She’d parked it way off in a far corner of the lot where no one was likely to park nearby and possibly door-ding the expensive vehicle.
So, given her luck lately, naturally there was a big dusty pickup parked right next to it.
“Now why?” she asked under her breath as she quickly crossed the lot that had ample spaces still available. “All the spots and you choose that one?”
She hitched the strap of her purse higher over her shoulder as she rounded the vehicle to the driver’s side. When she did, the door of the pickup opened and Quinn got out.
Her nerves rear-ended each other as they screeched to a halt. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I’d be in touch.”
“Yeah, last Friday.” Her gaze roved over him like they were starved for the sight. At least he wasn’t wearing the camouflage pants. “Digies,” as he’d called them, though she had no idea why. Now he had on a pair of blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt that some long-ago genius had designed with Quinn in mind.
He wasn’t hoping that she wasn’t pregnant.
She pushed aside his admission the same way she’d been pushing it aside since he’d made it.
“And how’d you know where I was, anyway?” She hadn’t told anyone she planned to stop at Shop-World.
“I didn’t.” He nodded pointedly toward the car. “But there’s only one Phantom in these parts. And as much as my granny Viv is trying to fit into the community with her modestly sized house—” his voice was dry “—and her run for town council, I just can’t see either her or Montrose shopping at Shop-World. Which left you.” His gaze ran over her clearly empty hands. “Didn’t find what you came to buy?”
She shook her head, looking down at her feet until she thought the threat of blushing was past. “I, ah, I came to buy a—” This was humiliating. And it shouldn’t be. She was officially thirty years old as of that day. It was a perfectly reasonable age to be a sexually active adult.
An annoying snicker whispered in the back of her mind. Too bad you can’t remember the activity.
She lifted her head. “A pregnancy test,” she blurted. Why not? She still had an unopened box of condoms dwelling at the bottom of her purse. “I came to buy a pregnancy test. There. You satisfied?”
He looked a lot calmer about it than she felt. “Okay. Let’s do the test. Right now.”
She was afraid her eyebrows might shoot right off her forehead. “What would you like me to do? Tinkle on the stick behind your truck? I can’t, anyway. I didn’t get one purchased.”
“Why not?”
“Because I kept running into people I knew!” All the exasperation she felt came out in the admission.
But Quinn just looked like he was trying not to smile.
Which was even more exasperating, because there was nothing remotely funny about the situation.
“Don’t you laugh,” she warned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured blithely. He looked past her toward the big-box store. “I’ll go in and get one,” he said. “Any particular brand impress you more than the others?”
“The twenty-stripper,” she said without thought. Of course he wouldn’t be squeamish about buying the kit. He was so comfortable in who he was, he could probably buy a warehouse full of feminine products in front of God and country and not turn a dark hair on his infernally handsome head.
“What’s a twenty-stripper?”
“Never mind. Get um—” she thought of the box that Hayley Banyon had chosen “—the pink box.” She refused to buy something called Stork Sticks. “I don’t know what it’s called. The names were just a blur to me. But there was a picture of two test sticks on the front.” Just in case she somehow managed to screw up the first one and needed a backup.
Given her luck these days, anything was possible.
“Sit tight and I’ll be right back.” He started to step around her.
“Wait!”
He stopped, looking down at her.
She unaccountably felt breathless.
“I mean, uh, I can’t...can’t wait.”
His eyebrow went up. She had the strangest notion that he was looking at her lips, and her mouth went dry. She didn’t even realize how close they were standing until a horn honking nearby startled them.
“I have to pick up your grandmother from the, uh, the hairdresser,” she finished so huskily that she flushed.
He softly cleared his throat. “Then I’ll bring it to her place.”
She swallowed. “I can’t do the test there,” she protested weakly.
He smiled again, just slightly, then made her shiver when he brushed his thumb down her cheek. “Sweetheart, you can do the test anywhere you can take a leak.”
Sweetheart. It was just a word. It meant nothing.
Riiiight.
There was another honk and, blinking, she looked past him to see an impatient driver waiting behind another car to exit the parking lot.
She looked back at Quinn and resolutely stiffened her shoulders against his appeal. “Not your grandmother’s.” She reeled off Vivian’s busy schedule that was also going to keep Penny busy for the rest of the day. “And tonight, I need to corner Squire Clay once and for all about doing the debate. The only place it can logically be held is in Weaver’s high school auditorium and if I’m going to get it reserved in time, I need to make the commitment.”
“So make the commitment. If the debate never comes off, Vivian’s got plenty of money to cover the inconvenience.”
“Yes, but it’s not only money. School will be starting and they have their own activities that need to be shuffled around to accommodate the debate. If it doesn’t end up happening and Vivian put them through that work, it’ll damage her in the polls.”
His eyebrows rose. “Weaver has election polls where town council seats are concerned?”
She grimaced. “You know what I mean. Reputation is everything around here.”
“Well, that’s true enough,” he agreed wryly. He opened the driver’s door of Vivian’s fancy car for her. “So go on and get her from the hairdresser. I’ll buy the test and catch up to you later sometime.”
“I’ll be at Colbys,” she warned as she got behind the wheel of the car. “In case you don’t find me at home. You know where Colbys is, right?”
He gave her a look. “Weaver being such a metropolis and all? Yeah, I know where it’s located.” He pulled out the safety belt next to her shoulder and waited until she took the buckle.
Something inside her chest felt hot as their fingers brushed, and she fumbled with fitting the latch into place.
Then he pushed the door closed between them and headed toward the store.
She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his departing form until the ping on her phone reminded her that she was supposed to be picking up Vivian on the other side of town.
She exhaled shakily and drove slowly out of the lot. The last thing she needed to do was have an accident in the fancy car because she was having crazy fantasies about the man she’d married.
Chapter Twelve
Even on a Tuesday night, Colbys Bar & Grill was doing a brisk business. The parking on the street in front of the building was full and the lot on the side was just as bad. The closest spot Penny found was nearly two blocks away.
After finally leaving Vivian for the day, Penny had raced home—half afraid, half incomprehensibly excited—to see if Quinn had left the pregnancy kit there for her.
But there’d been no sign of him. No brown paper bag sitting on her porch. No pink box waiting anywhere.
What had been waiting, though, had been her mail.
The sight of the bright pink birthday card wasn’t unusual.
Susie Bennett had been mailing them to Penny every year sinc
e she and George had moved away. The fact that the handwritten address on the front of the envelope was correct meant that Susie had kept up with Penny’s whereabouts from someone.
Dr. T? His wife?
Penny hadn’t had an answer and rather than deal with her feelings about it, she’d shoved the card in her lingerie chest where all the other unopened cards sat alongside Quinn’s paperwork from the lawyer that was still untouched and incomplete.
Then, because for the first time since she’d accompanied Vivian to Pennsylvania, she’d found herself with a little spare time on her hands, she’d taken a longer-than-usual shower. Taken the time to blow-dry her hair smooth for once. She’d put on makeup. Real makeup. Not just a smear of tinted balm on her lips. Dressed in a newish pair of blue jeans that still held most of their indigo blue, and a sapphire-colored T-shirt.
She’d told herself it was only because she wanted to blend in at Colbys.
As a lie to herself, it was a pretty thin one. The usual dress code at the bar was that there was no dress code. In the times she’d been there, that meant anything sufficed. From mudcaked jeans and cowboy boots to the occasional miniskirt.
The last miniskirt Penny had worn had been black and covered with sequins that Susie Bennett had taught her to sew on by hand. She’d worn it to the Sadie Hawkins’ Day dance when Andy had come back for two days after his basic training.
When she thought about the tight spit of fabric, she still couldn’t believe that Susie had allowed it.
The skirt was still lying in the bottom of one of her dresser drawers.
She hadn’t let herself think about the Bennetts for so many years. And now every time she turned around, she was confronted with memories of them.
She’d reached the entrance to Colbys and she took a deep breath before pulling it open.
The second she stepped inside, she was engulfed in noise.
The clacking of balls on the collection of pool tables arranged to one side of the bar. The sound of Garth Brooks singing about if tomorrow never came and the underlying clamor of voices, laughter and the thunk of bottles and clatter of dishes.
She spotted Squire Clay immediately. The old man had a full, distinctive head of iron-gray hair and stood tall despite the gnarled walking stick he had clutched in his fist. Considering the way he was waving that stick in the air as he was watching the action going on at one of the pool tables, she wondered if he needed it for walking at all.
“Dammit, Jefferson,” she could hear him yell as she headed his way, “didn’t I teach you better ‘n that? Gonna let a little slip of a thing like our Meggie beat you at pool? You’re getting old, son!”
Penny caught the wry expression on Jefferson Clay’s face as he ignored his father’s haranguing. She’d only met Jefferson once—at the lavish Christmas party Vivian had thrown.
She’d worked for Vivian for only a few months at that point. Now, after months of gaining a deeper understanding of Vivian and the estrangement she’d had with her sons, not to mention seeing those paintings of Sawyer Templeton, Penny was starting to see some resemblances between Squire’s offspring with his first wife and Vivian’s offspring with her first husband. Physical and otherwise.
Squire had mercifully stopped waving around his cane when Penny stood next to him. She was glad she’d chosen to wear her good cowboy boots that added a couple inches to her height, because it put her pretty close to looking the cagey old rancher in the eye. “Mr. Clay? Pardon me for intruding on your evening. I’m Penny Garner.” She hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and stuck out her hand because she was pretty certain that he was too old school to just ignore her.
His eyes were such a pale shade of blue they almost looked as silvery as his hair. And as they narrowed as he looked at her, she felt the same hint of nervousness she’d felt when she’d first gone to work for Vivian.
Then his lips compressed and he shook her hand briefly. “Miz Garner. Hope you’re here for grub or suds. Otherwise I’m gonna start thinking you’re not real quick on the uptake.”
“Don’t be rude, Squire.” A graying auburn-haired woman stepped forward. Penny knew, even before she found her hand warmly clasped, that the woman had to be Squire’s wife, Gloria. “Penny’s been nothing but charming whenever we’ve spoken.” Gloria gave her a quick wink.
Squire harrumphed. “Should’ve known you’d be manipulating things behind my back.”
Gloria was clearly unperturbed by the accusation. “Since you’re being your usual cantankerous self, someone has to take on the dirty task.”
“Jefferson,” Squire barked. “You gonna let that girl beat you again?”
“That girl,” Jefferson drawled as he set down his pool cue and shoved his fingers through the thick blond hair that hung past his shoulders, “is a shark who has been taught well by another shark. You.”
Squire let out a satisfied cackle as he shared a look with the beaming teenager standing on the other side of the pool table. “Damn straight.” He looked from the teen to Penny. “You’re a good-looking thing,” he said. “Wouldn’t you rather be home cooking for your husband than dancing to that Templeton woman’s tune?”
“Squire,” Gloria chided. She looked at Penny. “Take about a third of what he says seriously. The rest of what comes out of his mouth is purely for effect.”
Penny sure hoped so. “Mr. Clay, what can I say to convince you to participate in the debate?”
“Not a damn thing, girl.” He gave her a sidelong look. “That’s no reflection on your efforts, I assure you.”
She supposed that was something. “But—”
“There’s just no call for a debate.” His lip curled with annoyance. “Your boss doesn’t understand the way we do things here. Weaver ain’t Pittsburgh.”
“But there is a reason for debate,” she argued. “It’s been more than two decades since there have been more candidates for town council than there are available vacancies! You have an enviable opportunity here. Unlike a lot of small towns, Weaver is thriving. It’ll outpace Braden before long at the rate it’s growing. Don’t you think the citizens deserve to hear what both of the candidates have to say about the future of their community?”
Squire gave her a look. “Sure you shouldn’t be running for the council yourself?”
She lifted her chin and smiled, feeling unaccountably confident all of a sudden. “If I were the one running against you, would you feel differently about having the debate?”
He harrumphed again and looked past her.
A shiver slid down her spine and she knew that Quinn had entered the bar even before she turned to look.
He stood a head taller than nearly everyone in the crowded room as he made his way toward them and she had the silliest notion of telling Squire that she didn’t need to be home cooking for her husband, because her husband was already there.
When he reached them, his easy smile took in everyone surrounding the pool table. His white T-shirt from earlier that day had been replaced by a beige button-down with the sleeves rolled up. “Evening.” His fingers grazed the small of her spine, warm even through her T-shirt. “Meant to get here sooner, but I got tied up with something.”
She felt breathless. And grateful that he wasn’t carrying a pink box. She dragged her eyes from the base of his strong neck displayed in the middle of his casually unbuttoned collar. She couldn’t seem to get the smile off her face, either. “I... I just got here myself.” She gestured. “I think I should probably make some introductions.”
Squire interrupted, though. He was eyeing Quinn closely. “You’re the young buck with the Silver Star.”
Quinn looked surprised. “Can’t say I’ve been called a young buck in a while,” he said wryly.
Squire grunted. “You look a lot like your grandpa,” he said abruptly.
“I never met him.
”
“Would’a been hard when he died a long time before you were even born.” Squire stuck out his hand. “I’m Squire.” He gestured with his other. “Most of those faces over there’re your relatives. You’re welcome to join us for supper, if you’re interested.”
Quinn shook the old man’s hand and his nod took in all the rest. “I appreciate the offer, sir. But I’ve actually got plans already with Penny here.” His fingertips stroked along Penny’s spine again.
Squire’s look turned appraising. “Well, can’t say you don’t have good taste,” he said.
Penny felt herself start to flush. “Mr. Clay. About the debate—” She broke off, startled, when someone screamed. Followed by another scream.
As one, they’d all turned to look.
“What the hell,” Squire was muttering. He dropped his hand on Penny’s shoulder as he tried to see through the commotion that was suddenly the central focus of the chaotic bar.
Quinn was the first to move. He caught Penny’s eyes. “Call 911. You hear me?”
She nodded and quickly pushed through the people who’d started crowding forward toward the bar while he headed into the throng. She could hear his deep voice cutting calmly and authoritatively through the clamor as she reached the bar. Merilee, the assistant manager of the place, already had the phone at her ear, though.
“Call 911!”
Merilee nodded, lifting her hand. “I am! No,” she yelled into the phone. “I don’t know the nature of my emergency. I just have one! That’s right. Colbys. Oh, for God’s sake. We only have one location. On Main. Near the park.”
When Penny had arrived, every bar stool at the bar had been occupied. Now they were all empty. She dumped her purse on the bar and climbed up onto one so she could see above the crowd. Quinn was crouched over a man, obviously giving him CPR.
“A man’s not breathing,” she told Merilee, who in turn yelled it at the person on the other end of the line.
Merilee slammed down the phone. “Both ambulances are already out. Sheriff’s sending a van.”
Vegas Wedding, Weaver Bride Page 15