I Gave You My Heart, but You Sold It Online Read online

  Quint looked back at the old dog sitting by the door. “You believe in luck, don’t you, boy? You got pretty lucky when you showed up here.” He offered the dog the stripped bone from his steak.

  The dog met his outstretched hand and accepted the offer, then lay down again. Wrapping his paws around the bone, he let out a sigh of utter contentment.

  The Internet. Quint had found Allison on the Internet. That answered one of Tag’s questions. From the beginning he hadn’t seen her as the barhopping bucklebunny who usually fell for Quint.

  Quint had guts. Tag would never post his picture and personal profile on the Internet. He would hop a fence and face a mad bull, but the thought of putting himself out there for everyone and anyone to examine was too…well, too invasive. Too personal.

  Beyond that, he was too old for dating and didn’t have time anyway. If a female ever entered his life again in a serious way, it would have to be through the door of his restaurant, because of late that’s where he spent his waking hours. A woman would have to catch his eye and heart from across the dining room. But he wasn’t going to be looking, so if it happened it would have to go down just that way.

  Then it dawned on him. That’s how he had met Allison Barker.

  nine

  Monday morning, Debbie Sue was the first to arrive at the Styling Station. The other beauty salon in Salt Lick didn’t open on Mondays. From the beginning, she had planned on getting ahead of the competition by being open bright and early every Monday. Edwina agreed with the strategy.

  Now, standing in the Styling Station’s doorway, she watched Edwina wrestle, one-handed, her huge cowhide purse—the thing was big enough for its own zip code—and another oversize satchel from her car. In the opposite hand she carried a quart-size cup of Dr Pepper. Debbie Sue flung the door open and Edwina stumbled into the salon on pink stiletto spike heels.

  She was wearing a dark green sweater coat and she was shaped like a bowling pin. Debbie Sue couldn’t imagine what she could be wearing under that sweater. With a lollipop stick protruding from her mouth and mirrored sunglasses reflecting the salon lights, her pal and partner looked like a living, breathing Christmas tree. The sight was a Kodak moment, for sure. Debbie Sue burst into laughter. “A Christmas tree! How original. Add a bad case of dandruff and you’d look like you were flocked.”

  “Vic flocked me this morning, but I didn’t think it showed.” Edwina tilted back her head and cackled as she plopped her purse and the striped satchel on her workstation. “But I’m not a Christmas tree. I’m a New York City ballerina. The original Nutcracker.”

  She threw open her sweater and revealed a stiff pink net tutu tied around a pink bodysuit. The spandex top flattened her bosom even more than Mother Nature had done. The pink tights, straining to cover her mile-long skinny legs, broke all records for elasticity. Edwina peeled off the sweater, tossed it across the room, and struck a pose—head thrown back, arms looped above her head.

  “You’re a nutcracker all right,” Debbie Sue said, “and you’ve got three ex-husbands to prove it.”

  Edwina dug into her satchel. “Wait’ll you see what I brought to do you.”

  “What makes you think I want to be done?”

  “’Cause it’s Halloween, dearie, and you know this afternoon all the little darlings in town will come by dressed in their costumes to get trick-or-treat goodies. You don’t want them to see you looking like your ordinary old self, do you?”

  Debbie Sue laughed. This was the flavor of her and Edwina’s friendship, unpredictable and salty with a touch of sweetness. Never-ending fun was something Edwina had brought into Debbie Sue’s life. Not that Debbie Sue didn’t have fun on her own, but Edwina’s zaniness gave “fun” character. “Well, hurry up,” Debbie Sue said. “I’ve got a trim at ten.”

  The next thing she knew, her long thick hair was pinned up in a bun and her face was covered with white greasepaint. “This reminds me of your mom’s new song,” Edwina said as she painted a big red grin on Debbie Sue’s mouth.

  Debbie Sue’s mom, Virginia, was having great success in Nashville as a composer of country-western songs. “Which one?”

  “The one Gretchen Wilson recorded, ‘She’s Left Lipstick Traces in Too Many Places.’”

  “Oh, yeah,” Debbie Sue said. “I really like that one. And Gretchen did a great job with it.”

  “Do you think she wrote that about me?” Edwina asked, frowning.

  “I don’t think so, Ed.”

  Edwina finished off Debbie Sue’s face with heavy black eyeliner and stuck an orange ball on the tip of her nose.

  “Yikes! I look like a real clown,” Debbie Sue said as she stared at the finished image in the mirror.

  “Not quite yet.” Edwina dragged from her satchel a red yarn wig, baggy pants and suspenders, a T-shirt, a bow tie, and a pair of Vic’s size 15 combat boots.

  Debbie Sue changed into the clothing and boots and clapped on the red wig.

  “Nooowww,” Edwina said, “you look like a rodeo clown.”

  And the day began.

  A GRAY FORD pickup pulled to a stop in a roadside park. The driver adjusted the rearview mirror again and peered up the highway, waiting for the red mini–rocket ship Quint Matthews called transportation to appear. There was no way of knowing if Quint would be traveling this road today, but this was the only highway connecting Midland to Salt Lick, and Quint’s big red Ford had been back and forth three times just yesterday.

  Saturday’s epic trips—228 miles from Abilene to Salt Lick, 60 miles Saturday night from Salt Lick to Midland; another 60 miles back to Salt Lick from Midland, then back to Midland again—were taxing to more than body and mind. With “regular” gasoline at over two dollars per gallon, more than 400 miles in one day was hell on the pocketbook. When renting the pickup, the driver hadn’t known about its lousy gas mileage.

  How did a region from where a vast amount of oil was sucked account for its high price of gasoline? The answer wasn’t forthcoming, but one thing was: the gray pickup was going to take a respite at this roadside park and watch from afar as Quint’s truck ran up and down the highway. Quint was rich. He could afford to buy fuel for a gas guzzler.

  As those thoughts jelled, the roar of a familiar engine came from the north.

  THIS WAS A HECK of a way to begin the week. Allison gave up and plopped her backside on the floor. She had been in a squatting position folding and rearranging Almost the Rage’s display of T-shirts and jeans for so long her knees and back begged for relief. The kids were out of school today and a swarm of teenage girls had hit the store like hungry grasshoppers. They left the two dressing rooms filled with rejected garments, some on hangers, some barely on hangers, but most lying in a heap on the floor. She had lectured Jill more times than she could count about not leaving this kind of mess in a store for some worker to straighten.

  Just then, the front door’s chimes drew Allison’s attention. She craned her neck to see who had entered. All she saw over the racks of clothing was a cowboy hat, but she could smell something heavenly, a mix of leather and cologne. Tag! Why he was the first person she thought of she didn’t know, because a cowboy-hat-wearing customer could be any number of men from this area. Stetsons were practically issued at birth.

  “Be with you in a sec,” she called out, then mumbled to herself, “I just have to get up off the floor.”

  “Need some help, pretty lady?”

  Allison jerked her head around so quickly she could have suffered whiplash. “Quint.” He was among the first men she should have considered but the last she expected. “No, no. I’m fine. I was just trying to put things back in order here.”

  She accepted his outstretched hand and felt a rush in her pulse as he pulled her to her feet. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about Quint, but for some reason she wanted to impress upon him that she wasn’t just a hick from a small town, though that’s what she was. Nothing but pride and vanity, she told herself, but deep down, she knew it was more person
al. Quint and his celebrity intimidated her. She felt like the pimply-faced high-schooler the football hero had suddenly taken an interest in. She was unable to keep from tittering as she smoothed her clothing. “Goodness, you surprised me.”

  “You here alone?” he asked, looking around the shop and continuing to hold her hand.

  She lifted her hand from his and used it to sweep her hair off her forehead. “My mom’s usually here, but she and her boyfriend have been out of town since Saturday.”

  “Your mom’s got something going on with a boyfriend, does she?”

  Allison felt her face flame red-hot, confused because she felt embarrassed. She was happy for her mom to find someone and Frank was a man to be adored. Having him hanging around Almost the Rage, as well as the house, was like having a handyman on the payroll for free.

  She rolled her eyes in an attempt to appear exasperated. “You’d think at her age she’d be past that”—she crimped the air with two fingers for emphasis—“‘I’ve got a crush’ phase. I swear, they’re worse than rab—” Her hand flew to her mouth.

  A laugh burst from Quint. “Rabbits? Hey, that’s great. If there’s an age limit on a little lust, I haven’t heard about it.”

  He lifted off his hat and gave her a little-boy grin she felt certain was meant to melt her heart. He leaned in close enough to make her heartbeat quicken and fixed her with an ice-blue gaze. “How about you? Don’t you ever have any lusty thoughts?”

  Allison felt hypnotized. Lust had been off her radar screen for so long she had almost forgotten the word. “Uh, very rarely.”

  He tucked back his chin and frowned. “No kidding?”

  “When you live alone and no prospects are looming on the horizon, letting your mind wander in that direction is kind of a waste of time.”

  His gaze seared through her clothing. “And whose fault is that?”

  Unable to think of a clever answer, Allison looked at the floor. Good grief. Her twelve-year-old daughter could handle this conversation better than she. “I guess it’s mine,” she finally replied.

  He set his hat back on his head and shrugged. Oh, no. Was he giving up?

  “Look,” he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t call yesterday, but you know, you never did give me your home phone number.”

  “I didn’t?” Allison blinked and hooked her hair behind one ear. “Well, there you go. That’s why I’m still single. I missed that important step.”

  “No big deal. I spent yesterday mostly trying to get over the night before anyway. But I did want to tell you I’m sorry I drank so much. I don’t usually act like that when I’m with a beautiful woman.”

  Allison’s eye began to twitch. Beautiful? He had said beautiful, hadn’t he? She picked up another T-shirt and began to fold it. “Oh? And how do you treat women you take out that you don’t think are beautiful?”

  “That’s just it. I don’t go out with women I don’t think are beautiful.” He reached toward her with one hand and touched the earring that dangled from her left earlobe. His fingertips brushed her neck and she felt a tiny frisson race down her spine.

  Oh, he was smooth. Too smooth. Allison made a gulp she was sure he heard. “Don’t worry about it. I got home okay. Tag saw to it. He was good company. How is he, by the way? I mean, uh—he’s fine, I’m sure. He’s, uh, a nice person. I really enjoyed meeting him.”

  Inside, Allison cringed at how strained the effort to sound casual came off. She was sweating so profusely she was tempted to wipe her face with the cotton T-shirt in her hand. Good grief, she was as bad as her mom and Frank.

  “He’s fine. Good man, Tag. Hardest-working guy I’ve ever known. He’s got something big going on to night. He was gone from the house before I woke up.” Quint casually walked around the dress shop, looking at garments as if to give his approval.

  “You’re staying at Tag’s house?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? I’m surprised he didn’t mention it. Yeah, I’m there till I get some business settled up here. I live down in Seguin, but it’s four hundred miles from here. No point running back and forth.”

  “Yeah, staying in Midland does make sense. I didn’t know you lived so far away. Tag has a big date to night?” In her head, she replayed her and Tag’s conversation driving home. He hadn’t mentioned seeing anyone.

  “Must be. But I really don’t know.”

  A sour taste came into her mouth at the thought of Tag with a woman. Her mind flashed back to Saturday night and the dim interior of the pickup cab and studying his profile while he watched the road and spoke of his home located on the edge of the city. She had been touched by how lovingly he described it. He was a man focused on living his dream. Nonetheless, she thought she had heard a strain of melancholy in his tone, like something was missing. But he gave no clue what.

  “So, would you like to?”

  Quint’s voice brought her back to reality. “Huh? I’m so sorry. I was thinking of something else. I’ve got a lot on my plate today. What did you say?”

  “I asked if you’d like to go to dinner to night?”

  Allison was caught short. She had wondered if she would hear from Quint again, but she hadn’t counted on another invitation so soon.

  “To night? Oh, I wish I could, but I’m busy to night. I’m taking Jill and some of her friends trick-or-treating. I figure they’ll be too old after this year, so I want to take them. We’re going to some homes here in town, then to the festivities in the mall in Midland.”

  “No problem. I’ll grab something…somewhere.”

  He sounded disappointed. Rejection was something with which she was all too familiar and hearing it in someone else’s voice affected her. “Say, why don’t you join us? It’s going to be fun. Jill and her friends would get a kick out of you being our guest.”

  Quint reset his hat and rubbed his chin. “Go trick-or-treating with y’all? I don’t know—”

  “Oh, come on. I mean, if you don’t have something else to do. The kids are going to meet at my house about six. You come, too. We’ll do the trick-or-treating, then get something to eat later. Since we’re going to be in Midland, maybe we’ll go to Tag’s place for some barbecue. I think the kids would love the atmosphere.”

  “Well…I guess I could do that. Okay, sure. I’ll be there.” He started for the door but stopped and turned, wearing a devilish grin. “I don’t have to wear a costume, do I?”

  Lord, he was cute. Really. What was the matter with her? Here stood a great catch by anyone’s standards, and what did she do? Think about another man. Another man who probably had an important date to night. Another man who showed no greater interest in her than he had shown in every customer in his restaurant. And worse yet, who was the best friend of the only appealing man who had asked her out in years. How dumb could she be?

  And in that split second she made a decision. She would give Quint the chance for which he seemed to be asking. Yes, indeed. She would devote her attention to the warm body that was at hand instead of the lukewarm daydream that wasn’t. She laughed. “Absolutely not.”

  The pressing question now was where was the Cosmopolitan article to get her out of this dilemma of suddenly having two men in her life and being attracted to the wrong one.

  CRADLING THE PHONE under his chin, Tag hung his change of clothes behind the door in the employees’ break room and busied himself smoothing wrinkles from the purple fabric with his palms. “Sounds good to me, Vanessa. I’ll see you to night. I’ll get there around five-thirty or six.”

  He was excited about this evening. It had been a while since he had done something just for the fun of it. Lately it seemed that his every move had a purpose or goal. No time for fun. The closest he had come to having a really good time had been Saturday night, and he had been thinking about it ever since.

  Reliving the same old stories for the hundredth time with Quint was pleasant enough, but being alone with Allison had been the best. They had talked and joked as if they’d known each other for years inste
ad of hours. Tag loved the camaraderie of his old friends, but there was nothing to compare to having a good time with a woman. The question was, under the circumstances, what the hell would he do about it?

  ten

  Debbie Sue fought the urge to scratch her face as she shifted boxes in the Styling Station’s cramped storage space, looking for coconut-scented shampoo. The white greasepaint on her face irritated. For all she knew, when she washed it off, she might find that her whole head had turned into one big zit.

  Though the makeup was a pain, all day the beauty salon’s customers had raved over her and Edwina’s costumes. And they must have loved the pumpkin cookies Vic had baked and the orange Kool-Aid Debbie Sue had contributed because they scarfed up every crumb and drop. One nice thing about Salt Lick was that to celebrate something, no one expected fancy food. Homemade cookies and Kool-Aid worked just fine.

  For the kids, Debbie Sue had bought packages of candy wrapped in Halloween-decorated papers. Soon dozens of them would drop by for trick-or-treat goodies. They, too, would get a kick out of her and Edwina. What little girl didn’t want to be a ballerina and what kid didn’t like a clown?

  In truth, as much as she had fun with the kids, she also dreaded having them come by. She couldn’t keep from thinking that if life weren’t so cruel, she would have a son she might dress up in cowboy regalia and take trick-or-treating. The child she and Buddy had lost was conceived on Halloween. She wondered if Buddy, too, would be thinking about that today. And she wondered, as she often did, if they should try to have another child. They weren’t getting any younger. She was past thirty now and Buddy would soon be thirty-four.

  She found the shampoo and replaced the boxes just as the jangle of the sleigh bells tied to the front-door knob announced someone’s arrival. Her one o’clock appointment.

  “Debbie Sue,” Edwina yelled. “You’re not gonna believe who’s here!”