Trilogy No. 105: Smalltown, U.S.A

Excerpt:
The Horseman



“What do ya’ need, darlin’?”

She spun to look at him. “You work here?”

“No, but I’ll yell to Mac back there. He’ll get it for you.” The owner of the diner was in the kitchen, cooking. Jared could see him through the opening in the wall.

She glanced one more time at the waitress who still hadn’t acknowledged their presence. “All I want is a cup of coffee to go. And since I haven’t seen a Starbucks anywhere, I’d hoped I could get one here.”

Thinking that more caffeine was probably the last thing this tightly strung babe needed, Jared nodded. “You surely can. Best coffee in town.” He didn’t add that it was also practically the only coffee in town, if you didn’t count the McDonald’s. Fast-food coffee didn’t appeal to him. He liked a real mug that a man could wrap his hand around. Come to think of it, those were the qualities he looked for in a woman, too.

He leaned over the counter and called out, “Hey, Mac. This little lady here wants a coffee to go.”

“Where’s Misty?” Mac growled from the back, looking mighty hot and cranky in the kitchen.

Jared glanced at the waitress and decided not to dig his own grave any deeper. “She’s busy.”

Mac grumbled his way to the front and poured coffee into a to-go cup, shoving a plastic lid, the cream and the sugar at her.

As citified and impatient as she’d seemed at first, Mac’s gruffness even put the stranger on her best behavior. “Thank you so much. How much do I owe you?” she asked sweetly.

“Just the coffee?” Mac asked.

“The coffee and directions, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Coffee is seventy-five. Directions are free.” Jared watched as even gruff Mac started to warm up to her. He had to admit, she was a looker, in a perfect, polished, city sort of way. Sleek blonde hair, cut in what he supposed was a fashionable style. Pretty blue eyes. Perfect nails painted in pale pink with the white edges showing.

“Seventy-five cents?” She looked surprised. Jared noticed she had four single dollar bills in her hand. Four dollars for one cup of coffee? She was definitely a city person. She put one bill down on the counter and pushed it toward Mac. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks. Now where do you need to go?” Mac shoved the money in the register. Jared took that opportunity to slide his own bill and cash onto the counter, but his hand stopped dead for a second when he heard the woman say, “Gordon Equine? It’s a horse farm. Do you know it?”

Mac raised a brow and glanced sideways at Jared. “Sure do. And what business do you have with the Gordons, pretty lady? You in the market for a stud?”

Now it was her turn to raise a brow. She pursed her lips, as if considering. “Perhaps.”

Mac laughed boisterously in his gruff voice and cocked his head in Jared’s direction. “This here fella’ can give you directions. I got something on the stove.”

Hmm. What could this tough cookie from the city want with him?

He decided not to tip his hand just yet. Jared gave her directions all right, the long way to the farm, which would give him just enough time to arrive right before her.

Sure, it was juvenile. But hell, you had to make your own entertainment around Pigeon Hollow. Who better to make it with than a pretty blonde stranger who might possibly be in the market for a Gordon stud?



The Ballplayer



Cole glanced at Lizzie’s profile as she watched the field and let out a big breath of frustration. Suddenly, he felt that he had to get away from her for a little while. How his disappointment could still be there after all this time was beyond him, but there it was, suspiciously feeling a lot like pain.

“I’m going over to say hi to Bobby.”

“What? You can’t!” Lizzie grabbed his arm in a claw-like death grip.

He frowned down at her hand. “Why not?”

“Because they’re in the middle of a game, that’s why not. You of all people should know better.”

He raised his brow in shock. “I may be injured and no longer in the majors, but do you really think those kids don’t want some coaching advice from the formerly great Cole Ryan? Come on, Lizzie. What’s really wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Then give me back my arm.” What was this all about? Maybe she didn’t want him to leave her? His heart leapt in his chest. Could she still care? “I promise, I’ll come back and talk to you about us later, if that’s what you want.”

She dropped his arm like he’d suddenly electrocuted her. “That’s not it. And there is no ‘us’.”

That took him aback. “Fine.” He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity and stalked away toward the field.

Bobby was hanging onto the cage watching the hitter at bat when Cole came up behind him. “Need any coaching help from a former major leaguer?”

Cole’s joke was answered by Bobby spinning around and punching him so hard, the next thing Cole knew, he was on his ass staring up at the sky. Then he could no longer see the sky, because the kids on both teams and most of the parents surrounded him.

Cole struggled to sit up and gingerly touched his jaw while looking up at Bobby’s angry face. If he stood up now, Bobby would just punch him again, so he stayed where he was for the moment. He’d vowed ten years ago that if Bobby beat the crap out of him for taking Lizzie’s virginity, he’d allow it. He just never imagined Bobby would come to collect ten years later. He guessed some offenses had no shelf life.

His train of thought was interrupted when the pitcher he’d admired from the bleachers broke through the crowd and said, “Uncle Bobby! Why did you punch him?”

With his mind still working a little slowly from the punch, Cole took a moment to wonder why Lizzie said she didn’t know who he was if he was her and Bobby’s nephew. The kid must be her sister Mary Sue’s son, so why would Lizzie lie?

It was a good thing that Cole remained sitting on the ground, because what he heard next would have knocked him on his ass again otherwise. “Mom! Get him some ice out of the cooler!” And when Cole looked to see Mom, she turned out to be Lizzie.

Head still spinning, he stared at the boy and realized he looked nothing like his mother and everything like Cole himself. He took a shaky breath and asked him the question he feared the answer to most. “You’ve got some pitching arm on you, boy. How old are you anyway?”

The boy smiled proudly. “I’ll be ten in February, sir.”

Ten. The magic number. Cole swallowed as acid backed up his throat.



The Deputy





Bobby Barton sat in the furthest corner table in the diner, back to the wall so he could watch the door, his friend Jared opposite him. It was a sad day when a man, an officer of the law no less, had to sneak out of his house in the middle of the night just to have a moment of private conversation with a buddy.

While absently playing with the sugar packets on the table, he laid out his plan. “So tomorrow, five-thirty a.m., I’m headin’ to the lake to go fishin’. She wants to be with me every wakin’ moment? I’ll show her exactly how awake I can be! You wanna come?”

Jared winced. “Not really, but I will. You sure are goin’ to a lot of trouble to make this girl’s life miserable. What’d she ever do to you?”

“You mean besides her and her cameraman tryin’ to follow me every damn place I go, includin’ inside the stall in the men’s room?”

Jared laughed.

“Sure. It’s real amusin’ for you, Jared. Your producer is your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, which means I can’t let anyone know she’s my girlfriend so she doesn’t get fired.”

Bobby sighed. “All right. So we’ll agree this damn show has put a kink in both our lives?”

Jared nodded. “Damn straight. But it’s only for eight weeks and it’s good for the business ‘round here.”

Bobby knew Jared was right. Mac had even added an extra shift at the diner when he started staying open ‘til the wee hours of the morning to accommodate the television crews who were taping late.

It turned out the local honky-tonk bar in town was providing quite a bit of grist for the television mill. There was a crew at the bar until closing every night. That was why Bobby was safely camera-free at the diner at the moment; the camera crew was still at the bar, hoping to capture drunks at their worst.

His own personal hell—uh, crew—had gone back to their rooms at The Hideaway for the night, thinking he was tucked safely away, asleep in his bed at home.

“She is cute, though.” Jared’s voice cut into his ponderings about why they’d ever agreed to the taping of this damn reality TV show.

He glanced up at his friend. “Who? Your girlfriend, Mandy? I should hope you think she’s cute, you’re sleepin’ with her.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “I was talkin’ about your producer, Christy. Don’t seem like such a hardship, havin’ that pretty face shinin’ up at you day and night.”

Bobby groaned. Yeah. She was cute. She was also as tenacious as a pit bull and had the nose of a bloodhound. “Maybe under other circumstances I’d agree with you. But damn it, Jared, do you know what I had to do to wrestle that tape of me punchin’ Cole away from her?”

Jared grinned. “You still have it? I’d love to watch that. Mr. Cool losin’ his head.”

Bobby scowled at his supposed friend.

Jared shook his head at him, still grinning. “Oh, stop givin’ me that look, Bobby. It’s funny. All right. Tell me, what’d you have to do to get the tape? Was it good?” Jared waggled his eyebrows at Bobby.

Bobby sighed and ignored Jared’s insinuations in favor of more bitching. “I had to agree to let them ride with me from now on during my shifts. I’d been able to at least get away from them when I was in the patrol car answerin’ calls around town. I’d convinced them it was the sheriff’s policy, no civilians in the car. But now that’s over.”

“Hmm. A tape of you punchin’ out the famous Cole Ryan at a little league game, or you sittin’ in your car drinkin’ coffee while takin’ a radio call that old Mrs. Brown’s cat’s stuck in a tree again.” Jared made a weighing motion with his hands and cocked a brow. “