Country Nights Page 11
“This is highly unusual,” she says. “Maybe I could speak with a manager? Someone who could escalate this? Yes, I know I should check with my employer, but it’s six o’clock in the morning there, and I’m not going to bother him unless I absolutely have to. Yes, I’ll hold.”
A full pot of coffee awaits me, and I fix myself a cup, trying to keep the noise down.
Leighton glances my way, her big brown eyes filled with worry and frustration. She shakes her head, covering the mouthpiece of her phone.
“They’re saying my account is still empty, but I refuse to believe it. Harold wouldn’t have screwed me over. There’s got to be a glitch or something—yes, I’m still here.” She drags her hand through her hair before sitting back. “You’re absolutely sure? Okay. Thank you.”
Leighton ends the call, slamming her phone down and pacing the kitchen. After a few deep breaths, she retrieves her phone and dials a number.
“Harold, hi, so sorry to bother you,” she says. “I know it’s early, but I just got off the phone with my bank and they’re saying my last check wasn’t deposited? Do you know anything about—” Her expression fades, brows narrowing. “Are you serious? He can’t do that. Can he?”
She looks to me then back to the empty tabletop before lowering her forehead to the polished wood.
Sitting up, she brushes her hair from her eyes. “Isn’t that illegal? Bribery or coercion or blackmail or something?” Leighton rises again, pacing the floor. “Fuck.”
Taking a drink of coffee, I lean against the sink and watch. Whatever the issue is, it must be pretty bad. Up until now, this woman has been a shining example of taking everything in stride.
“All right. I understand. So sorry he threatened you. I hate that you were brought into this,” she says. “That fucking asshole. Yes, keep me posted.” Leighton hangs up, facing me again. “You’re never going to believe this. Or maybe you will because this seems to be my luck these days.”
“What now?”
“So back in Arizona, I worked at this art gallery, mostly restoring paintings and pieces that people would ship in from all over the world,” she says. “It was this small operation at first, and in the early months Harold was running it out of this casita in his back yard and paying me under the table. He paid me under the table for at least a year, not because he was trying to scam the system but because … I don’t know. He just never got around to getting a proper accountant and I never pushed it because it was never an issue for me. In retrospect, I realize that was extremely naïve of me.” Her arms fold across her chest. “Another lesson learned. Anyway, I guess my ex approached him and threatened to turn him in to the IRS unless he told him where I was staying. Harold refused, and then Grant threatened to turn him in if he paid me another dime or helped me financially in any way.”
“Sounds like a real stand-up guy.”
“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes, exhaling. “Never would’ve expected this kind of behavior from him. Cheating was one thing, but blackmail? And he’s a lawyer for fuck’s sake.”
“Must really want you back.” I take a sip of coffee. “Desperate times and all that.”
She stomps toward the kitchen sink, rinsing out last night’s glasses.
“Look, if you need a loan—” I begin to offer when she cuts me off.
“—absolutely not.” Leighton turns to face me. “I’m not borrowing money from you when I have no way of paying you back. And you’ve already been generous enough.”
“Suit yourself.” I look over her shoulder, out the window toward the north corral. “Just trying to help.”
“I know, I know.” Her hands grip the edge of the white sink.
“You can stay here as long as you need,” I say before heading to the mudroom to find my boots. “You’re too proud to take my money? That’s fine. But at least be humble enough to keep a roof over your head when it’s offered to you.”
Leighton follows me. “Fine. I’ll stay.”
I step into a pair of coveralls before taking a seat on a wooden bench. “Bucket calves are probably hungry.”
“But I have one condition,” she says.
“You’re pretty brave to place a stipulation on a generous offer.”
“If you ever kiss me again,” she says, her gaze commanding mine, “don’t apologize for it, and for the love of God, don’t stop when it’s just starting to get good.”
“Not a problem. I won’t be kissing you again.” My jaw clenches as I wordlessly apologize to Allison. I know she’d want me to move on and be happy, but I’m not there yet. I can’t find contentment while she’s six feet under, our babies cradled in her arms.
“But if you do …”
“I won’t.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Leighton
“Oh my God. What are you doing here?” Molly’s front door swings open Saturday morning. “I thought you were leaving yesterday?”
“Yeah, well, apparently the universe had other plans.”
She takes the egg cartons from my arms and ushers me in. “Come, sit. Tell me all about it.”
“I’d love to, but I can’t stay long. River wants me to accompany him to look at some horse he wants to buy. We’re leaving in an hour,” I say. “But basically, there was some mix up with my last paycheck and I’m not in a position to buy a plane ticket at this time. I’ll be staying with River a little longer.”
Molly lifts her hands to her cheeks and squeals. “I knew it!”
“You knew what?”
“My grandmother was full-blooded Cherokee, and she always knew things,” Molly says. “I’ve always had a bit of that too. I’ve always just known things, if you catch my drift. And I knew from the moment I saw you that there was something special about you.”
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself here.” I step back, chuckling. “I know you want River to be happy and fall in love again and all of that, but I think maybe you’re projecting that onto me just a smidge.”
Molly laughs. “Fine. Maybe I’m getting carried away, but last night I had a dream that he kissed you. If that ever happens, you’ll know I’m legit. Anytime I’ve ever dreamt of two people kissing, it meant they were soulmates. You’ll tell me if he ever kisses you, right?”
My smile fades, and I can almost feel the color draining from it. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll let you know.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
River
I pass my brother’s place on the way out of town Saturday morning after stopping at the co-op, and not by choice. He lives just a block off the main drag in a house much too big for a single man, much too flashy for a small town, and renovated enough that the whole township of Bonesteel Creek knows Mama and Daddy McCray left the entirety of the inheritance to him when they passed a couple of years back.
But it’s all right.
I didn’t want their money anyway, and I do just fine on my own.
Coming to a stop at his corner, I spot a silver Buick parked in his driveway and watch as a blonde woman with tits up to her chin strides out in heels and a disheveled black dress. Upon closer inspection, I know her.
Missy Parker—wife of Seth’s childhood best friend, Ryan.
Following behind her is none other than the asshole himself, slapping her ass and pushing her up against the side of her car as he kisses her neck as if no one’s looking and they’re the only two around.
Disgusting.
I wish people could see him for exactly what he is: a lying, cheating, narcissistic piece of shit.
Only the people in this godforsaken town look at him with stars in their eyes, like he hung the moon. They hear “military hero” and they immediately worship him, refusing to believe anyone who looks that good and makes them feel that good could be inherently bad.
None of them know him like I do.
And none of them ever will.
He’s good at what he does. And he’ll never stop. His egomaniacal thirst for adoration and worship is an unstoppable force, and I’
ve learned over the years that calling him out only makes him determined to make my life more miserable than it already is.
But sometimes I can’t help myself.
Taking a sharp left, I pull onto his street and into his driveway. Missy scrambles out from beneath him, sliding into her car and slamming the door, but it’s too late. They’ve been spotted. And I’m blocking her in.
“Missy,” I say. “Seth.”
Missy refuses to look at me, and Seth meanders up to my window, wearing his signature smug leer and the scent of last night’s sex and booze-filled fuckfest.
“Kindly move your vehicle so my friend can be on her way,” he says, hands shoved in his pockets.
“You’re pathetic.” I shake my head. “Fucking your best friend’s wife. Real class act, you are.”
“He doesn’t appreciate her like I do,” Seth says. “Why own a fast car if you’re not going to take her out on the highway and open her up every now and again, am I right?”
I glance toward Missy’s Buick. She’s hunched down in her seat, and I hope she feels the weight of shame sinking into her bones. I hope when she tucks her children into bed tonight, she finds it hard to fall asleep.
“Ryan’s out of town on business,” Seth says. “I expect you’ll keep your mouth shut about this.”
“Like I owe you any favors.” I grip the steering wheel, my vision washed in red.
Seth steps closer, leaning into my window. “Matter of fact, you do owe me. You’re going to owe me the rest of your life. I fucking own you, River. And I’ll make damn sure you never forget it. Now get the fuck out of here.”
“Consider me gone. But only because the sight of you makes me fucking sick.”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Leighton
“About damn time. Almost thought you left without me.” I rise from the kitchen table when River returns from town, my purse already slung over my shoulder. “I’ve been looking forward to this all morning. I used to go to the sale barn with my dad when I was younger. My sister and I would always pretend to bid on the horses, and we’d pretend like we each came with a set amount of money and we’d see who could buy the prettiest horse.”
River says nothing, but his face is flushed. He doesn’t seem to be listening, but that’s nothing new.
“Anyway, are we leaving now?” I ask.
He adjusts his hat, then adjusts it once more as he paces the kitchen.
“You okay?” I go to him, placing my palm on his shoulder. “River, stop. You’re scaring me.”
He releases a hard breath through his lips, his jaw clenching as he looks my way, and then he drags his hand down his face.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “You were saying?”
“Nothing.” I wave my hand. “It was just a dumb little story. We still going?”
“Yeah.” He seems completely out of it, but I don’t ask. Maybe he ran into someone in town who reminded him of Allison? Maybe he had some kind of flashback?
Following him to the truck, I climb into the passenger side. “I talked to my sister this morning. I guess my ex has been harassing her too. First my boss, now my kid sister. Can you believe that? How can you be with someone for seven years and not know that they’re a complete lunatic?”
River starts the engine, turning my way. “If he messes with you, I’ll fucking kill him.”
“What?” I laugh, slightly. “I’ve never heard you talk like that.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. He sounds like a lowlife. I don’t want him messing with you. If he does, he’ll have to answer to me.”
“Th-thank you.” I buckle up, wrapping my head around his sudden protectiveness toward me. I’m flattered. And also confused.
Extremely confused.
“Love that shade. Taupe looks so good on you. I can’t pull off much else besides fifty shades of pink.” Karly examines her manicure Sunday afternoon before whipping out her debit card. She insisted on treating me to a girls’ afternoon once she found out I was still around, and after the number the farm chores did on my nails, who was I to turn that down?
“Sorry.” I grab my vibrating phone from my bag and check the caller ID.
“You’re frowning. Why are you frowning? Is it that asshole ex again?” she asks.
“No.” I shove the phone back in my purse. “It’s Seth.”
Her jaw hangs as if I’ve just committed treason. “You’re not going to answer it?!”
I shrug. “He doesn’t know I’m still in town. It’d be weird.”
“Okay so answer it and tell him.”
“Then he’ll want to hang out,” I say.
Her jaw drops even further. “You don’t want to hang out with him? Do you know how many women in this town would kill for a minute of his individualized attention?”
“They can have it.”
Karly signs the receipt in two seconds flat and redirects her attention toward me. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to gawk and I certainly don’t mean to stick my nose in your business, but Seth is … I mean … it’s Seth. Nobody says no to him. He’s … he’s everything.”
There may as well be stars in her eyes and hearts floating around her head as she rambles on about how heroic and brave and handsome and established and successful he is, but none of it does much of anything for me.
“Look, he’s really nice to look at,” I say, with an apologetic chuckle. “I’ll give you that. But there’s no connection. Is the attention nice? Yeah. But other than that? He’s just fling material, and I’m not looking for a fling.”
“You’re insane.” Karly lifts her brows and puckers her lips before waving her hand at me like she’s over it. Following her out the door, I almost plow into her when she stops in her tracks. “Well, speak of the devil.”
“Leighton?” Seth stands outside the nail salon, leaning against the front of his truck, chatting on the phone. He ends the call the moment he sees me. “What are you doing here? I thought you left?”
“Oh, hey.” I stride toward him, waving to Karly as she returns to her car down the street. She motions for me to call her and I nod. “Change of plans. I’m sticking around a little longer.”
“Hope everything’s all right,” he says, worry lines spread across his forehead.
“It is. And it isn’t.” I smile. “But whatever. I’m here. Going to make the best of it.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Now … as in right now?” I ask.
His lips lift at the edges, and he exhales through his nose. “Yeah. Right now.”
“I was just heading back. I’ve got laundry and all that fun stuff …”
“If you have a minute, you should stop by. I’ve got my Shelby Cobra all ready to go,” he says.
I hesitate, deciding not to inform him I’ve never been one of those girls who are impressed by fast cars, nor do I even know what a Shelby Cobra looks like.
“Never did get to take you on that ride you promised me.” He winks, his full lips spreading into an easy smile.
“Yeah, sure. Okay,” I say, remembering that I did, in fact, promise him a ride. “I’ll follow you?”
He climbs into his truck, and me into my Chevy, and we drive to his place. As soon as we pull into his driveway, the garage door rises, revealing a shiny blue two-seater roadster with white racing stripes down the hood.
“What do you think?” Seth asks, beaming wide and extending his arms.
It’s pretty—for a car. I’ll give him that.
“Very nice.” I pretend to be impressed, walking around the car and inspecting it from every angle like I know what I’m looking at.
He opens the driver’s door and pops the hood. “I’m going to warn you. It’s fast. She’s got a V-8 and she’s supercharged.”
“I think I can handle her,” I assure him.
“Just let me check a couple of things real quick,” he says, moving around the car. “Should be good to go, but I just need to make sure we
don’t get stranded somewhere. Nothing like trying to impress a pretty girl with your cool car and then breaking down on the side of the road.”
I roll my eyes. “You and your sneaky compliments.”
“I only speak the truth.” Leaning under the hood, he checks a few things, wandering off to some work bench to grab a tool before returning. “Just going to be a couple of minutes.”
“Sure.” I give myself an unguided tour of his garage, which is covered in wall-to-wall Americana: vintage signs, old beer signs, and posters of pin-ups from the forties.
“So where are you staying anyway?” Seth pops up from the engine and looks my way. “I don’t think you ever told me.”
“I’m staying with this farmer,” I say.
“Does this farmer have a name?” He lifts a brow.
“River McCray,” I say. “You know him?”
Seth huffs, head cocked as he gently closes the hood. “Do I know him? He’s my brother.”
“You’re kidding?” I turn to face him.
His smile seems forced. “Why are you staying with River?”
“Really long story.” I wave him off. “He lives in my childhood home. Can you believe that?”
“Leighton, you have to be careful.” Seth’s smile vanishes completely. “I don’t mean to scare you, but … he’s a dangerous man.”
I laugh. “River may be a lot of things … temperamental, testy. But dangerous? That’s the last kind of vibe I get from him.”
“And you’ve known him how long?” Seth seems offended that I’m not taking him seriously.
“A little over a week.”
“Exactly. I’ve known him for decades. Trust me when I say you have no idea what he’s done in the past,” he says. “The man’s got secrets.”
“Stop. Now you’re just making him out to be some kind of serial killer.” My head tilts and I cluck my tongue. “Let’s just go for a ride and have a good time.”