Fool Me Once (Bad Boy Romance) Page 3

  She laughed, the black lacy shirt she was wearing over a bright red cami moving with it. She turned to look at me, the streak of red against her black hair almost perfectly matching her outfit. It was on purpose. She always wore black with splashes of red. Mallory’s style had always been on the dark side. When we had gone through our emo phase as teens, she’d stayed in it. She never moved on. Instead, her style had evolved to something that bordered on vampire, goth, slightly rock, a lot sexy and even a little stylish. Mallory marched to the beat of her own drum and I loved her for it.

  “I haven’t yet, but if I have to keep working Saturdays, I just might,” she retorted.

  I burst into laughter. “Mallory, you set your own schedule! Quit scheduling yourself clients on Saturday if you don’t want to work.”

  She gave me a dirty look. “Why would I do that? Then I would have nothing to bitch about.”

  I shook my head. “You are absolutely a mistress of the dark. How are we friends?”

  She winked at me. “Because your Pollyanna attitude would make people sick if you didn’t have me around to tone things down. I’m the Yin to your Yang. You’re a lot to take in with your Miss Rosie Sunshine outlook on life. You need me. People would kill you if they had to suffer your sparkling personality all on its own.”

  I flipped her the bird. “Whatever. You love me.”

  “I do love you. Now, why are you here? Need a cut? Are you ready to take on the wild side and get those streaks of black in your hair like I’ve been begging you to?”

  I curled my lip. “God, no. You are not touching my hair with your paints. I like the blonde.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. It goes with your personality.”

  She went back to her workstation while I browsed through a magazine with the latest hairstyles. I was a loiterer. I often hung out at the salon, chatting with the ladies that came in while keeping Mallory occupied when it was a slow day. It wasn’t like I had a busy personal life that demanded a lot of time and attention.

  “I like this one,” I said, holding up a picture of a long, wavy hairstyle.

  She looked at it. “It would suit you. I can do that for you.”

  I laughed. “I would have nowhere to go that required me to look that fancy.”

  “Isn’t that the truth. Don’t you get tired of this place?” she muttered.

  “The salon?”

  “No, Hope. We’ve been here most of our lives. Hell, you’ve been here all your life. Don’t you fantasize about getting out and seeing the bright lights and the big city?” She sat down in her styling chair.

  I shrugged my shoulder. “I think I used to want to leave, but not so much anymore. I’m happy to be close to my mom.”

  “But imagine going somewhere totally new. You wouldn’t know anyone, and they wouldn’t know you. You could walk into the coffee shop, and the guy behind the counter would have no idea what you wanted. He wouldn’t know your story, where you’ve been or who you are. You could give him any name you wanted to write on your cup,” she said, her voice full of excitement.

  I shook my head. “No, that doesn’t excite me in the least. I like going into the coffee shop and Joe has my coffee ready for me. I like walking down the street and seeing friendly faces. I like stopping to chat with people and catching up with their lives. I like feeling like I belong, like I have a place in this very big world.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I crave change. I crave excitement and adventure.”

  “You should take that vacation you’re always talking about. Save those tips and go to Europe and backpack or just go up the Appalachian Trail. You don’t have to stay here every day, but I do forbid you to move. You can’t leave me,” I told her firmly.

  She giggled. “Come with me.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Our conversation stopped when Betty Mae Rayburn walked through the door. The woman was well-known around town. She was one of the biggest gossips but loved by all. She was kind and sweet and made the best sweet potato pie in the state.

  “Good morning, ladies!” she greeted us in a cheery voice.

  “Good morning, Betty Mae,” I replied with a warm smile.

  “Can you believe how beautiful it is out there today? Oh my, I just love spring!” she exclaimed.

  “It is a very nice morning,” I agreed.

  She walked right over and took her seat in Mallory’s recently vacated chair. “I hear it’s supposed to be a hot summer this year. Are you girls ready for that?”

  Mallory groaned. “Every year I swear it gets hotter and hotter.”

  “Oh, you ain’t seen nothing. Back in seventy-two, it was so hot I swear we all lived in the lake that year. It was just too hot to do anything!”

  I laughed. “Betty Mae, you lived in the lake because you were wearing one of those skimpy bikinis you were known for,” I teased.

  She waved her hand. “I’ve always said if you got it, flaunt and baby, I had it. I had it in spades. The boys couldn’t get enough of me back then.”

  “Oh, we’ve heard the stories, Betty Mae,” I told her with a laugh.

  “You girls need to get your skinny little butts down there. The lake is a great place to pick up boys,” she lectured.

  “That’s the problem, Betty Mae, we don’t want boys. We want men, real men that are ready to grow up and act like men,” Mallory said, getting started on the woman’s silvery hair.

  “Did you hear about Scarlet? She done got herself a fine man,” Betty Mae said in a conspirator tone.

  “The woman who owns the pub?” I asked.

  Betty nodded her head. “Oh yes. She hooked herself up with a nice young man living right here in Hope! They are just the cutest couple you ever did see. The moral of the story is if you look hard enough, you can find them.”

  Mallory shook her head. “There is nowhere to look in Hope. We’ve either grown up with them and remembered when they flicked boogers on us or they are losers living in their mamas’ basements. I want a real man and I know all the men here. I’ll be looking outside of this town for my next man.”

  “Oh, now, you have to give them a chance. It takes the right woman to shine a man up. That’s when all the other ladies start to notice and that’s when you’ve got to stake your claim. You have to look for a diamond in the rough. They don’t come ready-made,” Betty lectured.

  Mallory scowled. “I see no diamonds in the very slim pickings we have around here. I’m going to go to New York or LA and find me a man.”

  Betty made a gagging sound. “City boys are just not the same as the boys down South. Take my word on that. What about you, Evie? Are you looking for a man? You’re not getting any younger and I know your mama wants some grandbabies.”

  I groaned. “I’m not exactly hearing the pounding of my biological clock ticking away. I’m twenty-five. I have plenty of time to have babies.”

  Betty shook her head, earning a glare from Mallory. “You always think you have time and then one day you don’t. Look at poor old Tonya Brown. She thought she had time, now her and that husband of hers are going at it like rabbits to try and have a baby.”

  I burst into laughter. Betty Mae was a very colorful woman and had no problem calling it exactly as she saw it, regardless of society rules and manners.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I assured her.

  “I can certainly keep my eyes open for you,” she offered.

  I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m not looking for anything right now. I don’t mind a date here and there, but I feel like I have a lot on my plate right now. I don’t think I have the time or energy to devote to polishing a diamond in the rough.”

  Betty nodded, but I had a feeling my answer didn’t satisfy her. I could almost see her going through the rolodex in her brain, looking for eligible bachelors to set me up with. We chatted throughout her haircut about the weather and the upcoming town picnic in May. She was of course bringing her famous pie.

  “You’re all done,
” Mallory declared, shooting one last shot of hairspray over her teased silver bob.

  Betty looked in the mirror, fluffing her hair and smiling. “You do such good work, Mallory. Thank you for taking me today. I know you probably have other things to do with your Saturday mornings, but I am just so busy during the week,” she exclaimed.

  “You’re very welcome. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks,” Mallory said.

  After Betty was gone, Mallory started the cleanup process. “She’s quite the character,” I commented.

  Mallory nodded. “That she is, but if you ever do find a man, don’t tell her.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she will make sure every human on God’s green earth knows about it. You will have zero privacy,” she warned.

  I laughed. “I’m pretty sure her network is limited to Hope. If I find a good man, I don’t care who knows. I’ll want to shout it from the rooftops.”

  “If you want a good man, you need to do some traveling. Seriously, you know every man here, is there anyone you want?” she asked.

  I thought about it. “Not that I can think of, but I do not know every man in Hope. I didn’t know Scarlet’s man. The town is growing. We’re not all that small these days.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t see Mr. Perfect strolling into town anytime soon.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand how you function in life when you always have such a shitty outlook on life.”

  “I function just fine. I like to keep things real. Some people don’t like to face reality. I do. I love it and we all know reality is very ugly. It doesn’t involve rainbows and unicorns and a bunch of glitter. Reality is cold, dark and lacking sparkle.”

  “You can live in your dark little world. I choose to see the bright side of things. I’m not saying I’m looking for Mr. Perfect, but I’m not saying I would kick him out the door if he happened to show up. I’m going to let fate lead me where she wants. I’m easy,” I said with a smile.

  She laughed. “That’s what that guy Nathan said.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Hey! That is not true, and you know it. Nathan was an asshole!”

  She was still laughing when the next customer walked through the door. We loved to tease each other. It was how we had always been. We embraced our opposite personalities and made the best of it.

  Chapter 5

  Dayton

  The plane landed in a small town outside Nashville. Coach didn’t want me landing in one of the big airports, worried someone might see me and figure out I was going home. I had my ballcap pulled low and my dark sunglasses on as I strolled to the rental car desks. I had called ahead to reserve a car. If anyone recognized my name, I was prepared to tell them I was taking a few days off and going to a country concert in Nashville. I was known for attending concerts in all the major cities, so it wouldn’t be that far out of the ordinary.

  After picking up the Toyota 4-Runner I would be renting during my stay, I tossed my suitcase in the back using my left arm and climbed behind the wheel. I had removed the sling for the flight and wasn’t going to be able to drive with it on but had promised the team doctor I would put it on as soon as I got home.

  I drove down the two-lane highway, fields in various stages of grooming, getting ready for the planting season. I did miss home—a little—but it wasn’t where I belonged. I felt like I still had a whole life to live and I couldn’t do that in Hope. It was almost two hours before I pulled down the driveway of my parents’ farm.

  I hadn’t told them I was coming and wasn’t sure they’d be home. I wasn’t worried about the door being locked. It was never locked. I parked the SUV and surveyed the property. My dad’s old Ford was sitting alongside my mom’s Camry in the driveway. In the distance, I could see my dad working on the old John Deere tractor that never seemed to be running. He was always working on it. I had offered to buy him a new one and he was adamant his tractor was just fine.

  I looked up at the plain, white farmhouse with the covered porch that could use a fresh coat of paint and sighed. It was home. It was simple, nothing fancy, but it was home. My mom appeared on the front porch, a dish towel in her hand as she stared at me through the windshield.

  I smiled and climbed out of the SUV. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Dayton? What are you doing here?” she asked with genuine surprise.

  “I thought I would come home for a few days,” I said, not wanting to worry her.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I nodded. “Everything is fine, Mom.”

  “Come on inside. I’ll get you something to drink,” she said, which was code for we’re going to sit down, and you will tell me all your secrets.

  I followed her inside, the screen door slamming shut behind me as I followed her into the kitchen. I sat down at the table, waiting for the sweet tea I knew was headed my way. She set down the full glass, taking a seat across the table and looking at me. Waiting for me to spill my guts.

  “I see Dad’s out working on the tractor again,” I commented.

  She smiled. “He loves that tractor. Don’t you dare offer to buy him a new one,” she warned.

  “I won’t. I learned my lesson the first time.”

  “Are you hungry? You look a little thin. You’re working out too hard again, aren’t you?” she said, getting up from the table.

  “I’m not hungry, Mom,” I told her, knowing it was futile.

  She opened the fridge and started pulling out Rubbermaid containers, popping them open and fixing me a plate of leftovers. She returned to the table with some reheated spaghetti and meatballs and a chunk of meatloaf. I loved my mom’s meatloaf. There was no comparison.

  “All right, eat and talk,” she ordered.

  “I messed up my arm and I can’t play for a couple of weeks,” I blurted out.

  She nodded. “How bad?”

  “I don’t know. I’m supposed to rest it and work with a massage therapist to try and get it moving again.”

  “Why here? Aren’t there all kinds of fancy doctors out there in California?” she asked.

  I knew the question was coming. “Because the team doesn’t want it to get out that the injury could be serious. I was asked to lay low for a bit and they will send the doctors to me.”

  She smiled. “You must be pretty special for them to go through all the trouble.”

  “I’d like to think so, but if this is a serious injury, I won’t be special anymore,” I grumbled.

  “Stay as long as you need. You can stay in the mother-in-law house,” she said casually.

  I smirked, shaking my head. “Mom, that isn’t a mother-in-law house. It’s supposed to be your house. It’s bigger and much more modern than this one. I knew Dad wouldn’t leave the farm, so I bought the property right next door.”

  She shook her head. “We like our house, Dayton. We have everything we need right here.”

  “But that house is completely remodeled with a big kitchen. I know you love to cook,” I insisted.

  “I like my kitchen. It’s small and I know just where everything is. How long will you be staying?”

  “I don’t know, may be two weeks, possibly a month,” I told her.

  “I’m happy to have you around. It will be nice having you home. I’ll make sure you get plenty of rest,” she said, patting my hand.

  “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it. Um, also, don’t mention to anyone that I’m home. The idea is for me to kind of keep a low profile,” I told her.

  I heard the screen door slam and knew my dad was coming in. He looked at me sitting at the table, then my mother.

  “I’ll make you something to eat,” she said, getting up.

  My dad sat in the seat she had just vacated and gave me a stern look.

  “Hi, Dad,” I greeted.

  “I saw that interview you gave last week after the game. What the hell was that about?” he asked.

  I raised my eyebrows. “What was what about? Giving interviews is part of my job.”

&nb
sp; He shook his head. “Not like that. Your mother and I raised you to be more respectful than that. You bit that reporter’s head off after he asked a simple, valid question.”

  “Dad, I didn’t, and it wasn’t like that. Being cocky is part of the persona,” I assured him.

  “Persona my ass. You acted like a jerk. It was rude, and it embarrassed your mother and me. We would never allow you to talk to someone like that.”

  “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It isn’t a big deal. Those reporters are used to stuff like that,” I said, feeling guilty.

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if they’re used to being treated like shit. They make you. If they don’t talk to you, you don’t get to be a big star, which is what you’re pining for, right?”

  I nodded. “Yes. It’s a public image. The people that know me, they know I’m not like that.”

  “And you don’t know the reporter or the millions of other young men watching you. They see you, a big sports star, and they look up to you. Do you want the next generation to be a bunch of little punks who have no respect for others?” he asked.

  I shook my head, feeling like I was in the fifth grade and getting called out for making fun of the batter. My dad had always driven home the idea of being a good sport. He wasn’t satisfied with us shaking the other team’s hands after a game. He insisted I tell each player something positive. I had hated it back then, but found it really helped smooth the way when I got called up. It helped me make friends quickly in a world where everyone was after the spotlight and willing to stomp on anyone to keep it shining on them.

  “I don’t want that. I’ll try to do better,” I said in a quiet voice.

  “You can do better. I know you can. I taught you better,” he said, getting up from the table ready to stomp out before my mother stopped him.

  “Dale, take your sandwich. You need to eat something,” she cajoled.

  He snatched the sandwich from her hand and stomped back outside, the screen door slamming behind him. I heard the sound of his boots clomping across the porch and down the stairs. I hated disappointing him.