Cowgirl Come Home (20 page)

“I’m at the store too much. Kids need a mom to be there after school and stuff.”

Like that happened.
Chloe loved her mother, but Andrew’s work required a lot of parties and fundraising events that took up most of her mom’s time.

If I can find Daddy a girlfriend…or a wife,
Chloe thought,
maybe he’d keep us.

And who better than Bailey?

“Um…can I ask you something?”

Bailey turned off the key and dropped it in the ashtray on the dash. “Sure. What?”

“Would you…um…date with my dad?”

“‘Date’ him?”

“Yeah. You like him, don’t you?”

The look on Bailey’s face said she was trying not to laugh because she didn’t want to hurt Chloe’s feelings. “Yes. I like your dad. He’s a great guy. But…relationships are tricky.”

“My dad says the only way you’re guaranteed to fail is if you fail to try.”

Bailey blinked. “That’s…that’s true. If I wanted to get involved with your dad, how would you suggest I do it?”

“Ask him to the Fair.”

“On a date.”

“Yeah. On the first night, Mark and I always go with Grandma and Grandpa Z and our cousins. My aunt’s been sick lately and she might not be able to come, but the kids will be here. Uncle Austen is flying to Wyoming to pick them up.”

“Austen’s a pilot?”

Chloe nodded. “Daddy is, too, but he likes riding horses better.”

“Oh.”

“So? Will you? Ask him out? Please.”

Bailey thought a long time. Like a minute, at least. “Why now?”

Chloe wasn’t expecting that question. She decided to go with the truth. “Because he doesn’t have anybody. And I don’t think that’s right.”

Bailey took a big breath and let it out. “I’ll be working at the B. Dazzled Western Bling booth at the fair anyway, so…I could ask. Maybe we could get a corn dog together or something.”

Chloe had to force herself not to jump up and down in the seat. “He’s having lunch at the Main Street Diner today. If you hurry, I’m sure you can catch him.”

“What if he turns me down?”

Chloe made a swishing motion with her hand. “He won’t. I heard Mommy tell Grandpa Z on the phone that Daddy has it bad for you. Sometimes, bad is a good thing. You know?” She opened the door and hopped to the ground. “I have to go to Amber’s. See you later.”

She dashed to her bike and pushed it through the gate. She’d been brave enough to ask, and Bailey said yes. Sooo much better than going up a level in dumb ol’ Minecraft, she thought, humming her favorite song from
Frozen
as she pedaled toward Amber’s. She couldn’t wait to share this news with her BFF.

B
ailey paced, fretted
and stalled after Chloe left. But, eventually, her grumbling stomach convinced her to call for a take-out order from the Main Street Diner.

If she
happened
to bump into Paul and circumstances warranted, she
might
consider bringing up the subject—or at least telling him his children were worried about his lack of a social life.

“What’s one lousy date?” she muttered, climbing into her dad’s truck.

We can walk through the Fair like the old friends we are. Grab a couple of corn dogs. Maybe, watch a show
.

She’d seen the completed line-up of events but hadn’t paid close attention since she expected to be working in her booth the whole time.

But the Dazzling Minions had their own ideas.

“Here,” Tonya, the bossiest, said earlier that morning when she popped in to pick up more seed pearls. “The girls and I came up with a schedule. You’ll still have to put in a lot of hours, girlfriend, but you won’t end up losing your foot like your dad did.”

Bailey’s ankle continued to improve, but she still dealt with some swelling after a long day at the shop.

“Oh, and, by the way,” Anne added. “Our kids are going to pass out fliers to advertise our sale prices and some giveaways. It’ll cost you a few ride tickets, but if you buy them in advance, they’re cheaper.”

Bailey glanced at her phone on the seat beside her.

Maybe she’d have time to run to the Fairgrounds Office on her way back. She might pick up tickets, some for Chloe and Mark, too.

Chloe.
A grin formed on her lips. Paul’s daughter was something else. In a good way. Self-assured in a way Bailey never was.
Probably helps to have a normal father in your corner.

She felt a little guilty harping on the negative when her father had been trying so hard in recent weeks. He seemed to accept the fact the only way he was going to get better was by learning to work with his doctors and physical therapists.

When he called to tell her he had a new leg, she asked, “How’s it look?”

“Not pretty. Good thing I never went in for wearing shorts.”

She slipped into a parking spot one over from the handicap stall. “Rock star,” she called, sliding from the seat.

The aroma of burgers on the grill made her mouth water. She’d developed a peculiar addiction to buffalo meat thanks to Paul Zabrinski.

Who, to her surprise, was seated at a window booth.

She smiled and waved.

He nodded. No smile.

Was he mad at her? Or was the pensive look on Paul’s face due to the man in the expensive suit sitting across from him?

Austen?

Had to be, she decided. She only had a vague recollection of Paul’s older brother since he left for college before she and Paul started dating. But everybody in Marietta
knew
Austen.

His name had been in the Courier every week since he was MVP in at least three sports. All the girls wanted to date him, although he never had a steady that Bailey could remember. He gave the class speech at graduation. She knew that for a fact because she’d been selected as one of the four freshman girls to pass out programs at the door.

She’d listened closely because he had the audacity to buck the system, showing up with his longish hair artfully tousled, a movie-star goatee and bare ankles, hinting that he was wearing shorts under his gown.

At the time, Bailey had been impressed.

Now, not so much. She’d met more than her share of promoters, lawyers and wealthy stockmen over the years. And one thing she knew for certain was money did not automatically signify class.

More nervous than she had been when she left the house, she walked slowly and deliberately, trying not to limp.

Show no weakness.
She couldn’t remember if the adage applied to wild animals
and
lawyers, or just lawyers.

Thank goodness I called in an order
. She could pick it up and run. No need to bring up the ridiculous idea of going on a date.
No harm, no foul.

She went straight to the cash register, not looking right or left. “Bailey Jenkins. To-go,” she told the young woman behind the till.

The girl—about sixteen working her first summer job, Bailey guessed—spun about and dashed to the kitchen window, where a clothesline of white orders were strung.

“Ironically appropriate, don’t you agree? A To-Go order. Your modus operandi, no?”

She turned, her purse clutched to her belly—bling side out, as if the glitter might magically ward off the attack she sensed coming. “I beg your pardon?”

Austen had changed since the cocky kid at the school podium. More than the expensive suit and cover-model haircut, his style shouted, “Warning: rich, influential, angry man with agenda. Look out.”

He leaned in. Not so his words were kept between them. No. In fact, he spoke loudly, with succinct clarity so the entire jury of her peers could hear. “It’s not
my
pardon you need to beg, Bailey. It’s my brother’s.”

His cologne hit her olfactory memory center like a tsunami. Ross wore Bleu de Chanel, too. What was the chance?

Feelings she’d kept in a locked box burst forth, her mind instantly awash in pain and nightmarish fear. The beautiful smell forever juxtaposed against the bitter mix of blood, gasoline and deployed air bags.

Austen went on, either not noticing her reaction or misinterpreting it. “And my parents’,” he said. “You killed their first grandchild, after all.”

“God damn it, Austen,” Paul shouted, shoving his brother with enough force to make Austen take two steps back. “I told you to leave Bailey alone. This is not your business.”

“You’re my brother. You fucking up your life a second time is too my business. But more importantly, I’m not going to let Bailey Jenkins do another number on Mom and Dad. They have enough on their plates without worrying about you being let down when your pretty little cowgirl gets a wild hair and takes off again.”

Austen looked at Bailey, his eyes as cold and dispassionate as a wolf about to attack. “And that’s what you do, isn’t it? Suck a man dry then take off?”

Bailey was aware of the noise level in the diner dropping as people turned to watch the real life drama play out.

She’d been in this situation so many times as a kid, she knew exactly how to hide her feelings and do what needed to be done to salvage a tiny morsel of pride. She slid a twenty across the glass countertop, picked up her to-go sack and said, “Keep it.”

She couldn’t afford the gesture, but money was the least of her worries at the moment. Not making matters worse by punching Austen in the face was her first concern.

She pivoted on her good ankle and headed toward the door, chin high, sunglasses in place. She paused beside Paul, who looked ready to tackle his brother.

“Don’t bother,” she said. “Chloe asked me to invite you to the Fair. She thought you needed a girlfriend. Tell her I changed my mind.” She looked at Austen. “I’m good at that.”

Then she left before she could change her mind again and kiss the look of disappointment and anguish off Paul’s face.

Paul gave the door the shove he wanted to give his brother. “Bailey. Wait. Please.”

She had the truck door open by the time he reached her. For a woman with a bad ankle, she moved pretty fast.

“You heard your brother. I leave. It’s what I do.”

“Yeah. I know. I was there, remember.”

Instead of climbing in, she set her purse and food bag on the bench seat then turned, hands on her hips.

“I left, Paul. I had to.” She took a step closer, probably knowing full well the entire café was watching. “Am I disappointed you shared my private, painful decision with the whole town? Yes. You’re not the man I thought you were.” Her eyes narrowed with disappointment and disgust.

“I was seventeen. Heart broke and bitter. I turned to my family, who, naturally, took my side. What did you expect? Do I wish I’d been a better person back then? Fuck, yes. But I wasn’t. I’m not perfect, now, either. But I am sorry.” He meant that. More than she could ever know.

She shrugged, as if his apology wasn’t worth the air it took to say the words.

He grabbed her arm, probably more forcefully than he should have. “That’s all in the past, Bailey. We are not our families. You’re not a drunk. I’m not one of the Great Zabrinskis.”

“The what?”

He glanced toward the café, half-expecting to see Austen gloating in the doorway. “Meg, Austen and Mia used to call themselves that. It was a family thing. They made it clear I would never be good enough to be one of them.”

“Ouch.” She touched his hand, setting off the usual sparks through his body. “How come you never mentioned this when we were dating?”

“Once they were all off at college, I pretended I was an only child. The fact your siblings think you’re a loser is not the kind of thing you say to impress the girl you’re crazy about.”

She pried up his fingers. “True. I get that. But family is family. And yours obviously hates me.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets to keep from doing something stupid, like kissing her. “Not all of them. Meg was on your side from Day One. Mia’s worried about me. Austen…he’s going through a lot right now. He always set ridiculously high goals for himself and met them, but a few months ago one of his heroes threw Austen under the proverbial bus and…let’s just say Austen hates everybody right now, himself included.”

She nodded as though that was something she could understand.

“Is your offer still open? For a date to the fair? My answer is yes.”

Before she could reply, a car sped into the handicap parking spot. The Subaru wagon had a blue wheelchair sign hanging in the window, but neither door opened. Instead, the passenger side window rolled down and OC Jenkins made a “come here” motion with his hand. “Paul Zabrinski. Just the man I’m looking for. You still got your pilot’s license?”

“Dad? What’s going on?” Bailey hurried to the window. “Why do you need a plane?”

“That crazy bitch, Marla, shot Jack. He told her he was done running and wanted to go home. So, she shot him in the back at a laundromat in Reno.”

“Reno? I thought they were moving to New Mexico?”

OC tossed up his hands. “She’s a thief, a killer and a liar.”

“Jack’s dead?” Paul asked.

“Dying. He asked for me. If I don’t get there soon, it’ll be too late. He was my friend for thirty years. I owe him a chance to make peace. I’ll pay you whatever it costs as soon as I’m back to work.”

Paul wanted to help, but he couldn’t just up and leave…or could he?

“Hang on a second.” He walked to the door of the restaurant and hollered, “Austen Zabrinski, get your ass out here. Our family owes the Jenkins an apology, and this is how it’s going down.”

Two hours later, Paul, OC and an obviously reluctant Bailey were airborne. He’d waved goodbye to Mark and Chloe standing on his porch, Bailey’s mother beside them.

Leaving Louise in charge was a no-brainer. The kids were in perfect hands. Choosing Austen as his stand-in at Big Z’s might have been a stretch, but his brother graduated at the top of his class from Harvard. He’d rise to the occasion.

As for the Great Marietta Fair, Paul was confident Jane Weiss could boss his crew without Paul’s micromanaging fingers in the pie.

With any luck, they’d be back in town tomorrow afternoon.

His family’s Cessna wasn’t a white horse, but Paul felt like a hero. Sort of.