Shot of Sultry (16 page)

He found the crew though, already set up at the pool tables in the back and filming Colton as he melded his body against a busty blond, showing her how to break a shot. Trey squinted, leaning forward to get a better look at Colt’s woman of the hour. She looked familiar, something about her body…
oh
shit
.

He recognized those double-Ds, and more importantly, the psycho attached to them. Trey couldn’t remember her name, but she’d come on to him a few months ago at a bar over in Hallover County. He’d shot her down instantly—she’d put off a loony vibe thicker than skunk musk—and it’d taken two hours to shake her. A stage-four clinger, that one. He should let Colt know, discreetly, of course, so as not to get his tires slashed. As soon as Colt glanced up, Trey waved him over.

Colton left his lady friend, but not before pulling her into a long kiss for the camera. Poor bastard didn’t know what he’d just done. Now the cling-on would be harder to remove than a tick off a honey badger. Trey shook his head, laughing as his buddy approached.

“Make it quick, Lewis,” Colton said, tipping back his Stetson to scratch his forehead. He gestured toward the blond. “She’s hot to trot.”

“Do yourself a favor, and throw that one back,” Trey advised. “I’ve met her before. She’s got crazy eyes.”

“She’s got eyes?” Colt cupped both hands in front of his chest as if juggling watermelons. “I was too distracted by those tig ol’ bitties to notice.” Without asking, Colt reached over and took a swig of Trey’s beer. Man, that shit just wasn’t cool. “Not to worry, my friend. It’s not her eyes I’m after tonight.”

“Suit yourself.” Let the smug moron learn the hard way. “And take the Bud. I’m not drinking after you. No tellin’ where your mouth’s been.”

With a cocky grin, Colt drawled, “That’s exactly what the Bodacious Gallagher said last week.” After another deep pull of beer, he clarified, “When I offered to kiss her.”

Trey slid from his bar stool, ready to close his fist around Colton’s throat when the jerk danced away, pointing at the front door. “Speak of the devil.”

All thoughts of violence vanished as Trey whirled toward the entrance with his stomach in his throat. It was Bobbi, and sweet mother of Sammy Sosa, she looked more stunning than he’d ever seen her, and that was saying a lot. Smoothing her already meticulously styled red hair, she spoke to someone still in the parking lot and brushed lint from the swell of her breasts, showcased beneath a skintight, black, one-shouldered minidress. Trey let his gaze follow the curves of her long, tanned legs, ending with her slender ankles and strappy, hot pink high heels. Goddamn, he wanted her even more now than the last time he’d had her in his arms, and he hadn’t thought that was possible.

He didn’t spend another second watching from afar. In record time—image be damned—he crossed the bar and met Bobbi’s gaze, smiling with all the exuberance in his thumping heart. Her eyes widened, mouth dropping into a pretty oval, and all the color drained from her face as if he’d scared the life out of her. She recovered almost instantly, plastering on the kind of cold, stiff grin he’d come to expect from DMV workers. Seemed he’d have to warm her up again.

“Hey, Bo Peep.” He pulled her in for a hug, but her typically responsive body stiffened, and she returned his embrace with a detached pat on the back before pushing away. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She scratched her nose and then quickly dropped her hand. “Nothing at all. In fact, I’ve—”

“Hold up.” Trey reached into his back pocket and handed Bobbi the Tetris game he’d bought for her. “When I saw this, I knew you had to have it.” With tentative fingers, she accepted his gift and turned it over, smoothing her thumb over the glossy, gray screen. “Now,” he said with a gentle nudge, “you can leave Luke’s junk drawer in peace.”

“You bought me Tetris?” It didn’t make sense, but she looked hurt, biting her bottom lip and going glassy-eyed, chin quivering. Well, damn. Had he done something wrong? With women, he never knew.

“It’s just a game, darlin’,” he reassured her. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Right.” She gave a tight nod as she locked eyes with someone behind him and waved. A quick glance over his shoulder showed the crew making a sudden beeline for him. “Thanks for thinking of me,” she said, tucking the gadget inside her purse.

“Sure.” Trey took a chance, leaning in to kiss her cheek, but she took a step back. “Let’s get outta here. Go somewhere quiet, maybe the springs.” As cool as the temperature had been lately, they could skinny-dip in nature’s hot tub. He couldn’t wait to feel the cushion of Bobbi’s thighs wrapped around his waist. “I missed you while—”

“Ready for your surprise?” She cut him off, smiling wide and making a
let’s roll
motion to her crew, who’d just positioned themselves around him. Alarms went off inside Trey’s mushy brain. Something was wrong here.

She opened the front door and whispered, “Come on,” to a person on the other side. Before Trey could tell Bobbi the only thing he wanted was a moment alone with her, a ghost from his past stepped inside—a very lovely ghost, linked hand-in-hand with his mother. All the air inside Trey’s lungs left in a whoosh, creating a vacuum that made it impossible to breathe.

A petite brunette in jeans and a simple, black T-shirt stood before him, mahogany curls framing a heart-shaped face, and hazel eyes smiling back beneath thick lashes.

Trey blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He wasn’t. God Almighty, he hadn’t laid eyes on this girl in ten years, and aside from the slightest added fullness in her blushing cheeks, she hadn’t changed a bit. Heck, she even wore her hair the same way as the last time he’d seen her, the day she’d sent him off to basic training with a kiss and a promise to wait forever. Turned out “forever” had meant six weeks.

Trey managed to fill his chest with enough air to stammer, “Mindy?”

Hate was a strong word—Bobbi’s dads had always said so. But no matter how powerful, it didn’t capture the depth of Bobbi’s loathing for Mindy Roberts, the ex-girlfriend who’d broken Trey’s heart, and now wanted another chance with “the one that got away,” as she’d described him in their preliminary phone interview last week.

Bobbi didn’t believe in second chances for the unfaithful—once a cheater, always a cheater—but this wasn’t about her. Mindy had promised to focus her wandering eye and treat Trey right this time. If they’d kept the spark alive all these years, then Bobbi wanted Trey to be happy with the kind of girl his mother could approve of. And judging by the unholy light glowing in Mrs. Lewis’s eyes, she was ready to drag the pair to the altar by their throats and perform the ceremony at knifepoint.

“Hi, Pooh Bear,” Mindy said to Trey in a puke-worthy, breathy voice. Who would nickname a guy like Trey
Pooh
Bear
? Someone who didn’t deserve him, that’s who. “You look amazing.”

He really did—as “amazing” as Bobbi had ever seen him. He’d worn the shirt she loved, the one that matched his sea-blue eyes and hugged the hard contours of his broad shoulders, paired with worn, faded jeans, somehow more flattering on his lean hips than any designer denim she’d ever seen. When he’d approached her seconds ago, he’d stolen her breath with his thousand-watt smile, and the temptation to send his visitors packing had nearly won.

“You too.” Trey held out his arms, giving his ex a welcoming hug that made Bobbi’s vision go spotty. The pair held each other for a few beats too long, forcing Bobbi to drop her gaze until they parted. After stepping back, Trey glanced at each woman. “But what’re you doing here?”

“Miss Gallagher called me,” Mindy said, cupping Trey’s cheek with one hand and using the other to smooth the fabric over his chest. A touchy-feely little thing, wasn’t she? “She told me about the show and—”

“That’s the surprise,” Bobbi interrupted in a syrupy tone, smiling at the camera. “I thought it’d be fun to do a first love reunion episode. You know, catch up with an old flame. Reminisce,” she added in a voice louder than she’d intended, “about the good old days.”

“A what?” Colton asked, unceremoniously shoving Bong aside as he stepped closer. He shook off the buxom blond suction-cupped to his side and darted a glance at the front door, his brows raised expectantly. Swallowing hard enough to shift his Adam’s apple, he turned to Bobbi with pure anticipation illuminating his face.

“Oh, Colt.” Bobbi brought a hand to her mouth. She didn’t mean for Colton to think his first love was out there too. Until now, she hadn’t realized just how deeply he cared for the preacher’s daughter, and she felt awful for getting his hopes up this way. Linking their arms, she led him away from the group.

They wove between scattered stools and tables until they reached a quiet spot by the side wall. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t find Leah. I really tried.” She squeezed his bicep and added, “Listen, for what it’s worth, my boss did everything short of violating privacy laws to track her down. Someone who’s buried herself that deeply doesn’t want to be found.”

He lifted his face and gazed blankly at the pool tables in the distance, hands on his hips, clearly crushed and trying his best not to let it show.

“Maybe it’s time to let her go,” Bobbi said gently, as if lowering her voice could soften the disappointment.

Colt whipped his head around, narrowed eyes burning into hers. “I already did.” He tore off his Stetson, ran a trembling hand through his black hair, and replaced it, pulling the brim low over his forehead. “I’m glad you didn’t find her. You got no business dumpin’ a can of worms like that into someone’s life.” Then, gesturing to Trey and Mindy still conversing at the front entrance, he scolded, “You didn’t do Lewis any favors with that one. What’s wrong with you?”

“Me?” she asked, resting a hand over her heart. “I thought it would make a great show.”

Colt inclined his head, a smirk tugging one corner of his mouth. “You can’t bullshit the bull, honey.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, interlacing her fingers to keep from scratching her nose.

“You’re crazy about him, and you’re sabotaging yourself.” When she opened her mouth to object, Colt cut her off with a shake of his head. “I’ve done it enough times to know it when I see it. So what’s got you so scared that you’d rather see Lewis with another woman than with you?”

“I can’t have him,” she blurted before thinking better of it.

“That’s a cop out.”

“No, it’s not. I can name half a dozen reasons—”

“Lame.”

“He’s leaving—”

“Weak.”

“We’re both—”

“Excuses.”

“Dammit, Colt, it’s none of your business!”

“Listen up, Gallagher. I’m gonna tell you something I wish I’d’a known years ago.” Colt bent low, bringing his mouth to her ear. “Love’s not for pansies. If you don’t have the
cajones
to take what you want, then you don’t deserve it.”

“Wha—” Before she had a chance to tell him where to shove his
cajones
—because she wasn’t in love!—Colton spun on his booted heel and stalked away, snagging his blonde, who’d been waiting patiently by the bar this whole time. After declaring, “No cameras!” he towed his date out the door and disappeared into the parking lot.

Well, that could’ve gone better.

“Same goes for me,” Trey said to Weezus, holding one palm forward. When the crew tried cajoling him into changing his mind, he insisted, “This is private,” and he led his mother and Mindy out the door without saying good-bye.

Bobbi’s lips parted in shock. She couldn’t believe he’d taken his prize and left so quickly.

He
really
did
it. He’s really taking her home
. Bobbi struggled to catch her breath. She perched on the nearest stool and immediately berated herself. Of course he’d taken Mindy home. What had she expected—that he’d denounce the curly-haired beauty in front of an audience of millions and send her back to her penthouse in Chicago? No, not when they shared such an intimate history, not when she’d occupied such a special place in his heart. It was only natural for Trey to take his first love home and spend the night playing “remember when?” and laughing and touching and…whatever else happened afterward. Bobbi couldn’t think too hard about that “whatever else” and maintain what was left of her sanity.

Damn it to hell, Bobbi had gotten exactly what she’d wanted. Or at least what was best for her—no use pretending that Trey and Mindy’s reunion was what she wanted.

Bong collapsed his microphone pole and joined her. “You okay?” he asked, smoothing the frayed ends of his blond soul patch. Weezus loped over and closed the distance in four of his oversized strides. Setting his camera on the bar, he repeated the same question.

“Of course,” she lied for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. “I just wish the Golden Boy would’ve let us film the good stuff.” Oh god. Just thinking about the “good stuff” Trey and Mindy would do later made bile rise in her throat. “That’s what people want to see.”

“Sex sells,” agreed Weezus, shaking back his blue dreadlocks. “But look on the bright side.”

“Which is?” She leaned in and sniffed the air a few times. Something smelled good, and she thought it was the crew. That couldn’t be right.

“We’ve got the night off.” He lifted his indigo brows, dyed to match his hair. “Are you smelling me?”

She recognized that scent. “You’re wearing real deodorant.” Store-bought, with chemicals and everything. “And cologne!” It came out like an accusation, and she quickly checked her tone. “Not that I’m complaining.” She’d been rallying for this a long time and didn’t want to scare them off modern hygiene.

“Ladies around here don’t appreciate a man’s natural scent,” Bong explained.

“The way a man
should
smell,” Weezus elaborated.

Bobbi pointed to herself. “This lady’s never appreciated it.”

“Yeah, but you don’t count.” Weezus patted her on the head.

“Good to know.” Shoving his giant hand aside, Bobbi nodded toward the pool tables. “You two up for a game?”

“How about a rain check, boss?” said Bong. “There’s something going down at the hot springs tonight.” A flicker of light dawned in his eyes, as if he realized he’d said too much. He muttered a quick, “Um…you can come too…if you want.”

Clearly, the guys wanted to be alone with whomever had enticed them into abandoning crystal deodorant, and Bobbi didn’t want to be the fifth wheel. She wasn’t
that
big a loser. Yet. “Thanks, but I think I’ll head home.”

Within five minutes, they’d packed up the equipment and left her in the dust.

To add insult to injury, a slow, twangy country song played from the jukebox, and big-bellied farmers left their seats, partnering with willing females to dance between tables, not one of them asking Bobbi to two-step. Okay, so maybe she didn’t know the two-step, but she could learn, couldn’t she?

It seemed everyone had paired up, both inside the bar and out—Trey and Mindy, June and Luke, Judge Bea and Pru, even her hippy-dippy crew had found
amour
in this Podunk town.

“And as usual,” Bobbi grumbled to herself, “the cheese stands alone.”

Well, not completely alone. She reached into her bag and retrieved the Tetris game Trey had given her. “Hey, small, dark, and handsome,” she said to her date for the night. “Want to come back to my place and play?”

“You talkin’ to me?” wheezed an old guy beside her at the bar. Tossing a peanut into his mouth, he gave her an approving once-over before shaking his head. “’Cause I’m hitched, sweetheart.”

Nice. She couldn’t even score with the Crypt Keeper. “Oh, well.” She snapped her fingers and smiled sweetly. “My loss.”

***

Two hours later, Bobbi swayed on the front porch swing, barefoot and wrapped in a Texas Rangers Snuggie with her backlit boyfriend curled between both palms. The typically humid night air was crisp with a frosty edge that stung her nose, but she couldn’t hole up inside Luke’s house another minute.

As she topped her own high score for the fourth time, she reflected that while Tetris wasn’t the most expensive gift she’d ever received, it was—hands down—the most thoughtful, because it showed that Trey knew her. He’d seen this game displayed by a cash register and had thought of her, and that was the real reward. This wasn’t some token present from the jewelry store like the hastily purchased white gold earrings her ex had given her for Christmas a couple of years ago. Lovely hoops, to be sure, but Bobbi must’ve mentioned half a dozen times that she was allergic to white gold. She would’ve rather received a handwritten love note than a lavish gift with no sentiment behind it.

“Level eight!” she bragged to the crickets, who ignored her and continued their mating calls. Even the bugs were getting lucky tonight. With a sigh, she hit the pause button and reached down to grab her glass of sangria. That’s when she noticed the distant sound of gravel crunching beneath tires.

The noise grew louder by the second, giving her the impression that someone was hauling ass down the narrow lane leading to Luke’s property. Bobbi’s first instinct—courtesy of growing up in the inner city—was to run inside and lock the door. Reminding herself this was Sultry Springs, not Los Angeles, she took a sip of her sweet wine and tried to relax, but she couldn’t help recalling that
Texas
Chainsaw
Massacre
was based on a true story.

Soon an oversized vehicle fishtailed into view, causing Bobbi to shield her eyes against blinding headlights. The truck skidded to a halt, spitting rocks against the porch steps. Just when Bobbi’d gathered her Snuggie and bolted for the house, the driver cut the lights and Bobbi exhaled in relief. The heavy moon illuminated a Chevy she knew well, not to mention its driver, who’d just kicked open his door, jumped down, and slammed it hard enough to shake the whole front end.

It was Trey, and he looked
madder
than
a
mosquito
on
a
mannequin
, as Pru had said a couple of weeks ago. Bobbi squinted at the passenger seat, finding it vacant of everything but a carry-on suitcase, then back to Trey’s narrowed eyes as he stalked up the porch steps and paused. He curled one trembling hand around the wood railing, gripping the pine like he wanted to choke the sap out of it. His jaw clenched so hard she feared he’d break his own face, his broad chest heaving with each labored breath. Instinctively, Bobbi backed up a few paces.

“Where’s Mindy?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, just inhaled loudly through his nose and scorched her with the fury of his glare. The light streaming from the kitchen window cast his face in shadows, making him seem ghoulish—purely wicked and beyond reason. Bobbi knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but for good measure, she kept retreating until her backside met the door.

“Who the hell,” he finally whispered, “do you think you are?”

Experience told her there was no right way to answer that question. Bobbi’s palms grew clammy, and she reached beneath the blanket to wipe them on her dress, sweat stains be damned. Pulling the Snuggie tightly around her like armor, she cleared her throat and repeated, “Where’s Mindy?”

“In my bedroom.” He crept one step closer, floorboards creaking beneath his weight. “Because my mother’s in the goddamn spare.” Another slow step. “Thanks to you, I’ve been run out of my own home.” And another. “I wanna know why you did it.”

“You left home?” That explained the suitcase. “But I thought—”

“Answer my question!” His shout silenced even the crickets.

She stalled, unable to admit the truth—that she’d needed to make him unavailable because she wasn’t strong enough to keep her legs closed when he was around. “Which one?”

He opened his mouth to yell again but snapped it shut, along with his eyes. Gripping his hips, Trey hung his head and sucked in several deep breaths, obviously struggling to contain his anger. When he glanced up, the look on his face—blue eyes wide, lips pressed together—stung even worse than his rage. He was hurt.