Page 14 of Wrangling a Texas Hometown Hero

She shrugged. “I probably should quit anyway. It’s getting harder and harder to find a man who doesn’t mind a little smoke swirling around his head after a good roll in the sack.”

A spark of hope that she hadn’t overheard what he and Hallie had been discussing flickered to life. Mrs. Stokes was old and she had been standing a good distance away.

But that hope was quickly doused when she spoke.

“Speaking of rolls in the sack, what were you thinking having sex with Sweetie’s little sister?” She placed the unlit cigarette in her mouth and inhaled deeply. “Even I know that having sex with your ex-lover’s sibling is pushing the boundaries of bedroom etiquette.”

He scrambled for a reply and came up with nothing. Of course, Mrs. Stokes didn’t need one. She had always been good at carrying on conversations by herself.

“Although you and Sweetie were too young to be called lovers. You were just two clueless teenagers fumbling around in the back seat of a truck. I remember my first boyfriend well. Jerry was what young folks now call hot. I loved the hell out of that boy.” She took another deep exhalation and blew out nothing but air. “Or I think I did. Sometimes the sentimental part of your brain takes all your memories and turns the emotions attached to those memories into more than they were.”

He should have kept his mouth shut, but he was damned tired of women telling him what he felt.

“I loved Sweetie.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t. That was Hallie. And I don’t think she was saying you never loved Sweetie. She was saying you never loved her as much as you loved football. I agree with that. You wouldn’t have been the quarterback you were if you’d let romance interfere with the game.” She studied him. “I guess now that you can no longer play, you’re regretting that. But regret is like a pimple. You usually don’t think too much about having it until it’s right there in the center of your forehead. Then the only thing you can do about it is squeeze out all the pus and hope it doesn’t leave a scar.”

She took another puff on her cigarette before she tucked it into the inside pocket of her mink stole. “Now I better get back inside. I don’t care if it is his wedding day, I’m going to cuss Corbin up one side and down the other. No man should ever go through a woman’s purse.” She pointed at him and winked. “Let that be a lesson to you.” She went to walk past him, but he stopped her.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about what you overheard, Ms. Stokes. We both know how hurtful gossip can be. While I don’t plan to stay in Wilder, Hallie is.”

She patted his arm. “I’m glad you care about her. And I won’t say a word. Although Hallie’s not the type to let a little gossip hurt her. She’s got spunk that one. More spunk than an ex-football player who can’t face the people of his town because of hurt pride.” After delivering the verbal blow, she disappeared around the side of the barn.

Once she was gone, he sat down in the old rope swing hanging from the oak tree and released his breath.

Did everyone know he was a loser?

He’d come to the wedding to apologize for being a drunken idiot and he’d only thoroughly convinced Hallie that he was an idiot . . . and that he had used her to fulfill some kind of sick fantasy he had about her sister.

She was wrong.

He hadn’t thought of Sweetie once after the initial shock of first seeing Hallie. Nor did images of Sweetie ever get mixed in with the images of Hallie that kept popping into his brain. A part of him wanted to head back into the reception and tell her that. The other part was too afraid. He was still reeling from her brutal honesty and didn’t think he could take any more.

From her or the rest of the townsfolk.

Besides, she had pretty much told him to hit the road. And she was right. If he couldn’t hide his emotions from her, there was no way he could keep them hidden from Sweetie and Decker.

God, he was pathetic.

Getting up from the swing, he headed for his truck. He didn’t even make it two feet past the barn before he was stopped.

“Hey, Jace.”

He turned to see Melba Wadley. It was too dark to see what she was holding, but he didn’t have to see it to know what it was. Melba fostered abused or abandoned animals and was always trying to find them homes. Jace didn’t doubt for a second that he was about to get hit up.

“You aren’t leavin’, are you?” She moved closer and Jace finally got a good look at the huge black cat she held in her arms. A truly pathetic-looking cat. Its fur was patchy and one ear looked like it had been bitten off.

Jace couldn’t help feeling a pang of pity or reaching out to stroke the cat’s head. The cat immediately pushed against his hand. “Hey, there, buddy.”

“Jelly Roll,” Melba said. “Like the country singer, he’s been through some tough times, but he hasn’t lost his big heart.”

Jace nodded as he continued to stroke the cat’s head. “He seems like a sweetheart. But just so you know, I can’t take him, Mel. Not when I’m not sure where I’m going to be living.”

“Oh, that’s okay. He’s not for you. I have someone else in mind for him. I just wanted to say hi before you took off.” She smiled. “You know if you’re looking for a place to live, Wilder’s a nice town.”

He gave the cat one final scratch before he lowered his hand. “It is, but I’m not quite ready to settle down in one place yet.”

Melba nodded. “Well, when you are ready, don’t forget about us.”

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