“Still, I wish I could’ve been there for you.”
She did too, so much that she ached for it. “There’s no point wishing we could change the past.” Bobbi remembered June’s advice not to waste another minute. “You’re here for me now, right?”
Luke nodded firmly. “Goddamn right I am. If you still need me.”
Pushing off her stool, Bobbi skirted around the table. “What if I do?”
He didn’t hesitate to rush to her side. He threw his arms around her and squeezed, giving her a bear hug that nearly cracked half her ribs but left no doubt about how much he cared. Despite their argument, despite all those years apart, he was still her brother, and he’d love her always.
Gripping her shoulders, he stepped back. “So are you gonna tell me who I need to pummel into the ground?” A lock of auburn hair fell over one eye, making him appear less like an avenging angel and more like a little boy. It brought a smile to her lips. “Who made you cry tonight?”
Bobbi decided to tell him the truth, but not the whole truth. “I had the…um…unique pleasure of meeting Trey’s mother.”
“Awwww, shit.” Luke stepped back and rubbed his stubbly jaw with one hand. “I didn’t know she was in town.”
“Neither did Trey.” Not that it was any consolation, but Trey’d seemed less happy to see his mother than Bobbi had been. “Mrs. Lewis said all the right things, but she still made me feel like—”
“Trash,” Luke finished with a knowing nod. “She’s real good at that.”
“Once she heard my name was Gallagher, it was over.”
“I’m sorry, Bo.” His nostrils flared as he pulled in a deep breath and released it in a huff. “It’s not you she hates, it’s me.”
“I know. Trey told me.”
“Yeah?” Mahogany brows arched in a stern V as he jutted out his chin. “What did he do about Mommy Dearest?”
“Down, boy,” she teased, standing on tiptoe to pat his head. “He tried keeping her in check, but it didn’t work. For what it’s worth, she’s going through a rough time right now, so I told him to stay with her and be a good son.”
“What kind of rough time?”
“Ask Trey. It’s his story to tell, not mine.”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest and rose to full height, reminding Bobbi of the old
Monty
Python
Spanish Inquisition spoofs. “So you know more about my best friend’s private life than I do? Just how close
are
you two?”
“We’re friends, that’s all.”
Shrewd eyes appraised her face, staring her down as if waiting for a confession. “I hope you’re not bullshitting me. Trey’s like a brother, but he’s not the kinda guy I’d want to see you get mixed up with.”
She didn’t know why, but his words burned. A sudden urge to defend Trey hijacked Bobbi’s vocal chords. “Why not?” When Luke’s eyes widened, she stammered, “I mean, I’m not interested in him, but he seems nice enough. A total gentleman when I set him up on dates.”
But
not
so
gentlemanly
when
he’s got me on the countertop with his teeth around my nipple
.
“He
is
nice enough, but he’s too much like me—well, how I used to be. He’s a player, and there’s nothin’ wrong with that, so long as he’s not playin’ with my little sister.” He tugged a lock of her hair. “Know what I mean, jelly bean?”
“Yeah.” A player? Bobbi tried to keep a straight face, hiding how deeply her brother’s words had disappointed her, but it wasn’t easy. “I almost forgot,” she murmured absently. “I’m supposed to tell you to come inside. June’s waiting for you to…uh…fulfill your manly duties or whatever.”
He didn’t seem pleased by the news. Reaching back to scratch his neck, he darted a glance around the shed until it landed on the disemboweled Roomba. “Tell her I’ll be here awhile longer. I want to wrap up this project tonight.”
Bobbi looked from the robot to her brother and back again. The only way he’d finish repairing that thing tonight is if God decided to add another five hundred hours to the day. “Let me make sure I understand. Your wife—the one you can’t keep your hands off of—is inside waiting to do bad things to you, and you’re choosing to stay here and tinker with a broken vacuum?”
“She’s the one who asked me to fix it,” he said defensively.
Bobbi held both palms out. “Okay, okay. None of my business.” Maybe Luke wasn’t as close to “swaying” as June thought. And who could blame him? Babies were an epic pain in the ass, and Bobbi didn’t understand why anyone would bring one into the world when plenty of children were already waiting for good homes. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”
“’Night.”
With a wave, she poked her head out the door. Glancing at the cornfield for movement, she ventured cautiously into the backyard and managed to make it to the porch without breaking into a sprint. Once inside, she tiptoed to the kitchen, afraid of waking June if she’d already fallen asleep, and poured herself a generous glass of Pinot Noir. Then she grabbed her bag of M&Ms and padded to the front porch to settle in one of the oversized, white rocking chairs.
As Bobbi sipped her wine, she couldn’t help mulling over what Luke had said about Trey, that he was a playboy and not the kind of man she should tangle with. Surely as Trey’s best friend, Luke knew him best, but she’d never seen any behavior on Trey’s part to make her think of him as a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. If anything, he’d been
too
respectful of the girls she’d thrown into his path. Unlike Colton, Trey had foregone one-night stands, barely even sparing a glance for the eligible females of Sultry County. Heck, the only woman he had eyes for these days was…
Her.
Bobbi closed her fist, crushing the M&Ms to bits. Right before Trey had taken her face between his gritty palms and kissed her, he’d said he couldn’t stand Sarah’s company because of one deal-breaking character flaw: she wasn’t Bobbi. Then he’d dizzied her mind with his kisses and made it impossible to think, but now—with a clear head—Bobbi could see Trey’s feelings for her went beyond simple lust. Way beyond. Maybe it wasn’t love, but he’d grown to care for her so deeply it had affected his ability to hook up with anyone else.
This realization both thrilled and terrified her in equal measure. Her pulse responded in turn, galloping though her veins with wild abandon.
There was no point denying she cared for Trey too. Sure, there was plenty of lust in the mix, but she wanted more than just a quick tumble between his sheets—she wanted…well, just
more
. How much more, she didn’t know.
But that didn’t mean getting involved with him was wise. Just look what had happened tonight. She’d opened herself to him, in more ways than one, and had wound up sobbing in her car, struggling with old Jedi mind tricks to maintain her sanity. Besides, there was the whole issue of her journalistic credibility and the success of
Sex
in
the
Sticks
.
No, she simply couldn’t get involved with Trey, no matter how tempting. She’d be risking too much—both emotionally and professionally. No man was worth it.
Bobbi knew she should run to Luke, confess everything, and replace Trey with another subject, but instead, she stayed put, resting her heels against the wood planks and sipping wine as she brainstormed another solution. Because what she
should
do and what she
wanted
to do were two different things.
If she took Trey off the project for personal reasons, Luke would probably understand, but would that solve her problem? Just look at her past behavior. She’d proven she couldn’t stay away from Trey even if he wrapped himself in barbed wire and bathed in acid. What she needed was a way to make Trey unavailable to her, but how could she do that when he wanted her too? She’d already tried pairing him with the perfect woman, and that hadn’t—
Bobbi gasped, the answer suddenly clear. An idea took root inside her mind, spreading faster than ivy, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. She knew the perfect way to make Trey unavailable and help
Sex
in
the
Sticks
become a success, all at the same time. Trey might not like it, but then again, it could change his life for the better. Maybe he’d thank her one day.
Bobbi finished her wine and took a deep breath, trying to steel herself for what lay ahead. All she needed now was the will to carry out her plan, because one thing was certain—it would break her heart.
Like rapper B-Real of Cypress Hill, Trey was going insane in the membrane.
Why, you ask? Just take your pick. For starters, a week had passed since his mom’s brownie ambush, and she’d been so far up his ass the whole time that Trey could stunt double for the Asian guy in
Human
Centipede
. It hadn’t taken long for Mom to find out about
Sex
in
the
Sticks
, and the nag-a-thon he’d endured over the past several days had left him with the overpowering urge to drive a butter knife through his temple. But every time he’d dropped hints about Mom returning home, she’d go all wide-eyed and sniffle and start bitching about his dad.
If that weren’t enough to drive him to drink—well, drink
more
—the new building inspector wanted his palm greased, and one of the yahoos on the crew had accidentally cut the power line while planting a cedar tree behind the community center. It was a miracle the idiot hadn’t electrocuted himself. Sultry Electric posted those “call before you dig” signs for a reason.
But those annoyances seemed like trifling mosquito bites compared to the real problem eating him up inside, and that was Bobbi. Or rather, the absence of Bobbi. According to that giant, blue-haired dude, Weezer or something like that, she’d left town to meet with her boss and “call in some favors.” And while she’d been in constant contact with her crew over the last six days, she hadn’t responded to any of Trey’s calls or texts.
And that shit made him crazy.
“Hey, man.” Luke pointed to the breakfast burrito in Trey’s fist. “You gonna eat that?”
Trey glanced at the tortilla, bursting with scrambled eggs, green peppers, and sausage. Heaving a sigh, he passed it to his buddy. It smelled heavenly, but the thing would taste like cardboard. All his food did now. “Mom made it,” he warned Luke, knowing the hatred between those two was mutual.
“S’okay.” Luke shoved half the burrito in his mouth and spoke around a cheek full of eggs. “If she made it for you, she probably left out the rat poison.”
Kicking aside a discarded shingle, Trey leaned a shoulder against one of the newly erected pillars that flanked the community center’s main entrance. He folded his arms to fight off a shiver, squinting against the low, morning sun and wishing the weather would make up its mind already. Each day since Bobbi left had been colder and darker than the last, as if Old Man Winter had dementia and didn’t realize it wasn’t his turn to come poking around yet.
“You okay?” Luke asked, just before devouring the second half of Trey’s breakfast.
No, Trey most certainly wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t tell his friend why.
I
came
this
close
to
making
sweet, sweet love to your little sister, and now she won’t talk to me
. Luke would kill him, give him CPR, then kill him again.
“Just tired,” Trey lied, “and ready to have the house to myself again. My mom snores.”
After wiping his greasy palms against his jeans, Luke clapped Trey on the back. “Sucks, man, but what’re you gonna do? Send her packin’ at a time like this?” He knew about the divorce. Trey had told him last week. “Not even I would do that to her, and I can’t stand the bit—uh, the woman.”
Trey slid a heated gaze at his buddy, miffed at the near slip. Ice Queen or not, you didn’t bad-mouth a guy’s mama. “No shit. Why’d you think I haven’t hog-tied her and put her on the red-eye to Chicago?” Yet.
“Just sayin’…” Luke held out a defensive hand, but before he finished his thought, Stevie Ray Vaughn’s
Pride
and
Joy
rang out from the cell phone in his pocket. It was June’s ringtone; she loved that song. But instead of glowing like a sixty-watt bulb at the contact, Luke grimaced. “Dammit.” He pulled out the phone and silenced it, sending the call to voice mail.
Uh-oh. Trey sensed trouble in paradise. “What’s up with that?” he asked, nodding at the cell.
“I already know what she wants.”
“Which is…?”
“To meet me at home for lunch.”
Trey shrugged, shaking his head in confusion. He didn’t see the problem.
“For sex,” Luke clarified.
“Dude, I’m still not seeing the problem.”
“Sex with a purpose.” Dipping his head, Luke delivered a dark, pointed look and sank to the concrete steps, where he slumped over, hugging his knees like a kid waking from a nightmare. “She’s got baby fever.”
“Oh, snap.” Well, hell. That’d take the jingle out of any man’s junk. “Too bad there’s no Tylenol for that.” But then something occurred to Trey. “Wait, I thought you wanted kids.” Luke and June had been married for two years. Wasn’t that about the time most couples started trying for a stinky little bundle of joy?
“I do.”
“So what’s holdin’ you back?”
Luke darted a gaze around the property, noting the location of each worker as if afraid they’d overhear. Then he stared at his folded hands, licking his lips, hesitating to speak. This came as no surprise. Luke had always been an overly private man—which explained why he’d never mentioned Bobbi before she’d come to town.
“Out with it,” Trey pressed.
“It’ll sound stupid.”
“I’d expect no less from you.”
A soft snort of laughter shook Luke’s chest, breaking the ice just enough for him to admit, “I don’t wanna share her.” Taking a slow, deep breath, he twisted the wedding band around his left ring finger. “How am I supposed to explain that to her without sounding like a selfish prick?”
“I’ve seen the way
Jooonbug
looks at you. No baby’s gonna change that.”
“I know.” Luke shrugged, still fidgeting with his gold band. “But I wish we could’ve had more time, just the two of us. I wish I’d married her ten years ago.”
“Buddy, you weren’t ready ten years ago.”
Luke gave a sad nod of agreement. “I know that. But every minute I wasn’t with June feels like wasted time now. Time I’ll never get back. I like having her all to myself, and I’m not ready to give that up yet.”
“Then tell her.” Anyone with eyes could see that June thought her husband hung the moon and lit the stars. No woman had ever looked at Trey like that. “She’ll understand. Worst case scenario, you compromise.”
“Compromise what? You can’t have half a baby.”
“Well, no, wiseass, but if she wants a kid now, and you wanna wait four years, you settle on two—” Trey bit short his reply as his head whipped toward the parking lot of its own volition.
All thoughts of Luke and June’s hypothetical babies instantly ceased when Bong’s white van pulled into the nearest parking space. Trey’s pulse did the fifty-yard dash though his veins in anticipation of seeing Bobbi.
She’s back!
Trey pushed off the pillar, finger-combed his hair, and stood ramrod straight, then realizing he’d appear too stiff that way, relaxed his posture, tucking both hands in his pockets so as not to seem too eager. But in truth, his eyes ached to take in the graceful curve of Bo’s face, the way her green irises warmed when locked with his, her lush, pink lips parted in a smile just for him. Christ, he’d missed her. Hard.
He even had a present to give her once Luke took a hike. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a handheld Tetris game he’d spotted while picking up a few things at the General Store. He’d thought of Bobbi at once, imagining how good it would make her feel to put all those little squares in order. Maybe she could keep it in her purse and whip it out whenever the compulsion to organize Luke’s CD collection took over.
“What the hell?” Luke demanded. “You look more nervous than a nun in a Hustler shop.”
Feigning indifference, Trey dipped his chin and joined Luke on the concrete steps. “They just surprised me is all.”
With narrowed eyes, Luke’s gaze moved over Trey’s face as if trying to see the hidden image in one of those three-dimensional puzzle posters. He grit his teeth, grinding out, “She’s not with ’em.”
Bobbi wasn’t back? Trey’s heart froze and sank into the general vicinity of his lower intestine. “Who?” he asked, summoning an ignorant mask.
“My sister, that’s who.”
“I know that,” Trey scoffed. He used his peripheral vision to watch the camera and sound guy cross the lot, noting Bobbi’s absence. “She’s in California.”
“Uh-huh.” Clearly, Luke wasn’t fooled. “Don’t pretend you—”
“Hey, boss.” Carlo loped into view, saving Trey from yet another lecture on keeping his snake in its cage.
“Gopher,” Trey greeted with a nod. He scanned the kid, noticing he’d finally started to fill out, the bones in his sternum no longer visible beneath his thin T-shirt. And damn, if he hadn’t sprouted another inch in the past week. He was starting to look like a man, sort of. This young apprentice had come a long way since he’d joined the crew. A needling of regret tingled inside Trey’s chest when he imagined leaving his little buddy behind at summer’s end.
Carlo hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I finished mulching out back. Whadaya want me to do now?”
“Done already?” Trey elbowed Luke. “Didn’t I tell you Gopher’s the best guy on my crew?”
While Luke nodded, Carlo ducked his head and beamed brighter than a new penny. When the camera crew approached with their equipment, Carlo stepped back a few paces, staying out of the shot since his parents hadn’t signed the consent form.
“Go find my cooler,” Trey told the boy. “I’ve got an extra breakfast burrito in there. Then head inside and we’ll get the walls primed.”
“’Kay.” Not one to mince words when food was involved, Gopher darted off in search of his meal.
“Kid thinks a lot of you,” Luke observed quietly. “What’s gonna happen when you leave?”
Trey didn’t need reminding. His guilty conscience had been working overtime. “Been meaning to talk to you about that. His hours are almost up, but I want him to stay on with you while I’m overseas.” Trey stood and brushed off his backside. “He’s a quick learner, but you gotta keep an eye on him. Not much support at home, and I don’t want him getting into trouble again. I don’t think they feed him enough either. And you might have to buy him some clothes now and then—I’ll mail you some cash—just be careful how you give it to him. Say you were going through your old things—get creative. He doesn’t like taking charity. No man does.” He glanced down at his friend, hoping he’d agree. Teens could be a pain in the keister, and Trey knew he was asking a lot.
Luke said nothing, just grinned at Trey with an expression that reminded him of Bobbi’s face the first time she’d visited the job site—disbelief mingled with approval.
“What?” Trey asked, hands on his hips.
“You know, you just might make a halfway decent dad someday.”
“Jesus, bite your tongue.” Trey crossed himself; never mind that he wasn’t Catholic. The last thing he wanted was fruit springing from his loins. “Don’t jinx me like that.”
Luke barked a laugh, then pushed to standing. “Sorry, man, I take it back.” Wiggling his fingers in the air as if casting a spell, he crooned, “May you
aaaaaalways
shoot blanks.”
“Jackass,” Trey muttered with a chuckle. Just as he geared up for a playful slug to Luke’s bicep, the cell phone vibrated inside his back pocket. When he retrieved it and glimpsed the sender’s name, his heart bounced back and forth against his tonsils like a paddleball. Finally, a text from Bobbi!
Meet me @ Shooters tonight, 9pm. I have a surprise 4 u!
Trey’s lungs inflated with pure heat and expanded inside his chest. Bobbi was back, and she had a surprise for him. He hoped it involved her naked thighs and a can of Reddi-wip, but no matter what, at least he’d get to see her again—fill his nostrils with her scent of sweet cinnamon and watch her rub that little button nose when he made her nervous. Which he would, with pleasure.
Trey’s fingers trembled as he turned from Luke’s line of vision and typed a response.
Can’t wait 2 c-u, Bo Peep :)
After tucking his phone into his pocket, Trey wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, marveling at the butterflies slam-dancing against his stomach lining. He hadn’t felt this anxious over a girl since eleventh grade, when he’d asked Mindy Roberts to junior prom in front of all of her snooty friends. Damn, it was gonna be a long day.
With a grin splitting his face in two, Trey checked his watch. Twelve hours and counting.
***
At precisely eight forty-five that evening, Trey sat in his truck cab and scrutinized his appearance in the rear-view mirror, running one palm over the smooth edge of his freshly shaven jaw and tilting his face from side to side for any spots he might’ve missed. As keyed up as he’d been while getting ready, it was a wonder he hadn’t cut himself to ribbons. He straightened the collar of his short-sleeved, button-down shirt—the one Bobbi’d complimented the night of the church barbeque—and raked his fingers though his hair, still slightly damp from the shower and smelling of Suave shampoo. He looked pretty damned good, if he did say so himself.
Trey checked the dashboard’s digital clock—eight forty-six—and scanned the Shooter’s parking lot for Bobbi’s purple car, spotting only the crew’s van. Maybe she’d ridden with Bong or parked around back with June and Luke. Or maybe she wasn’t here yet. Either way, Trey decided a seat on his bar stool and a cold Bud in his hand easily trumped loitering in his Chevy. He made his way inside, taking a deep breath to steady his churning guts.
Striding blindly to his designated place at the bar, Trey pulled in the comforting scents of hops and crushed peanut shells as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“Bud draft,” he told the bartender, the same redheaded kid who’d served him the day Bobbi had come to town. June was probably in the back office with Luke, where she usually stayed until things got busy. Tossing a couple of bucks tip onto the gleaming oak, Trey climbed onto his stool, then swiveled around to check out the place. Hard as he tried to maintain a cool facade, his frenzied gaze swept over each tableful of bodies with one mission: to spot Bobbi, the neurotic little neat freak who’d turned his brain into banana pudding. He released the breath he’d been holding. She wasn’t here yet.