Читать книгу At First Sight - Tamara Sneed - Страница 12

Whenever Graham and Wyatt wound up at The Bar—capital T and capital B, thank you very much—the only place that could remotely meet the definition of a club in Sibleyville, they usually sat at the bar, joked around with people they had joked around with since childhood, and flirted with the same women they had flirted with since childhood. There was a certain charm to The Bar that even Graham couldn’t deny. It sat just outside the border of Sibleyville on a remote stretch of Highway 2 and attracted farmers and ranchers from over one hundred miles since it had the only live entertainment in the area and the cheapest beers.

Usually, there was a band on stage, with a male singer groaning about heartache and being in love, the place would be packed and the cement floor would be sticky with spilled beer and peanut shells. The Bar’s charm was not necessarily its cleanliness.

The only difference between this night when Graham and Wyatt walked into The Bar versus any other night was that every man in the bar was on one side of the room, every woman in the bar was on the other side of the room and Kendra and Quinn were dancing in the middle. Not just dancing, but… Was striptease too harsh? Both women wore short tight clothes and underneath the bar lights they looked like two goddesses, granting the men of The Bar a special performance.

Wyatt grinned like a man who had found heaven, and stared transfixed at the Sibley sisters. Graham scanned the crowd in search of the other sister. He didn’t see her, not that he would have expected her to be wearing a short skirt in a bar and gyrating next to her sisters, but still… Graham laughed at the roar of male approval as Kendra took her moves to the floor, until she was practically sitting. The singer onstage actually stopped singing to stare transfixed at her.

Meanwhile, Quinn, not to be outdone, was moving her hips in some semblance of an X-rated belly dance while she waved her hands over her head. The only problem—or not problem—was that her already short skirt kept creeping farther and farther up her thighs until… Graham’s eyes widened. A black G-string. The men in the building roared again, while several women stalked out the bar.

Wyatt clamped Graham’s shoulder and his voice was unsteady as he said, “Graham, please, please, please tell me that those are the Sibley sisters.”

Graham grinned, just as the two women turned and spotted him. Both waved energetically, motioning for him to join them. Quinn’s gaze remained on him as she licked her lips and ran her hands over her breasts then down to her slim hips, making no secret of the fact that she wanted his hands to follow the same route. Kendra stepped in front of Quinn, drawing Graham’s attention, and went low to the floor again while gyrating her hips.

Pretending not to notice the looks of pure hatred and envy from the other men in the room, Graham casually waved to the women.

He yelled to Wyatt over the loud music, “Those are the two Sibley sisters I was telling you about. Kendra and Quinn.”

Wyatt cursed softly in appreciation. “Which is which?”

“Kendra is the one who just did the splits. Quinn is the one shaking her behind. Apparently, Quinn is on television.”

“Diamond Valley,” Wyatt said automatically, his gaze still on the women.

“How do you know that?”

Wyatt shrugged in response and seemed no longer capable of conversation. Graham shook his head, realizing that Wyatt was a lost cause, then glanced around the bar once more. Even though the building was packed and the noise level was near deafening, Graham knew he would have spotted the other sister if she had been there. Maybe she had stayed home. Graham frowned at the idea of her staying alone in that death trap she and her sisters had insisted on living in for their visit.

Graham glanced back at Kendra and Quinn. Both women were still watching him. He smiled nervously, suddenly understanding how cows must feel when ranchers stared at them before leading them to slaughter. Both women began to motion to him to join them on the dance floor.

Wyatt gripped Graham’s shoulder and choked out, “One more question, man. Please tell me that you’re taking me out there with you to dance with them.”

“Go out there now, and tell the ladies I’ll be right there with drinks.”

Wyatt actually looked as if he wanted to kiss Graham. Instead, he briefly hugged him then practically ran onto the dance floor. Graham laughed and every other man in the place looked shocked as the women started dancing with Wyatt, whereas before they had turned their backs on all other comers.

Graham walked towards the bar to order a round of drinks and scanned the bar once more. He stopped himself. He had two gorgeous women waiting for him on the dance floor. And, if he played his cards right, he could actually get lucky—something that hadn’t happened, God help him, in six months. And, instead of running onto the dance floor, he was searching for a woman who clearly did not like him, if her look of disdain in the driveway had been any indication.

Graham had just signaled the bartender, when out the corner of his eye, he saw a brown-skinned woman walk out of the bar. Since there were only three Black women in Sibleyville who would have been at The Bar, and two were doing a burlesque number on the dance floor, Graham could guess who she was. Before he even made the decision to follow her, he was making his way through the crowd and towards the exit.

Graham pushed open the door and walked into the cool night air. It was too dark to see much, besides the outlines of the trucks and cars in the parking lot. There was one dim light bulb over the door, but that cast barely enough illumination to see fifty feet in front of him.

Graham finally saw a woman standing on the outskirts of the parking lot, next to a large stallion that had been tied to the wooden fence. The huge horse meant only one thing—Earl McPhee was nearby. Except Earl—all six foot five inches and two hundred and sixty pounds of him—wasn’t just nearby. He was standing in front of Charlie—that was her name!—who was screaming at him, obviously having no idea that she was facing the meanest, cruelest sonofabitch in town. A man that even Boyd Robbins had the good sense to give a wide berth to whenever Earl made one of his rare appearances in town.

Graham muttered a curse and wished he’d had the good sense to stay inside the bar to watch the Kendra-and-Quinn show. Instead, he was about two seconds away from having his ass handed to him on a platter.

“…you have no right to treat this animal that way!” Charlie was screeching at Earl, as Graham reluctantly walked closer. Her breasts were heaving inside the plain white T-shirt she wore, her caramel face was flushed red and her eyes glinted with fire. It was a very inopportune time to notice, but Graham realized that the third Sibley sister was actually decent-looking.

Earl, on the other hand, was even bigger and more frightening than Graham remembered. His forearms were easily the size of most men’s biceps.

“Get out of my way, lady,” Earl growled, towering over her more than the horse did. “That is my horse. I’ll do with him whatever I want.”

“You will not leave this parking lot with this horse,” she responded with such deadly calm that Graham believed her.

Earl, on the other hand, laughed. Or, at least, Graham thought it was a laugh. It sounded so evil that the horse even shuffled his feet in an attempt to get away.

Earl leaned down until he was almost nose to nose with Charlie. “And who is going to stop me? You?”

As Charlie’s eyes widened with fear, something ugly coiled in Graham’s stomach. Graham was not a fighting man. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last fight he had been in, but as Earl towered over Charlie, every one of Graham’s fighting instincts propelled him across the parking lot.

“Charlie, I see you made a new friend,” Graham said, with as much casualness as he could muster, as he inserted himself between Earl and Charlie.

The relieved look she sent in his direction nearly made Graham change his characterization of her from “decent-looking” to “kind of pretty.” He forced himself to turn to Earl, who had impossibly bulked up even more since Graham had crossed the parking lot. He gulped as he remembered whispers years ago about Earl having stabbed a man in a bar fight in Boise.

“Good evening, Earl,” Graham greeted, keeping his tone light. “I haven’t seen you since I’ve been back in town. How have you been?”

Earl growled, “Talk to your woman, Graham. I want my horse, and I want him now.”

“Never,” Charlie retorted, over Graham’s shoulder. She turned to Graham, grabbing his arm. Her grip was a little too tight, but for some reason, Graham didn’t mind. Her eyes were huge and shining in the moonlight as she said, “I saw him…abusing this horse, Graham. He kicked him in the side and then punched him in the face. I will not allow any creature—man or horse—to be abused in my presence. We cannot send this horse home with this monster.”

Graham barely restrained himself from raising his eyebrow at her use of the word we. He also wondered if Charlie should have been the actress, instead of Quinn. She certainly was dramatic enough. Sure, everyone knew that Earl was not the nicest guy around, but even Earl wouldn’t be stupid enough to abuse an animal that he had to rely on for his livelihood.

“Now, Charlie, I’m sure you didn’t see what you thought you saw,” he said, in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “Just give the man back his horse, and we can straighten this all out in the morning. I’m sure Earl would let us come to his ranch and see in the sunlight that this horse has suffered no abuse—”

“Like hell,” Earl spat out, directing his rage at Graham.

Graham was glad that at least Earl was no longer looking like he wanted to throw Charlie across the parking lot. Instead, he looked like he wanted to throw Graham across the parking lot.

Graham focused on Charlie again and fought hard not to be affected by the silent pleading in her eyes. Had any woman ever looked at him like that? Obviously trusting him to do the right thing, to support her?

His hand caressed her cheek before he even realized that he had moved. Her skin was soft. Like a rose petal or something…something really soft. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “It’s his horse, Charlie. We have to give him back.”

Disappointment swam in the depths of her eyes. Graham hesitated. Her disappointment made him hesitate.

“I don’t have time for this,” Earl snarled. “You have five seconds to give me my horse.”

Charlie continued to stare at Graham. Then she bit her bottom lip, chewed on it actually, drawing his attention to how plump and sweet it looked. She looked. That was it. Graham silently cursed again then turned back to Earl.

“Look, Earl, Charlie’s upset and you’re upset. Why don’t we let her take the horse home tonight and, in the morning, I’ll personally deliver him to you. And I’ll throw in a case of beer. Deal?”

Earl’s eyes narrowed with rage. “You’ve spent your whole life trying to talk this town into doing one thing or another, but I’m not falling for it. You don’t control nothing out here, Graham Forbes. I don’t care if you’re on the city council, or if you’re the mayor himself, but I will clean this parking lot with your ass if you don’t get out the way.

“And then after I’ve beaten you into a bloody pulp, I’m going to teach your girlfriend here some manners. I don’t know where you found this one, but you should have taught her that we do things different here in Sibleyville. And little girls do not become involved in grown men’s business.”

Graham stared at Earl for a moment, as anger warred with rage, making him incapable of speech at that moment. He didn’t care that Earl had insulted him. Graham had heard better insults in three different languages. The rage came from the lascivious glare he had sent Charlie when he had talked about teaching her “manners.” If anyone was going to teach Charlie Sibley manners, it was going to be Graham, and he hoped she would love every minute of it.

“You’ve terrorized people in this town long enough.” Graham said, then tried not to laugh at his own canned speech. He had watched one too many Jet Li movies. He could have come up with something a little more clever, or, at least, funny. He didn’t want to get into the first fistfight of his adult life with that corny line hanging in the air.

Charlie’s grip on his arm tightened even more as she rose on her toes to whisper in his ear, “What are you doing? He’ll kill you.”

Graham stopped his glaring contest with Earl and glanced down at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’ll give him the horse, Graham. I don’t want—”

“You said you would never give him the horse.”

“I know, but I can call the animal cruelty society tomorrow—”

“There is no animal cruelty society out here.”

“Have you conferred with your girlfriend long enough?” Earl demanded, rolling up his shirtsleeves.

Graham turned to Earl and silently cursed again. It was obvious that Earl knew exactly what to do in a fight in a dark parking lot. Graham felt a brief flash of nerves. He had been taking boxing lessons in Tokyo before he had to come to Sibleyville, but he had a feeling that Earl would not pull punches the way the trainer at the exclusive health club had.

In fact, as Earl’s fist slammed into Graham’s jaw, Graham realized that his trainer had been treating Graham like a two-year-old. Graham barely managed to stay on his feet as white-hot pain flashed in his jaw.

Charlie screamed then dropped the reins and ran towards the bar. Graham mentally thanked her for leaving him to this humiliation in private. He spat out a bit of blood swimming in his mouth and briefly wondered if his jaw was broken. That pain hadn’t felt natural. He managed to duck Earl’s next compact swing at his face and then get off a swing of his own.

There was a satisfying crunch as Graham’s fist connected with Earl’s chin. Earl mildly shook his head, but to Graham’s utter disbelief and horror, seemed relatively unfazed. And then Graham felt the pain in his own hand from the punch. He barely managed to hold back his own scream. That didn’t happen on television when the good guy hit the bad guy.

Graham heard several female screams. Charlie was running out of the bar followed by her two sisters and every other patron. Graham’s distraction ended as Earl plowed a fist into his stomach followed by another one. Charlie screamed his name and Graham felt a burst of energy as he gave up trading punches and talked Earl to the ground.

Earl and Graham rolled around as the men from The Bar began hollering and whistling, forming a circle around them, just like kids in an elementary schoolyard. Graham deflected Earl’s powerful blows and landed a few of his own that at least slowed Earl down a little bit. The two men scrambled to their feet and Earl managed to land a few more punches. The crowd cheered in approval as one of Graham’s fists plowed into Earl’s nose and blood spewed in one direction. Earl stumbled several steps backwards, prompting a round of applause. For the first time since the fight began, Earl hesitated.

The sound of sirens suddenly rang in the air, and Graham caught a glimpse of the town’s two police cars speeding towards The Bar. Like cockroaches, people began to scatter. Graham held up his fists, prepared to continue, as Earl looked from the approaching police to Graham. Wyatt suddenly ran to Graham’s side, and Graham refused to acknowledge the relief he felt that he wouldn’t have to face the giant by himself again.

“Graham, what the hell is going on? I go to the bathroom and come out to find the bar empty…” Wyatt’s voice trailed off, as he followed Graham’s glare in the direction of Earl and cursed. “Your first fight in twenty years and you pick Earl McPhee?”

Earl abruptly ran towards a parked truck filled with a group of men who looked at each other with horror at the thought of giving Earl a ride. Graham didn’t lower his fists until Earl ordered the driver to drive and the truck sped down the road, away from the police cars. Graham released the breath he hadn’t known he was holding, then collapsed to his knees, drawing in the air that he had been deprived of during the last several seconds.

“Graham, my God, are you all right?” Quinn screeched, running to his side.

“He’ll live. It’s just a few scrapes,” Wyatt muttered, sounding suspiciously annoyed as he watched Quinn check Graham’s injuries.

“Scrapes, my ass. That man could have killed him,” Kendra chimed in, running to his other side.

Graham never thought it would have been possible, but he barely noticed the two women as he stared up at Charlie, who stood next to Wyatt. She sent him a small smile then walked towards the horse. And dammit if that wasn’t all Graham needed to see to make the whole thing worth it.