had overcome separation, a miscarriage and Annie’s second marriage. Finally, things seemed to be working in their favor. She was happily—healthfully—pregnant.
“Good. Then I’ll get back to you later. I’m busy.”
“Oh, please. How busy can you be? Mom said you just left the bazaar. This isn’t San Antonio, where you actually have to deal with traffic. Although it doesn’t sound like you’re in your truck. Where are you?”
“Getting gas,” he lied. “Why’d you call?”
“I saw Jake today. When I asked him about the Card, he kinda gave me the brush-off. Have you heard any more about what he intends to do with the place?”
The Wild Card Saloon had never been the most popular bar in town as far as local women were concerned. Partly because the original owner, Lola Chandler—Jake’s mother—had been beautiful, independent and seemingly content to raise her son on her own.
Sadly, Lola passed away when Jake and Cole were in junior high. Her brother, Verne, stepped in to take over the bar and give Jake a home—of sorts—but Jake took off as soon as he turned eighteen. No one had heard from him again until Blake tracked him down to break the news Verne had died and to invite him to the wedding in Vegas. Now he was back in town riding a pricey Hog.
“Are you asking as a reporter for the paper? What makes you think I’d know anything?” Cole asked, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. Annie wasn’t the only one Jake had snubbed since his return.
“Because the two of you were thick as thieves in school.”
“Yeah, well, times change, as they say.”
Annie made a huffing sound. “Men. What’s so hard about sitting down face-to-face and starting a dialogue? Maybe he’s waiting for you to come to him.”
“Yeah? Then he can wait till hell freezes over.” Cole had reached Main. Only one car was parked on either side of the street for three blocks. A white compact. Clearly a rental. “In the meantime, I don’t give a damn what he does with the Wild Card. I’m hosting next week, in case your husband didn’t mention it.”
Between Verne’s death and the big storm that took off part of the roof, the regulars had been forced to find other places for their weekly poker game.
“You don’t even have a table.”
“I will by then. Listen, Spunky, if that’s all you wanted, I gotta go. See you later.” He knew she hated that nickname. Which was why he used it. Gave her something else to stew about.
He turned off the phone and picked up the pace as he headed toward the Longhorn Café. At least Tessa had had the good sense to pick Ed Falconetti’s place for dinner. For a guy from New Jersey, Ed was one heck of a cook—even if his hot dog dinner hadn’t appeared to settle well with Joey, Cole thought with a smile.
Joey. Was there even a remote chance he was Cole’s child?
His ankle gave slightly and a shaft of pain radiated upward, making him stumble. His recovery was graceless, but Tessa’s rental car was close enough to grab, so he didn’t go all the way to the ground. As much as he would have liked to blame his sore leg on Sally and her cats, he knew the underlying cause.
He pushed himself upright and used the key to unlock the driver’s-side door. The sooner he got back to the motel and had a talk with Tessa Jamison, the sooner they could clear up this matter. He had a feeling once she heard his story—and learned about his father—she’d pack up her genetics test and leave.
TESSA PACED about the room the way she did the night before a big presentation. Her business partner, Marci, liked to tell prospective clients that Tessa lived and breathed planning and organization. True. But what had proven a boon to their thriving consulting firm wound up being something Alan, her boyfriend of two years, apparently had felt threatened by.
“Marci may let you run the whole show, and Lord knows your sister and mother never complain about you micromanaging their lives, but I’m a man, Tessa. At least throw me a token bone before you plan every detail of our life.”
She’d considered therapy after they broke up, but ultimately decided there was nothing wrong with wanting to be successful and working hard for fixed goals. Her long-range planning included a college fund for Joey and retirement security for her mother, not something Autumn was likely to create for herself. If a man felt threatened by Tessa’s drive and ambition, then she didn’t need him in her life.
Some people probably considered her materialistic, but Tessa refused to apologize for surrounding herself with nice things, name brands and designer clothes. She loved driving her BMW SUV into her reserved parking space and taking the elevator to her apartment…fourteen floors above the street where she’d once panhandled for change while her stepfather played his guitar. Until he became too sick to hold a chord.
Maybe Alan would have understood if she’d told him the whole story, but there were parts of her past she didn’t talk about. To anybody.
She hadn’t dated since Alan. The idea seemed so pointless. Men either didn’t get her or felt threatened by her drive and success. She imagined she’d scare the wits out of Cole Lawry. Not that he was someone she’d ever consider dating. From what she’d learned about him on the Internet, he was a man who had had it all, then lost it.
“How does someone go from successful businessman to part-time carpenter and volunteer Santa?” she murmured, conscious of her nephew asleep a few feet away. “Honestly, Joey, I hope he’s not your father. You deserve better. He seems like a nice guy and all, but what kind of role model would he be for you? Not as bad as Zeb, of course.”
She pushed the thought of her stepfather away.
“Focus. Focus on the task at hand,” she ordered. “If Cole Lawry isn’t the one, then what next?”
At a soft knock on the door, she hurried across the room to unlock the extra bolt and open the door. “That was fast.”
“Small town. I’d have been here sooner, but my sister called to talk about one of my poker buddies who’s back in town and might be reopening his mother’s old bar.”
“Poker?”
The word tripped something in her memory. When Sunny first returned home from Texas, she went on and on about how much fun she’d had playing in a bar tournament. “I won fifty bucks my first time out,” she’d bragged.
When Tessa asked how much it cost to enter the game, Sunny had admitted the fee was twenty-five. “But I still came out ahead, Tess. And I had a lot of fun playing. So don’t give me a hard time about something you’ve never tried.”
Never would try.
He dangled her keys from the end of his index finger. She couldn’t help noticing how rough and callused his hands looked. “I locked the car. Do you need anything out of it? Your suitcase or diaper bag?”
“I’ll get it later.” She motioned at the small round table near the window. “Tell me about poker,” she said, stalling. Why? She didn’t know. Unless he had a gambling problem that might play a factor in Joey’s future, if he turned out to be the one. “Sunny came home hooked on the game. She made it sound like an organized sport.”
He
