Make Mine a Bad Boy (4 page)

“Sort of like you meet me other places—you get there three days late and leave three days early. No, thanks. Besides, I don’t want to go to Austin. I want you to stay right here with me in Bramble and do all the fun things we used to do as kids.”

Fun things? Colt couldn’t think of one fun thing he’d done as a kid. Still, not wanting to bust his sister’s bubble, he held his tongue and let her continue.

“It will be just like old times, especially with Hope back in town. Except now, with Faith here, it will be double the fun. You’re going to love Faith. She’s Hope, but nice.”

Colt laughed. “I gathered. So who is she?”

“Hope’s twin sister, who Jenna gave away at birth.”

The news surprised Colt. Not the twin part—that was obvious—but the giving away part. Jenna Scroggs had always been the perfect mother. The kind who baked cookies and played hide-and-go-seek and read books and bandaged scraped knees. The kind who was the complete opposite of Colt’s and Shirlene’s inattentive mama.

As if reading his thoughts, Shirlene nodded. “I know. It was hard for me to believe too. But I think people
forget that she was only fifteen when she had Hope and Faith. She and Burl weren’t married, or even out of high school. And you remember how hard it was for them back then. They were in the same boat as we were.”

Not quite. Their boat had sailed, while he and Shirlene had remained behind.

“So how did Hope take the news that she had a twin?” he asked.

“Not well, especially when Slate ended up falling for Faith.”

His gaze shifted to the dance floor, where half the town waltzed in a circle around the happy couple. While the sight gave him a certain satisfaction that justice had been served, a part of him almost felt betrayed. In a life where he had learned to count on nothing, Slate marrying Hope had been one of the few things he’d counted on. Which didn’t explain his initial anger, or the kiss. But, years ago, Colt had given up trying to explain his behavior where Hope was concerned. Like Bramble, she brought out the worst in him.

Even knowing this, he still couldn’t stop himself from scanning the crowd as he talked with Shirlene and all through the windy speech Harley made before the newlyweds headed out the door. He continued looking for her long after the drunks sobered up, and the ceramic pigs were boxed away, and the plastic dishes were rolled inside the ugly purple tablecloths and tossed into the trash.

Funny, but Colt hadn’t taken Hope for the type to turn tail and run. But that’s exactly what it looked like she’d done. And maybe she had the right idea. Maybe the best thing for him to do would be to hop on his bike and get the hell out of Dodge. He didn’t know why he’d stopped here,
but nothing good would come of it. Bramble was a part of his past, and he needed to keep it that way. Shirlene would be upset, but he would make it up to her by spending the holidays with her—anywhere but Bramble.

Outside, he found the night had grown chilly. It would be a cold ride to Austin, but he didn’t mind. While most people found comfort in a cozy home, out of the elements, Colt preferred the open road. No ties or responsibilities, just miles of blacktop and freedom.

Parked up on the sidewalk, right beneath the town hall’s flagpole and right next to the dedication plaque, sat the custom chopper he’d been working on for the last few months. It was a slick machine with a hot custom paint job and chrome exhaust and wheels that gleamed in the light from the overhead streetlight like high-polished mirrors. It wasn’t as fancy as some, but Colt had never gone for show as much as go. This baby had a 124-cubic-inch motor and a six-speed transmission, and just hearing it rev made Colt proud as hell.

After slipping on his leather jacket, he started up the bike and circled around the courtyard of the town hall. The loud, unbaffled engine had people stepping out the doors to investigate, his sister one of them. When Shirlene saw him, she didn’t look surprised. Obviously, she knew him too well.

“Remember I love yew, big brother!” she yelled, over the throbbing noise. He might’ve paid more attention to the devious gleam in his sister’s eyes if the woman in purple satin hadn’t caught his attention.

Hope stood next to the big maple tree, her dress crumpled and her hair limp. In the shade of the tree, he couldn’t see her eyes, but he didn’t need to. Her arrogant
stance said it all. The unyielding strength of such a little bit of sass made him smile. Even after her lifelong beau had chosen somebody else, Hope would not be defeated. He admired that about her. Would always admire it. He touched a hand to his forehead in a salute to both of the women who had made such an impression on his life.

Then he twisted the throttle and shot off the curb, the thick 240 mm back tire bouncing down to the asphalt. Unfortunately, that was as far as he got before Sheriff Winslow’s patrol car came barreling around the corner with lights flashing and siren blaring to cut him off.

“H
OPE, HONEY
?”

“Shit!” Hope slapped a hand to her chest and turned to her daddy, who sat at the table in the dark dining room. With her heart thumping guiltily, she plastered on a smile. “Oh, hi, Daddy. I didn’t realize you were still up.”

“Your mama’s snorin’ gets worse when she drinks, so I had trouble gettin’ to sleep. What are you doin’ up?”

“Uhhh,” she tried not to glance back at the front door she’d been headed to. “I was just checking to see if Jenna Jay, Tessa, and Dallas got home okay.”

“Jenna Jay slept over at her friend’s house. And Tessa and your brother are passed out cold.” Her daddy shook his head. “ ’Course, when I was younger I did the same thing—weddin’s are a perfect excuse to tie one on.”

Especially if the bride was supposed to be you,
Hope thought. Unfortunately, every time that Hope had reached for a drink, she had been grabbed by one dancing fool or another.

Her father held up what appeared to be a half-eaten Ding Dong. “You care to join your old daddy?”

Unable to help herself, Hope glanced back at the door. “No, thank you, Daddy. Now that I know everyone’s home safe and sound, I guess I’ll head on back to bed. I wouldn’t want to sleep through church tomorrow.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Her daddy polished off the rest of the Ding Dong and then downed the last of his milk before he pushed back from the table. “Although if I want to get any shut-eye, I’ll have to use my earplugs.”

Since that would make escape much easier, Hope nodded. “That’s a good idea, Daddy.” She lifted a hand. “Well, good night.” She hurried back down the dark hallway, but her father proved that he was still as quick on his size-fourteen feet as he’d been when he played high school football. Before she could close her bedroom door, his big frame filled the doorway.

“Your mama says you’ve been makin’ lists again.”

Damn. She knew she should’ve taken her trash out. Luckily, all that was written on the numerous crumpled pieces of paper were four words—
Hope’s New Life Plan.

Trying to make light of it, she chuckled. “You know I’ve always been a list-making fool, Daddy.”

“And that’s exactly what I told your mama—our little Hope Marie don’t do nothin’ without a list. But that didn’t seem to make her feel any better. She thinks you’re gettin’ ready to run off again on some wild tangent.” He paused and stared down at her for a few excruciating seconds. “Now I realize things didn’t work out exactly like you had planned.” He cleared his throat. “But me and your mama sure wish you’d stick around for awhile.”

Touched, she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a hug. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, princess.” He awkwardly patted her back, then turned and lumbered down the hallway.

Hope waited in the darkness of her room until she figured her daddy was ear-plugged and tucked in tight before she slipped out and headed for the front door.

The night air was cooler than she thought it would be. But she welcomed the stiff breeze that rustled the crisp autumn leaves of the elms and cottonwoods as she headed into town. As she walked, her father’s words came back to her. No, her life hadn’t turned out the way she had planned, and she couldn’t figure out where things had gone wrong.

Her plan had made perfect sense. She would go to Hollywood and become a famous movie star while Slate stayed there and concentrated on his coaching career. Then, once she had fame and fortune, she would return to Bramble and marry the hometown hero, who would be more than happy to let her make the occasional blockbuster as long as she returned during football season.

Okay, so maybe she should’ve called more often. Or come back on weekends. But she had been terrified that Slate, and everyone else in town, would find out that while she’d shone on the performing arts stage at Bramble High, in L.A. she was just a mediocre actress with a thick Texas twang.

So she had stayed. Unable to accept defeat, Hope suffered through long, grueling auditions with rude, critical casting directors. She’d forked over hundreds for acting lessons and voice coaches and basically had tried to fit a country square into a Hollywood star. All while she hustled tables at any restaurant or bar that would put up with her taking off for auditions or jobs.

Not that she landed many jobs. Her biggest job had been the hemorrhoid commercial. And she’d only gotten it because the casting director was an extremely short guy who had trouble finding women his own size to date. She had to suffer through a boring dinner listening to the guy’s many “accomplishments” before the commercial was filmed and she got the first check, a check that didn’t stretch quite far enough.

Despite these challenges, she would probably still be in California if she hadn’t completely lost her mind one night. Waking up alone in a cheap motel room had forced her into reevaluating her entire life plan and making a few minor adjustments. Like accepting the fact that she couldn’t act and returning home to marry the man she was destined to be with—the kind of man who would never leave her or let her down.

When she returned to Bramble and was welcomed home like the prodigal daughter, Hope figured she’d made the right choice. After years of feeling like a piece of chewed-up gum on the sole of a flip-flop, it was an overwhelming relief to be back with people who loved and adored her—adored her so much that they had already planned her wedding. It seemed a little fast, but since that was why she came home, she couldn’t very well back out. So she stepped up to the plate. Except, when she got ready to swing, she discovered someone else had hit the home run and won the game, someone who hadn’t wasted five years trying to prove she was more than just a small-town girl. Someone who at that very moment was enjoying her honeymoon with Hope’s only backup plan.

The thought riled Hope so much she forgot to pay attention to where she was walking and almost fell into
the big pothole at the corner of Maple and Main. Sidestepping the hole, she hopped up on the sidewalk and headed down Main Street. Past the post office on the corner with the big red-and-blue mailbox out front—the same mailbox she and Shirlene had dropped their unfinished Popsicles into as kids, for which they had received a stern lecture from Miguel the Postmaster about federal crimes. Past the Halloween-decorated window of Sutter’s Pharmacy, where she had bought her first tube of mascara. And past Duds N Such, where she and her sisters had browsed through racks of jeans while her daddy salivated over John Deere mowers.

With her old fuzzy slippers thumping softly against her heels, Hope continued down the street. Past the city park with its patchy grass that always needed more water and the small Catholic church that never quite caught on. Past Josephine’s Diner, the pink-painted caboose where Hope had worked for years, serving up chicken-fried steak.

She didn’t slow down until she reached the one-story brick building located on the other side of the town hall, a building that was completely dark—except for one tiny square of light.

The wind picked up, loosening a few strands of hair from her ponytail and rattling the chain against the town hall flagpole. A chill tiptoed down her spine, and she shivered. Given that she wore nothing but a skinny-strapped cami and thin cotton pajama bottoms in the middle of October, it wasn’t surprising. Except the goose bumps that covered her bare arms didn’t come from the outside temperature as much as from the cold knot that settled in the pit of her stomach, warning her of imminent danger.
And as she stood in front of the city jail, she knew exactly what that danger was.

Colt Lomax.

Just the name made her want to scream out a very nasty cuss word. She glared at the light spilling out from the small barred window. Why couldn’t Shirlene just let her brother stop for a quick visit? Why did she have to have him arrested? The man was ornerier than a cornered jaguar, and prodding him only made him worse—something Hope knew from experience.

No, the best thing to do for a caged wild animal was to set it free.

Hope glanced around, then quickly headed down the path that led to the double-glassed doors of the jail. She didn’t expect them to be locked, and she wasn’t disappointed. No one in Bramble locked anything, probably because there wasn’t anything in Bramble worth stealing.

Hurrying through the dark reception area, she made a quick stop in Sheriff Winslow’s office and then headed down the dark hallway to the only jail cell.

Like any good Christian woman of Bramble, Hope knew the way. More than once, she’d come with her mama to deliver Bibles to the poor lost souls who found themselves behind bars. Not that Bramble had a lot of criminals. Most of the Bibles had gone to Elmer Tate, who slept it off in jail every time he got drunk rather than go home to his wife, who had a mean right hook. Despite his love of Jack Daniel’s, Elmer was a nice man who would always drop the Bibles back at First Baptist so the women could redistribute them.