The Chisholm Brothers:Friends, Lovers... Husbands?

by Janis Reams Hudson

  “Are too.”

  “Tha’s a lie.”

  Justin hooted again. “You’re drunk as a skunk. How much beer have you had?”

  “This is her third pitcher.” The waitress, Linda, clunked down a fresh pitcher of beer and whipped the empty one away.

  Justin goggled. “Third? What’s the deal, Mel? You never drink this much.”

  Using two hands to make sure she didn’t spill a drop, Melanie refilled her parched glass, then guzzled the entire contents to soothe her parched throat.

  “Ah.” She slapped the glass back down onto the table and smacked her lips. “Tha’s better.”

  Justin was starting to get worried. This wasn’t like Mel at all. She never drank this much, and she damn sure never guzzled a full glass in one gulp. “Three pitchers?”

  “’S a lie.”

  “Come on, pal, what’s going on? It’s me, here. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

  “Nope.” She shook her head and refilled her glass yet again. “You’re my fun pal. Caleb’s my talkin’-to pal.”

  “You want me to call Caleb?”

  Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Lips?”

  Justin burst out laughing.

  “No way, José.” She shook her head so hard she nearly fell against him. “He’s part of the prob— The prol— The damn reason. Him and his lips.” She snorted. “His lips, my parents. Either one would be enough to send a girl to the nearest bar, and I’ve got ’em both to deal with.”

  The way Mel was glaring at him, as though Caleb and his lips and her parents, whatever they had to do with anything, were somehow his fault, had Justin swallowing back another burst of laughter. Sober, she was capable of giving him a black eye if he made her too mad. He had no idea what she might do when drunk, because he’d never seen her like this before. He didn’t know how to deal with this Mel.

  “You hold that thought, sweetcakes.” He patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “I don’ thin’ so.”

  Halfway out of the booth, Justin paused and looked back at her. “You don’t think I’ll be back?”

  “Nope.” She took a sip of beer and smacked her lips.

  “Why not?”

  “’Cuz Blaire Harding just walked in, an’ I happen to know you’ve got a baaad case of the hots for her.”

  At the mention of Blaire Harding’s name, Justin’s head whipped around all on its own. Without direction from his brain, his eyes scanned, then zeroed in on her as if they were laser-guided. Without looking back, he slid from the booth.

  “See ya, kid,” he said over his shoulder. Because Mel was right. He had a baaad case of the hots for Blaire Harding, and the woman had been avoiding him like the plague for days.

  But before he got too carried away, he made his way outside—where he could make sure Blaire didn’t leave before he had a chance to drool—er, talk to her. The noise level was slightly lower outside than in, which was his reason for going there. He unclipped his cell phone from his belt and called Caleb.

  Caleb pulled into the gravel parking lot in front of the Road Hog and killed the engine, but he didn’t get out right away. Justin had to be lying. The kid would consider it a good practical joke to get Caleb riled up and have him driving all the way into town to see about Melanie.

  Melanie herself was probably in on the joke.

  Drunk. That was a good one. Melanie never got drunk. It took her all night long to sip her way through one or two beers. And that certainly didn’t make her drunk.

  It was much more likely that Justin got hooked up with a woman and didn’t want to drive Melanie home. Melanie wouldn’t care, because she and Justin were just friends.

  But then, he would have sworn he and Melanie were just friends, too, until she’d knocked his socks off with that kiss the other night at the party. Now he wasn’t sure what they were to each other.

  It flashed through his mind that calling him to come rescue Melanie could be nothing more than a trick to get him to come to Billy Ray’s party. Justin and Melanie weren’t above such a scheme.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t like Billy Ray. How could you not like a guy who put up with everyone calling him by his first and last names together, all his life? His name wasn’t Billy Ray Somebody. Ray was not his middle name, it was his last name. But for some reason, everyone in his family was known by their first and last names joined together. And the names always ran together as if they were one word: Billy Ray, his brother DonnieRay, their daddy JuniorRay, their sister ConnieRay, and their mother, Mrs. Ray, pronounced MizRay. MizRay, as far as anyone could tell, did not have a first name other than Miz.

  Caleb liked them all just fine. It was only that Billy Ray and his crowd were several years younger than Caleb, and he could take only so much rowdy partying.

  Could it be that at thirty-three he was getting old?

  Nah, thirty-three wasn’t old. Never mind the aching muscles as he finally climbed out of his pickup. Muscles were supposed to ache after a long hard day.

  The noise from the band was loud in the parking lot. He took a deep breath and braced himself before pushing the door of the Road Hog open and stepping inside. The blast of sound that hit him made him wince. The wall of smoke choked him. Two more good reasons to have stayed home—preservation of his lungs and eardrums. “Hey, Caleb!” Billy Ray himself, obviously just coming from the men’s room, spotted him instantly and gave Caleb a hearty slap on the back. Or, he would have, if he hadn’t been three sheets to the wind. His aim was off and his hand barely glanced off Caleb’s shoulder. But the force of his own movement, without Caleb’s solid back to stop him, nearly sent him face-first to the floor. He staggered, then righted himself and grinned sloppily. “Glad you came, buddy. Come on over to my table and have a beer.”

  Caleb tucked his hands into his back pockets and pretended he hadn’t heard the invitation. “Looks like a big party.” He had to shout to make himself heard over the band and the crowd.

  “It’s the best!” Billy Ray answered. “Oops. There’s Carol Anne flaggin’ me down.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t wanna keep the lady waiting, now, would I?”

  Caleb laughed, as he was meant to. “Not if you’re smart, pardner.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Billy Ray said, swaying past Caleb toward the well-endowed redhead waving her arms in the air. “If there’s one thing Billy Ray is, it’s smart, and don’t let anyone tell you different.”

  Caleb shook his head as Billy Ray plowed his way through the crowd of people. Yep, he would just as soon have stayed home. That didn’t make him old, it just, in his book, made him sensible.

  Now all he had to do was find Melanie through the smoke and the throng and call Justin’s bluff about her being drunk.

  This was one of those occasions when being six feet tall came in handy. There were some men taller than he was, but they were either on the dance floor, sitting at a table, or leaning on the bar. Without too much stretching on his part he was able to see pretty much the entire room.

  Just then the band ended their number and a two-second lull occurred before the roar of voices resumed over the scattering of applause. Into that two-second lull came a sharp whistle from near the tiny dance floor in front of the band at the opposite end of the room from where Caleb stood.

  The whistle was, if one could be, familiar. He glanced over and saw Justin. Caleb nodded that he’d spotted him, and Justin pointed toward the booths along the far wall.

  And there sat Melanie in the front corner booth. Maybe sat wasn’t the right word, as she was more or less slumped into the corner. She looked as if any moment she would simply slide right out of the booth and end up in the floor beneath the table.

  Good grief, had Justin been telling the truth? Was she really drunk?

  As he worked his way to her side he worried over what could have caused her to get herself in such a state.

  He remembered that lost look on her face Saturday night at the party,
remembered thinking she was upset over Sloan’s marriage to Emily. She had denied it, but now, seeing her drunk, for what might be the first time in her life, he had to wonder.

  Saturday night she’d said that whatever was bothering her had nothing to do with Sloan. Caleb knew Melanie pretty well, and he couldn’t imagine what could be hurting her enough to have her acting so out of character.

  “Hey, there.” He slid in across from her, more than surprised that someone as popular and well-liked as Melanie was alone in the booth.

  Her eyes were closed. For a minute he was afraid she had fallen asleep. Or passed out, if she was really as soused as Justin said.

  “Go away,” she said. “There’s only enough beer for one, and I’m the one.”

  The pitcher was full, her glass half so.

  “Looks to me,” he said, “as if you’ve had more than your fair share already.”

  Melanie cracked one eye partially open then groaned. Great. She’d either had way too much to drink, or not nearly enough. She was hallucinating. She had to be, because she knew Caleb wasn’t really sitting across from her. No way. She’d made sure to find out that he was not coming to…to…Oh, yeah. Billy Ray’s birthday party. The Road Hog. That’s where she was.

  But Caleb wasn’t there. She’d ridden to town with Justin. Not Caleb.

  “I definitely need another beer.” She raised her glass, but the apparition across from her reached out and snatched it from her hand. “Hey!”

  “No more for you, pal.”

  Melanie frowned and squinted to see more clearly. “Lips?”

  The apparition frowned back. “What about them?”

  “’Zat you?”

  “Jeez, how drunk are you? It’s me, Caleb. Are you ready to go home?”

  She hiccuped, then giggled. “I think I’m too drive to drunk.”

  He muttered something that sounded like, “The understatement of the year.”

  “Hey, I resemble that statement.”

  Caleb laughed and shook his head. He’d never seen her like this. “You certainly do. Come on, woman, let’s get you out of here.”

  She poked out her lower lip in a stupendous pout. “Don’t wanna go home.”

  Caleb slid out of the booth. He stepped to her side of the table and reached for her arm, intrigued by the strength he felt there. He shouldn’t let her strength surprise him; he knew she worked probably as hard as he did. He decided he liked that firm muscle beneath his hand.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’ll go someplace else, then.” He wasn’t, as a rule, a liar, but just then he would have promised her anything to get her to get up and walk out the door with him. He hoped to God she could still walk. If he had to carry her through this crowd of her friends she would never live it down. Which meant she would never forgive him.

  But she let him tug her across the seat to stand beside him. She wobbled a little but stayed upright.

  Caleb wrapped his arm around her waist and started her toward the door. She leaned against him and stumbled over her own feet.

  “Oops.” She giggled.

  “You’re going to love hearing about this tomorrow,” he muttered.

  She flung her head back to look up at him and nearly threw them both over backward. “What?” she yelled. “Where are we going?”

  “Out of here.”

  They made it out the door without much trouble. Most of the crowd didn’t notice they were leaving, so only a few yelled out to say good-night. The gravel in the parking lot made for tricky footing for Melanie. He would have simply picked her up and carried her—she wasn’t in much condition to object—but there were several people around and he didn’t want to have to deal with the talk such a move would surely generate. He took most of Melanie’s weight against his hip. All she had to do was move her feet, and finally they made it to his truck, where he belted her into the passenger seat.

  “Where we goin’?” she asked, swaying as he turned right out of the parking lot.

  “You already asked that.”

  “I did?” Hic. Giggle.

  “Jeez, you are snockered.” He glanced over in time to see her blink once, slowly. She reminded him of a baby owl.

  “How ’bout that. I guess I am. Snockered.”

  “I’m wondering why that is,” Caleb said.

  Hic. Giggle. “’Cuz I drank too much beer.” She gave an emphatic nod. The movement would have overbalanced her and sent her tumbling to the floorboard had it not been for the seat and shoulder belts.

  “Easy, there.” Caleb reached over and pulled her back upright. Her head fell against the headrest and stayed there. He would have wished that she would just go ahead and pass out, except then he would have to get her into her house, and he didn’t particularly want to have to explain to Ralph why he was bringing his pride and joy home drunk as the proverbial skunk.

  And if the worst should happen and Ralph wasn’t home, Caleb would have to put her to bed.

  “Don’t you dare fall asleep,” he ordered sharply.

  “Sleep, sleep, sleep. Don’ wanna sleep. Where we goin’? I wanna dance.”

  Caleb turned on the radio to a country station. “Knock yourself out. Figuratively speaking.”

  “Knock myself out.” She gave herself a mock punch to the head. “Pow.” She laughed so hard she fell against the door.

  Caleb winced. She was strapped in, but that didn’t mean he wanted that door to fly open. Leaning as far as he could, he reached behind her head and pushed the door lock on her door.

  “Oh, oh! I love this song.” She leaped toward the radio. It took her three tries, but she finally managed to turn up the volume and sing along.

  Since Caleb had spent most of the past two days reliving that kiss they’d shared on the makeshift dance floor Saturday night, he wished heartily that she had picked some song other than the old Conway Twitty hit about wanting a lover with a slow hand. Caleb did not need the pictures that took over his mind.

  Retracing a trip he’d made at least a hundred times in his life, Caleb slowed and turned off the highway onto the Pruitt Ranch driveway. But for his headlights it was pitch-black out here. He had to take it even slower than he had when he brought her home the day before, because he couldn’t see where the next pothole might be.

  Potholes obviously were no concern for Melanie. She sat next to him singing at the top of her lungs. Currently it was a commercial jingle about car mufflers.

  “We’re here,” he said unnecessarily.

  “No, no, no.” She groaned. “I tol’ you I di’n wanna come home.”

  “Yeah, you told me.” He parked next to the back door. The house was dark, and the yard and driveway, lit by the utility light next to the house, showed her lone vehicle. After ten on a weeknight and her dad wasn’t home.

  “Not my business,” he muttered as he got out and went around to haul Melanie out.

  She did not cooperate. Part of that was on purpose, because she really didn’t want to go into the house, and she kept saying so as she held on to the truck door when he urged her out of her seat. But part of her lack of cooperation was because she was too snockered to stand up straight.

  “Okay.” He slipped one arm around her waist and lifted her weight onto his hip again. It had worked well enough at the parking lot. “Here we go.”

  At the back door he pulled open the storm door and tried the knob. It was locked. No surprise there.

  “Where’s your key?” he asked.

  She blinked up at him, doing that little owl thing again, and giggled. “You’re so cute. Did I ever tell you how cute you are?”

  “Come on, you’re not that drunk. Your key, Melanie. Where’s your house key?”

  She gave him a sly smile. “My pocket.”

  “Well, get it so I can get you inside.”

  “No.”

  Caleb dropped his forehead to rest against hers and sighed. “Come on, Mel, be a sport. Give me your

  key.”

  “You have to kiss me fi
rst.”

  Caleb jerked his head up. In the glow of the utility light he stared at her, stunned. “I take it back. You’re drunker than I thought. Give me your key.”

  Her bottom lip poked out. “You’re not gonna kiss me?”

  “We did that the other night, remember? I got the impression you wished we hadn’t. Now be a pal and give me your key.”

  “I know you liked kissing me.”

  “Sugarpie, a dead man would like kissing you.” Please, God, let her be too drunk to remember I said that. “Now give me your key.”

  That sly smile she gave him a moment ago returned. “Why don’t you get it yourself?”

  Sweat popped out along his upper lip. He could almost feel his hand pushing into her pocket, feeling the shape of her beneath a single layer of fabric.

  He braced his hands on her shoulders. “If I have to get it myself I’m going to hold you upside down by your ankles and shake you until the key falls out.”

  Now her pout came back. “You’re no fun.” She jammed her right hand into her front pocket and pulled out a key. And promptly dropped it. “Oops.” Giggle. Hic.

  Caleb spent the next several minutes on his hands and knees, in the semidark, swearing, until he finally found the key on the edge of the bottom step.

  “Eureka!” Melanie cried with a wave of her arms that nearly sent her tumbling off the steps.

  “Whoa, there.” Caleb caught her by the arm and steadied her. While he unlocked the door, she moaned.

  “Caleb?”

  “Here we go.” He pushed open the door and reached inside and turned on the kitchen light.

  She swayed against him. “Caleb, is this room s’pose to be spinning?”

  “Oh no you don’t.” He swept her into the room and closed the door. “Don’t you dare pass out or get sick on me.”

  She leaned against him. “I think I need to…”

  “I hope you’re going to say lie down.” He helped her across the kitchen and down the hall. Caleb got her through her bedroom door and lowered her to sit on the side of the bed.

  She fell back, her arms spread wide. “Ahhh.”