losing it completely.

  Brett hadn’t been this interested in her when they’d been together, and she figured half of his fixation on her now had to do with her rejection. If he’d been the one to do it, he wouldn’t think twice. Being on the receiving end didn’t feel nice, and that’s why he wanted this to work out so badly.

  “What if you decide to move on while we’re on a break?” He brought his hand up to touch her, but she stepped out of reach.

  “You don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who isn’t into it,” she said defensively. “You deserve better than that, Brett.”

  “Maybe you don’t know what you want,” he shot back.

  “The rose. The stuffed animal. Showing up here unannounced, making a scene at my place of business. It’s too much, Brett. Surely you can see that.” She paused, because he was already shooting daggers at her with his glare.

  “I already said that I didn’t give you the whale. You didn’t say anything about a rose before.” This must’ve struck his macho core, based on his expression and how he puffed out his chest. “Someone’s trying to win you over. I bet it’s that jerk you were photographed with last night.”

  If he hadn’t given her those gifts, then who had? Nash? An icy chill raced through her. Win her over weren’t exactly the words she’d use to describe what Nash wanted from her. But Brett trying to force her to stay in a relationship she didn’t want wasn’t much better.

  “It’s not like that. Dade’s an old friend,” she defended. Brett had to be giving her those gifts. If not, someone was trying to mess with her...

  And speak of the devil, Nash walked out of the movie theater. He must’ve seen her, too, because he started making a beeline toward them. Tension caused her to tighten her grip on her cell phone. The thought of Nash and Brett being together was about as appealing as pouring gasoline onto a raging wildfire.

  “I just bet he is.” Brett moved within inches of her face with a glare that would’ve melted an iceberg. It wasn’t going to work on her and he needed to be made aware of that fact. Back down from a bully and she might as well roll up the tent and leave town, because experience had taught her that once a bully knew he’d gotten to her, it was all over.

  “I need to get back to work, Brett. The line is getting longer and my employees need my help.” She could feel the heat of Nash’s stare on her and prayed she could get away before those two clashed—cold air moving in on a heat wave. “Think about what I said and give me a little breathing room.”

  Brett’s gaze locked on to Nash.

  “Do you know him?” Too late for wishful thinking. This day seemed determined to get a whole lot worse.

  “Not really.” Carrie looked right in time to see Nash making progress toward her and Brett. She needed to think, to come up with something fast before those two massive storm systems collided. “I gotta go. If you can’t understand my point of view, there isn’t much else I can say anyway.”

  “We break up and you turn into some kind of sleaze?” The anger and disgust in Brett’s voice sent fire shooting through her.

  “How can you say something like that and wonder why I don’t want to be with you anymore, Brett?” The words fired out, rapid and angry. It was one thing to cause a scene at her place of business, but to insult her to that degree caused a wildfire to rage inside her. She was barely keeping it together after last night anyway, and her nerves were about to snap.

  Brett’s hands fisted at his sides, and for a second she thought he might rear back and hit her. She backed up a couple of steps until her hands felt the tree. Out here, alone, she couldn’t stop him from belting her. She felt around for something she could use as a weapon, just in case. There’d been a huge rock at the base of the tree. Maybe she could drop down and pick it up before he made a move.

  Brett’s gaze cut right and left sharply before fixating on something behind her.

  She expected an argument, or more insults. Instead, Brett muttered something low under his breath before punching the tree. She ducked and her hand flew up to stop him, but he connected with the trunk anyway.

  Gasps sounded from behind her and she assumed they came from her customers. Great. If she had to file a restraining order to keep him away, she would. She’d do whatever it took to force him to keep his distance after this exchange.

  Thankfully, he’d missed connecting with her face. She glanced at the line, flustered, and a part of her needed to stick up for herself for all those times she hadn’t when she was little and being bullied by a foster sibling or parent.

  “This isn’t over, bitch,” Brett shouted as he stalked off.

  That last insult was fingernails on a chalkboard to Carrie.

  “No, it isn’t. You better stay away from me and my shop. Or I’ll see to it that you do.” She picked up the rock at her feet and tossed it at his back, regretting her actions the instant she released it.

  The rock made contact. Brett spun around with a look on his face that sent an icy chill down her spine. Nash was closing in, and suddenly the air became thicker. Her chest squeezed. And then both men stopped, looking past her. A second later each turned tail in different directions and took off. Why was Nash still in town? Why was the carnival still sitting there packed up but not gone?

  The minute she turned toward the sweet shop, she knew what had gotten into both men. Dade. He was stalking toward them. He was big—the military had filled him out—but it was the expression on his face that had to have been what had gotten to the men. Pure steel with a severe look that said back off.

  Carrie’s heart fluttered as she took a couple of steps in Dade’s direction. She had no doubt that he could handle either Brett or Nash—or both at the same time, to be honest. His muscles rippled underneath his white T-shirt, and neither man would cause him to break a sweat. She appreciated the unfamiliar feeling of someone having her back for a change. For most of Carrie’s life she’d been alone when bullies threatened, left to her own resources, and it was nice to have backup for once.

  Don’t get used to it, a little voice in the back of her head warned.

  The roar of Brett’s motorcycle engine cut angry lines through the now-stale afternoon air. He spun his back tire, spewing gravel at cars in the parking lot. A mother covered her child’s eyes before stalking out of the line. A couple more followed. Great. All she could do was helplessly watch as her customers, her business, dissipated before her eyes.

  “Looks like you’ve had one heck of a morning,” Dade said, and when his gaze reached hers, a thousand butterflies released in her stomach. She had the sensation of falling with nothing to catch her and no care in the world.

  That was not her life. Reality set in. Carrie had had to work for everything. Her life had been about struggle and stress. She’d believed that coming back to Cattle Barge and creating a successful business would make her feel something...like she belonged somewhere. This episode reminded her that there would always be someone there waiting to take away everything she’d worked for. That no matter how fast she ran toward the light, darkness would stalk her.

  “I wouldn’t argue that.” She glanced at him and then focused on the line of customers that had dwindled, resigned to the fact that she’d never really belong anywhere. “I apologize for the disturbance. All of your treats are on the house today.”

  Creating a success out of her life meant more to her than anything, especially after the start she’d had in life. A very deep part of her needed to prove that she could be successful in her hometown. If she couldn’t be happy in Cattle Barge—the one place she’d felt was home—she couldn’t be
happy anywhere.

  “Have to say, this is the best ice cream I’ve ever had.” Hearing Dade say that started to ease the tension causing the spot in her left shoulder to send stabbing pain radiating down her back.

  She glanced from the line back to him, wishing she’d crawled under that rock instead of chunking it at Brett. “I better get to work. Thanks again for last night and today.”

  Carrie wanted to be seen as an equal in this community by everyone, especially Dade. Not someone who needed constant protection. The thought fired her up again.

  An older woman whispered something about the past repeating itself as she gave Carrie major side-eye before leaving the line.

  And Carrie wondered if her past would always haunt her. If she’d always be that loveless orphan being passed around from home to home with no one to really love her.

  “Who was that guy and what was he doing here?” Dade asked.

  “He’s my ex.” Embarrassment heated her cheeks.

  “Wish you’d hit him in the head with that rock instead of the back,” Dade said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He pushed off the glass. “See you around.”

  Tears brimmed but there was no way she was going to let her customers see her break down. She turned away from Dade.

  “Hey, Carrie,” he said, and his voice was warmth pouring over her cold body.

  She stopped. “Yeah.”

  “Be careful.”

  Chapter Six

  A pounding noise shocked Carrie awake. Coco went berserk. Carrie shot to her feet and glanced around before shaking her head and struggling to get her bearings. The TV was on. She must’ve fallen asleep on the couch. Another five raps of fist on wood fired off behind her, shocking her fully awake.

  She glanced down to make sure she was decent. Yoga pants and a T-shirt were respectable enough to answer the door. Right?

  “It’s okay, Coco,” she soothed. This was no way to be jarred out of sleep. It felt like she was walking in slow motion, and she couldn’t quite get her body to respond in the ways she wanted it to. She hoped everything was okay at the shop. Before her breakup with Brett, everything had been going well. Too well, a little voice reminded. Life had never been that smooth for Carrie for long. Memories of finally thinking she’d landed in the perfect foster home when, in fact, she’d moved into hell assaulted her. The anger. The beatings. The suffocating feeling of being trapped with no means of escape.