Double In (3 page)

Marsha looked at him as she picked up her beer and took
another sip. He’d turned a chair at a nearby table around backward and
straddled it, the fingers of one hand curled around his beer bottle, his
forearm resting on the back of the chair.

He and Reid had taught her how to throw. They’d worked with
her, explaining the games, the mechanics and techniques, and offering her
advice until she’d felt confident enough to play against anyone in town. Many
of them would still beat her, but she wouldn’t hesitate to give winning her
best shot.

“I figured you would’ve joined the GVDA by now and found you
a team to play on.”

She hadn’t had time. She’d put all her focus and energy into
Bulls Eye Billiards since taking over the bar. Until she could see it feasible
to hire another waitress or two and definitely another bartender, she couldn’t
even think about joining a dart team.

“I will…eventually.” She turned her attention to Reid as he
walked to the table. “You got the cork. What are we playing?”

“301.”

Okay, she could do this. Porter had hit one proverbial nail
on the head tonight. She
had
gotten better, and 301 had become her
favorite game. Double in. Double out. The only game that required the player to
hit a double of any number to start the countdown from three hundred and one
points as well as a double of the needed out to win. Porter might be hell on
bulls eyes, but Reid was a beast when it came to hitting doubles…and so was
she.

“Nice choice.”

“I’m aiming to win our bet.”

“So am I.” And she wouldn’t lose. She couldn’t. Politeness
for the sake of business was one thing, but tonight had already gone too far.
On average, a game of 301 took ten to fifteen minutes to complete. She could
make it that long before losing her sanity. If she had to spend another hour
after that with these two, someone better be calling the guys with the white
coats because she’d be utterly certifiable by then.

Chapter Three

“Ready for that shot now?” Porter walked behind the bar and
pulled three shot glasses from the shelf. He felt Marsha eyeing him and swore
he could almost hear her mind working. She wanted them out of there. Too bad
for her, she’d lost the game against Reid.

“Are you hoping to get me drunk?”

Porter slid a glance at her out of the corner of his eye as
he reached for the bottle of Southern Comfort. He didn’t exactly know how to
answer that. He wanted her sober so when he and Reid turned this
forget-about-it hour into make-her-listen time she would be thinking with a
clear head. Then again, maybe if they got her just this side of smashed, she’d
let her guard down and they’d stand a better chance at getting her to listen.

“I’m hoping to get you to loosen up.”

“I’m not uptight.”

Porter knew better than to respond to that so he tucked his
tongue in his cheek and commenced to pouring the shots. A single Southern
Comfort for her and a double dose of Jack Daniels for himself and Reid went
into the shot glasses he’d placed on top of the bar.

She huffed out an audible breath and flopped onto a
barstool. “Okay, maybe I am a little.”

Her tone insinuated the words she left unsaid…because of
them. Yeah, they got that and it was high time they fixed it, too.

“Are you still going with your plan to expand the dart area,
put in more boards?” Porter asked as he set her shot in front of her.

He knew she’d tried to get Martin to do it before he passed
away. It was a good idea. Darts were huge in the area and brought in a good
deal of money to the local bars. Marsha had tried to convince Martin of that
and he and Reid had been behind her. They probably would’ve swung around his
way of thinking if he’d lived a few more months.

“I am.” She ignored the shot, peeled at the label on her
beer bottle, and seemed to lose herself in her thoughts for a moment.

Porter knew that look on her face. She was struggling,
finding it hard to hold her end of the bet. He half expected her to tell him to
cut the bullshit. She’d never been good at beating around the bush, usually
jumped in headfirst and said exactly what was on her mind.

Right now, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to know what was
going through that beautiful head of hers.

She puffed out a breath, and spun her stool sideways. “I’d
wanted to have it done before the summer season started in a couple of months,
but with taking over the sponsorship of the Southern Boys for the rest of this
season, it’s not looking as if that will happen.”

“You’ll have to shut down the boards while the renovations
are being done.” Reid settled on a barstool next to her and caught the shot
Porter slid across the bar in his direction.

“And I can’t do that now that I’ve got two teams depending
on the boards until the middle of April.”

“What about moving them temporarily?” Porter suggested.
“Unless things have changed, you could stand to lose a pool table or two for a
short time. Move those two,” he pointed to the farthest two tables in the room,
“put the boards on that wall, and section off the dart area while the work is
being done.”

“I hadn’t considered that.”

She was considering it now, though. He could all but see the
wheels turning in her head again, this time tossing around his suggestion
rather than cooking up a way she could toss him out on his nose.

“It could work,” she said, more to herself than to them as
her gaze danced from one part of the room to the next. “And it wouldn’t hurt
business.”

“Reid and I would like to give you an estimate on the job
when you’re ready.”

She’d gotten Stephens Contracting, his and Reid’s biggest
competitor, to do the work on the basement. She hadn’t even given him and Reid
the chance to bid on the job. Stephens did good work, but their prices usually
outshot what Porter and Reid would do it for by several hundred or more. She’d
paid that several hundred just to keep from having to do business with Porter
and Reid. It had simply been one more indication of just how royally pissed she
was at them.

She spun her stool around, her gaze landing on his, locking
and narrowing slightly. He didn’t tell her if he had his way they’d do the work
for free. Hell, they would’ve done it for Martin if he still owned the place.
She’d never go for it though. However, they could give her a rock-bottom bid.

“I’ll think about it.”

Porter supposed that was about all he could ask for at the
moment, so he didn’t press.

“Are you going to be playing softball at Spring Field on
Saturday afternoons again this year?” Reid changed the subject.

There was a standing game each week at the public softball
field. It generally began around the same time as regular softball season at
one o’clock on Saturday afternoons. Anyone could play and it was a great way
for athletic newbies in town to get to know people. Porter and Reid had gotten
Marsha involved her first year in Spring Valley.

Marsha shrugged. “I’d planned on it. Donnie started setting
things up last week. He’s figuring he’ll start it back this weekend. It’s a
couple of weeks ahead of the normal schedule, but we’re getting warmer weather
earlier than normal, too, and everyone’s itching to get out.”

“I hear you.” Porter propped an elbow on the bar. “I’m
itching to get out myself. I thought about hitting one of the trails this
weekend, taking a good, long hike.”

“Is that why you two stopped showing up at Spring Field last
summer? Decided to ditch softball for the hiking trails?”

Porter thought about saying yes, but it’d be a lie she’d
likely see straight through. They’d avoided Spring Field because they knew
she’d be there. It had all been part of giving her space, time to cool down.
They’d wanted to give her a safe haven of sorts, somewhere she could feel
comfortable going without worrying she’d run into them.

Marsha nodded slowly when neither of them answered. “Yeah, I
figured as much. Thanks for not trying to take that from me, too.”

The pain in her tone sliced at his heart.
So much for
taking an hour to pretend.
“Mars…” He let whatever he’d been about to say
trail off when she picked up the shot he’d served her and knocked it back in
one gulp.

She eased the shot glass back down on the bar and stared
between him and Reid, the look in her eyes contemplative and weary. “What are
y’all up to?”

Porter had figured it wouldn’t work, but he’d hoped they
could keep the casual conversation going a little longer. He wanted to ease the
tension he saw in the set of her slim shoulders. He wanted to knock down the
shields she’d constructed around herself and shatter all the defenses she’d
obviously built inside.

Things rarely worked out as he hoped.

He started to play dumb, but he knew that wouldn’t fly. So
he went for balls-out honesty. “It’s been a long year without you.”

He wondered if she realized just how much he revealed with
that admission. The woman had gotten under his skin…bad. Maybe he hadn’t
realized just how badly until she wasn’t there anymore, but he’d known it then
and her absence had eaten at him, made him feel empty and even a bit lost.

“You had plenty of years without me before we met.”

“That’s the key. We didn’t know you then.”

“I got the impression the last time we spoke you both wished
that never changed.”

“I could never wish that,” he and Reid said in unison. They
exchanged a look and Porter knew what his brother was thinking. His wasn’t the
only skin she’d managed to get under. Reid wanted her, too. They may have
started out as friends, may have even treated her as a little sister at times,
but there was nothing sisterly about the way they’d both grown to want her.

“Blair sure as hell could…and did.”

“Blair was jealous of you, of the relationship you built
with Martin.” She’d been daddy’s little girl no matter how old she got and
she’d seen Marsha as a threat to that. Marsha hadn’t been, of course. Martin
never changed the way he’d treated Blair, even after Marsha came into the
picture.

“She accused me of sleeping with him, for crying out loud!
The man was old enough to be my father. Hell, I
thought
of him as a
father.”

“He obviously thought of you the same way,” Reid told her.
“As a daughter, I mean.”

Martin had taken Marsha under his wing and had treated her
much as he had Blair. Hell, he’d been father of the year to both women far more
than he’d ever been to Porter and Reid before or after their mother had
abandoned them.

“Because he left me this place.” She said it more as a
statement than a question, but it circled them around to the subject they’d all
been attempting to tiptoe past since Porter and Reid walked in tonight.

“He left you the only thing that meant anything to him
outside of family.” Outside of Blair, Porter started to add, but didn’t. Martin
had accepted him and Reid when he’d fallen in love with their mother. He’d been
a decent stepfather even if he’d never truly showed them much affection. He’d
continued to raise them after their mother ran off, too. He’d taught them to be
men and though he hadn’t directly taught them how to love, they’d learned it
from watching the man with their mother and then with Blair and later with
Marsha.

“And the three of you contested it even though I didn’t have
a damn thing to do with it.”

“Blair contested it,” Reid pointed out.

Marsha rounded on him, her eyes blazing. “Don’t try to give
me the innocent act, Reid Kenneth Bishop. Both of your names were on those
court papers, too. Both of you were in that courtroom. You stood in front of
that judge and you—”

“Said nothing,” Porter cut her off, meeting her angry tone
with a calm, patient one of his own. They hadn’t said anything in the courtroom
that day. They’d allowed Blair to drag them through contesting the will, let
her add their names to the documents, and said few words in the way of
attempting to stop her.

That’s where they’d made their mistake. It hadn’t mattered
to them that Martin had left the bar to Marsha in his will. They never wanted
it and knew Blair wouldn’t do anything with it but sell the property and pocket
her share of the profits, if she saw fit to split it equally between the three
of them. They’d known, obviously just as Martin had, that the business he’d
cherished stood its best chance at survival under Marsha’s ownership.

Yet, they hadn’t said a word in her defense.

“That’s right. You said nothing. You were pissed, just like
Blair, and you still are. So why the fuck are you still here?”

Marsha was done with this conversation, done with
pretending. She’d known the entire idea was ludicrous from the start. The pain
of their betrayal ran too deep to forget and she certainly couldn’t pretend
they hadn’t sliced at her heart, at her soul until she’d lain in her bed crying
herself to sleep for more nights than she bothered to count.

“We didn’t say anything, Mars, because she’s family,” Porter
told her softly. “The only family we had left.”

His words brought another memory slamming back to the
surface of her thoughts. She’d gone to him and Reid the day she’d gotten the
subpoena to appear in court. She’d found them on a jobsite and had marched
straight to Reid without a care who saw or overheard.

“
Do you want to explain this?
” She’d thrust the
subpoena at his chest and he’d narrowly missed hammering his finger instead of
the nail he’d been positioning.

He’d taken the paper from her, wiped sweat from his brow
with the back of his free hand, and sighed as his gaze traveled over the page.
“
She’s hurt and angry, Marsha.
”

“
She’s taking me to freaking court, Reid!
”

“
She has the right.
”

That response had rocked her back on her heels. She’d gaped
at him. Half of her had been certain he’d be furious with Blair, especially
since she hadn’t believed at the time that he and Porter were behind it too
despite their names in clear black font.

“
Your and Porter’s names are on that court order, too.
”
She’d pointed it out and waited for him to defend himself and Porter, waited
for him to even look at her.

He had finally lifted his head then, and nodded. “
Yeah,
it seems they are.
”

“
You’re siding with her? You agree with her?
” She’d
felt blindsided, so shocked her head had swum with it.

He’d looked her dead in the eyes and shrugged. “
She’s
family.
”

“Just because we were there doesn’t mean we agreed with her,”
Reid told her softly now.

Marsha closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening
her eyes again and meeting Reid’s gaze.

“I didn’t handle it right when you came to me that day.” He
pulled off his cap, set it on the bar, and raked his long fingers through his
hair. “Hell, Marsha, I was as shocked by that subpoena as you were. I didn’t
know a thing about it until you showed up.”

“We knew Blair was pissed,” Porter chimed in, snagging her
attention. “She’d been going on about how she wanted to contest the will, how
you had no right to this place, and yada yada yada, but we thought she was
smart enough to know it would be a waste of time. Martin’s will was solid.
Anyone could see that.”

“We thought—” Reid broke off and cursed under his breath. “I
don’t know what we thought. Maybe that she’d drop it before it went to court.
That, even if it got that far, she’d get in front of that judge and realize
what a spoiled brat she was being and apologize.”

Marsha scoffed. “Blair? Apologize?”

“We tried to,” Porter said. “That day on the front steps of
the courthouse when we caught up with you. That’s what we were trying to say
before Blair came out and started showing her ass again. You stormed off before
we could settle her down, before we could finish.”