Tempting Tim: A Small Town Friends to Lovers Romance (Billingsley Book 4)

by Melissa Ellen

  He flipped back to the sketch of his father and friends, inspecting it once again. “This is crazy. It looks just like him.”

  “Thanks,” I said, reaching over and closing the book. I pulled it back to my side of the table.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked like I owned the place.

  He glanced over his shoulder, meeting eyes with his father, who gave him a mischievous grin. Tim shook his head and looked back at me. “I’m guessing I’m here for other reasons than I thought.”

  Somewhat confused, I laughed. “We’ve been set up again, haven’t we?”

  “Seems so.”

  “Do people in this town have nothing better to do?”

  “I think we both know they don’t,” he said on a grin.

  I smiled back, relaxing slightly for the first time since he’d walked through the door. If he was still upset with me, he wasn’t showing it.

  “Besides, for once, I can’t say I’m too mad about it,” he said, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table. “I wanted to talk to you…you know, about what happened the other night.”

  “Yeah, about that…” I trailed off, not sure how to broach the subject.

  “I’m sorry. It was wrong. And I crossed a line I shouldn’t have.”

  My heart sank at his words, leaving me even more speechless.

  Everything he was saying made sense. It’s not like I hadn’t told myself the same thing over and over since the moment he turned his back on me and walked away. But for some reason him calling it “wrong” cut deep. Not for one second had I associated the word ‘wrong’ when thinking about the kiss. Nothing about it felt wrong to me. It felt right. It felt perfect. And knowing he didn’t feel the same way, made me realize how one-sided it’d all been.

  “It’s fine,” I said, even though I felt anything but fine about this whole conversation.

  He gave me a semblance of a smile. “It’s not. But I’m hoping it can be water under the bridge and we can move forward.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you still have a job at Dudley’s if you want it.”

  “And what happened… What you said to me…?” I questioned.

  “I’m willing to pretend it never happened if you are.”

  Diverting my eyes from him, I watched Miss Debbie as she flittered about, refilling coffee and socializing with the other customers.

  “What do you say?”

  Meeting his gaze once again, I stayed silent. I didn’t know what to say. I could barely process all the emotions and thoughts coursing through me. How was I supposed to respond to all this? So, I did what I always did when it came to my feelings for Tim Hudson. I shoved them back, buried them deep, and pretended they didn’t exist.

  “Sure. When’s my next shift?”

  The set of Tim’s shoulders eased a bit as he sat back, exhaling his relief. “Friday night. Just make sure you have your TABC course done by then.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  After a lengthy pause, he tapped his knuckles on the table, then stood. “Glad to have you on board, Con. Melanie will be, too.”

  I nodded, giving him a faint smile before he made to leave. He lifted his chin toward his father, giving him a silent farewell, and then he was gone.

  Pushing around the peas on my plate next to the untouched meatloaf, I half-listened as my father told us about his booth idea for the church at the upcoming Spring Chili Festival. The other half of my mind was on the conversation I’d had with Tim earlier that day. I hadn’t really been in the mood for Sunday dinner with my family after our run-in at Kathy’s, but I didn’t want to hurt my mom’s feelings by backing out last minute.

  Despite putting on a cheerful face, I knew she’d been hurt earlier when I hadn’t come home with her after church to help prepare dinner. I’d told her I needed to look for a job. She’d smiled, and given me a half-hearted goodbye, before excusing herself to talk to some church members still standing around. I’d felt terrible, knowing that ritual was something we both used to look forward to when I was younger.

  “That sounds lovely, dear,” Mom said. “I’m sure the parishioners will all be excited. What do you say, Conley? Are you up for doing the face paintings?”

  I glanced up, giving my dad a slight smile. “It sounds great. And you know, I would be happy to help out, Dad.”

  “Maybe you can help your father create the signs and banners, too,” Mom suggested.

  “Of course,” I agreed.

  “You’ve been quiet tonight, kiddo. Everything going okay with the job hunt?” Dad asked.

  “I still can’t believe Tim fired you,” Ricky piped, scooping up a forkful of meatloaf and then dipping it into his mashed potatoes. “You must’ve done something bad for him to can you after one night,” he added before shoveling it all into his mouth.

  “I didn’t get fired,” I scoffed, neck heating as I stabbed my meatloaf a little harder than necessary.

  “Not what I heard,” he said as he chewed with his mouth open.

  “Manners, Ricky,” Mom chided him.

  “I don’t care what you heard.” I set my fork aside along with the napkin from my lap, losing what little appetite I had to begin with. “In fact, he came to Kathy’s letting me know when my next shift is.”

  “He did?” my mom asked, her eyes wide. The surprise in her voice only infuriated me more.

  “Yes,” I snapped.

  Why was that so hard to believe? What had people been saying? And why did I care?

  I’d been the subject of many gossip columns over the years, being Bobby’s fiancé. But none of that had ever bothered me as much as all this. I hadn’t cared what all those strangers had thought or said about me, but this was different. This was my family. These were people I’d grown up with and known my whole life. They weren’t faceless strangers. There weren’t many people I didn’t know in Billingsley, having been the preacher’s daughter of one of the largest ministries in the town.

  “That’s wonderful news, sweetheart,” Dad said, reaching over to cover my hand with his and squeezing, trying to diffuse the tension. “I can’t say I love you working at a bar late at night, but I trust Tim ensures it’s a safe environment.”

  Looking over at my dad, I squeezed his hand back and nodded. “Of course, Dad.”

  “Good.” He released my hand, patting the top of it. “What’s for dessert? Was that peach cobbler I smelled baking earlier?” he asked, looking over at my mom.

  “Yes, it was. But no dessert until you’ve finished your peas.”

  Dad clutched at his chest dramatically, before picking his fork back up. “You drive a hard bargain, woman. But I’ll do just about anything for your homemade peach cobbler.” He scooped the last of the peas onto his fork, taking them down in one bite.

  Mom blushed, swatting at his arm.

  “Holy crap. This is insane. Is every weekend like this?” I asked Melanie as I sidled up to the end of the bar beside her.

  Dudley’s was packed once again. Not that I was complaining. The tips had been amazing, and I had no doubt I’d be able to cover bills easily if things were always like this.

  “Pretty much,” Melanie answered. Both of our eyes were on our boss, watching him as he rushed around making drinks. With Dudley’s being one of the few decent places to hang out and drink within the county, it drew crowds from not only Billingsley, but the neighboring towns, too.

  “He needs help.”

  “You ain’t gotta tell me. The person you gotta convince is him.” She inclined her head toward Tim.

  I shook my head in dismay. This was ridiculous. All I needed were some beers and a vodka tonic. I looked down the long counter and at the number of people waiting to order. They looked like a bunch of cattle being herded into pens. “Come on,” I said, grabbing her wrist.

  “Huh?” she asked as I dragged her around the corner and behind the bar. “What are we doing?”

  “Making our tables’ drinks.”

/>   “What are you talking about?” She planted her feet, stopping us both in our tracks. “We can’t make the drinks?”

  “Why not? You don’t know how?”

  “Yes, of course I do. I’ve worked here long enough to know what goes into them.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because I like my job and I want to keep it.” She crossed her arms. “He’s threatened me plenty out of fun, but I don’t plan on ever giving him an actual reason to.”

  “He’s not gonna fire you.”

  She grunted. “You sure about that?”

  I looked over at Tim, who was still focused on the job at hand, but had caught sight of us, doing a double take. He lifted a brow in question. I looked back at Melanie. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it. What do you need?”

  Shaking her head, she smiled. “It’s your grave, honey. Three millers, two buds, and a whiskey on the rocks.”

  “Coming right up.” After only taking three steps behind the bar and grabbing two highball glasses, Tim had met me face-to-face, blocking me from going any farther.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, ignoring the crowd desperately trying to get his attention.

  Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin, meeting his glare. “What does it look like? I’m making drinks.”

  “That’s not your job.”

  “My job is to make sure my tables are happy and their drinks are full. Right now, their drinks are empty, and you need help. So, I’m helping.”

  “Hey, buddy! My drink?” a guy yelled over the ruckus.

  Tim lifted a finger, silently telling him to hold on while still staring down at me. “I don’t need help.”

  “Keep telling yourself that. It doesn’t change the facts. In the meantime, I’m grabbing drinks for mine and Melanie’s tables.” I brushed past him, headed for the ice bin.

  After filling the glasses with ice, I set them on the bar and found the liquor bottles I needed. I felt heat at my back as Tim crowded my space. Every part of my body was aware of every inch of his. He planted each of his palms on the wood counter, trapping me between his brawny arms. Dipping his head so his mouth was at my ear, he growled, “This conversation ain’t over.” Then he pushed off, leaving me to it with a chill at my back.

  Annoyed, I rolled my eyes and finished making our drinks and grabbing the beers.

  “Everything good?” Melanie asked as I set the last of her drinks on her tray.

  “Perfect.” I forced a smile. “Feel free to help yourself the rest of the night,” I said, picking up my tray and sauntering off. It looked like Tim and I would have it out once again after the place closed down.

  10

  Conley

  It was a beautiful night, mid-sixties, the sky clear and bright with millions of stars. Lying on my back on the hood of my car, I hugged myself, protecting my arms from the slight chill in the air. The exhaustion and soreness from running around all night was already setting into my muscles. Being on my feet for hours on end would take some getting used to.

  “I thought you left.”

  At the sound of Tim’s voice, I lifted to my elbows to look at him. “Figured you’d want to yell at me some more,” I said with a slight shrug.

  Raking a hand through his hair and scratching at the crown of his head, his eyes traveled to stare at something in the distance behind me. “Yeah…well…I might have been wrong earlier.” A smile bloomed on his face.

  Jolting upright, I exaggerated a gasp. “What? Did I hear that correctly? Did Tim Hudson just admit he was wrong?”

  He shook his head, hitching the corner of his mouth into a full-on crooked smile as he walked the rest of the distance to my car. “You ain’t gotta rub it in, smartass.” He lightly tapped the outside of my knee, signaling for me to make room, then hopped onto the hood with me. The metal gave a little as he did.

  “Careful. Don’t break her. She’s pretty much all I got.” I playfully knocked my shoulder into his before sliding a little farther over to give him more room. It wasn’t far from the truth. It was the only thing from life with Bobby I’d taken with me, other than a few belongings, when I left Los Angeles. The baby-blue 2003 last edition Volkswagen Beetle was my pride and joy.

  His body shook with silent laughter as he leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees, planting both feet on the front bumper.

  After a few moments of comfortable silence, I asked him, “So, does this mean you’re going to get some help behind the bar?”

  “Not sure, yet. It definitely made things easier having you and Melanie covering the drinks for the floor, so I could focus on the bar orders.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t say it was easier on us to be making drinks for ourselves and some of the other girls, but it at least kept us from having to wait long for Tim. It kept our customers happier too, which meant better tips for all of us.

  “It’s okay to ask for help, you know?”

  He considered that. “You offering?”

  I laughed. “No. I think there’s someone much more deserving and better at slinging drinks than me.”

  “Who?”

  I swatted at his arm, but couldn’t hide my smirk. “You know who.”

  A smile climbed his face, and I swore then and there it was my favorite thing ever to watch. It was almost devastating how handsome he was when he smiled.

  “Yeah. She did seem to be a natural at it. She even helped me with some of the bar orders. She needed a little help on the mixed drinks, though.”

  “So teach her. From what I’ve gathered, she’s a fast learner and a hard worker. You’d be lucky to have her behind the bar. Plus, people love her.”

  “People or men?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I guess it doesn’t….” He mulled it over before he finally said, “I’ll think about it.” Dropping his feet to the ground, he stood, then extended his hand to help me down.

  Taking his hand, I slid off the slick metal, landing chest to chest with him. When he didn’t immediately let go, my heart rate picked up from our proximity. I peeked up at his face, finding his eyes on me. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow as the air thickened around us.

  “Tim,” I breathed, desperately wanting to know if he was feeling the same charge in the air. The draw to be closer.

  We watched each other for a long moment, until my phone rang in my back pocket. Dropping my hand, he stepped away, giving me his silent answer. I fished out my phone, aiming to silence it quickly and tuck it back away. Both our eyes dropped to the bright screen, seeing Bobby’s name.

  “You should take that,” he said, his emotional mask sliding back into place.

  Hitting decline, I looked up to find Tim already turned and heading for his truck.

  “Tim, wait,” I pleaded as he opened the door to his truck.

  He paused, turning around halfway. Regret filled his face as his eyes traveled the length of me. “Night, Con. Be careful driving home,” he said, then climbed inside, shutting me out once again.

  My phone vibrated in my hand with another call from Bobby. I clenched my teeth and accepted the call. “What?” I answered, flinging open the driver’s door of my car, then plopping into the seat.

  “Whoa, babe. Bad time?”

  I slammed the car door shut. He sounded drunk. Figured. “Don’t. You don’t get to call me that.” I stared at the taillights of Tim’s truck as he drove away.

  “Con—”

  “I mean it, Bobby. And stop calling me. It’s over.” I punched end before he could say another word, hoping he’d finally get it through that thick, self-absorbed head of his.

  Hesitantly walking into Dudley’s for my next shift, I scanned the room, finding Tim after one sweep. He stood with his head down, focused on the clipboard in his hand as the beer delivery guy waited patiently beside him. After signing something on the clipboard, he handed it off to the delivery guy, lifting his eyes and spotting me. He gave a grim smile, before turning his back to me and saying something to the delivery guy.<
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  Slipping into the back room, I headed for one of the cubbies to stash my stuff before clocking in. It was my first weekday shift, and the first time I’d seen Tim since that moment in the parking lot. I could only imagine what he thought when he saw Bobby was calling me. I needed to clear the air, make sure he knew the truth, even if it meant violating the non-disclosure agreement I’d signed.

  Bobby’s publicist wanted to keep our split as quiet as possible until they could find the best way to announce the news. The last thing they wanted was to put him in a bad light with all his fans. I agreed, because I understood. Despite everything, I still cared about Bobby and his band. I didn’t want them negatively affected. I wanted what was best for him. That was just no longer me.

  The more time that went by, the more I realized I’d let things with Bobby go on for far too long. Somewhere along the way from our first date to the day I agreed to give up everything to go with him on the road, I’d convinced myself it was love. Not that it wasn’t love at all. I loved Bobby. But I was finally realizing the truth: I was never in love with him. Not the way I should have been. He never made me feel the way Tim had. Bobby had made me feel safe and secure, yet afraid of stepping out on my own. I was comfortable with him, which was the only reason I’d stayed for so long. I was afraid of who I’d be if I wasn’t Bobby’s girl.

  Things were different now. I was different. Even if there was no chance of Tim and me happening, I knew without a doubt Bobby and I were over.

  When I walked back into the front of the house, Melanie and Tim were deep in conversation as he went over various drink recipes with her. Apparently, he’d made his decision to train Melanie. With it being a slow Monday night, Tim only had Melanie and I scheduled to work, her training at the bar and me covering the floor. I smiled to myself as I made my way across the concrete floor to greet my first table of the night.