What Price Paradise

Katherine Allred

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Resistol: RHE Hatco, Inc.

Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Corporation

Pregnant. The word rang in her head as sweat popped out on her face. Impossible, but true. One time. She’d had sex one time in her life and this was what happened.

Abby dodged yet another groping hand and made her way to table four, a tray loaded with drinks balanced on her hip. The three men at the table barely looked up as she served them, which was fine with her. Having them pretend she didn’t exist was preferable to fighting them off. For her there was no middle ground.

She handed the bottles of beer around, putting one in front of the only empty chair at the table. Friday and Saturday nights at Delly’s were always loud and crowded since it was the only tavern within a hundred-mile radius that sported a dance floor with live music.

Picking up the ashtray from the table, she emptied it into another one on her tray, the odor of stale cigarettes assailing her nose. A wave of nausea rolled over her and she closed her eyes, willing her stomach to settle. It had been happening all day and each time seemed to get worse. If this was what she had to look forward to for the next seven and a half months, she didn’t think she’d make it. Didn’t even want to.

Her gaze moved to the dance floor. He wasn’t hard to find. Tate McCullom was the tallest man in the room. He wasn’t the best looking, not if you liked the slick, polished look of a model, but his craggy, rough features were certainly enough to attract lots of female attention.

Even from across the room she could feel the force of those crystal blue eyes as he looked up and studied her intently over the head of the blonde he was holding in his arms. Diane. His fiancée.

Abby lowered her gaze and turned back toward the bar just as a wave of heat swept through her. The edges of her vision went black and the nausea hit again. This time, she knew, it wasn’t going away.

With an urgency born of desperation, she tossed the serving tray onto the bar and dashed down the long hall. Only a screen door blocked her path outside and she went through it at a run, barely making it outside before she started to heave. Not that it did much good. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday, but her traitorous stomach seemed bent on emptying itself anyway.

Hands braced on her knees, she leaned against the side of the building and sucked in deep breaths of the cool night air. Suddenly, the hair stood up on the back of her neck and, even though she hadn’t heard the door open, she knew Tate was there.

“Abby?”

Well, at least he knew her name. Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble from her throat, but she forced it down as her stomach roiled again. “Go away. Please, just leave me alone.” She couldn’t look at him. Not now.

“You’re sick.”

“Virus.” She wanted to say more, to come up with a good explanation, but her tongue seemed to be choking her. Even that one word brought on another heave.

She felt more than saw him take a step closer, then those broad, strong hands were supporting her, holding her up. She flinched from his touch, wanting nothing more than to just lie down and die. But of course, nothing was that easy.

“Why don’t you ask Pete to give you the rest of the night off? You’re in no shape to work.”

Her nausea eased, replaced by a surge of anger, and Abby pulled away from him. “This is the only job I’ve got. I can’t afford to take off. Now please leave me alone. What I do or don’t do is no concern of yours. Go back to your fiancée. I’m sure she’s wondering where you are.”

There was a second of hesitation, then he turned and walked away. As soon as she heard the door close behind him, Abby slid down the wall and buried her face against her knees. She wouldn’t cry, couldn’t let herself go like that. In the ten years she’d lived in Cooper Creek, Texas, this was only the second time Tate had ever said more than two words to her. Considering what had happened the first time, it was probably a good thing. And she doubted he even remembered it.

She allowed herself one sniffle, then stood and wiped the sweat from her forehead. If she didn’t get back to work, Pete, her boss, was going to come looking for her. Only one more hour until closing. She could hang on until then.

* * * * *

“Where did you go?”

Tate parked himself in an empty chair and glanced at Diane. Her blonde hair framed the face of an angel and, as always, a surge of emotion washed over him. He had known her forever, couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t known they would spend their lives together. Now he was beginning to think he might have blown it for good.

“Outside.”

A bottle of beer sat in front of him and he’d started to lift it to his lips when her well-manicured hand covered his.

“Tate, please reconsider. We could have so much fun. And I really want this. You know I’ll pay for everything.”

“I can’t, Diane. Even if I could leave the ranch for that long, I can’t leave Buddy alone. We’ve been all through this. When are you going to understand I have responsibilities I can’t abandon?”

Her perfect lips puckered into a pout. “Buddy is sixteen. He can take care of himself. You just don’t want to go.” She gathered up her things. “I’m leaving first thing in the morning. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

A sense of desperation hit him. “Look, why don’t you forget this trip? We can find a justice of the peace tonight and be married by tomorrow.”

“I told you, Tate. I refuse to live in that ramshackle barn you call a house. When you build a new one, we’ll talk about it.”

“I don’t have the kind of money it takes to build a house. Especially when there’s nothing wrong with the one I have.”

“It’s old.” She wrinkled her nose. “And ugly. Why can’t you just do one thing for me? Is that too much to ask? I’m beginning to think you don’t really love me.”

“That’s not true.” He kept his voice low.

“Isn’t it? Clayton wants to build a house for me.”

Tate couldn’t control the anger that flashed through him while she studied his face.

“For that matter,” she continued thoughtfully, “I bet he’d love a little vacation.” She yanked the diamond engagement ring off her finger and tossed it onto the table. “We’re through, Tate. And this time, it’s for good.” With a swirl of sleekly styled blonde hair, she flounced out of the bar.

“She did it to you again, didn’t she?” Joe Blackburn sat down in the chair Diane had just vacated and picked up the ring, turning it over and over in his hands. “How many times does this make? Ten? Fifteen?”

Tate took a drink of beer. Joe had been his best friend since they were little more than babies, but sometimes even friends could get on your nerves.

“What was it this time? She wanted you to go to another one of her daddy’s fancy parties?”

“No.” Tate’s gaze wandered to the back of the building, searching. “She wanted me to take her to the
Caribbean
for two weeks.”

Joe stared at him for a minute. “You’re joking. Did she think the ranch was going to run itself? That’s pretty extreme, even for little miss rich—” His words cut off as Tate glared at him.

“It’s not her fault that her daddy is the richest man in town. You just don’t know her like I do. She’ll be back.” Tate only hoped he’d be here for her when she did, but he was beginning to doubt it.

“Damn right, she will. Look, Tate. How long is it going to take before you start listening to me? I keep trying to tell you, she’s not worth it. She’s only stringing you along. Diane Prentis doesn’t care about anyone but herself. She never has and she never will. She’s been seeing Clayton Caldwell. You know it. I know it. Everyone in town knows it. Face facts. She’s never going to marry you.”

Tate stared at the ring in Joe’s hand, then pulled it away from him and stuck it in his pocket. Joe was right about one thing. He had known about Clayton. It had caused their last big fight six weeks ago. That night, he’d been the one who called the engagement off for a change. Then he’d gone out and gotten drunk. It was what had gotten him into this mess to start with.

Again, his gaze wandered uneasily to the bar, searching for and finding Abby. She was loading a tray with drinks, her skin pasty white under the bar lights. She looked horrible, like she might fall over face-first any minute. Strands of long black hair had escaped from her ponytail and clung to her sweat-dampened neck.

He might not remember much else about that night, but he remembered what her lips had felt like on his, the heat that had roared through him when he touched her. The soft curve of her body under his. Remembered how it felt to sink himself into her warm, welcoming depths. God help him, he’d sported a raging erection for a solid week afterwards, every time he thought about it. And then the fear had set in.

She’d been a virgin. That little fact had sobered him up real fast, but not fast enough to keep him from taking her. Not fast enough for his brain to realize he wasn’t using protection.

Had she told him the truth tonight? Was it just a virus or was she pregnant? He’d been holding his breath ever since that night, waiting for the ax to fall, waiting for the words that would end forever his relationship with Diane.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

Tate’s head whipped around in shock before he realized that Joe was still talking about Diane. Diane and Clayton. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” His friend sounded disgusted. “You’re just going to let her get away with it.” Joe waved and caught Abby’s attention, holding up two fingers when she looked at him. She nodded and turned back to the bar.

“What do you expect me to do? Lock her up?” He watched Abby head toward their table, two more beers in her hands.

They both fell silent as Abby put the bottles in front of them. Tate tried to catch her eye, but she refused to look at him.

Joe watched her walk away, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I think if I were you, Hoss, I’d at least want to get even. Maybe you should take a shot at some of that.” He tilted his head at Abby. “I’ve heard she’s pretty hot in the sack.”