Make Mine a Bad Boy (34 page)

Since that was exactly how Hope was feeling after deciding to keep the baby, she figured her daddy was on to something. “And, I suppose, it wouldn’t make any sense at all to give up a chance of fame and fortune in Hollywood to stay in a small Texan town with very few job opportunities?”

“Nope, that sure would be foolish.” He winked at her. “But I’d rather be a happy fool than a miserable wise man.”

Sighing, Hope rested her head back on his broad shoulder. “Damn, I wish I’d talked to you a few weeks ago, Daddy.”

“I’m always here, baby girl.”

They didn’t say much after that. Instead, they stood silently and watched as Lyle’s relatives dropped blood-red roses into the grave. Hope knew most of them from one gathering or another, except for Lyle’s first wife, who had divorced him and moved to Houston when Hope was still a child. The woman was much older than Shirlene, but just as stunning, in a black suit that fit her tall svelte body to perfection. Her two grown sons had gotten her height and dark hair, while the teenage daughter was fair
and short like Lyle. They didn’t completely snub Shirlene, but they didn’t exactly appear friendly either. Once they tossed their flowers in, they walked toward their limo without a backward glance, leaving Colt and Shirlene standing by the casket alone.

After giving her daddy one last hug, Hope started toward them. But she was delayed by Rachel Dean, who wanted to know if Hope thought Shirlene would like lasagna better than enchiladas. By the time she had assured Rachel that either one would be appreciated, Colt and Shirlene were no longer standing by the casket. Colt had moved over to talk with a distinguished-looking man and a redheaded woman, while Shirlene had walked to the far end of the cemetery.

When Hope reached her, she was standing in front of an old, crumbling headstone, a single long-stemmed rose clutched in her hand.

“Did you know my great-great-great-granddaddy was the very first sheriff of Bramble?” Shirlene said, as Hope came up to stand beside her. “Colt was named after him—not him exactly, but the man’s favorite gun.”

“I think you might’ve mentioned that,” Hope said in a voice as soft as her sister’s.

“I guess I did, didn’t I?” Shirlene glanced over and sent her a smile that lacked her usual warmth and sparkle before she turned and headed along the row of headstones. Hope followed behind her to the gravestone on the very end, Shirlene’s father’s stone. There were no decorative scrolls, hearts, or pastoral scenes etched into the simple slab of stone, just the words David Michael Lomax—Devoted Husband and Loving Father carved above dates that spanned a mere twenty-four years.

Unconcerned with her expensive suit, Shirlene knelt down and rested the rose against the base. When Hope joined her on the cold ground, they both started clearing out the weeds that had cropped up around the stone.

“I don’t remember him,” Shirlene said as she worked. “When I was little, Colt would tell me stories of my daddy cradling me in his arms and singing to me, or carrying me around on his shoulders. But now I wonder if Colt didn’t make it all up. He’s willing to do just about anything to make me happy.” She tossed the weeds off to the side before glancing over at Hope. “Even give away his unborn child.”

Shocked, Hope fell back on her bottom. “Colt told you?”

“Faith. But I wouldn’t be too angry at her. She can’t help it if her face reads like a bestselling novel.” Then, before Hope could figure out how to break the news to her friend that she’d changed her mind, Shirlene reached over and slugged her hard in the arm.

Placing a hand over the stinging spot, Hope glared at her. “What was that for?”

“For being stupid enough to come up with such a harebrained idea in the first place. What were you thinkin’, Hog?”

“I was thinkin’ about how much my best friend wanted a baby,” she grumbled.

“And I appreciate the gesture.” Shirlene scooted back to rest against Hootie Smith’s grave marker with the scary-looking angel on top. “But I’m not one of your charity cases, Hope.”

The anger fizzled out of her. “I wasn’t doing it just for you, Shirl. I wanted my baby to have the best of everything—money, a big house, a mama who didn’t have to work, and a dad—” She stopped and looked away.

“Man, Hollywood really screwed you up, Hog.” Shirlene leaned her head back on the robes of the angel and closed her eyes. “The Hope Scroggs I knew wouldn’t be worried about the things she couldn’t give her child. Instead, she’d be figuring out how to get them. Besides, with the way you and my brother have been going at it, it doesn’t look like you’ll be without a daddy for very long.”

“We have not being going at it!” When Hope realized how loudly she’d spoken, she glanced around. But most of the people were on the other side of the cemetery. Still, she lowered her voice and leaned in. “And even if we were, it didn’t mean anything.” She sniffed. “It was just… great sex.”

Shirlene rolled her eyes. “And don’t I feel sorry for you. Geez, Hope, pull your head out, would you? Colt has had a thing for you ever since I can remember.”

“A thing?” Hope’s heart skipped a beat. “He told you that?”

“He didn’t tell me anything.” Her gaze shifted over to the plain headstone with the single rose. “In case you haven’t figured it out, we Lomaxes have trouble communicating our true feelings. Instead, we bury them beneath a tough exterior… or a quick wit. Unfortunately, some emotions refuse to stay buried and end up bubbling out in destructive ways—like rocks through windows or a smartass mouth.”

When Shirlene looked back at Hope, her green eyes were even more sad. “Colt isn’t going to tell you he loves you, Hope. Not because he doesn’t, but because he can’t. His only example of love came from a woman who couldn’t stand up after one o’clock in the afternoon, let alone show her children any kind of affection. It wasn’t so
bad for me, at least I had Colt to shower me with love, but all he had was an ornery little sister.”

Trying to think above her thumping heart, Hope leaned closer. “But if he loves me, then why did he pull all those pranks?”

“Maybe he was trying to get your attention.”

She snorted. “Live ammo in a prop gun got my attention, all right.”

“About that, honey…”

Hope’s gaze snapped back to Shirlene, who suddenly looked like she had when Hope’s mama had caught them smoking behind Shirlene’s trailer. Shocked, Hope reared back and cracked her shoulder on Samuel Murdock’s stone cross.

“You? You put the bullet in the gun? But why?”

Shirlene shrugged. “It wasn’t enough that you won every award and contest there ever was. You had to go and take my part in the school play too? It just didn’t seem fair.”

Put that way, Hope couldn’t very well argue the point. “I wish you hadn’t gotten the flu, Shirl. It would’ve saved me a lot of grief.” She looked across the cemetery to where Colt stood talking to Sheriff Winslow. “But if Colt cared about me, why did he leave town?”

One perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted. “Maybe because the girl he wanted had already made her choice.”

“But I…”

Hope snapped her mouth closed. Shirlene was right; she had chosen Slate, if not in words, then in her refusal to correct an entire town’s belief. And she was doing it again. Letting the town run around looking for a daddy, all because she was too scared to stand up for what she
wanted, too scared of disappointing people who refused to see their sweetheart with a bad boy. Even if a bad boy was exactly who Hope wanted—had always wanted. A bad boy who had grown into a good man with a kind heart.

Unfortunately, her revelation might have come too late. In an attempt to shield her heart, she had said and done things that Colt might never forgive.

Hope turned her tearful eyes to Shirlene. “What am I going to do now, Shirl?”

With her head resting against Hootie’s angel, Shirlene looked up into the overcast skies. Her smile was weak as she spoke just above a whisper.

“Funny, but I was going to ask the same thing.”

S
INCE MOST FOLKS
wanted to be home on Thanksgiving with a twenty-pound bird and a forty-six-inch TV, the Bramble Thanksgiving Day Parade was always held the Saturday before. The weather had finally turned the corner to winter, and frigid winds snapped the flag in front of the town hall and sent tumbleweeds—along with a few cowboy hats—careening down the cordoned-off street. It had been a while since Colt had attended a parade, but he knew the routine and picked out a spot along the parade route to park Shirlene’s Navigator.

“This look okay to you?” He glanced over at Shirlene, and his heart tightened.

The woman who sat in the seat next to him might look like his sister in her tight jeans and flashy jewelry. But the lack of spirit in her eyes and the somber droop of her lips were nothing like his baby sister. And Colt didn’t know what to do about it. Shirlene had always been the optimistic one in the family—the one who saw the glass as half full instead of half empty. And being the half-empty guy, he counted on her to keep his world balanced, so the
reversal of their roles had him floundering like a trout on a hook.

The cold wind smacked him in the face as he climbed out of the SUV, and he zipped up his leather jacket to his throat before he walked around to the back.

“Good Lord, Shirlene, you think you brought enough?” He tried to tease a smile out of her as they unloaded the Navigator.

She paused and stared down at the thermos of coffee as if she didn’t know what it was or how it had gotten in her hand. “I guess I did overpack, didn’t I? Lyle always called me his ‘Material Girl.’ I guess he was right.”

Colt’s hand tightened around the aluminum of a chair as he tried to keep the concern from his voice. “There’s nothing wrong with being prepared. If it hadn’t been for you packing my lunches every night, I would’ve starved in high school.”

“Doubtful.” She reached in for the blankets. “I’m sure you would’ve found some girl to feed you.”

“Yeah, but not a one of them would’ve known how to make peanut butter and Frosted Flake sandwiches.”

“Losers,” she said, and then carried the blankets and thermos around to the front of the truck.

Once they were seated with the blankets tucked around them and the coffee poured into thermal mugs, Colt didn’t have a clue what to say. Sympathy had never been his strong suit. He thought about bringing up his meeting with Lyle’s lawyers, but then figured that that would only depress his sister more. Although Lyle had sealed the deal with C-Corp, his personal finances were still in turmoil. And Colt wasn’t sure, after paying debts and lawyers, if there would be any money left for Shirlene. Not that it mattered. His little sister would never go without.

“I hope you aren’t going to get sick of me,” Colt finally said. “With the custom motorcycle shop going up on the property next to Jones’ Gas Station, I’ll be in Bramble more often. So you don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll be around to take care of you.”

Shirlene nodded. “And I appreciate that. But I think you’ve got other things to worry about. Like Hope’s baby.”

His gaze shot over to her. “How did you—” He stopped when the truth dawned on him. “So I guess Hope told you about her plan.”

His sister nodded, and Colt actually felt sick to his stomach. For some strange reason, he still clung to the belief that Hope would change her mind—about Hollywood and the baby. Obviously, he’d been mistaken.

Aware of how much pain he was about to cause his sister, he took a deep breath before he turned to her.

“I love you, Shirlene. You know that, right?” When she nodded, he continued. “Your happiness means the world to me. But even knowing how happy a baby would make you, I can’t give you mine. I love Pumpkin Seed and I’m keeping her.”

Pushing the blanket down, Shirlene gifted him with the smile that had been absent for way too long. “Well, join the club, big brother, because Hope couldn’t do it either. So I guess I’ll have to be the best darned aunt little… Pumpkin Seed will ever have.”

He blinked. “Hope couldn’t do it?” And when Shirlene shook her head, all his pent-up emotions broke free, and he jumped from the chair and pulled his sister into his arms.

“I’m going to be a daddy, Shirl! I’m going to be a daddy.”

Shirlene hugged him back. “And the best darned daddy in the state of Texas.”

“So I guess you don’t need no wife?”

The belligerent voice caused Colt to pull back from Shirlene and look over at the young boy standing in the familiar grubby jeans. At least today, he had on a coat.

Jesse’s hostile gaze ran over Shirlene before he looked back at Colt. “Unless you want one that ain’t so old.”

“Old?” Shirlene’s eyes narrowed on the kid. “Who you callin’ old, pipsqueak?”

Colt bit back a grin. “Shirl, I’d like you to meet Jesse. Jesse this is my sister, Shirlene Dalton.”

“Sister?” Jesse’s face brightened before he held out one dirty hand. “Nice to meet ya, Shirl.”

Shirlene cocked a brow at Colt before she replied. “Nice to meet you, Jess.”

“Jesse.”

“Ms. Dalton.”

The young face scrunched up with annoyance before he turned back to Colt. “So anyway, since you ain’t tied up with this one, I thought you’d like to meet my sister.” Jesse glared at Shirlene. “Besides being younger, she’s a whole lot prettier,” he added.