Return To Me. Shannon McKenna
Just how good a ‘friend’ is he?”
Ellen rubbed her pounding temples. “I haven’t seen him for years, Brad. Don’t start.”
“Don’t play dumb with me. It’s not possible for you to be my fiancée and Simon Riley’s ‘friend’ at the same time. He leaves. Today. Is that clear?”
“No. It is not clear.” Ellen’s chin lifted. “I will not throw him out.”
Brad unlocked his door and got out. “I’m going to come in and have a talk with your ‘friend.’”
“He’s not here.” She slammed the car door shut. Gravel crunched beneath her feet as she headed to the steps. “He went out.”
“Where did he go?”
“How should I know? To a restaurant, I expect.”
She was all the way up the steps before she noticed that Brad was no longer following her.
“I meant every word I said, Ellen,” he warned. “Riley leaves.”
She spun around. The pressure that had been building inside her all day suddenly broke its bounds. “That is enough!”
Brad stared at her, blank with astonishment.
“I have been pushed around enough for one evening!” she yelled.
“I’m not pushing you around.” Brad’s self-righteous tone grated her raw nerves. “If you would calm down, you would understand—”
“I don’t want to understand!” she bellowed. “I have a headache!”
Brad looked as horrified as if she had sprouted a physical deformity. “God, Ellen! What’s wrong with you? You are screaming!”
She stopped herself, clenched her shaking hands and tried to breathe. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m going to go lie down for a while. Have a nice evening. Thanks for the ring.”
“Oh, you’re so welcome,” he muttered.
His door slammed. The car slewed around in the gravel and roared away. Ellen gasped and coughed in the choking cloud of dust.
Chapter 4
Simon stared down at his half-eaten steak. It was tender and flavorful, but it didn’t tempt him. He was being about as entertaining as a bump on a log for his old friend Cora. He’d run into her today while washing his clothes at her laundromat, and had mistakenly thought that having company tonight might cheer him up. Big mistake.
He took a swallow of his beer. “Sorry, Cor. I’m not very good company tonight.”
Cora rested her chin on her cupped hands. “That’s OK,” she said gently. “You’re hung up on Ellen, aren’t you?”
“Nah, she’s just an old friend. It’s not like that.”
The people at the next table were staring at him. He recognized Willard Blair, and his wife Mae Ann. They were giving him a fishy look.
A vague memory took form in Simon’s mind. An illicit tractor race on Willard’s property that had ended badly. Considerable property damage had been involved. The devil in him gave them a big, cheeky grin. He toasted them, lifting his beer mug high.
Willard and his wife broke eye contact quickly.
“Just a friend, huh?” Cora’s voice was ironic. “So it’s no big deal to you, then, that she’s engaged to Brad Mitchell?”
“Don’t remind me,” he muttered. “She deserves better.”
“Right.” Cora stole one of his French fries and dipped it into his ketchup. “And the fact that she’s got tons of curly blonde hair, big, brown eyes, perfect tits, legs to die for? All that’s irrelevant to you?”
“Come on, Cora,” he said sourly. “There’s more to it than that.”
Her dimples flashed. “Then you’re not like most men I know.”
“That’s probably true,” he said. “Unfortunately.”
Cora’s sharp eyes made him uncomfortable. He gazed out into the restaurant at the other diners. His breath froze in his lungs as he recognized Eddie Webber, his best friend from high school.
Eddie had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he’d been willing to hang out with Simon when not many others would, and Simon had been grateful for his friendship. At least he had been until that fateful night seventeen years ago.
It was Eddie who had been the source of all those firecrackers the group of guys had shot off at the Mitchell Stables. Before they all ran off and left him alone to take the blame for a fire he didn’t start.
Eddie was eating barbecued ribs. He’d gained a lot of weight, and his red hair was thinning on top. He stopped chewing as he recognized Simon. His eyes slid away.
Simon looked down into his plate, feeling even bleaker. “It makes me sick that she’s engaged to Brad Mitchell. Ruins my appetite.”
Cora had been reaching out for another French fry. Her hand stopped in midair. “Yeah,” she said heavily. “That Brad. He’s a pisser.”
Her strained tone made him take notice. “Sorry, Cor. I forgot. Didn’t you used to be his girlfriend? I questioned your taste even then.”
“Yeah, I was crazy for him for a while. It ended badly.” She took a sip of her frozen margarita and tried to smile. “I’ve put it behind me, but you know what’s funny? My bad judgment in men has endured the test of time. That’s why I’m still single.”
“You’re better off without Brad Mitchell,” he told her.
“I suppose,” she murmured. “You know, Simon, you’re made of stern stuff if you have the guts to be seen in public with me. Even your reputation might suffer, bozo, and that’s really saying something.”
He stared at her blankly. “Come again?”
“Didn’t you know?” Cora’s grin was impish. “I’m the scarlet woman of LaRue. It started the summer you ran off. The first rumor was that you and slutty gold-digger me had a hot, nasty affair while I was trying to trap Brad into a white trash marriage—”
“No way!” He was aghast.
“Uh huh. No joke. Then the word was that you’d gotten me pregnant, and that I sneaked off and aborted our secret love child. Since then, man, anything goes. You would not believe the shit some people say I’ll do for fifty bucks, or a line of coke.”
“But that’s such bullshit! What idiot would have believed that?”
Cora tried to laugh, but the effort was hollow. “Brad believed it.”
“So that was why he started pounding me that summer,” Simon said. “He thought that we—”
“Yup.” Cora took a gulp of her margarita. “Let’s let it go, though. If I think about it, I’m liable to drink too much.”
“OK,” he agreed readily. “If it’s so bad, why are you still here?”
“I did leave for a while. I lived up in Seattle for a few years, but big cities aren’t my thing. I felt rootless. Then Grandma died and left me her double-wide. So I held my nose, came back, and opened up the Wash-n-Shop. It’s a good business. Not what I dreamed of, and I work like a bastard, but it’s mine. Nobody can yell at me or order me around.”
“Amen,” Simon said. “I try to run my life like that, too. Except when I pull an idiot stunt like coming back to LaRue. It’s like begging to get bashed in the head. Ellen and Brad? Jesus. The ultimate insult.”
Cora nodded. “Ellen’s a sweet girl. That’s why it’s a bad match. He’s going to shove her around, and she’ll