When he was small, he’d never really understood what was wrong. By the time they were in fourth grade, he’d had a real good idea of what went on in that house. And then, just when he was thinking that he needed to do something about her situation, his dad struck oil.
They’d moved into their current big house. Months later, Jolene had moved away when her daddy couldn’t pay his bills.
He hadn’t seen her in ages until he’d spied her working at Bronco Bob’s. He’d hugged her tight and kissed her cheek when he figured out who she was.
After that, it was only natural to share a beer. And a couple of shots of Jack Daniel’s. Next thing he knew, their talking led to his truck, which led to her apartment, which led to them getting stark naked and rolling around on the floor for a while.
Hours later, when the taste of Jack had turned sour in his mouth and the reality of what they’d done had hit him hard, he’d been embarrassed.
She’d been quiet.
He’d pulled on his jeans and had left in a hurry. Promised to call.
But he’d been lying, of course. No matter what city or two-bit town he was in, he didn’t call after rolls in the sack. It wasn’t his way.
So when she started calling him, he figured it would be best to ignore those calls. After all, he wasn’t in love. And, well, he was “Trent Riddell” now. That name meant something. He was rich and he was famous.
He did not need some blonde from his past bringing him down.
But that didn’t stop the moments on the tour bus or in his hotel room when he’d remember how sweet kissing Jolene had been. How her eyes had turned all sparkly when they’d reminisced about tromping through the fields back when they were small.
Luckily, it had only taken a couple of hours to not care anymore. Because even though Jolene Arnold had once been his friend and had even for a few hours been his lover … she sure as hell didn’t mean all that much to him now.
Really, she was just a memory.
Chapter Two
“Trent? Trent, you home?” Ginny called out as she let the back door slam behind her.
Trent was just about to answer when another voice rang through the house. “Virginia Anne, I swear, you’re going to be the death of me,” their father bellowed seconds later. “Trent Wallace?”
Trent scrambled to his feet and started toward the kitchen. Honestly, what was it with everyone calling him by his full name today? “Sir?” he asked.
“Look at your sister.”
Dutifully, Trent looked. And then looked again. “Ginny, you’re covered in mud.”
His father cussed, “No shit, Sherlock.”
To Trent’s astonishment, Ginny didn’t even flinch. If anything, she looked about ready to roll out her own list of profanities.
“What happened?” Walking forward, he stuck out his right hand—the one not contained in a brace—and lifted her chin. “Is that a black eye?”
“Uh-huh. But Peter’s got one, too.”
Trent couldn’t care less what some little pip-squeak was sporting. “A boy’s been beating up on you? Dad, who’s Peter?”
But instead of looking worried, Cal Sr. just looked peeved. “Peter is the poor boy who’s become Ginny’s object of affection. She’s been torturing him something awful.” With a grimace, he pulled a pink note out of his back pocket. “Look at this.”
Trent took the paper and scanned it. As he read it again, some of the terrible rage slipped away, only to be replaced by shock and awe. “Ginny’s about to be suspended?”
“Worse than that. She’s about to be kicked out of school for good.”
Turning to her, he raised his eyebrows. “Virginia Anne, what the heck?”
But instead of looking cowed, she stuck up her chin. “It ain’t my fault, Trent.” When he continued to glare, she finally had the sense to lower her chin and the attitude. “Not all my fault, anyways.”
“Not all your fault?”
“Peter deserved it. Some.”
His sister had turned into some sort of itty-bitty bully. “Dad, what have y’all been doing with her? She needs some discipline.”
“Oh, what in the Sam Hill haven’t we been doing?” his dad retorted. “This is an ongoing thing, son. Your brothers and I have been doing the best we can with her. It’s just a challenge, that’s all.”
“Can I go to my room now?” Ginny asked. “I want to go take a bath.”
“Sure, honey. I’ll be in to talk to you soon,” their dad said wearily. When the room was empty, his dad leaned up against the wall and shook his head. “I never thought I’d say this, but I would have preferred five more boys than this one six-year-old girl. She’s going to be the death of me.”
When they were alone, Trent suddenly felt a whole lot less than six feet tall. “Guess I’ve been a little out of touch, huh? I had no idea y’all were struggling with her so much.”
“Don’t feel bad. You can’t help that you weren’t here. You’ve been on the circuit.”
“Since I’m here now I’ll start trying to do more.”
“That’s real good of you, son.” He paused. “I better go make sure she actually got in the bathtub. And think of something to say to that girl.”
Two things occurred to Trent. One, his father didn’t expect him to follow through. And, even if he did follow through, his dad didn’t think he’d be any good. “I’ll go talk to her.”
His dad paused on his way out the door. “Sure you’re ready for that?”
“‘Course. You go relax, now.” He turned and walked upstairs to her room before he changed his mind. After ascertaining that she was in the bath, he told her to holler when she got out.
Fifteen minutes later, he was inside a room covered with enough pink, purple and horses that he felt as though he was living in the middle of some Barbie Dream House.
From the top of her comforter, his sweet-smelling sister watched him approach. “You mad at me, Trent?”
That made him pause. Was he? “I don’t rightly know.”
Obviously puzzled, she scrambled to a sitting position. “How come?”
“Well, your black eye for one. I hate to see my best girl hurt like you are.”
“I’m not your best girl.”
“And why’s that?”
“You’re
