it wasn’t the first occasion she’d lied to make the people of Sweetwater let go of a juicy tidbit.
She and Leanne ought to be used to being the subject of speculation. For their whole lives, they’d been the town’s guilty pleasure. They’d grown up in the same place where people with no other options landed. Christina’s father had been in jail, so her mother worked two jobs to pay the bills, leaving Christina in charge, and Leanne’s grandmother finished raising all but one of her absent son’s kids. Climbing on the big school bus of staring children had been easier with Leanne at her back. Being on the outside never got better, but at least they had each other. And all those good people gossiping in town? Sure, someone ought to do something to help Christina and Leanne, but it was more fun to talk about them behind their backs.
“Brett and them kids are eating out in town ever’ day,” Woody added, “getting lots of sympathy, you know?” Of course he was. Brett was the hero in the story.
That was another constant. Brett Hendrix was a good man, day in and out, without fail.
He also handed down pronouncements like a heavenly judge on high.
At seventeen, Leanne had done the smartest thing she could: gotten pregnant by the class president. Instead of pretending he didn’t know Leanne or weaseling his way out of any responsibility, Brett had proposed.
Marrying Brett had straightened Leanne out and Christina was able to finish high school and even two years at a community college. Things were okay, except Brett never wanted Christina around. At least Leanne had ignored his orders.
Until Leanne messed it all up. Drugs had nearly destroyed them all, but Brett had pulled Leanne out. For that reason, Christina would always consider herself a Brett Hendrix fan.
Even when he made her so mad she wanted to throw darts at a lifelike depiction of his handsome face.
Which was all the time lately.
“I better check my other tables, Woody,” Christina said, the sadness that rolled over her when she wondered what was going to happen to Leanne hard to ignore. Space would make it easier to build her shell again.
“Just come back to me. We can talk about your transportation. Be happy to give you a ride wherever. Retirement’s a true blessing, open schedule for days, don’t ya know.” Woody snapped a piece of charred bacon and chewed.
Christina picked up her order pad and her coffeepot. She moved between the tables, refilling and dropping checks off at tables as she went. There was usually a question about the easiest way to get back to Gatlinburg or where the fish were biting. Directions were easy. There weren’t many choices.
And she always gave the same answer about the fish. It didn’t matter. Fish were notorious for making liars out of people.
She approached the last table in the corner. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked as she slipped a ticket under the cup she was filling.
“How about your phone number?” the bearded guy asked. She didn’t recognize him, but that was normal. People came and went all the time because of the campground. If she had a dollar for every time some guy on his yearly fishing trip hit on her, she might be able to swing another car.
“Sorry. I’m seeing someone.” She gave him a friendly smile and stepped away from the table. When she was younger, she’d fallen for enough charming out-of-towners to learn what a waste of time it was to look for Prince Charming in a man passing through town. Now she went straight for a lie, the easiest brush-off of all.
“Sure have been friendly to the old guy at the counter. Flirting for tips?” he asked. The complete lack of a smile on his face made her a bit nervous.
“No, just an old friend.” Christina tightened her grip on the coffeepot. She’d left bartending for this reason. Give a man alcohol and he was convinced he was the World’s Sexiest Man capable of taking what he wanted at the same time.
Removing alcohol had made confrontations like this a lot less common.
That didn’t mean she’d forgotten how to make a weapon out of whatever was at hand, though.
“I’d like to be a new friend,” he said as he leaned forward. “Besides, heard him say something about somebody stealing your boyfriend. Now, if you can give me her number, I’ll go away. Any woman who could take a man from a looker like you must be the stuff of legends.” He grabbed her wrist as Christina moved to leave.
No matter how she turned her hand, she couldn’t twist free. Setting down the coffeepot to claw at his fingers would leave her with nothing but her pencil as a weapon.
Determined not to cause a brawl at this job, Christina said, “While I do appreciate the kindness, sir, I’ve got to get back to work.” And if I shove my pencil in your eye, I will probably lose this job.
“Feisty.” The guy tilted his head to the side. “Woman like you, dressed like that. Can’t imagine you ain’t in the market for something.” There was no doubt in Christina’s mind that her hot-pink shirt and tight jeans were gone in his mind.
Before she could swing the coffeepot or make a stab with her pencil, Woody eased off his stool, hitched up his belt and said, “You need help, Chrissy?”
The last thing she needed was for Woody to wade into this mess. She didn’t want his injuries on her conscience, and she couldn’t afford a bill for repairs.
Christina moved to set the coffeepot down on the guy’s arm and jerked away as soon as he let go of her arm.
“Oh my. I almost got you.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe how clumsy she was. “I do apologize.” Should she offer to cover his breakfast in order to get him out of there?
What would she do if he returned when the crowd thinned?
Call the cops before his backside hit the wooden seat, that’s what. Being nice as a solution didn’t get more than one shot.
When the guy stood up, she and Woody both shrank back a step. He was big. Of course he was. What rule of nature made it necessary for the biggest animal on the food chain to be the one with the fewest redeeming qualities?
Armed with her coffeepot in one hand and her pencil in the other, Christina squared off. “You go ahead and leave, mister. I’ve got your ticket covered.”
She would much rather lose the ten dollars than the job. And if the guy did come back, she’d gladly shut him down and kiss the diner goodbye. In the meantime, she was no one’s victim. Not anymore.
Before the guy could make up his mind whether to throw his weight around some more or skip out on his bill and count himself lucky, the door to the restaurant opened and the park’s head law enforcement ranger, Brett Hendrix, stepped in.
The relief that swept over her was immediate, yet enraging. He had the same golden glow he’d had as he sauntered the halls of Sweetwater High, everyone’s friend and role model. Why couldn’t he have gained forty pounds and lost all but forty strands of hair? Probably wouldn’t matter. He inspired trust and that would always be attractive.
They must have appeared as if frozen, caught in the instant before chairs started flying, punches were thrown and someone howled in pain, because Brett braced both hands on his belt, his gun holstered but within easy reach, and said, “Oh good. I made it in time for the brawl. I hate to miss the first minute because then I can never follow the rest of the story.”
Christina didn’t exactly relax, because Leanne’s ex was no fan of hers, but he knew right from wrong and never wavered from it.
Brett Hendrix believed there was no gray area when it came to life’s challenges, only seeing things as either totally black or white. It made life hard for those living in mostly those gray areas, especially for Christina. She knew he was a loving father, but she wanted to help her friend, too.
It was easy to hate him for all that, but right now, watching her would-be stalker fold before her eyes, Brett’s