No One's Hero (Chadwell Hearts) (27 page)

I know I’m supposed to get out of my truck and help her, but I can’t. Watching her, I chuckle lightly as she stands there watches the bus disappear, waving away the imaginary dust cloud around her. The last time she was in Bartow, she was twelve and packing her bags to move to the big city with her mama. I remember that day clearly and my most vivid memory is how she didn’t say goodbye.

I was fifteen when she left, almost sixteen. We’d grown up together, attending the same school, church and having Sunday dinners on her uncle’s wrap around porch. Our mamas always joked that we’d end up married to each other as soon as she turned eighteen and we’d start spitting out babies. After a while I just believed them. It seemed like destiny. That was until my teenage hormones kicked in and I discovered girls and Savannah wanted nothing to do with me anymore. She caught me plenty of times with my hands in places she should have never seen. Even though our mamas wanted us to get married, there is an age difference between us. It wasn’t like I could take her out on a date and it wasn’t fair for anyone to expect me to wait. Lord knows this girl wasn’t waiting for me in New York.

I let my hand dangle over the steering wheel of my pick-up truck as I continue to observe her as she looks for a ride or someplace to sit. I’ve been sitting here for an hour, waiting for the bus to arrive. When her uncle asked me to pick her up, I balked. Told him it was out of my job description and that I’d rather birth a calf in the middle of a downpour. He laughed, said that could be arranged and slapped me on the back effectively ending our conversation. So here I sit.  I thought I’d play it cool and hop out the second I heard the bus rumbling down the road, but the jitters got the best of me. I can’t bring myself to open the door, yet I’m so eager to have Savannah back. I’ve missed her.

My truck door slams louder than I expect and she jumps. She clutches her purse tightly to her body as I approach her. My hands are dug deep into my pockets for fear that I may pull her into a hug and spin her around. I take off my hat, remove my sunglasses and give her my best Tyler King smile.

“Hello, Savannah. Long time no see.” She backs away from me. Even though she’s wearing sunglasses, I can tell by the way her head moves that she’s eying me up and down.

“It’s Vanna.”

I want to laugh at how straight-laced she sounds, but hold back. Something tells me she’s a spitfire and that would be the spark to set her off. Her uncle said something about her getting into trouble one too many times at school and that her mama is too busy with her job to keep her under control. Apparently the answer was to send her back to where she got her start, even if she’s not going to fit in around these parts any more.

“Savannah,” I reply purposely. There’s no way in hell I’m calling her Vanna after that middle-aged letter turner that my grandma watches nightly.

“Do I know you?” her tone is big city, not southern like it should be. I was too busy earlier to notice everything about her, aside from her legs and now that I’m standing within feet of her, she’s nothing like the girl I used to know. Her long blond hair isn’t flowing freely with the breeze; it’s styled to perfection with some type of product, keeping it tightly in place. Her nails are painted to match her toes and even though she’s hiding behind her big-ass designer sunglasses, I’m willing to bet her face is painted her Sunday best.

“You don’t remember me?” I never thought I’d have to ask this question, but yet I am. I shake my head when she doesn’t answer right away. This is going to be a long ride back to the farm.

“No, should I?” she looks at her watch, as if I’m the one wasting her time. Clearly I’m in the wrong for assuming we’d be instant friends again. It’s cool. I can take a hint. I’m just here to pick her up and take her back to her uncle’s ranch. What he does with her after that is not my concern.

“Oh well. Truck’s over there.” I turn and walk away, leaving her and her bags right where I found them.

“What about my bags?” she yells to my back. Years ago, I would’ve carried everything for her because that’s how I’ve been raised. I should do it now, but there’s something about her that’s grinding on my nerves. It could be because she doesn’t remember me or maybe because I wanted her to jump in my arms and tell me that she’s missed me all these years.

“We don’t have valet service here, sweetheart,” I holler over my shoulder as I reach my truck. I turn just in time to see her place her hands on her hips and start tapping her foot on the ground. Yeah she’s definitely big city and I’m willing to bet she doesn’t last twenty-four on the ranch before begging to go back home. Luckily, the bus doesn’t come down this way but once a week or so and its long ass walk to Macon or Augusta.

“Are you going to carry my bags?” She yells again. I don’t answer, I can’t. I’m too damn tongue-tied and pissed at the moment. This reunion played out so differently in my head and as soon as my mama sees her, I know what’s going to come out of her mouth. She’s going to be yapping on about marriage and babies and raising them on the farm. Good thing I have plans tonight otherwise I might have to find myself a place in the barn to hang out. At least with the horses, they don’t talk back.

I crank my key and start the engine. The engine is loud enough to drown her out. Maybe she’ll get the hint, maybe not. Either way, I’m being paid so she can take all the time she needs to move her bags from where she’s standing and into the back of truck.

It only takes her a minute or so to figure out that I’m not helping her. Too bad she still hasn’t figured out how we know each other. If that realization had come first, I’d be helping her fine ass into the cab of my truck with no hesitation. Instead I’m playing the drums on my steering wheel and pretending not to watch her. Life plays cruel games with me as I watch her bend over to pick up her bag. Her legs go for miles and it pisses me off that her mama took her away. Hard tellin’ though, I may have grown up and acted more like a big brother towards her. If that was the case she wouldn’t be in trouble now.

Savannah pulls her suitcase behind her. Her lips are moving, but I can’t hear anything over the roar of my truck. I keep my head still so that I can avoid the temptation of watching her as she maneuvers her suitcase into the back. The moment the truck door opens, my hand is squeezing the shifter, ready to throw it into drive and tear out of the parking lot. If she’s thinking it was dusty earlier, she ain’t seen anything yet.

“Hang on tight, sweetheart.” I press down on the gas as I throw my truck into drive. She slams back against the seat, her door barely closed. I’m trying not to laugh but her high pitched squeal is cracking me up. She’s turned into such a girly girl that someone is going to have to break her out of it and it ain’t gonna be me.

––––––––

FIND OUT MORE AT

http://heidimclaughlin.com

Anywhere But Here

by Anna Cruise

––––––––

ONE

“S
hut the hell up.”

That was the only thing I wanted to say to the beautiful stranger sitting at the table in front of me.

But I couldn't.

Not because he was so beautiful that I couldn't speak, but because he was a customer and I was a waitress. Well, not technically a waitress. But I was the only employee currently working at It's A Grind coffee shop, the person responsible for refilling coffee cups. And he'd called me over—loudly—to get a refill.

I glowered at the stranger and sloshed coffee into his half-empty cup, hoping some might spill over on to his fingers. But I'd gotten pretty good at perfecting my pour and his hand stayed maddeningly dry.

“Are you always this pissed off at the world?” he asked, bringing the coffee cup to his mouth and blowing.

He had perfect lips. Soft and pink, not too thin, not too full. A day's worth of stubble lined his chin and upper lip. Light brown, like the hair hiding under the Padres baseball cap squashed on top of his head.

“I'm not pissed off.” I tried not to look at him but I still caught the smile that flickered across his face, exposing a set of perfectly white, straight teeth.

“No?” he asked. He swallowed a mouthful of coffee and winced. One thing we prided ourselves on at It's A Grind was hot coffee. Boiling hot coffee. I hoped he'd burned his tastebuds right off.

“No.”

“So walking around cussing and slamming drawers is just your standard MO?”

A retort was on the tip of my tongue but I stopped myself. Getting in a fight with a customer on my first day back at the shop would not go over well with Juanita. I'd already had to beg for my job back, a job I'd thought I was done with four months earlier when I'd finally gotten out of the hellhole town I'd lived in for the past six years.

The stranger drummed his fingers on the table. “I'm waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

He grinned. “For your answer. Are you just one of those angry-all-the-time chicks? Mad at the world?”

I frowned. “No.” I hesitated for a minute, choosing my words carefully. The last thing I needed was for this guy to tell Juanita her employee was acting like a bitch. “I'm sorry. I've had a bad morning.”

A bad week would have been a more accurate statement. I didn't want to think about it but the chain of events that had sent me back to Silver Valley rushed into my head. The e-mail from the dean's office. The meeting with Dean Reynolds. The phone call to my mother. The bus ride home. The stone-silent car ride back to the house from the bus depot. My whole week had been filled with a series of shitty moments, all setting me up for a monumentally shitty future. I thought I'd earned a few cuss words and slammed drawers.

He stared at me for a moment, his eyes locked on mine. They were as blue as the water in Santa Barbara. The water I'd had to leave behind.

“Wanna talk?” he asked. “I'm gonna be here for a while.” He looked around the empty coffee shop. “And it looks like I'm your only customer.”

I shook my head so hard that my braid swung around my shoulder and slapped my cheek. There were exactly three people who knew what was going on with me. Well, four if I counted my mother's new boy toy, Billy. But he'd be gone in a matter of weeks, if not sooner. Just like the others.

“Nope,” I said. “I'm good.”

His eyes didn't leave mine as he trailed a finger along the rim of the mug. “What's your name?”

“Why?”

“Just like to know who I'm talking to.”

“Jacie,” I said. “So, when you need more coffee, you can call me by name. You know, instead of just yelling, 'Hey, waitress.'”

“I said 'Excuse me' twice,” he pointed out, a grin playing on his lips. “And then I tried to motion to you. I thought you might be hard of hearing. Or blind. Or both.”

I bit back another response. Do not engage, I told myself.

The bell on the front door jingled and I breathed a sigh of relief. A customer. Hopefully, a customer who wouldn't give me the third degree.

“Oh my God,” a girl said, her voice laced with disbelief.

I cringed when I heard the voice. It was a voice I'd never expected to hear again. A voice I'd never
wanted
to hear again. A voice that belonged to someone who would absolutely give me the third degree. And then some.

I turned around, bracing myself.

Sophie Wilson stood in the doorway of the shop, her red lips agape. “What are
you
doing back here?” she asked.

I moved away from the stranger and headed toward the counter. I straightened the green apron tied around my waist and forced a tight smile on to my face. I would have rather been having a conversation with the devil himself.

“It's Christmas break,” I said.

She approached the counter, her black, high-heeled boots clicking as she crossed the tile floor. “But you were leaving for good,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “UC Santa Barbara. Blowing this town once and for all. Weren't those your exact words?”

I felt my cheeks redden just a little. I might have said that at Danielle's end-of-summer party. After a couple of beers, my tongue loose, the taste of freedom deliciously ripe.

Sophie tugged on a blond curl, twirling it around her finger. “And yet, here you are.” She eyed the apron I was wearing. “Working, even. How long is your break?”

I tried to act nonchalant. “A month,” I said. I set the coffee pot back on the burner and fished out a rag from the shelf under the cash register. I wiped the spotless countertop, trying to busy myself.

She stared at me. “A month,” she repeated.

I nodded, hating myself for lying, even if it was to one of my least favorite people on the planet. It wasn't really a lie. I mean, winter break was technically a month. But what I didn't share was that I wouldn't be going back.

My plans to blow the town of Silver Valley had backfired.

Not because of anything I'd done. I'd started school, became best friends with my dorm mate, Caitlin. Stayed on track and gotten good grades in all four of my general ed classes. Things were going great. I was happy—genuinely happy—for the first time in years.

Until the email last Wednesday. And then the meeting with Dean Reynolds that had confirmed the content of the message. My tuition wan't paid for the coming semester.

Not because I didn't have it.

But because my mother had hacked into my savings account—my college savings account—and spent every last penny of it.

No tuition meant no classes.

Which meant I was back in the last place I wanted to be.

Hell.

****

To continue reading, please visit
http://annacruise.com
for buy links.

ALSO CHECK OUT THESE

EXTRAORDINARY AUTHORS & BOOKS:

Alivia Anders ~ Illumine

Cambria Hebert ~ Recalled

Angela Orlowski Peart ~ Forged by Greed

Julia Crane ~ Freak of Nature

J.A. Huss ~ Tragic

Cameo Renae ~ Hidden Wings

A.J. Bennett ~ Now or Never

T.G. Ayer ~ Skin Deep

Tabatha Vargo ~ Playing Patience

Beth Balmanno ~ Set in Stone

Ella James ~ Selling Scarlett

Tara West ~ Say When

Heidi McLaughlin ~ Forever Your Girl