Daisy's Back in Town (2 page)

Everyone else had already left for the day, and his bootheels echoed in the silence. He locked the door and set the alarm, then he jumped into his Shelby Mustang. It started to rain as he drove toward the outskirts of Lovett.

A light sprinkle of drops mixed with the dust and wind, and turned the car's shiny black paint a dull gray.

The Road Kill was a lot like other bars strewn throughout the Texas panhandle. Country music poured from the juke while the patrons drained the beer spigots of Lone Star. A big red-white-and-blue DON'T MESS WITH

TEXAS sign hung on the mirror behind the bar, while old road signs, stuffed armadillos and rattlers decorated the walls. The owner of the bar was also a taxidermist, and if a patron was so inclined, or was drunk enough, he or she could purchase a rattler belt or an ultra-attractive armadillo handbag at cut-rate prices.

When Jack walked into the bar, he pushed up the brim of his Stetson and paused in the doorway long enough to allow his eyes to adjust before he made his way to the bar. He exchanged a few heys with some of the regulars.

Over Clint Black on the jukebox, he could hear the sound of Jimmy's bachelor party going full tilt in the back room.

"Bottle of Lone Star," he ordered. A bottle appeared on the bar and he handed over a five. He felt a soft hand on his arm and looked across his shoulder into the face of Gina Brown.

"Hey there, Jack."

"Hey, Gina." Gina was the same age as Jack and twice divorced. She was a tall, lean cowgirl who liked riding the mechanical bull at Slim Clem's over off Highway Seventy. She wore her Wranglers tight, her Justins stacked, and her hair dyed red. Jack knew she dyed her hair because she liked riding him too. But lately she'd hinted that she had him in mind for husband number three. He'd had to cool things down so she would get that idea right out of her head.

"You here for the bachelor party in the back?" She gazed up at him out of the corners of her blue eyes. He would have to be blind to miss the invitation curving her lips.

"Yep." Jack raised the bottle to his mouth and took a long drink. He had no interest in heating things back up.

He liked Gina, but he wasn't husband material. He grabbed his change from the bar and shoved it in the front pocket of his jeans. "See ya around," he said and turned to walk away.

Gina's next question stopped him in his tracks. "Have you seen Daisy Lee yet?"

Jack lowered the bottle and suddenly had trouble swallowing the beer in his mouth. He turned back to face Gina.

"I saw her this morning at the Texaco. Pumping gas into her momma's Cadillac." Gina shook her head. "I think it's been what, about ten or twelve years since she was last in town?"

It had been fifteen.

"I recognized her right away. Daisy Lee Brooks hasn't changed that much."

Except that Daisy Brooks was now Daisy Monroe and had been for the past fifteen years. And that had changed everything.

Gina took a step closer and played with a button on the front of his shirt. "I was sorry to hear about Steven. I know he was your friend."

He and Steven Monroe had been almost inseparable since the age of five when they'd sat next to each other at the Lovett Baptist Church, belting out "Yes, Jesus Loves Me." But that had changed too. The last time he'd seen Steven was the night the two of them had beat each other bloody, while Daisy looked on horrified. It was the last time he'd seen Daisy too.

As if she didn't notice that Jack wasn't keeping up his end of the conversation, Gina rattled on, "I can't imagine dying at our age. It's just horrible."

"Excuse me, Gina," he said and walked away. An old anger, one he'd thought he'd buried, threatened to pull him into the past. He pushed against it, tapped it down tight, and shut it out.

Then he felt nothing at all.

With his beer in his hand, he wove his way through the rapidly filling bar and moved to the crowded room in the hack. He leaned a shoulder into the doorframe and turned his full attention to Jimmy Calhoun. The man of honor sat in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a dozen or so men, all watching two women dressed like rodeo queens bumping and grinding against each other while the Dixie Chicks sang about a sin wagon. Already stripped down to sparkly G-strings on the bottom, the girls popped the snaps to their silky blouses. In unison their shirts slid down their toned shoulders and perfect bodies, exposing big breasts crammed into tiny sequined bikini tops. Jack lowered his gaze from their full breasts to their G-strings tied at their hips.

Marvin Ferrell paused in the doorway beside him to watch the show. "Do you think those breasts are real?" he asked.

Jack shrugged a shoulder and raised the beer to his mouth. Obviously Marvin had been married too long because he was starting to sound like a woman. "Who cares?"

"True." Marvin laughed. "Did you hear Daisy Brooks is back?"

He looked down the bottle at Marvin then lowered it. "Yeah, I heard." Again he felt the old anger, and again he tapped it down until he felt nothing. He returned his attention to the strippers and watched them sandwich Jimmy between their half-naked bodies while they kissed each other above his head. The wet, open-mouthed tongue-thrusting kisses had the guys hollering for more. Jack tipped his head to one side and smiled. This was getting good.

"I saw Daisy at the Minute Mart," Marvin continued. "Damn, she's still hot as she was in high school."

Jack's smile flat-lined as an unbidden memory of big brown eyes and soft pink lips threatened to drag him into the black hole of his past.

"Remember what she looked like in that little cheerleader outfit of hers?"

Jack pushed away from the door and moved farther into the room, but he couldn't escape. It seemed everyone wanted a trip down memory lane. Everyone but him.

While the strippers took off each other's tiny bikini tops, the topic of conversation was Daisy. Between whistles and catcalls, Cal Turner, Lester Crandall and Eddy Dean Jones all asked if he'd seen her yet.

Disgusted, Jack left the room and made his way back to the bar. It was a hell of a deal when a man wasn't allowed to enjoy two mostly naked women making out with each other six feet in front of hint He didn't know how long Daisy would be in town, but he hoped like hell it was a short trip. Then maybe people would have something better to talk about. Mostly he hoped she had the good sense to stay the hell out of his way.

He set his bottle on the bar and made his way back out of The Road Kill, leaving behind talk and speculation of Daisy Monroe. Rain pelted the top of his hat and wet his shoulders as he made his way across the parking lot.

But with each step he took, the memories followed close behind. Memories of looking into a pair of beautiful brown eyes as he kissed soft lips. His hand sliding up the back of her smooth thigh, slipping beneath her blue and gold cheerleader skirt. Of Daisy Lee wearing a pair of red cowboy boots with white hearts on the sides, and nothing else.

"Leaving the party so soon?" Gina asked as she walked toward him.

He looked over at her. "Boring party."

"We could make a party of our own." Typical of Gina, she didn't wait for him to make the first move. Usually that bothered him. Not tonight. She raised her mouth to his, and she tasted of warm beer and need. Jack kissed her back. With her firm breasts crushed against his chest, the first tug of desire stirred low in his gut. He pulled Gina into him and heated things up until all he felt was lust and the rain soaking his skin through his shirt. He replaced all thoughts of brown eyes and cheerleader skirts with the woman pressing herself against his button fly.

Daisy Monroe raised her hand to the screen door then lowered it again. Her heart pounded in her chest and her stomach twisted into one big knot. Rain beat against the porch all around her, and water ran from the downspout and into the flower beds. The garage behind her was lit up, illuminating every nook and cranny surrounding Parrish American Classics. But where she stood was pitch black, as if the light didn't dare creep any farther into the yard.

The garage was new, rebuilt since she'd seen it before. The yard surrounding the garage had been cleaned up.

The old cars towed away. From what she could see the house was exactly the same, though, bringing a memory of a nice summer breeze lifting her hair and carrying the scent of roses. Of the many nights she'd sat on the porch where she now stood, wedged between Steven and Jack, laughing at their stupid jokes.

Thunder and lightning boomed and lit up the night sky, shattering the memory. An omen that she should leave and come back again some other time.

She wasn't good at confrontation. She wasn't one of those people who liked to face problems head oil. She was better at it than she used to be, but maybe she should have called first. It wasn't polite to just show up on someone's doorstep at ten o'clock at night, and she probably looked like a drowned cat.

Before she'd left her mother's house, she'd made sure her hair was brushed smooth and flipped tinder just below her shoulders. Her makeup looked perfect and her white blouse and khaki pants pressed. Now she was sure her hair had frizzed, mascara had run, and her pants were splattered with mud from the puddle she'd accidentally dashed through. She turned to go, then forced herself to turn hack. Her appearance wasn't really important, and there was never going to he a good time for what she had to do. She'd been in town three days already. She had to talk to Jack. Tonight. She'd put it off long enough. She had to tell him what she'd been keeping from him for fifteen years.

She raised her hand once more and nearly jumped out of her skin when the wooden door Swung open before she could knock. Through the screen and dark interior, she could make out the outline of a man. His shirt was missing, and a light from deep within the house cast a warm golden glow from behind, pouring over his arms and shoulders and halfway down his naked chest. She definitely should have called first.

"Hello," she began before she could give into her trepidation. "I'm looking for Jackson Parrish."

"My-my," his voice drawled in the darkness, "ii it isn't Daisy Lee Brooks."

It had been fifteen years and his voice had changed. It was deeper than the boy she'd known, but she would have recognized that nasty tone anywhere. No one could pack as much derision into his new him anymore.

"Hello, Jack."

"What do you want, Daisy?"

She stared at him through the screen and shadows, at the outline of the man she'd once known so well. The knot in her stomach pulled tighter. "I wanted to... I need to talk to you. And I-I thought... " She took a deep breath and forced herself to stop stammering. She was thirty-three. So was he. "I wanted to tell you that I was in town before you heard it from someone else."

"Too late." The rain pounded the rooftop and the silence stretched between them. She could feel his gaze on her.

It touched her face and the front of her yellow rain slicker; and just when she thought he wasn't going to speak again, he said, "If that's what you came to tell me, you can go now."

There was more. A lot more. She'd promised Steven that she'd give Jack a letter he'd written a few months before his death. The letter was in her coat pocket, now she had to tell Jack the truth about what had happened fifteen years ago, then hand over the letter. "It's important that I talk to you. Please."

He looked at her for several long moments, then he turned and disappeared into the depths of his house. He didn't open the screen for her, but he hadn't slammed the wood door in her face either. He'd made it clear that he was going to he as difficult as possible. But then, when had he ever made things easy?

Just as it always had, the screen door squeaked when she opened it. She followed him through the living room toward the kitchen. His tall outline disappeared around the corner, but she knew the way.

The inside of the house smelled of new paint. She got an impression of dark furniture and a big-screen television, saw the outline of Mrs. Parrish's piano pushed against one wall-and she wondered briefly how much had changed since she'd last walked through the house. The light flipped on as she moved into the kitchen, and it was like stepping into a time warp. She half expected to see Mrs. Parrish standing in front by the almond-colored stove, baking bread or Daisy's favorite snicker-doodle cookies. The green linoleum had the same worn patch in front of the sink and the counter tops were the same speckled blue and turquoise.

Jack was in front of the refrigerator, the top half of him hidden behind the open door. His tan fingers were curled around the chrome handle, and all she could really see of him was the curve of his behind and his long legs. One pocket of his snug Levi's had a three-corner tear, and the seams looked like they were just about worn through.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and she balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Then he rose to his full height, and everything seemed to slow, like someone flipped a switch on a movie projector. He turned as he shut the refrigerator door, and he held a quart of milk in his hand by his thigh. Her attention got momentarily stuck on the thin line of dark hair rising from the waistband of his Levi's and circling his navel.

She lifted her gaze up past the hair on his flat belly and the defined muscles of his chest. If she'd had any lingering doubts, seeing him like this removed them. This was not the boy she'd once known. This was definitely a man.

She forced herself to look up at his strong chin, the etched how of his tan lips, and into his eyes. She felt the back of her throat go dry. Jack Parrish had always been a good-looking boy, now he was lethal. One lock of his thick hair hung over his forehead and touched his brow. Those light green eyes that she remembered, that had once looked at her so full of passion and possession, looked back at her as if he were no more interested in seeing her than a stray dog.

"Did you come here to stare?"

She moved farther into the kitchen and shoved tier hands into the pockets of her raincoat. "No, I came to tell you that I'm in town visiting my mother and sister."