tension. They’d always acted as buffers for each other, especially with Anita.
“Just some guy I met at work, Chey,” she called back.
Her sister had plenty of scary stories about the gamblers who frequented the Indian casino. They could get drunk and far too friendly. Or violent. Presley dated bikers, many of whom were ex-cons, so she had more than a few scary stories about them, too. Cheyenne worried about her safety. What they’d endured as children had affected them so differently. Chey wanted to cling to everything that society deemed normal and admirable. She wanted to forget the past and pretend she was no different from the group of friends who’d provided so much love and support since she started high school.
Presley, on the other hand, didn’t resent Anita or how they were raised. She lived fast and loose, a lot like their mother had once lived. The sad part was, Presley was capable of so much more.
“You said it was a private investigator,” Cheyenne said.
“So?” Presley responded.
“Why would he be looking for Mom?”
“I figured it was better not to ask.”
She had a point. Whatever this man wanted was sure to involve a fair amount of humiliation. Anita had long been an embarrassment to Cheyenne. And that made her feel even more guilt. What kind of child was so ashamed of her own parent?
Maybe it was better if they never found out why that man had come to the casino.
2
“Do you think I should ask him?”
Sitting in the passenger seat of her friend’s Prius, Cheyenne pulled her gaze away from Joe DeMarco. Together with his father, he owned the only service station in town. He was facing away from them, standing in one of the auto repair bays, while her best friend, Eve Harmon, got back behind the wheel. They hadn’t really needed gas, but they left the Gold Nugget B and B in the hands of Cheyenne’s kitchen helper to come here as often as possible, hoping to bump into him.
“Of course you should.” Cheyenne forced a smile. It wasn’t easy to encourage Eve to ask Joe out. Joe might be a relatively recent infatuation for Eve, but Chey had had a crush on him since forever. Not that she’d ever told anyone. She was fairly certain it was the best-kept secret in town.
Fingering the thick, knitted scarf tied around her neck, Eve worried her lip. “I don’t know....”
“What do you have to lose?” Chey asked.
“Face, I guess. I want him to ask me.”
“I once heard Gail say he wasn’t interested in a stepparent situation for his girls.”
“He only has them every other weekend. And I’d be a great stepmom!”
“That’s true, but he’s always seen us as his little sister’s friends. Maybe he feels he’s too old for us. For you,” she quickly amended.
Fortunately, Eve didn’t seem to catch the slip. “He’s nice, but…sort of preoccupied when I’m around. I can’t really get his attention.”
As Chey watched, Joe turned, saw her sitting in the car and waved. Instantly, her cheeks flushed hot. That was all it took—a wave. He’d had that effect on her ever since Anita had first carted them into town in her old Skylark. She’d never forget how hungry she and Presley had been that day. While her mother counted out the change they’d scrounged up to buy gas, she’d left Presley, who wanted to stay in the car, and went to the minimart. They didn’t have the money for food. She’d just wanted to look, to imagine what it would be like if she could indulge in one of the many treats displayed on those shelves.
When it was time to leave, Anita had called her twice. Chey remembered because her mother had then shouted for her to “get her ass moving” and thumped her on the head.
Stomach growling, Cheyenne had dragged herself from the Hostess aisle to the door, where Joe had caught up with her long enough to hand her two packages of the Twinkies she’d been eyeing. Embarrassed because she knew they looked as poor as they were, she’d tried to give them back, but he’d insisted the snacks were past their sale date and he was about to toss them.
It wasn’t until she was back inside the car, groaning in pleasure and devouring those Twinkies with Presley, that she’d taken a closer look at the wrappers. The expiration dates hadn’t passed. Neither one was even close.
Cheyenne was pretty sure she’d been in love with Joe ever since that day. Or maybe it was a couple of weeks later, when she first saw him at school. He was a handsome, popular senior, she a lowly freshman, when he’d noticed some kid making fun of her ill-fitting dress. He’d immediately walked over and sent that boy running. Then he’d grinned at her as if he somehow saw the sensitive girl, who’d already been through far too much, beneath the ratty hair and secondhand clothes.
“How’d he treat you at the Chamber of Commerce mixer last night?” she asked, picking at her nails so she wouldn’t be tempted to look at him again. It had broken her heart when he’d married right out of high school. But then he’d divorced and returned to Whiskey Creek and, at twenty-six, she’d been granted a second chance—not that anything had happened in the five years since.
Eve slid the receipt for the gas purchase into her purse. “He said hello. That was about it.”
Cheyenne hated that she was secretly pleased by this report. She wanted Eve to be happy more than anyone else in the world, even if it meant she couldn’t have Joe. Eve was like a sister to her, one she could both love and admire. Eve’s family, the Harmons, had taken Cheyenne in at various points during the past seventeen years. They’d given her a job in the kitchen of the family inn, trained her to cook and let her take over when their other cook moved away. She owed them so much.
Suppressing a twinge of conscience, she attempted to make a joke about the situation. “He should be grateful for your patronage. You come here more than anyone else. He probably wonders what you do with all those bags of chips you buy. He’d be able to tell if you were eating them.”
Eve laughed but sobered immediately. “Do you think I’m being too obvious?”
That was hard to tell. Joe was always friendly. He just never called or did anything else to show special interest—in either one of them.
Cheyenne drew a bolstering breath. “Why don’t you see if Gail will give him a nudge?”
His sister was part of their clique, a clique that had been friends since grade school—except for her, of course. She was fourteen when they moved to town. Presley had been sixteen.
“Gail would love to see Joe marry again,” she added. “Especially someone who’ll treat him better than his ex.” Gail had no doubt been too caught up in her own life to notice that Eve suddenly had a thing for her big brother. A year ago, she’d married a famous movie star who’d been a PR client and had her hands full coping with all the changes that required.
“She and Simon are in L.A. He’s working on a movie.”
“That doesn’t mean she never talks to Joe.”
With a frown, Eve started the car. “No, but…I’m not ready
