the wolf whistles accompanied Cardin to the kitchen, the digs, jabs and good ol’ boy ridicule continued around the table. Ignoring the noise, Trey watched over the heads of dozens of customers, his gaze following her until she pushed through the swinging saloon doors, her dark ponytail bobbing as she crossed behind the order window and disappeared from sight.
Only then did he think about breathing again, or respond to the ribbing his crew members were killing themselves over. The group of men he worked with were also his friends. He could take whatever they dished out, could dish it right back, tit for tat.
But he had absolutely no intention of repeating what Cardin had said to anyone, dead or alive. Not when he was about to find out why she’d come to see him the other day at the hauler.
He set down his beer mug, wiped his mouth and hands on one of the towelettes Headlights provided, then slapped the table and got to his feet. “If you boys will ’scuse me, some unexpected business has just come up. I’ll catch up with y’all later.”
“What kind of business would that be, coming up?”
“Sure you don’t need some help with whatever it is?”
“Holler if you do. The wife’s pretty understanding when it comes to helping out a friend.”
“I know your wife, Sunshine. I don’t think she’d be anything close to understanding about you helping out yourself.”
Trey waved one hand and ignored the lot of ’em, winding his way through the tables, dodging serving trays and customers and kids running wild. Kenny Chesney on the jukebox singing about his sexy tractor added to the din. He wanted to catch Cardin before she ditched him for work; with a crowd this rowdy, he figured that scenario was seconds from coming to pass.
At the swinging doors, he gave a smile to the waitress with the big mouth and big hair who told him he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. He looked toward the grill, the fryers, the freezer, the fridge, searching for Cardin…nothing. Staff scurried like ants on a hill, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Her father was, however.
“Hello, Whip.” Eddie Worth was as tall as Trey, as strong as Trey, and sixteen years more clever. His eyes saw all. His keen wit missed nothing. He wasn’t anyone a smart man messed with.
“Hello, Eddie.” Trey shook Cardin’s father’s hand. It was hard to know what else to say when Eddie was obviously well aware of what had brought Trey into the back. “How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been fine.” He held on to Trey’s hand as he added, “Sorry to hear about your dad.”
Though his dad was the one who’d put Eddie in the hospital and there wasn’t any love there lost, Trey acknowledged the condolence with a nod. He’d had six months to put it behind him. “Thanks. It was, uh, rough there for a bit, dealing with the funeral and all.”
“But things are better now?”
Another nod. It was an easier response than explaining what he needed to make things even better than they were.
“That’s good. That’s good.” Eddie crossed his arms, a dish towel slung over one shoulder. “And I hear you’re going to get your place ready to sell?”
Another something Eddie no doubt thought was good. Trey stood his ground. “This economy, it might take awhile, but holding on to it doesn’t make much sense considering I’m never here.”
He imagined his never being here was also to Eddie’s liking. Trey was his father’s son after all.
“Well, I hope it all works out,” Eddie said, stepping back, but adding before he turned to go, “I guess you’re looking for Cardin?”
“I am. Yes, sir.”
“She’s out back.” Eddie gestured toward the door. “Took a load of trash to the Dumpster.”
“Thank you, sir. Good to see you again,” Trey said, then made his way to the exit, feeling the heat of Eddie’s gaze boring into his back. He’d deal with Eddie and Jeb and the cause of the fight with his father later. Right now, he had other things on his mind.
Outside, he found Cardin wrestling a huge black trash bag out of an equally huge gray plastic can. She didn’t notice him there, and as much as he wanted to help, he waited, looking on as she scrunched up her face and rocked the bag side to side, working to dislodge the items wedged against the sides of the container.
He watched the flex of muscles in her arms and shoulders, the tendons in her neck as she tugged. He watched her frustration mount, her frown deepen, her aggravation grow until disgust took its place.
She stopped then, blew a puff of air up at her bangs, stretched her back and groaned. She was still unaware of his presence. He knew that because when she swiped her wrist across her forehead and saw him leaning against the building, she straightened, stiffened and glared.
“How long have you been standing there?”
He liked that she wasn’t wearing her sunglasses this time. Her eyes were so blue, full of such life, and though he’d expected to see anger, he hadn’t been ready for the thrill he saw in them. He wondered if it was a reflection of his own.
“Well?” she prompted.
He pushed away from his perch. “Long enough to see that you could use some help.”
“Just not to offer it?” When he shrugged, she added, “In that case, I’m sorry I wasted the corn.”
“Trust me. The corn was no waste,” he said, making his way slowly to where she stood.
She watched him approach, her fingers tightening on the bag, crinkling the plastic, stretching it, piercing through. The set of her shoulders grew taut as he neared. Her pulse was visible in her throat. “Then brace this here so I can get the trash out and get back to work.”
He stopped in front of her, planted his palms on the can’s rim and used his weight as an anchor, leaning forward into her space. He smelled sunshine, sweat and cooking smoke, and wanted to be closer still. “This is certainly not the reception I was expecting.”
“Sorry.” She jerked the bag free, and hauled it toward her. “I’m not my best when surrounded by garbage.”
The trash in one hand, she climbed onto an empty crate, lifting the Dumpster lid and tossing the bag inside. Once again on the ground, she dusted her hands together, keeping the can between them as a buffer. “Thank you.”
Trey took a minute, cleared his throat. His mind’s eye was still looking up her short skirt and at her black panties. “Can we get to what you need now?”
He could’ve stepped around the can, shoved it to the side and out of the way. He could’ve reached for her the way she’d reached for him that day in the hauler, wrapped her close and finished what they’d left undone that night he’d pinned her against him as long as he could. But this ball was in her court, and he would play by her rules for now.
She considered him closely, dodging his question as if not sure how to answer, and asked him one of her own. “What made you decide to sell your place?”
He
