A Slice Of Heaven. Sherryl Woods
“I’ll come with you.”
After they were seated, Dana Sue picked the blueberries out of the muffin and ate them, managing to leave most of the muffin on the plate. “I know I have no business eating this stuff, so don’t even say it,” she muttered.
“Not saying a word,” Maddie responded mildly.
Dana Sue pushed the plate away. “It’s been two damn years,” she said heatedly. “How can the mere mention of that man still get me so worked up?”
“Do you want an honest answer or was that a rhetorical question?” Maddie asked.
“An honest answer, please.”
“You’re still in love with him.”
“Don’t be absurd!”
Maddie shrugged. “You asked for honesty. Try being honest with yourself. And to be brutally honest, I’d say your reaction last night was just plain jealousy.”
Dana Sue stared at her friend incredulously. “You think I was jealous that my daughter has been talking to Ronnie?”
“Weren’t you?”
She bit back her inclination to snap out a denial, then frowned at Maddie. “You know me too damn well.”
Maddie grinned. “Yes, I do.” She studied Dana Sue for a moment. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing. Are you nuts? The man cheated on me. I wouldn’t let him back into my life if he crawled on his knees.”
“Yeah, right,” Maddie murmured, her skepticism plain.
“I have my pride,” Dana Sue added.
“In spades,” she concurred.
“Well, then, you know I mean what I say.”
“I know you want to mean it,” Maddie said. “But if Ronnie Sullivan walked through that door right now, looking all sexy and sassy the way he always did, I wouldn’t want to bet against him.”
Unfortunately, if she was being totally honest, neither would Dana Sue. Fortunately, she doubted she’d ever be put to that test. If Ronnie had even half a grain of sense left in that handsome head of his, he’d never set foot in Serenity again.
Of course, if he’d loved her the way he’d claimed to, he never would have cheated on her. And—this was the kicker she always came back to—he would have stayed and fought for her. Sure, she’d made it plain she didn’t want him here. She’d even had Helen lay down all sorts of ground rules about his having only limited contact with Annie, which the idiot had actually agreed to. He should have known she was reacting in the heat of the moment, making outrageous demands because she was hurt. He knew her better than anyone, even better than Maddie or Helen, which was saying something. He knew she blew sky-high when her temper kicked in, then simmered for a while, then cooled down. But he’d gone anyway. He hadn’t waited around to see if she’d give him a second chance. That had told her all she really needed to know. He’d wanted to go. That was the bottom line.
She’d never admit it to a living, breathing soul, but that was what had hurt more than anything—Ronnie hadn’t loved her enough to stay. And that was his most unforgivable sin of all.
Ronnie was sitting in some dive of a bar with Toby Keith in the background singing a song about a “Dear John” note. Every time the singer repeated in a low, sad tone, “She’s gone,” Ronnie thought of Dana Sue. She was gone, all right, and he still didn’t have the first clue about how to win her back. He’d spent two years pondering the problem and, beyond his decision to do something by Thanksgiving, he was no closer to an action plan now than he’d been on the day he’d left Serenity.
Funny that twenty-seven years ago, when his family had moved to Serenity, he’d seen exactly what he needed to do to win Dana Sue’s heart. Even at fourteen he’d noticed how the boys swarmed around her, drawn not only to her long legs and developing chest, but to her easy temperament and laughter. He’d also realized that the only way to stand out from the crowd would be to feign indifference. Sure enough, that had caught her attention. He hadn’t pursued Dana Sue. She’d come after him. He wondered if that technique would work again.
Probably not, he concluded sadly. He’d been gone two years, and as near as he could tell, she wasn’t pining for him. She certainly hadn’t chased after him.
As he continued pondering a strategy, a thirty something woman wearing tight jeans, a low-cut tank top and spike heels slid onto the stool next to him. Her black hair was long and straight and her lipstick was as red as her tank top. She was a stark contrast to Dana Sue’s leggy, wholesome appearance. Most men would have found her sexy, but to Ronnie she was simply trying too hard.
“Hey, sugar, you look like you could use some company,” she said in a low purr that should have set his pulse racing.
He met her gaze, took a long, slow sip of his beer and tried to work up some enthusiasm for whatever she was offering. But pretty as she was, she wasn’t the woman he wanted.
Still, he forced a smile out of sheer habit. “Buy you a drink?”
“Sure,” she said. “A light beer.”
He beckoned the bartender over and placed the order, then swirled his own beer around in the glass, wondering why not one of the women who’d come on to him since his divorce had held any appeal. Maybe what he should have been asking himself was why one woman had managed to sneak through his defenses back when he’d still been very much married. To his everlasting regret, he couldn’t even remember what she’d looked like, or any highlight of their conversation.
“You want to talk about it?” his companion inquired, taking a sip of her beer. “My name’s Linda, by the way. Folks say I’m a real good listener.” She leaned in closer. “Among other things.”
Ronnie gave her another speculative once-over, but the attraction just wasn’t there for him.
“Come on,” she prodded. “Every man has a story he’s just dying to tell.”
“Not me,” he insisted.
“Broken heart, then,” she concluded. “Men hate talking about being dumped.”
“The broken heart wasn’t mine,” he corrected, then thought about it. In the end, his heart had been just as shattered as Dana Sue’s, and he’d had a load of guilt to go along with it.
“What did you do?” Linda asked. “Sleep around on her?”
“Something like that,” he admitted.
“Then I imagine you’ll do it again. Men always do.”
“Is that so?”
“In my experience, anyway.”
Amused by her world-weary attempt at wisdom, he said, “Then you must have real bad taste in men.”
She laughed. “Says the guy I’ve been coming on to for the past five minutes.”
“Like I said, bad taste,” he agreed. “But your luck’s about to change, because I’m going to do you a favor and take off.” He put some bills on the bar, then met her disappointed gaze. “And just so you know, if I ever convince my ex-wife to take me back, she’ll have nothing to worry about. I learned my lesson. She’s the only one for me.”
“You gonna try to sell me some of that swamp land east of here next?”
“Nope. I’m just gonna wish you better luck with the next guy who comes along,” he said, and walked away.
“I wonder if this ex of yours knows she’s a lucky woman,” she called after him.
Ronnie chuckled at that. “I