Mama gestured toward the pink vinyl seats in
the front of the shop, and Matt gave her the famous Girard smile
that used to melt the female hearts of Rochambeau High School. Evie
felt a little hitch in her own heart, in spite of herself.
Why did he still have to be so damn
good-looking? Was it too much to ask for him to be balding or
growing a potbelly? Apparently so. Mother Nature was cruel.
“Sure thing, Miz Breaux.”
Before he’d taken three steps toward the
waiting area, Mama said, “You remember my daughter, Evangeline,
don’t you? She was a year behind you in school. Y’all used to play
when I’d come out to do your mama’s hair every week.”
Evie’s heart crashed into her ribs. The
ladies in the shop grew quiet while they waited for his answer. She
knew what they were thinking. What they were waiting for. Why
should it bother her what they thought? What any of them
thought?
It had been ten years ago, and it didn’t
matter anymore. She was grown up. Matt was grown up. Who cared?
Except that’s not how Rochambeau worked, and
she knew it. It might have been ten years, but he’d humiliated her.
He’d broken her heart and tossed her to the wolves when she wasn’t
prepared to deal with the consequences of her actions. Not that
anyone knew for sure what had happened, but rumors were usually
enough in Rochambeau.
“Yes, ma’am, I sure do. How is she?” He
didn’t sound in the least bit remorseful. But why would he? He’d
departed for college a week later, and she’d been the one left
behind to pick up the pieces.
“Evie’s great,” Mama announced. “Been living
in Florida, but she’s home now. Maybe you can talk to her while you
wait. Y’all can catch up.”
Evie’s stomach plummeted to her toes. Oh no.
No, no,
no
. What if she went into the bathroom and refused
to come out? Or just quietly slipped out the back door and
disappeared for a couple of hours? It was time for her lunch break,
and—
Coward
. Evie stiffened her spine. She
wasn’t running away. If it wasn’t now, it’d be some other time. She
couldn’t avoid him forever. And far better to get this over with in
public, while she could maintain her dignity and show the good
people of Rochambeau there was nothing left to talk about.
“That’d be great,” he said in an
aw
shucks
way she didn’t buy for a second. He might talk smooth
and act all friendly and
gee-whiz ma’am
, but she knew
better. God, did she know better.
He was nothing more than a self-centered,
arrogant jerk with a giant sense of entitlement and no mercy for
those he considered beneath him. A little corner of her heart still
hurt like it had been yesterday, but she ruthlessly stomped on the
feeling until it stopped.
“Good,” her mother said as if it were the
best idea in the world, her gaze sweeping the shop. “She was here
just a minute ago. Evie? Evie?”
“She went in the back,” Stella offered with
what Evie was convinced was a hint of glee. Bitch.
Right. There was nothing Evie could do except
face this particular blast from the past. Because there was no way
on earth she’d ever let Matt Girard humiliate her again. She’d
learned the hard way, but at least she’d learned.
“I’m right here, Mama,” she said, whipping
off her smock and pushing back the curtain.
MATT STILL DIDN’T KNOW WHAT he was doing at
the Cut ’N Curl, but the second Evie Baker walked out of the
stockroom, he felt as if someone had dropped a truckload of cement
on his head. He hadn’t seen her in ten years, not since the night
he’d taken her virginity in the back of his daddy’s Cadillac.
He’d never forgotten that night, never
forgotten what a dickhead he’d been. He didn’t expect she had
either, which is why he wasn’t surprised that she was currently
glaring daggers at him.
Little Evie Baker. Not so little anymore.
He remembered the first time he’d ever seen
her, when he’d been seven and his mama had first gotten sick. Norma
Breaux always brought Evie with her when she came out to Reynier’s
Retreat. He hadn’t known any of the kids in town because he’d been
in private school then, but when Evie didn’t scream after he
dropped a worm on her, he knew he’d found someone fun to play with.
His sister always screamed and hated even a speck of dirt to land
on her pretty clothes, but Evie had been as good as any boy when it
came to getting dirty.
Matt’s temples throbbed. He’d never wanted to
hurt her, God knew, but he’d been in a bad place back then. No,
he’d been an arrogant, entitled prick. He knew he shouldn’t have
touched her when she’d asked, but he’d done it anyway.
By that point, he’d been trying for years to
ignore the way she’d changed—one day she started wearing dresses
and blushing whenever he looked at her; the next she had breasts
and curves and he had no clue what to say to her anymore. But then
she was there, standing before him with her eyes flashing and her
cheeks flushed, and she’d just been so damn pretty, and so damn
exciting, that he’d taken her hand, led her out to his daddy’s car,
and drove them away from the party they’d been at.
He’d felt guilty every moment since, but it
was simply another thing to add to the heap of guilt inside his
soul. Later, when he’d gotten his head on a bit straighter, he’d
thought about calling her to apologize, but too much time had
passed. By then he’d figured it was better to let it stay in the
past.
A mistake, he thought now. This woman was not
happy to see him. There was no pushing aside old mistakes, no going
back to a simpler time when they’d gone fishing for crawdads
together or sat in a tall tree and watched the gators glide through
the bayou.
This Evie Baker was not in a forgiving mood,
and he didn’t blame her at all.
Still, a very male part of him couldn’t help
but appreciate her on another level. The level that had gotten him
in trouble in the first place.
Evie had been a lovely teenager, but she’d
blossomed into an even lovelier woman. And he shouldn’t do a damn
thing about it, no matter how much he might want to. If he’d met
her in a bar, he’d do everything he could to get her to go home
with him.
But she was not a woman in a bar, and he owed
her more than that. Matt focused on her pissed-off posture and
flashing eyes.
“Evie.” She stopped in front of him, arms
crossed.
Jesus. She was all curves and sleek skin in a
pair of cut-off jean shorts and a body-hugging pink tank top. Her
legs were still long, still built to hug a man’s waist.
Shit
. He didn’t need to be thinking
that way.
And yet, no matter how hard he tried, he
couldn’t help it. It was the first thought that sprang to his head
when his gaze glided over those legs. He’d kick himself for it
later. Right now, he had a bigger problem: keeping his body from
responding the way it wanted to at the memory of the last time he’d
seen her.
She’d been naked, her lush form arrayed
before him, her skin hot, silky, and damp with sweat. She’d been so
damn sweet, so innocent. And it’d been a long time since he’d had
any sweetness in his life.
“Hi, Matt.”
“You’re looking all grown up.” He could have
bit his tongue off when her eyes narrowed.
“It’s what happens in ten years.” Hostility
swirled around her like a tornado.
He stretched his arm along the back of the
chair beside him with a casualness he didn’t feel.
New
tactic
. “So how have you been?”
“Great. You?”
She was smiling now, but he wasn’t fooled.
Violet eyes looked back at him with a mixture of embarrassment and
fury. He’d done that. He’d put that look on her face, and it
bothered him more than he could say.
God, he had a lot to answer for.
“Great,” he said, parroting her like an
idiot. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
She shook her long black ponytail. He
remembered wrapping his fists in that hair and tugging when they’d
been children. And then he remembered wrapping his hands in her
hair for a completely different reason.
“Thanks, but I can’t stay. It was nice to see
you.”
“Wait a minute,” he said as she moved away.
She stopped and half-turned toward him. He glanced at the ladies
watching them. They were just out of earshot, but he leaned forward
and pitched his voice lower anyway. “What’s your hurry? We’ve
hardly said two words to each other.”
He knew the reason, but he didn’t want her to
go. Not yet. There was something about having her near, something
that sparked inside him and made him feel somewhat human again. He
didn’t know why, and he didn’t know if it would last.
But he liked it. For the first time in
months, he felt as if he could breathe again. As if he’d come home
for real instead of simply going through the motions.
She sighed and turned to face him completely.
He got the distinct impression she was calling up some sort of
internal armor system in order to deal with him. Definitely not
what he was used to in a woman—but then nothing about his
relationship with Evie had ever been normal.
Usually, with other women, he was the one
with the internal armor. He was the one who pulled away, because he
had nothing to offer beyond a few stolen nights before he was back
out on a mission.
But dealing with Evie felt completely
different.
Her chin thrust out, her eyes flashing cold
fire. “It’s not personal. I’m just busy. And there’s really nothing
to say, is there?”
Matt stood. Hesitated when she seemed to
shrink away from him. His height and size could be intimidating, he
knew, but he hadn’t expected that reaction from her of all people.
As if she were afraid of him. She’d never been afraid of him, even
when he’d jumped out from behind a tree and screamed bloody murder.
She’d shrieked, of course—and then she’d socked him.
But this, here and now… it loosened any
remaining restraints on his tongue.
“I’m sorry.” He hadn’t known quite what he
would say if he ever saw her again, but that was certainly the
least of what he owed her.
“For what?” The question surprised him,
though perhaps it shouldn’t. Evie Baker never had liked to show any
weakness. She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was
listening, lowered her voice another notch. “I came on to you,
remember?”
At least she didn’t pretend not to know what
he was talking about. He admired that. And he also admired the way
she always tried to take responsibility, even when it wasn’t her
fault. It was frustrating as hell, but so was Evie. She’d never
backed down from a challenge in all the time he’d known her.
Still, she wasn’t the one at fault here. He
was. “Yeah, but you probably didn’t expect me to brag about
it.”
Anger slid through him. He’d been such an
arrogant young fuck back then. Stupid. She’d given him her
innocence, and he’d trampled it in the dirt like it was his due. He
still had no idea what he’d been thinking when it was over and he’d
swaggered back to the party.
He was leaving in a week, going off to West
Point, and he remembered being so ready to escape. Ready to get the
hell out of his father’s house and be his own man. He’d been drunk,
stupid, and filled with a rage at the world that he couldn’t
explain.
Evie shrugged. “What guy wouldn’t have told
his buddies, especially at that age? It was a long time ago.”
He stepped closer, lowered his voice as
Rachel Mayhew turned off the taps to her latest shampoo customer
and cocked an ear in their direction.
“Maybe so, but I shouldn’t have done it. We
were friends and then—”
Her gaze snapped to his. “Were we? Were we
ever?”
He felt her words like a barb to his heart.
He deserved them. “I thought so. But I fucked up. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t bother to tell her he’d been
falling-down drunk when he’d spilled the details of their evening
to his friends. It wasn’t an excuse.
She drew in what he assumed was a calming
breath. And then she lifted those lashes and speared him with her
pretty eyes again. “You did fuck up. Bad. But nobody gave you a
hard time about it. They reserved that for me.”
Shame rolled over him. “I know the guys made
your life hell after I left.”
“Not just the guys. Oh, they thought I was an
easy mark, that’s certain. But the girls weren’t particularly nice
either. Well, some of them. It hurt. A lot.”
Before he could even begin to answer, to find
the right thing to say, she seemed to shake her head as if clearing
away the fog of pain and anger. “Ancient history though. Over and
done and not your problem.” She glanced down at her bare wrist.
“Oh, hey, look, it’s time to get going. As much as this little
reunion has buoyed my spirits, I gotta run.”
“Evie—”
The door chimed then and a petite blond woman
barreled inside, stopping Evie in her tracks and cutting off any
further apologies Matt tried to make.
He recognized her cousin right away, but
Julie Breaux didn’t even spare him a glance.
“Hey, Evie, can you see if there’s room to
fit me in? I want to get my highlights done before the party
tonight.”
“Sure, let me check the schedule.” Evie
turned away and the woman started to follow, then came up short as
if she’d just realized he was there.
If looks could freeze a guy in his tracks,
he’d be stuck here into the next millennium. Julie arched an
eyebrow, coolly assessing him.
“Heard you got a whole battalion captured out
there in Iraq.”
Jesus. There was nothing this town didn’t
blow out of proportion. Though what he usually did for the military
was top secret, the Department of Defense propaganda machine had to
work overtime once the Freedom Force took to the airwaves with news
of their captives. By the time the DoD was done, Matt and his team
looked like average G.I. Joes on a rescue mission rather than part
of an elite counter-terrorism unit.