***
Hours later, she attached that same camera to her tripod and set up in the corner of the Holy Baptism by Hellfire fellowship hall, hoping God wouldn’t strike her dead.
She took a moment to scan the open room, smiling appreciatively at the fruits of Pru’s labor. Two linen-draped, cafeteria-style folding tables against the side wall offered lime punch, finger sandwiches, cookies, and an assortment of Crock-Pots bearing Swedish meatballs and miniature sausages. The scent of barbeque sauce made Bobbi’s mouth water. Or maybe it was the oversized photos of Trey plastering the walls. Either way, this party proved Trey was well loved here.
“Message station?” Bong asked, assembling his long microphone.
“Yep.” Bobbi pulled a folding chair opposite the lens, so Trey’s friends could stop in throughout the evening to record farewells. “I’ll splice them together and mail it to him on disc.”
Maybe
along
with
the
amateur
porno
we
shot
. She tapped the LCD screen to make sure she’d deleted that afternoon’s raw footage when she’d uploaded it to her laptop. She didn’t want anyone getting an erotic eyeful if they tinkered with the controls behind her back. “Might cheer him up if he’s feeling homesick.”
“Huh. You really do like this guy.”
“Yes. As a friend.”
Bong rolled his slightly bloodshot eyes. “You’re keeping in touch while he’s gone? I thought it was just a summer fling.”
“There’s nothing going on.” But her nosy sound boom guy was right—she and Trey had promised not to get attached. They hadn’t discussed keeping in touch. Was Trey okay with exchanging emails and sharing a few phone calls?
“You gonna do the long distance thing?” Bong tucked his hair behind both ears. “None of my business, but two years is a long time.”
“We’re just friends.” With benefits. Heart-pounding, toe-curling benefits.
“Whatever.” He huffed and ground his teeth, the closest he ever came to losing his temper. “You know, we’ve worked together for years. It kind of hurts when you freeze me out like this.”
“What?” Bobbi’s hand slipped off the tripod leg.
“You don’t trust folks easily. But after Weeze and I stuck with you through all that crazy Smyth stuff, I figured you’d realize we’re not the enemy.”
“I don’t think of you that way!” So she was an ice queen now, just because she wanted to keep her love life private? “It’s not like—”
But he was done listening. With stiff shoulders, Bong marched across the streamer-festooned room to join his partner at the front doors. Just as Bobbi began to follow him, Pastor McMahon cleared his throat from behind.
“Can I record my message now?” he asked in a thick drawl, rubbing his distended belly. When the pastor smiled, his gentle spirit shone through hazel eyes as warm as chai tea, and she couldn’t say no.
“Of course.” She indicated for him to sit.
McMahon lowered onto the folding chair, which groaned beneath his weight. He combed the few strands of hair still remaining atop his balding head. Which didn’t amount to much.
“Whenever you’re ready,” she prompted. When he nodded, she tapped the record button.
“Trey,” he began, widening his grin, “I’ll never forget the first time we met. You’d just rolled into town—hadn’t even checked in at the motel yet—and you stopped by the side of the road to change my busted tire. When I shook your hand, I knew Sultry Springs had gained someone special. I’m gonna miss you, son. Stay safe, and come back to us soon.”
Bobbi paused the recording and thanked the pastor for his contribution. As he waddled toward the dessert table, she pondered his last words.
Stay
safe
.
She’d never considered Trey’s assignment a dangerous one, but now that she thought of it, security detail in a foreign country carried its share of risks. Her heart turned cold and quivered at the mental image of Trey’s smooth chest—where she rested her cheek at night—bloodied and marred by a bullet. Would the contractors issue him a Kevlar vest?
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Luke plopped into the seat the pastor had just vacated. June wasn’t far behind. She sat on her husband’s knee and wrapped one arm around his neck.
“Just thinking.”
“Ah,” Luke said with an impish twinkle in his eye. “That explains the smoke leaking out of your ears.” June giggled at the lame joke while absently running her fingers through Luke’s hair. Then they shared one of those looks again—so full of unadulterated worship it made Bobbi want to puke with envy.
Bobbi sighed. Despite the earsplitting sex keeping her awake all night and the nauseating exchanges the next morning, she’d miss her new family. Luke, her big brother, who’d openly volunteered to kick the teeth out of anyone who messed with her. And June, the sister she’d always wanted. Bobbi had come to adore their predawn gab sessions. Insomnia wasn’t so bad when you added girl talk and a forkful of pecan pie.
“I’ll go first,” June said, straightening on Luke’s lap. “Is it recording?”
Bobbi focused on June’s cherubic cheeks. “It is now.”
“Okay.” Pressing her lips together, June took a deep breath as if fortifying herself. “Holy sugar, Trey, I hardly know where to begin.” At once, her eyes welled with tears, and she took a moment to fan herself and blink them dry. “If it wasn’t for your help, I don’t know if Luke and I would be together. I think we both needed that little push, and you didn’t hold back.” While Luke’s arms tightened around her waist, June added, “Speaking of ‘push,’ I’m sorry for knocking you off Mr. Jenkins’s roof.”
“Oh,” Bobbi interjected from behind the camera, “I heard that story. If I remember correctly, you were trying to score a date with him before he fell.”
Luke scowled, shooting daggers into the lens. “Do we have to talk about that?”
“Yes,” Bobbi decided, “I think we do.”
“Well, too bad.” Crinkles formed around his narrowed eyes. “Because it’s my turn.”
Now she understood why siblings loved screwing with each other. This was fun. “I don’t know, Luke. I think you owe Trey some gratitude for stepping aside so you could marry his woman.”
“You’re real fuckin’ funny.”
June gasped loud enough to draw the attention of everyone within a five-foot radius. “Language!” she hissed.
Nuzzling his wife’s neck, Luke murmured, “I had
you
swearing like a fishwife last night.”
“But not in a church!”
“Oh, gross.” Bobbi couldn’t take much more of this. Besides, a line had formed, four people deep. “Wrap it up, Casanova.”
“Fine, fine.” Luke peered around June’s shoulder and spoke to the camera. “Listen, buddy, I’m not gonna get all mushy and lay a bunch of sappy shit on you—”
June smacked him on the thigh.
“Uh, I mean sappy
stuff
,” Luke continued. “Aside from Junebug here, you’re my oldest friend. You’ve had my back more times than I can count. I trust you with my life.” With a teasing glance at Bobbi, he said, “Hell, I even trusted you with my pain-in-the-ass kid sister. I know that wasn’t how you wanted to spend your summer, but thanks for keepin’ her out of trouble.” Good thing he couldn’t see her face flaming behind the camera. Luke wouldn’t feel so thankful if he knew about her pregnancy scare a couple of weeks ago. “Anyhoo, take care, and keep in touch. We’ll keep your seat warm till you come home.”
The pair left the message station and circulated through the hall, which had quickly filled with at least a hundred supporters, all joined by their affection for Trey. If the people of Sultry Springs had opened their arms this widely for an outsider from Chicago, she wondered if they’d do the same for her. Could she fit in here—in a red state where the men were men and the sheep were scared?
Not that it mattered, because she couldn’t stay.
Her life—every opportunity to reclaim a career she loved more than breathing—was in LA. Besides, Trey would settle here after his contract expired, and he wouldn’t stay single long. He drew female attention like moths to a lightbulb, and Bobbi wasn’t sure she could handle bumping into Trey and his next flame while browsing Main Street.
Between tapings, she watched Trey from afar as he shook hands, hugged necks, and even kissed a few cheeks. Her chest constricted when she imagined who’d share his bed next. Some wealthy vacationer in Dubai looking for a good time? A foreign dignitary’s wife?
No, Trey wouldn’t do that. Daughter, maybe. Sister, definitely. But honorable men didn’t pursue other men’s wives, and Trey was the most honorable man she’d ever met. She, on the other hand, had nothing special to offer. How long until he forgot her?
Trey must’ve sensed her staring at him, because he turned and locked eyes with her. His gaze softened, and that easy, dimpled grin she’d come to cherish curved his mouth. She wished they didn’t have to keep their romance a secret. More than anything, she longed to cross the room and pull him into a long, possessive kiss. To show everyone he belonged to her.
Though he didn’t.
She couldn’t wait to go home with him tonight. She was still sore, but she needed him inside her—to claim and complete her—despite the pain it would cause. The vacancy in her soul ached a hundred times worse than her bruised flesh, and only Trey could make her whole. Her body seemed to recognize him as a missing half, which reminded her of Weezus’s lid and pot comment. She began to doubt she’d find another—
“Hey, Missus Gallagher?” Carlo waved his fingers in front of her face, snapping her to attention. “Do I just stop talkin’ now?”
Whoa, she’d missed his entire message. How long had she zoned out? “I’m sorry, hon. Yeah, you’re all done.”
As usual, the boy wasted no time in hightailing it to the nearest food source. Within seconds, he’d stuffed both cheeks full of meatballs like a carnivorous chipmunk.
One by one, the congregation filed through, offering words of thanks—for everything from lending a sympathetic ear after a divorce to building free tree houses with spare lumber. Their stories humbled Bobbi and made her understand how little she’d known about Trey. He was more than a charmer with a kind heart. He was
good
, all the way down, in an unusual way she’d rarely seen in human beings.
Hours later, Colton sidled up, dressed in his brown, short-sleeved deputy’s shirt over jeans. He’d foregone his Stetson tonight and let his long, ebony hair hang loose against his shoulders. But nothing else hung loose on his tense body. His neck and shoulder muscles were so rigid, he’d probably given himself the equivalent of a full gym workout during the party. Odd, how subtle reminders of the preacher’s daughter had the power to affect him after all these years.
“You ever consider therapy?” Bobbi asked him.
Leaning back in his chair, he folded both hands behind his head and grinned. “Sure, honey. Ever heard of sexual healin’?”
“Mm-hmm. Not to be confused with promiscuous, sexual dysfunction.”
Colt shrugged casually, but he couldn’t hide the sadness behind his blue-green eyes. “Haters gonna hate.”
“You can’t outrun the loss, you know. You have to deal with it.” She’d discovered that the hard way. “Womanizing is a Band-Aid for you, and sooner or later, it’s going to fall off. Then what?”
“Find a hot nurse to give me another one?”
“Whatever.” One day he’d learn. Bobbi tapped her nails against one tripod leg. “Got something to say to the camera?” She glanced around the room, where only a handful of merrymakers remained. Pru and her friends had begun pulling down streamers and carrying empty trays to the kitchen. It seemed the party was over. “You’re the last one.”
“I’ve got somethin’ to say to both of you.”
“Both of who?”
“You and Lewis.”
Her gaze automatically found Trey, who leaned against the front wall chatting animatedly with June and Luke. Carlo stood in rapt attention by his idol’s side, a pink-frosted cupcake in each hand.
“Yeah,” Colton drawled in a cocky voice. “You got it bad.”
There was no use denying it, at least not with Colton. “I’ll live.”
“No, you won’t.” Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees, expression transforming from dull to completely dark. “You’ll survive, but you won’t live. Trust me, there’s a difference.”
“Stop projecting.” Bobbi shut him down, fast. Sure, getting over Trey would hurt like hell. It would take time. But she wouldn’t shrivel up and die. She’d deal with the pain, heal, and move forward. Just like she always did. “There’s more to life than sex and love. And I’ve got more than one lid, damn it!” Her raised voice drew the attention of Pastor McMahon, and she offered an apologetic wave.
“Lid?” Colt asked in confusion.
“We’re done.” Enough of this garbage. She switched off the camera and unscrewed it from her tripod.
“Looks like I struck a nerve.”
“Now you’re projecting
and
being egocentric.” She snapped on the lens cap with a bit too much force. “It’s been a long day, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh. Keep tellin’ yourself that.”
She refused to engage him further, but that didn’t stop the persistent jerk from dropping comments like,
Denial’s not just a river in Egypt, honey,
as she collapsed her titanium tripod and stuffed it into her shoulder bag.
After she helped stack the folding chairs, Pastor McMahon wrangled her, along with the other dozen-or-so stragglers, to the parking lot. He thanked them for coming and released them from clean-up detail.
A pair of floodlights affixed above the church doors outside drew half the bugs in Sultry County, forcing everyone across the asphalt into safer darkness. The humid night breeze stirred tendrils of loose hair around Bobbi’s face. She reached to tuck one lock behind her ear, but a hand from behind beat her to it.
“I didn’t get a chance to talk to you tonight,” Trey whispered in her ear. He didn’t let his touch linger, probably a wise move considering her brother was nearby.
Bobbi checked to be sure Luke was out of earshot. “I’ll meet you at your place in thirty minutes.” Which should give him plenty of time to drive Carlo home. “Then you can make it up to me.”