Читать книгу Betting On Santa - Debra Salonen - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

COLE STRUGGLED TO make sense of what she was saying. Me? A father? To Sunny’s kid? But in order for that to be true, he and Sunny would have had to make love. Which they never did. Right?

He shivered as a thought occurred to him. There was that one night when he and Sunny had bumped into each other at the bar. A low point in his life when he’d tried to drown his troubles. He’d been too drunk to drive home. Sunny had been a friend, she’d put him up for the night. But nothing happened. He was sure of it. Almost positive.

“You think this little boy is mine?” he asked, staring at the profile of the child asleep on his aunt’s shoulder. “That’s a serious charge. Do you have some kind of proof?”

She let out a long sigh and shook her head. “None, but I have a DNA kit in my purse. And, just to be clear, I’m not accusing you of anything. Sunny came back to Texas to confront Joey’s father, but before she could talk to him—or tell me the man’s name, she rolled her car. She’s in the hospital in San Antonio in a coma. Her prognosis is… guarded.”

He didn’t like the flat, defeated way she said the word. “I don’t know what to say. Your sister was so bright and bubbly. The hospital…a coma….” He shook his head. “Wait. If she didn’t tell you about me, then how did you get my name?”

“Her diary. I brought it along and I’d be happy to show the passage that put you on the top of my list. Later. After I get Joey in bed, maybe?”

Cole hesitated. He wanted this cleared up as soon as possible and was curious as hell about what Sunny had written, but he hadn’t been kidding when he said she looked exhausted.

She took a deep breath and let it out then said, “If I’ve made a mistake, we’ll leave in the morning. No hassle, I promise. I’m not trying to pin Joey’s paternity on anybody. I only want to do the right thing for my nephew. I know what it’s like to grow up without a father.”

Grow up without a father. Same as Cole. Something he wouldn’t wish on anybody. “Where’d you say you were staying?”

“The Trail’s End Motel. We haven’t checked in, but they should be holding a room. I paid for it online with my credit card.”

“You should be okay. Things are slow this time of year and I know the desk clerk, Barney. How ’bout if I drive you there, then go after your car?”

He closed the door without waiting for an answer. By the time he started the engine, she had her eyes closed. Her chin brushed the top of her nephew’s head when they hit a pothole.

Even driving slowly, it only took a few minutes to reach the small, cottage-style motel across the street from the Medina River. He pulled up to the office and parked.

Tessa lifted her head.

“Wait here,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll get you registered.” He opened the door and got out but returned a second later. “I’m sorry, Tessa. I forgot your last name.”

“Jamison.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back.”

He dashed into the overly heated reception anteroom. As expected, the man behind the counter was hunched over his computer and barely glanced up—until it hit him that the person resting his elbows on the counter wasn’t a tourist.

“Cole. What the heck are you doing here?” Barney asked. “You know we don’t rent rooms by the hour.”

“You’re quite the joker, man, but no, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Are you gonna invite me to the poker game? You could have called. You didn’t need to stop by.”

Cole glanced out the window at the woman who was watching them. “You’re holding a room for a friend. Tessa Jamison. She said she put it on her credit card. If you give me the right price, then I’ll guarantee you a spot at the table.”

Barney returned to his computer. “I was wondering what happened to her. She’s a friend of yours?”

“Yep. Her and her boy. They stopped by the holiday bazaar and we got talking.”

“Is she staying just the one night?”

Cole had no idea. She’d suggested they talk in the morning, but he had to work. Maybe she planned to stick around, but with Sunny in hospital, more than likely she’d be heading back to the city right away.

“She’ll let you know in the morning. Her kid is asleep and I told her people in this town don’t stand on protocol. That’s not a problem, right?”

Barney frowned. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“Your mother wouldn’t do that to you, Barn, and you know it. Besides, it’s almost Christmas.”

Barney snickered. “I heard about you playing Santa. Not exactly type-casting, was it?”

“I’m gonna be an uncle in a few months. I’m thinking of this as on-the-job training. Come on, Barney, what’s a little paperwork among friends?”

It took some more wheedling, since Barney insisted he needed her photo ID and vehicle license number, but Cole finally got a room key. He hurried back to the car and hopped in. “Straight ahead. Number five. I’ll pick up your car while you put Joey to bed.”

“Are you sure? We can walk to it in the morning. You seem to favor one foot. I hate to put you out.”

Shit. She’d noticed his limp. I must be more tired than I thought. Usually, his ankle only bothered him after a long day of car-pentry. Of course, today he’d worked all day then bounced little kids on his knee for a couple of hours. “I’m fine. Occupational hazard.”

He parked in front of the small cabin. A rustic overhead fixture gave off just enough light for him to see the lock. He opened the door then stepped inside to turn on the light. He waited while she laid the sleeping child on the double bed.

She carefully removed the toddler’s jacket and shoes before pulling the covers over him. Standing, she arched her back slightly and let out a sigh. “I didn’t realize how heavy he could get. I’m not sure I would have made it if we’d had to walk. And he’s a real bear when you wake him up to put him into his car seat.”

“No problem. If you give me your key, I’ll run after your car. Make and color?”

She sat on the bed closest to the door and opened her purse. “White Toyota Camry. With a baby seat in the back. Please don’t wreck the car. I had to sign a waiver that said only I would drive it.”

“It’s five blocks. I guarantee it’ll be fine.”

“But they’re big, Texas blocks,” she said, dropping the keys into his outstretched palm.

He saw a sparkle of humor in her eyes that surprised him—and made him even more curious about her. He was beginning to see a bit of Sunny in her.

He pocketed the keys and left. His ankle was sore—he could tell it was swollen—but he needed this time to think.

Sunny. A sweet kid who drifted through his life right at the exact moment when the proverbial shit hit the fan. He’d helped her out of an uncomfortable situation, found her a job and a place to live. She’d repaid the favor by listening to his ridiculously stupid tale of love, loss, greed and corruption. She’d seen him at his lowest. She’d offered friendship and a shoulder to cry on one night. That was all he remembered them sharing—even if he had woken up in her bed the next morning.

“Why didn’t you talk to me about this, Sunny girl,” he muttered, trying to coax a clear memory from the haze. He’d blocked out a lot about that time.

The memories scattered the instant his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket, pausing to check the caller ID. Annie. Two years his senior. Friend, mentor, nag, sister.

“Hey, Anster. Everything okay with junior or juniorette?”

“Yes, the baby is safely on board. That’s not why I called.”

Annie and her husband, Blake Smith, who was one of Cole’s closest friends, had overcome separation, a miscarriage and Annie’s second marriage. Finally, things seemed to be working in their favor. She was happily—healthfully—pregnant.

“Good. Then I’ll get back to you later. I’m busy.”

“Oh, please. How busy can you be? Mom said you just left the bazaar. This isn’t San Antonio, where you actually have to deal with traffic. Although it doesn’t sound like you’re in your truck. Where are you?”

“Getting gas,” he lied. “Why’d you call?”

“I saw Jake today. When I asked him about the Card, he kinda gave me the brush-off. Have you heard any more about what he intends to do with the place?”

The Wild Card Saloon had never been the most popular bar in town as far as local women were concerned. Partly because the original owner, Lola Chandler—Jake’s mother—had been beautiful, independent and seemingly content to raise her son on her own.

Sadly, Lola passed away when Jake and Cole were in junior high. Her brother, Verne, stepped in to take over the bar and give Jake a home—of sorts—but Jake took off as soon as he turned eighteen. No one had heard from him again until Blake tracked him down to break the news Verne had died and to invite him to the wedding in Vegas. Now he was back in town riding a pricey Hog.

“Are you asking as a reporter for the paper? What makes you think I’d know anything?” Cole asked, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. Annie wasn’t the only one Jake had snubbed since his return.

“Because the two of you were thick as thieves in school.”

“Yeah, well, times change, as they say.”

Annie made a huffing sound. “Men. What’s so hard about sitting down face-to-face and starting a dialogue? Maybe he’s waiting for you to come to him.”

“Yeah? Then he can wait till hell freezes over.” Cole had reached Main. Only one car was parked on either side of the street for three blocks. A white compact. Clearly a rental. “In the meantime, I don’t give a damn what he does with the Wild Card. I’m hosting next week, in case your husband didn’t mention it.”

Between Verne’s death and the big storm that took off part of the roof, the regulars had been forced to find other places for their weekly poker game.

“You don’t even have a table.”

“I will by then. Listen, Spunky, if that’s all you wanted, I gotta go. See you later.” He knew she hated that nickname. Which was why he used it. Gave her something else to stew about.

He turned off the phone and picked up the pace as he headed toward the Longhorn Café. At least Tessa had had the good sense to pick Ed Falconetti’s place for dinner. For a guy from New Jersey, Ed was one heck of a cook—even if his hot dog dinner hadn’t appeared to settle well with Joey, Cole thought with a smile.

Joey. Was there even a remote chance he was Cole’s child?

His ankle gave slightly and a shaft of pain radiated upward, making him stumble. His recovery was graceless, but Tessa’s rental car was close enough to grab, so he didn’t go all the way to the ground. As much as he would have liked to blame his sore leg on Sally and her cats, he knew the underlying cause.

He pushed himself upright and used the key to unlock the driver’s-side door. The sooner he got back to the motel and had a talk with Tessa Jamison, the sooner they could clear up this matter. He had a feeling once she heard his story—and learned about his father—she’d pack up her genetics test and leave.

TESSA PACED about the room the way she did the night before a big presentation. Her business partner, Marci, liked to tell prospective clients that Tessa lived and breathed planning and organization. True. But what had proven a boon to their thriving consulting firm wound up being something Alan, her boyfriend of two years, apparently had felt threatened by.

“Marci may let you run the whole show, and Lord knows your sister and mother never complain about you micromanaging their lives, but I’m a man, Tessa. At least throw me a token bone before you plan every detail of our life.”

She’d considered therapy after they broke up, but ultimately decided there was nothing wrong with wanting to be successful and working hard for fixed goals. Her long-range planning included a college fund for Joey and retirement security for her mother, not something Autumn was likely to create for herself. If a man felt threatened by Tessa’s drive and ambition, then she didn’t need him in her life.

Some people probably considered her materialistic, but Tessa refused to apologize for surrounding herself with nice things, name brands and designer clothes. She loved driving her BMW SUV into her reserved parking space and taking the elevator to her apartment…fourteen floors above the street where she’d once panhandled for change while her stepfather played his guitar. Until he became too sick to hold a chord.

Maybe Alan would have understood if she’d told him the whole story, but there were parts of her past she didn’t talk about. To anybody.

She hadn’t dated since Alan. The idea seemed so pointless. Men either didn’t get her or felt threatened by her drive and success. She imagined she’d scare the wits out of Cole Lawry. Not that he was someone she’d ever consider dating. From what she’d learned about him on the Internet, he was a man who had had it all, then lost it.

“How does someone go from successful businessman to part-time carpenter and volunteer Santa?” she murmured, conscious of her nephew asleep a few feet away. “Honestly, Joey, I hope he’s not your father. You deserve better. He seems like a nice guy and all, but what kind of role model would he be for you? Not as bad as Zeb, of course.”

She pushed the thought of her stepfather away.

“Focus. Focus on the task at hand,” she ordered. “If Cole Lawry isn’t the one, then what next?”

At a soft knock on the door, she hurried across the room to unlock the extra bolt and open the door. “That was fast.”

“Small town. I’d have been here sooner, but my sister called to talk about one of my poker buddies who’s back in town and might be reopening his mother’s old bar.”

“Poker?”

The word tripped something in her memory. When Sunny first returned home from Texas, she went on and on about how much fun she’d had playing in a bar tournament. “I won fifty bucks my first time out,” she’d bragged.

When Tessa asked how much it cost to enter the game, Sunny had admitted the fee was twenty-five. “But I still came out ahead, Tess. And I had a lot of fun playing. So don’t give me a hard time about something you’ve never tried.”

Never would try.

He dangled her keys from the end of his index finger. She couldn’t help noticing how rough and callused his hands looked. “I locked the car. Do you need anything out of it? Your suitcase or diaper bag?”

“I’ll get it later.” She motioned at the small round table near the window. “Tell me about poker,” she said, stalling. Why? She didn’t know. Unless he had a gambling problem that might play a factor in Joey’s future, if he turned out to be the one. “Sunny came home hooked on the game. She made it sound like an organized sport.”

He pulled out the lone chair and sat. “I’m not surprised. Texas Hold ’Em is pretty popular around here. Some friends and I have had a game going since high school. My sister labeled us the Wild Bunch because we used to play in the back room of the Wild Card Saloon.”

“And you still get together?”

“Once a week. Although now Annie calls us the Not-So-Wild Bunch.”

She smiled because he smiled, but she couldn’t get her head around the dedication and commitment required to keep a game going for so long. A card game, of all things. “What about after high school? Didn’t some of you go to college? Or get jobs out of the area?”

“Yeah, that happened, of course. Brady had a football scholarship and played in the NFL until he got injured. Luke was career military. They’re both home now, but even when they were gone, the game went on. Since I was living in San Antonio, I usually managed to come back once a week to play with some of the old-timers.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I take it you don’t play.”

“You mean gamble? No. I work far too hard for my money to just throw it away.”

“Too bad. New blood is always welcome.”

His tone was light but the arch of his brow suggested he was put off by her statement, which had probably come off as judgmental. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her purse onto her lap.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.” She dug into the main compartment until she found the plastic bag that contained her sister’s diary. “I should warn you up front that my sister has a unique way of journaling. It’s hit-and-miss. Kinda like reading a jigsaw puzzle,” she said, holding up the bulging book.

“Then how did you decide to contact me?”

She removed the well-worn journal from the plastic bag. The cover was faded black silk with a Chinese design of white and pink lotus flowers in gold thread. All four corners were frayed, the stitching along the binding tattered and torn. Bits and pieces of paper stuck out at odd angles. “I’ve marked a couple of spots. If I can find them.”

“What’s all the other stuff?”

“Junk. A horoscope here. Fortune-cookie proverb there. Recipes ripped from a magazine. Photos of people I’ve never met. Even a grease-stained menu from a fast-food restaurant. Things that mean nothing to me but probably have some significance to Sunny.” She couldn’t help seeing her sister, small and lifeless.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and frantically flipped pages until she found the spot she was looking for. “Here it is. The entry isn’t dated but it says, ‘I met my first real-life Texas hero today. His name is Cole Lawry. I have a feeling he’s going to play a huge role in the story of my life.’ Then she drew four curlicue hearts beside your name.”

“Four hearts? Let me see.” He took the book from her and studied the page she’d marked with a newspaper clipping Sunny had saved that showed Tessa and Marci opening their new office. Small-business Consultants Go BIG, the headline read.

He read the passage, which continued on from what she’d read aloud with a dozen or so lines filled with flowery words like magnanimous and gentlemanly. The first time she’d read the excerpt, Tessa had wondered if her sister had copied them from a thesaurus.

He let out a soft whistle. “Well, that’s weird. It doesn’t exactly say anything about having sex, does it?”

She got up and leaned close enough to point out the last line. It was written in teal-colored ink, where the rest of the passage was in black. “I believe she added this later. It references your giving new meaning to the word friendship.”

He frowned. “That could mean anything. No attorney in the world would base a paternity suit on something this flimsy. Did my ex-wife put you up to this?”

“I beg your pardon?” She pulled back sharply, bumping into the bed.

He ran a hand through his hair with an air of frustration. “Crystal’s convinced I have some hidden assets stashed away that she somehow managed to miss when she was taking me to the cleaners. Maybe if I rolled over at the threat of a paternity lawsuit, I’d—”

She snatched the book out of his hand and pointed to the door. “I want you to leave. Now. Forget the DNA sample. Joey doesn’t need a man like you for a dad.”

He blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I made a mistake by reading more into those four little hearts than my sister intended. She’s never been a very good judge of character, but she definitely blew it with you.”

“Hey. Wait. Back up. I’m sorry. I lost it there for a minute. You’re not working for Crystal, are you?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.” He shook his head. “God, I am such an idiot. My sister says I tend to think the world spins for my benefit. She blames herself because she babied me after our dad commit—died. I apologize.”

Tessa took a deep breath to get her temper under control then she walked to the door. “No. You were right the first time. The mistake was mine. My mother tried to warn me. We argued before I left the hospital today. She said this was Sunny’s business and I’d only make things worse by sticking my nose in it. But I’m not the kind of person who can just stand around doing nothing.” She closed her eyes and without meaning to, added, “Watching my baby sister slowly slip away.”

Cole’s ankle began to throb—the way it did when he was upset or pissed off. And at the moment he was thoroughly disgusted… with himself. He had nothing but good memories of Sunny—even though, at the time she worked in his father-in-law’s office, his life had been in chaos.

He stood up but didn’t move to leave. “I’m sorry, Tessa. I blew it a minute ago. My only excuse is that my ex-wife is a piece of work and I could see her doing something like this right before the holidays. Can we start over?”

She shook her head. “There’s no reason to talk about this. Unless you actually were involved with my sister.”

He gently urged her back to the bed. Once she was sitting, he returned to his chair. “Sunny and I were friends. I helped her out of a tight spot when she was staying at the commune up the road. She wasn’t happy, and she didn’t seem to have any options. I gave her some.”

“What kind?”

“A job. A place to live. I advanced her some money, which she paid back. Your sister was—is—a nice person. I hope she pulls out of this.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that, but I guess I need to be blunt. Did you or did you not have sex with my sister?”