Collide (2 page)

Billie nodded. “Yeah, he’s having a good day.
He’ll be waiting at the church. Logan has him.”

“Okay,” Bobbi said brightly, that fake smile
she had tucked into her back pocket, secure and in place. “I’ll see
you at St. Paul’s.”

Billie nodded and moved toward the door,
pausing before she opened it. “It’s never too late to change your
mind.”

And then she was gone.

Bobbi stared at the door for so long that her
vision began to blur and when she finally pulled herself together,
it was time to leave.

With one more glance in the mirror, she
grabbed her clutch bag and headed downstairs, where she paused in
the foyer and glanced outside. It was February 14th, Valentine’s
Day, which she supposed was totally cliché, but when Gerald had
suggested a fast engagement, she hadn’t said no. In fact, she’d
moved their original date up to February from May because deep
down, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to go through with
it.

For a second she stared at her hands, at her
shaking fingers, and felt the panic butterflies begin to take
flight in her stomach. Oh god, not now. She
had
to go
through with this. She had to.

It was all part of her plan. A plan that had
seemed perfectly smart and good and fine until Shane Gallagher had
walked back into her life. Though technically he wasn’t in her
life, he was more or less on the fringes of it, but still…

“Oh honey, you look so grown up it breaks my
heart.”

Bobbi glanced down the hall and smiled, her
heart turning over at the side of her gramps. Herschel Barker was
dressed to the nines in a white tuxedo, his hair all slicked back
and dapper, and he had grabbed his black walking stick. He would
say it was for looks only but she knew that his right knee was
killing him—the cold and damp wasn’t good for his arthritis.

When he scooped her into his arms and hugged
her tightly, she let his warmth and love envelop her body. And when
she withdrew, his strength fueled her enough that it was easy to
smile at him. It was easy to think the day was going to be good and
wonderful and everything that a wedding day should be.

In that moment she truly believed that she
was doing the right thing. So what if she didn’t exactly enjoy
sleeping with her soon-to-be husband? Marriage wasn’t all about the
sex. Hell, just from listening to some of her older girlfriends
she’d gleaned that marriage wasn’t always about the love either. It
was about feeling secure and in control.

Then why do I keep circling back to the
sex thing
?

“Damn you, Billie,” she muttered.

“Are you ready?” Herschel smiled warmly and
offered up her snow-white wrap. Bobbi shrugged into it and nodded,
taking her gramps arm and following him out into the cold, Michigan
afternoon.

The car was parked out front, already running
and warmed up, and it was only a few seconds later that she was
inside. And though Herschel must have had the temperature set to
some un-godly setting, she was cold. Her hands trembled and her
teeth chattered.

But that was normal right? That was just
nerves.

There was no music or noise in the car as
Herschel carefully manoeuvred out of the driveway and headed
downtown, toward St. Paul’s. It was in the older section of New
Waterford, across the bridge, and it was there that each of the
Barker girls had been christened and made their first
communions.

It was also the church where their father had
married their mother and though she’d long been dead, their love
had been real. Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut as photos from a past
long gone shot into her mind. Images of her mother and father
laughing, loving, touching, was all she saw and it took a lot of
effort for her to push them away.

“We’re here darlin’”

Bobbi leaned back in the car, her gaze on the
steps leading up to the church. The walkway had been well shoveled
and salted. There wasn’t even a hint of ice, though the glare from
the late afternoon sun made everything look cold and harsh.

A shiver rolled over her slight frame when
she spied Gerald’s large SUV parked a few feet ahead. Red bows hung
off the back end and one had fallen free, no doubt ripped from its
mooring by the crisp wind that buffeted the vehicle. Her eyes
focused on it and she thought that it looked like blood in the
snow.

“Bobbi, are you ready?”

Her heart took off at the sound of her
grandfather’s voice and her throat was so dry she didn’t think she
could answer. Movement caught her peripheral and she glanced back
up at the church, her eyes on Billie as her sister waved, gave the
thumbs up, and then disappeared back inside.

For several seconds the only thing Bobbi
heard was the rough intake of her breath and the heavy beat of her
heart.

“Bobbi?”

She glanced up into the rear view mirror, saw
the concern and questions in Herschel’s eyes.

“Um.” She licked her lips and closed her
eyes. “Gramps?”

“What is it Bobbi? Are you alright?”

“No,” she whispered, afraid she was going to
pass out because it was so hard for her to breathe. She tugged on
the edge of her faux fur wrap and wiped beads of cold sweat from
her brow.

“Would you be able to…”

But she couldn’t finish her thought. She
couldn’t say it out loud.

Herschel turned around, his faded blue eyes
intent as he spoke softly, his tone gentle. “Anything, sweets.”

Oh my god, what am I doing
?

Just breathe.

“Would you be able to keep driving?”

Herschel stared at her for a few more seconds
and, for his part, not a speck of shock showed on his face. He
didn’t say another word. He turned around, cranked the tunes until
Big & Rich filled the silence, and as the country duo sang
about saving a horse and riding a cowboy, Bobbi felt something
inside her break. It broke fast and hard, and maybe it should have
hurt like hell but it didn’t.

She leaned back into the seat and closed her
eyes, her body like an elastic band that had just been let go. Was
it relief? She didn’t know and at the moment she didn’t care. She
counted to ten, shaking out her hands while her eyes stuck to the
back of her grandfather’s head.

Herschel Barker took off as if the hounds of
hell were on his heels, and the old Crown Vic disappeared into the
harsh sunlight, leaving nothing behind but tire tracks in the
snow.

The Hard Rock was nothing like the ‘other’
bar it was named after. There was nothing rocking about it, no
fancy souvenirs from famous singers like cars or guitars, or even
signed pictures scattered throughout the bar. It was a dark
hole-in-the-wall kind of place where people came to play pool,
shoot the shit, and lose themselves in the shadows.

The only thing rocking about the joint was
the endless tunes that Danny ‘big boy’ Davis played over and
over…and over again. The large man, a tattoo artists dream, had a
fondness for Seger, Springsteen, Skynard, and—no judging—the Dixie
Chicks.

Most of the time Shane Gallagher had no
problems with those particular bands either, except his ass had
been parked in a booth near the back for nearly three hours and
he’d already heard
Free Bird
twice. If Danny dared to play
the song again, Shane wouldn’t be responsible for

his actions. A guy could only take so
much.

Shane leaned his head back and closed his
eyes. What the hell was he doing here? When he had set out on the
road this morning his only thought was that he didn’t want to be in
New Waterford. Not today.

And like a time machine had paved the way,
he’d ended up here, at The Hard Rock. And just like a bad movie or
some episode of the Twilight Zone, the place hadn’t changed a bit.
Sure, only five or so years had passed since he had last been here,
but shit...

It still had the same sticky floors, the
smell of stale beer and of course, the music lovin’ fat boy behind
the bar, Danny Davis. The guy was a permanent fixture that hadn’t
changed one bit and neither had the beer. This bar had the coldest
draft on tap, hands down.

It was nothing like The Grill back home—Duke
Everett’s place—but it had something. Some special quality that had
made it Shane’s place several years ago, and on this cold, February
afternoon—for whatever reason—he’d found his way back.

Except that was bullshit. He knew what the
reason was and he sure as hell didn’t want to dwell on it. Didn’t
want to dwell
on her
.

“You want another drink?”

Shane glanced up at the waitress and noted
the interest in her eyes. He saw the way they lingered—how she
licked her lips suggestively and tucked a strand of hair behind her
ear—while thrusting her incredible rack straight out so that it was
inches from his face. She was a redhead, with heavily made up
eyes—something he wasn’t keen on—but her mouth was interesting. It
was full and—she ran her tongue across it once more—gleaming
wet.

She was overly suggestive and he supposed
with her attributes and obvious attitude, the girl was good at a
whole bunch of things that weren’t in any way related to
waitressing.

“I’m off in ten minutes so I can get it for
you before I leave or…”

The question was left hanging and for a few
seconds Shane considered his options. It was obvious what the woman
wanted. He just had to decide if he wanted to take what she was
offering. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who was into one night
stands per say. That boat had come and gone and he was more than
willing to leave that kind of stuff to the young bucks out trolling
for nothing but a quick lay.

And therein was the problem. Shane wasn’t
looking to score a piece of tail, at least not some random piece
that probably gave it up to any decent guy that walked through the
door. He knew the type. Small town girl who had never made it out
and who was looking for one of two things—either some guy to rescue
her and take her away to something better, or a bit of excitement
on the side.

His gaze dropped to her hand. He noted the
faded tan line from a ring. Bingo.

Suddenly the whole situation left a bad taste
in his mouth. What the hell was he doing here anyway? He had a lot
of work at home that could have kept him busy until midnight.

“I said I’m off in ten—”

“I heard you,” he interrupted, a flash of
anger in his voice as he shifted in his seat. “I’m not
interested.”

Her eyes widened for a second and then she
took a step back, lips tight as she glared at him. He’d obviously
insulted her, but did he care? Hell no.

“Did you want anything else?”

He shook his head and was about to answer
when the door flew open, a gust of wind propelling it backward so
that it slammed into the wall with a loud bang. Everyone in the bar
turned and for a moment Shane wasn’t exactly sure what it was he
was looking at, because at first all he saw was white.

A whole lotta white that wasn’t all snow.

He cocked his head to the side in order to
see around the waitress and his gut clenched when the wall of white
materialized into a woman. A slim, sophisticated looking thing,
with a profile he knew all too well.

Her hair was a bit of a mess, the usual sleek
fall that cut to just past her chin, kind of wild and all over the
place. And the dress, well the dress wasn’t exactly something you’d
see in a place like this—though the fur thing hugging her shoulders
was interesting. Shane arched an eyebrow and settled deeper into
the shadows as she angled around a full table of men—several of
whom issued the tried and true catcall. Which, she paid no
attention to, other than a flip of the bird in their direction as
she passed.

Holy shit. Bobbi Jo Barker. In her wedding
dress.

What the hell?

He watched her stride through the Hard Rock
as if she owned the place, her gaze focused on the bar. Danny,
big boy
, Davis, smoothed the thinning hair on top of his
head and squared his shoulders, throwing his impressive chest out.
Impressive, because it was matched in equal size to the gut that
protruded and pinched into the top of the bar as he smiled toward
the newcomer.

Bobbi grabbed her long skirt and threw it to
the side so that she was able to slide onto one of the bar stools
with relative ease. She set a delicate white bag to her side—it
sparkled something fierce which was a miracle considering the
lighting was crap—and blew out a long breath. One, fine strand of
hair curled into the air like a feather in the wind, and Shane
watched as it slowly fell to earth and rested on the edge of her
nose.

She tugged it out of the way impatiently, and
spoke. “Tequila.”

Shit, this was gonna be good. Tequila?
Tequila and Bobbi meant only one thing. Trouble with a capital
T.

The look on Danny’s face was comical. He
cleared his throat and stuttered, “Ma’am?”

“Do I look like a Ma’am to you?”

He shook his head, “Um, no Miss...ah…”

“Here’s the thing, Danny. I want a shot of
tequila and then I’m going to want something else. I’ll let you
know what that something else is as soon as I get my tequila. Sound
good?”

For a second Danny was speechless—it was
obvious that he was surprised the woman in white knew who he was
because he sure as hell didn’t recognize her. And how could he?
This plastic and fake version of Bobbi was nothing like the one
from back in the day—though her attitude was certainly the
same.

Shane had been home in New Waterford for just
over four months. He could count on his hand the number of
conversations he’d had with Bobbi and while he had been away, she’d
become something he didn’t recognize.

But this? This was interesting. Almost as
interesting as the fact that she was here in the first place.
Without her new husband.