Cowboy's Pride (Welcome to Covendale Book 1) (7 page)

She left out the part about Tommy supposedly cheating on her. There had to be an explanation for that, so she wasn’t going to dwell on it.

When she finished, Luka shook her head slowly. “If I didn’t know you, I wouldn’t believe a word you just said. Cam Thatcher,
helping
someone? On purpose?”

“Three times now,” she said. “I don’t know, Luka. I think people might have the wrong idea about him.”

“Sure. He’s not really a world-class douchebag, he just plays one on TV.”

“Something like that.” She couldn’t forget the look on his face when Kenny started on him—genuine hurt, before the rage covered it. He hadn’t done anything but try to put some gas in his truck. Maybe he was furious with everyone because they kept treating him like dog shit on the sidewalk.

Luka reached over and patted her leg. “At least you don’t have to worry about him much longer,” she said. “Especially tonight. You’ll be too full of Tommy.”

“Luka!” She laughed and shoved her. “That’s…actually kind of gross. You just killed my sex drive.”

“Don’t worry. A few drinks, and it’ll rise to the occasion.”

“Oh, good.”

When they arrived, it took a few minutes to find a parking space. The Klinker was packed for a small-town bar—even for a Friday night. It seemed like everybody in town had decided to let off some steam. Sydney waved and called greetings to more than a few friends as they made their way to the open front door, where lights and music and people and laughter spilled out into the warm night.

Inside was controlled chaos. Most of the tables were occupied, and open stools at the bar were few and far between. Jim Wyatt, the owner himself, worked the bar alongside the two regular bartenders, Sissy and Matt. All the pool tables and dartboards had games going.

Sydney spotted Tommy waving madly from a table near the pool players and grabbed Luka’s hand to lead her over. Just the sight of him calmed her. Good looks, great body—and unlike some angry hermits, he was happy to see her.

“Hey, sweetness.” Tommy grabbed her for a kiss and gestured at the table. “I remembered you didn’t like beer, so I got you a Tom Collins. It has lime in it. How’s that?”

“Perfect.”
Lime mojito. How hard is that to remember?
She pushed the nasty little thought down and smiled. It was probably just Cam’s attitude rubbing off on her.

Tommy pulled out a chair for her. “Didn’t know you were coming, Luka,” he said. “I would’ve ordered you a drink.”

“No big.” She shrugged and sat down. “I might have possibly mentioned to Reese that I’d be here tonight. So tell me if you see him.”

“You didn’t say you had a hot date.” Sydney nudged her with a grin. She’d been talking about Reese Mathers for weeks, but hadn’t actually talked
to
him for more than a few seconds. They’d dated once in high school. It didn’t end on the most positive note, but she’d mostly forgiven him. Reese just came back to town last month after five years in the Marines—and he had no shortage of admirers.

Luka snorted. “It’s not a date. I said I’d buy him a beer, that’s all.”

“Wanna buy me one?” Tommy said, grinning as he took a seat.

“No way. That’s Syd’s job.”

“So he’s a job now?” Smirking, Sydney reached for the plastic menu stand in the middle of the table, even though she knew what was on it. The Klinker served the usual bar fare. All four major food groups—wings, fries, nachos, and pizza. “Anybody eating?” she said. “I’m starving.”

“God, no.” Luka put a hand to her stomach. “Me and grease are not gonna get along tonight.”

Tommy flicked a glance at the menu. “I had dinner at Mom’s earlier,” he said. “But go ahead and order something, if you want. I’ll snag somebody.” He raised a hand straight up and started scanning the crowded place for a server.

Before Sydney could say she changed her mind, because she didn’t want to eat alone, a girl wearing an apron started for the table. And she did a startled double-take—it was the blonde with generous assets from the racetrack. The one Tommy hadn’t cheated on her with last night.

“Hey, Tommy. Luka. And…Cynthia, right?” The waitress, whose nametag said Stephanie, turning a hundred-watt smile on her.

She managed not to roll her eyes. “Sydney.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Stephanie kept smiling as she pulled a pad of paper from her apron pocket. “Get you guys something?”

She frowned and slid the menu back. “I guess I’ll have an order of fries. Luka, you sure you don’t want to eat?”

Luka glanced at the waitress. “Got anything chocolate?”

“Bottle of Hershey’s syrup. You want that on ice?”

“Just put it in a Mudslide. All of it.”

“One Mudslide, extra chocolate.” The waitress scribbled on the pad and turned to Tommy. “How about you?”

He smiled—a little too wide, and not in the general direction of her face. “Another beer would be great,” he said. “Could you bring everything over to that pool table, Steph? The one that just opened up. I want to shoot a few rounds.”

“Sure thing.” She wrote it down and left.

Sydney told herself it was just leftover paranoia from Cam that had her reading into the familiar nickname Tommy used, and that smile of his.

Tommy stood and held a hand out. This time his smile was just for her, and the little flash of jealousy evaporated. “How about a game, babe?” he said. “I’ll let you break.”

A slight frown creased her brow as she took his hand. “I don’t play pool,” she said. She’d been pretty sure he knew that.

“I do.” Luka pushed her chair back and grinned. “Bet you the next round of drinks I’ll crush you into dust.”

He laughed. “You’re on, woman.”

They threaded through the crowd to the recently abandoned pool table. It was near the back wall, where a ledge that was almost wide enough to be a bench ran the length of it. Sydney perched on the ledged and watched as Luka started picking out and rejecting cue sticks from the wall-mount rack, and Tommy fed quarters into the table to release the balls.

“All these damned cues are crooked,” Luka said. She grabbed two and thrust one of them at Tommy. “I should go out and get mine from the car, but I’m too lazy.”

Tommy stared at her. “You carry a cue stick around with you?”

“Yep. Got a custom case and everything.”

“Well, shit. I guess I’m buying the next round.”

“Told you,” Luka grinned. “Hey, Syd. Did you ask Cam how the carriage is coming while you were at the ranch this morning? I’m dying to know if he’s really going to fix it.”

The instant she mentioned Cam’s name, Tommy’s eyes narrowed. And his angry stare settled on Sydney. “You went out there again?” he said. “I told you not to talk to him.

Sydney jumped instantly from slightly annoyed to pissed off. This time she spoke before she thought. “You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t talk to,” she said. “He was fixing my truck. I was going to have Kenny do it, but he decided he wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I stuck up for Cam.” She returned the glare full force. “I told you, he’s doing us a favor. A little appreciation from you would be nice. He’s been nothing but helpful.”

“Yeah. He’s a goddamned knight in shining armor.”

“Tommy, I swear to God—”

“Shit. I’m sorry, babe.” Tommy relaxed and let out a sigh. “I’m just worried about you, is all. The guy’s nuts—he chases people off his ranch with a shotgun.”

Her mouth went dry. “He does?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s the truth. Brian and Jesse went out there on a church drive. His old man used to donate every year, so they thought he might want to keep it going. But Thatcher put a bullet in the ground, not three feet from them.”

Sydney shivered. She knew Cam was rude and unwelcoming, but she couldn’t believe he’d actually shoot at somebody. He wasn’t a monster. “Are you sure?” she half-whispered.

He nodded. “And he said if they came back, next time he wouldn’t miss.”

“Come on,” she said. “There’s no way he’d follow through. It was an empty threat.”

“Sydney, he shot at me too.” Tommy’s voice was tight and low. “The man is dangerous. He’s gone off the deep end, and he doesn’t care who he drags down with him.”

“Right.” Maybe there was something to the idea of avoiding Cam, but she just couldn’t believe he was that bad. Not murderous. “Look, I’m going to go get a drink,” she said. “And by the way, I like mojitos. Not beer, not Tom Collins, not lime daiquiris.”

It was a petty jab, and she felt kind of bad about it. But she had just enough no-you-didn’t left in her to throw it out there and walk away before he could respond.

She made her way to the bar, returning the occasional greeting from people she knew. That got her thinking again about small-town life, and how different things were going to be soon. Here, she couldn’t go anywhere without running into someone she could stop and chat with for a few minutes. The grocery store, the gas station, the pizza shop—everyone frequented the same places, knew the same faces.

In New York, it’d be just her and Tommy…and while he was at work, she’d be alone. She hadn’t really thought much about that.

And she didn’t know if she could handle it.

The bar was still crowded, and it took her a few minutes to be noticed. Finally, Jim came over with a smile, depositing a beer in front of someone on the way. “Hey, Sydney,” he said. “How are your folks?”

She smiled. “Just fine. The lovebirds went to a movie tonight. How’s Gina?”

“She’s great. Three-point-eight average so far.” Gina Wyatt, another member of the Pretty People, had gone out to California for college to major in theater. Everyone expected to see her in the movies soon—especially her proud father. “What are you drinking tonight?”

“I’d like a lime mojito, please.”

“Coming right up.”

He went to fix the drink, and Sydney turned around to lean on the bar. The crowd seemed a little quieter—strange, because it didn’t look any less packed. But the noise level was definitely dropping. After a minute, there was nothing but the music and hushed murmurs of conversation.

Then came the unmistakable heavy tread of boots on the wooden floor.

Sydney’s heart started pounding crazily. Somehow she knew what was happening, who it was, even as the steps drew closer and the murmurs became a buzz. The crowd that was gathered around the bar parted like the Red Sea.

And Cam Thatcher stepped through the gap.

Chapter 9

No matter how angry or conflicted she felt, the sight of him still took her breath away.

He was dressed all in black—black button-down shirt, black jeans, black boots. He carried a black cowboy hat in his hands. It was a surprising show of respect, considering he didn’t seem to have much of that for anyone. His stance was stiff and completely straight, as if he couldn’t stand the idea of relaxing enough to possibly come into contact with another person. And his eyes blazed like fire.

“Sydney.” A bitter smile crossed his lips. “It figures.”

Damn it, why did he keep saying that? She wanted to demand an explanation, but what came out of her mouth was, “What are you doing here?”

“Selling bibles. Have you accepted Jesus as your lord and personal savior?”

“Excuse me?”

He grinned, and her heart performed a mad, scrambling flip. She’d forgotten how amazing he looked with a real smile. “I’m having a drink,” he said. “That’s what you do at a bar, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes. But…”

He came over to stand right next to her and placed his hat on the bar counter. The crowd had climbed back up to full volume, apparently done discussing the spectacle of the town hermit walking into the bar. “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “It’s none of my business. I keep telling you that, so I should practice what I preach.”

She surprised herself by saying, “That’s all right.”

“It is?”

“Sure. You were just trying to help.” She offered a smile she didn’t feel as Stephanie’s assets flashed through her mind. “It was probably a misunderstanding,” she said.

His brow furrowed, and he looked like he’d say something more. But before he got it out, Jim came over with the mojito. He set it down and turned a cool stare on Cam. “Get you something?” he said, the friendliness gone from his voice.

Cam’s jaw twitched. He dug in a pocket, produced a rumpled ten-dollar bill and laid it on the counter. “A draft and a shot of Beam,” he said. Then, as an afterthought, “Please.”

When the bar owner turned away without a word, Cam bowed his head and let out a sharp breath. “Apparently, you also piss off the entire town at a bar,” he said in tight tones. “At least if you’re me.”

Sydney’s throat clenched. People assumed that Cam acted the way he did because he’d rejected the town and everyone in it—but just now, it felt like things were the other way around.

“Thatcher. Did you get tired of sleeping with your sheep?”

She knew that cold voice belonged to Tommy, but she couldn’t believe it. Even when she looked up and saw him and Luka standing there. He sounded disgusted, mocking—almost threatening.

Cam faced him with a sneer. “If I had any sheep, I’d prefer their company to yours.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. So I guess you should leave.”

In the yawning silence that followed, Sydney barely heard the clink of glass as Jim set the drinks on the bar. She was busy staring at Tommy like she’d never seen him before. Where did all this venom come from? She knew they hated each other, but this was beyond even hatred. This was a death wish.

Cam was still standing less than an inch from her. So close, she felt it when he jerked to attention. “It’s a free country,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “So I guess I’m not going anywhere, either.”

Tommy’s lip curled. “Get away from my girl, farm-boy.”

The words shocked her motionless. A scream lodged in her throat and wouldn’t go further. Then Luka grabbed her hand with both of hers, trying to pull her away from the bar. “Come on, Syd,” she whispered hoarsely. “We’d better get out of the way.”

“Stop!” Sydney yanked her hand free and glared at Tommy. “He’s just having a drink,” she said. “Let him be.”