Small Town Romance Collection: Four Complete Romances & A New Novella

by Brown, Carolyn

  "Good Lord," Mercy murmured. She saw the scene vividly as he described it, and thought somewhere in the back of her mind that he'd never be able to love her the way he'd loved Carla.

  "After three years and too many women and drunken nights, I met Tammy. She was taller than Carla and not nearly as sassy, but a whole lot like her. We married in December and by February I knew I'd made a big, big mistake. Carla couldn't be replaced, and Tammy had married me for a free ride on my checkbook. She maxed out every credit card I had and wanted more. One morning we had a big fight and I told her she couldn't charge anything more until we paid some bills. Then I was on my way to the airport to fly to Kansas to look at a bull my daddy and I were going to buy for the ranch when I realized I'd forgotten my wallet. I had only gone about two miles so I had plenty of time to go back and get it. Besides, I had this weird feeling about leaving after a fight like that. The last time I'd seen Carla, we'd fought and I guess I was scared to make another big mistake. I figured I'd slip inside the house, we'd make up, I'd grab my billfold and maybe we'd make a decent marriage after all." Hunter stopped and swallowed half the glass of cola.

  A jittery kind of tension filled her. She had a feeling he was going to say that when he got home Tammy had shot herself, or else run out of the house and gotten killed somehow, just like Carla. Mercy put the piece of pizza back in the box and pulled the covers up over her bare arms. Maybe she was just cold.

  "I eased into the house and heard the noise before it dawned on me what I was hearing." He put the glass on the bedside table beside the phone. "I was so mad I saw red. I went to the bedroom to find her, and there she was tangled up with one of my hired hands in the middle of the sheets I'd just crawled out of. He jumped up and started muttering about how sorry he was until I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him through the house and slung him out the front door. Then I went to the bedroom and Tammy was sitting up in the bed filing her nails, with a smug look on her face. I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her down the hall and pitched her out the door. She landed in the same spot her loverboy did, but when she got up, she started cussing me, telling me she was taking me to the cleaners. I pitched her car keys out the door while she ranted and raved out there as naked as a jaybird, and told her to get out of my life forever. So I guess if that's wife abuse, I'm guilty. And if I murdered Carla by not wrestling her to the ground and taking her keys, then I'm guilty as hell there, too."

  Hunter had spoken the truth. She'd bank her virginity on it! Kim and Marta had used two horrible misfortunes to goad her into playing right into their spiteful game. She felt like a fool for that, but who knew, even yet, where a relationship with Hunter could lead. He'd had two bad experiences . . . and how in the world could he trust any woman again?

  "I'm sorry," she said honestly. "What happened then?"

  "Divorce. I had a good lawyer or Tammy might have ended up with half the ranch. Jeremy knew more . . . well, hell, you might as well know all of it. Jeremy found out about a couple of other hired hands over on his ranch that she'd been having affairs with. So she settled for a few thousand dollars out of court, but I had to pay all the credit card bills. It was an expensive lesson, like Daddy said. But it taught me to be careful where women were concerned."

  "Whew." Mercy shivered.

  "Now, you got any more questions? I don't want another letter to find its way into your hands and your hot temper to get the best of you again." Hunter picked up a piece of pizza, surprised that he was ravenously hungry.

  "What about all those other women and drunken nights?" She looked him right in the eyes and he knew what she was thinking.

  "Test taken when I woke up from my stupidity." He shook his head. "Nothing to worry about. All clean."

  "Then I have no more questions, except can I have a piece of that pepperoni pizza?" She pointed toward his food without taking her gaze from his eyes.

  Later that night when Hunter was sleeping the peaceful sleep that only comes after unburdening one's soul, Mercy lay awake and stared at the ceiling. He said he'd been with too many women, and he'd been sexually active since he was a sophomore in high school. That would be for about fourteen years. About as long as she had kept the vow she had made to herself when she was ten years old not to sleep with anyone until she was married. And she had wanted the man she married to be as pure as she was.

  How could she let him touch her, knowing that it wasn't his first time—and that he would compare her with women who knew so much more than she did? Even if he did turn her emotions upside down and inside out, could she ever have a serious relationship with a man like Hunter Wilson?

  At dawn her eyes were still fixed somewhere beyond that crazy ceiling and the infinity of heaven beyond, and there wasn't a single answer to her millions of questions in the holes in the cheap ceiling or even on past the clouds, now splitting up and letting the sun's rays slip through to make a brand-new day.

  "Mornin'," he interrupted her thoughts. "You always wake up this early?"

  "Nope, and I don't do mornings," Mercy said without turning her head to look at him.

  "Well, excuuuuse me," Hunter said testily as he swung his feet out of the bed and stomped to the bathroom. She used all of the willpower she possessed to keep from attacking his muscular body as he paraded past her wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants. The downy light brown hair covering his chest begged to be touched, and her fingers itched to do so. Even with morning breath, she knew his kisses would send her senses reeling, and she absolutely yearned to feel his mouth on hers, his tongue brushing her lips and making that warm feeling down deep inside her body.

  "I'm hungry." Mercy was sitting in the middle of the bed with her knees drawn up when he returned. She looked very much like the way she had the time they sat by the banks of the lake, Hunter thought. Only then she'd worn a gauzy skirt and this morning she had on a silky gown, made for slipping over her head and draping over the back of a chair.

  "Then let's eat. You want American food or Mexican?" he asked with a gleam in his eyes.

  "Bacon, eggs, gravy and biscuits, maybe a side order of pancakes and a pint of milk." She threw back the covers and stretched, causing the same physical reaction in him that he'd experienced earlier.

  He was one glad man that he didn't have to spend the night in the room beside her again. At least there were two bedrooms in the house attached to the cantina. Three nights of the kind of self-restraint he was having to exercise and he'd be ready for a straitjacket.

  "Ever have a weight problem?" he asked.

  "You sayin' I'm fat?" she snapped as she picked up her jeans and shirt and started for the bathroom to get dressed.

  "No, ma'am. Matter of fact, I'd say you're put together right fine," he said appreciatively.

  "Then feed me, sir. You've kidnapped me. At least keep me happy until you take me back home." Mercy smiled brightly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  They crossed the border at Nuevo Laredo and two hours later pulled into the streets of the small town Mercy remembered very well from the previous summer. It wasn't quite as hot, but nothing else had changed. She thought about Jenny and Kyle helping with church services the next morning, and toyed with the idea of attending. But if Jenny found out she was here for three days with Hunter Wilson without a chaperone, she'd probably die on the spot. And if she even found out that Mercy had spent last night with him in the same motel room, Jenny would never believe they hadn't shared the same bed. It wouldn't matter if they were as innocent as newborn baby lambs. Mercy's reputation would still be tainted forever. Jenny would assume that Hunter would never make an honest woman out of Mercy after compromising her like that.

  "Here we are." Hunter drove his truck around to the back of the cantina and Mercy was surprised to find a fairly nice frame house attached to the back. She had never thought about where Mickey and his new wife might live, but there it was, a white house with a porch and a flower bed facing the street on the opposite side of the cantina. "Mickey and Maria left this
morning and won't be back until Monday morning. Here, take your suitcase. The key is under the mat."

  "Yes, sir," she said smartly, the first thing she'd said to him since they crossed the border earlier in the morning.

  She pushed the door open with her suitcase and looked around delighted at what she saw. A dark blue leather sofa faced a huge brick fireplace and the plush heather blue carpet under her feet felt heavenly soft. She dropped her suitcase and swore that the temperature was at least twenty degrees cooler in the living room than outside. That meant an airconditioner was hidden somewhere!

  "Surprised?" Hunter pushed his suitcase and boot bag ahead of him into the living room. "Mickey loves Mexico, but he likes a little luxury, too."

  "This is lovely," she admitted. "Does Mickey make enough on that cantina to live this well? I didn't even know airconditioning existed in this town."

  "Mickey doesn't have to worry about money. He could live anywhere in the world and do whatever he wants. He just likes the laid-back life down here. The airconditioning is powered by a big generator he has outside. Maria says you're to have the master bedroom since it has a private bathroom. She says if I don't treat you right, I'll answer to her." He opened another door and she could see a king-size bed covered with a colorful quilt. "Open that door over there; it's yours for the weekend," he called from the guest room.

  She did, and found a lovely bedroom in soft shades of blue. The door to the bathroom was open and she could see a bathtub big enough for two, with fresh-cut flowers in crystal vases on the deep shelf that surrounded the tub. She turned back the silk comforter and found crisp, freshly ironed cotton sheets edged with fancy crochet on the bed.

  "Well, will these accommodations do for the next couple of days while we help Mickey and Maria out with the cantina?" Hunter stood in the door with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes dancing and a big grin on his face. He wanted to put his arms around her waist and bury his face in that thick blond hair but since he told her about his two marriages last night, she hadn't said much to him. He didn't know if she'd had a change of heart or if she still had no intentions of being number three in his life. For that matter, he didn't know if he'd ever want another permanent commitment. But he was damn sure ready to get to know Miss Mercy Spenser better.

  "You mean this is a working vacation? Good Lord!" She threw up her hands in disgust. "I swore after last summer that I'd never do that again." Mercy sat down on the vanity stool with a thud. "And what's my job supposed to be? Do I get to put my ear to the wall and turn up the jukebox when the music gets too loud next door at the church?"

  "Hell, no!" Hunter snapped. He'd already had enough of her smart mouth in less than five minutes. "I thought you'd put on a sexy little costume and dance on the tabletops for the men. We could put a sombrero on the floor and you could keep all the pesos they throw in it!"

  "And what time am I supposed to have my hat dance regalia ready?" She looked up at him and his heart melted under those blue eyes. Suddenly he knew what he wanted out of the rest of his life: sweet Mercy. And he'd have her if he had to move heaven and earth.

  "We open the cantina at five o'clock. I do the short-order cooking and bartending. All you have to do is stay behind the bar and smile. That should be enough to bring in more customers than old Mickey gets in a whole month. Wait until the menfolks around here learn there's a blond angel at the cantina. They'll flock in by the droves," he smiled brightly and she wondered what had changed his mind in the middle of the argument. One minute he looked like he could eat porcupines without knocking off a single quill and the next minute his eyes were twinkling in mischief.

  Hunter pulled the mismatched wooden chairs from the tops of the tables and set them down on the rough wood floor. Mercy flipped her hair up on top of her head and secured the ponytail with a rubber band, then pulled a bandanna from her pocket and tied a loose bow around it. She tugged a white eyelet lace camisole down over the waistband of a pair of jean shorts. She would have brought different clothes if she'd been doing the choosing, but at least her mother hadn't packed silk business suits or after-five party dresses.

  "Hey, Hunter," she called across the floor, causing him to jump. He'd begun to think maybe she would sit on her stool and give him go-to-hell looks all evening.

  "Yes?" He cocked his head to one side.

  "How do I look?" She straightened her back until the buttons on the front of the lace camisole strained, and then she smiled brightly.

  "Good. Maybe too good," he said. "Slump a little bit."

  "Nope." She shook her head. "If this is my job tonight, then I'll do it right."

  The soft sounds of gospel hymns next door filled the cantina and Hunter plugged several coins into the jukebox. Mercy picked up a white tea towel from a stack under the counter and wiped the dust from the top of the bar. She was wiping the light layer of dust from the shelves behind the bar when she looked up and saw the woman swagger into the cantina.

  She had a mop of bright red hair which had to be natural because a bottle could never produce that color. Freckles danced across her nose and colored contacts made her eyes Crayola green. What she lacked on top, she made up for in a rounded bottom that most of the customers couldn't keep their eyes off of. Even Hunter had a smile plastered on his face like a little boy who'd found a whole stack of Playboy magazines in the trash can.

  "What are you smiling at?" Mercy hissed. The woman sashayed over to the bar, her wide rear end about to burst the seams of a pair of black stretch pants.

  "The looks on those men's faces." Hunter almost danced a jig. Mercy was clearly jealous and he loved it.

  "Well, you should see the look on your face," she said.

  "A beer, please." The woman surveyed Hunter with her artificially green eyes and smiled brightly.

  "Any particular kind?" Mercy asked sweetly.

  "Nope, just beer. Mexican, American, German, I don't give a damn. Just something good and cold to drink while I look at the sights." The woman didn't take her eyes from Hunter's face, except to let them drop about six inches below his belt buckle.

  Mercy set a long-necked bottle and a sparkling clean glass on the bar in front of the redhead from hell. "Tourist?" she asked pleasantly.

  "Yep, I come over often from Laredo. Haven't seen you or your brother in here before. What happened to the chubby little fellow and his Mexican wife?" she asked, but she didn't look at Mercy at all.

  Hunter hadn't had a woman give him such a blatant come-hither look in a long time. This red-haired lady looked like she could take him to bed and not stop fooling around until the wee hours of the morning. "Mercy isn't my sister." He grinned like a wolf and Mercy wanted to shoot him on the spot.

  "Oh, she's your wife?" the woman asked coquettishly.

  "Hell, no!" Mercy said, wishing she didn't have to admit that she wasn't connected to him.

  "Then let's dance, sweetheart." The woman stood up and held out her hand to Hunter. "If she's not your sister or your wife, you're a free man, and I damn sure like what I see."

  "Anything to please the customer." Hunter tossed his towel at Mercy and let the woman lead him around the bar. A slow waltz started on the jukebox and she wrapped both arms around his neck and positioned her legs around one of his as if she was going to ride it like a horse rather than dance with him.

  The first thing Mercy wanted to do was commit murder—on one or both of them. She figured she could find her way back home without him.

  The second thing she wanted to do was throw the tea towel he'd tossed at her on the floor and stomp off to the back of the house and pout like a baby. But that wouldn't accomplish anything.

  A sudden flash of strong emotion moved her to action.

  "Excuse me." She tapped the woman on the shoulder. "This is our song, and I don't let my man dance with strange women when our song is playing."

  "But he said you aren't his wife or his sister," the woman challenged her.

  "He doesn't know what I am, but you do, honey.
" Mercy edged between the woman and Hunter. "You knew when you walked in here that he wasn't running the range. He's got a brand, and you're not thinking about doing any rustling, now are you?"

  "What I want, I take." The woman looked up at Mercy, who stood at least six inches taller than she was. "I'm not afraid of you, darlin'."

  "Well, you better want something outside this cantina." Mercy left no room for doubt as she looked down on the woman. "Because you're not welcome here." Mercy wrapped her arms around Hunter's neck and swished him off to another part of the floor to dance with him as the customers laughed. They didn't understand everything that had been said, but a cat fight was a cat fight in any language.

  "I thought that other song was our song." Hunter remembered her telling Kim something like that in the barn all those weeks ago. "And what's this about me having a brand?"

  "Oh hush! You don't have any sense when it comes to women." Mercy snuggled up closer to him, and watched the redheaded hussy stomp out of the cantina, slamming the wooden door behind her.