Tanya Michaels - Trouble in Tennessee

By the time they’d rolled into town on picturesque streets flanked by storefronts and pink flowering crepe myrtles, Treble was so tense she felt as if her neck muscles might actually shatter. If Keith had noticed, he hadn’t commented. About all he’d done was occasionally bob his head in an endearing manner along to guitar riffs and drum solos. Maybe he was oblivious to her stress, but weren’t doctors trained to be observant? She’d flinched when they’d passed the town limits sign.

Technically it read Welcome To Joyous, Home of Famous Breckfield Ice Cream, but judging from her suddenly clammy palms and the unpleasant way her stomach had flipped, it might as well have proclaimed, Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here. Get a grip, girlfriend. Nothing scares you, remember? Well, except low ratings and spiders. She was only human.

A fan had asked her once if she ever worried about losing her train of thought or not knowing just the right comeback. Treble could say she truly wasn’t too worried about that. Saying something that got her called into the boss’s office the next morning was possible, but speechlessness? Unlike her. In fact, in times of nervous crisis, she usually talked more, relying on her radio persona until she felt balanced again.

She relied on chatting now. “Will you be taking me straight to my sister’s or are we going to the garage first?”

“Your call.”

“I do like an accommodating man.”

He shot her a quick look with those too-dark blue eyes. A shiver—the good kind—rippled through her.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she said.

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Doctors make decent money, even out here. I can afford to keep this to myself.”

“Spoilsport. Do you need to rush back to the practice?” she asked. “I missed lunch and owe you for the ride. I could buy us some barbecue.”

“Not necessary. This was a favor for Charity. But if you’re hungry, I’ll stop and eat with you.”

A favor for Charity. There’d been a protective note in his voice. If her sister weren’t so happily married, Treble might have entertained a twinge of envy. As it was, she found herself curious.

“So…you’re pretty good friends with my family?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She waited for him to elaborate before realizing he’d completed the thought and showed no signs of voicing another. Treble was nothing if not hardheaded, a trait her mother had remarked upon often. “How did you meet them?”

“In a town this size? I’ve met most everyone.”

She already knew he wasn’t as talkative by nature as she was, but now she got the distinct impression he was actually stonewalling her. Did he not want to discuss her family? It wasn’t as if she were a stranger nosing around for Breckfield secret recipes, for crying out loud. She was making small talk. Okay, and prying a little, too, but they were her family.

Maybe she should tackle his instead. “Do you have relatives in the area?”

“No.” His jaw tightened in punctuation.

Well, she was just batting a thousand. By the time they parked in front of Adam’s Ribs, her appetite was no longer her top concern. What had Keith heard about her? Charity wouldn’t have said anything bad, not purposefully, but the doctor was a friend of Harrison’s. Had her stepfather disparaged her? Was he glad she’d done the sisterly thing by coming home, or did he wish she was still in another state? Treble told herself she didn’t personally care, she just didn’t want any latent tension or awkward moments upsetting Charity this late in a complicated pregnancy.

Whatever bad karma was responsible for her defunct car apparently hadn’t finished toying with her. Feeling borderline apprehensive already, the last person she needed to see the second she stepped into the smoke-scented restaurant was Rich Danner. Now you know that’s not true, Treb. It could have been Mitchell Reyes… But her mind immediately shied away from that memory and the pain associated with it. Rich Danner was bad enough.

He’d been a high school senior, two years older than her, the year her mother had been killed by a drunk driver. Treble had desperately needed solace and felt outside the circle of grief Harrison Breckfield shared with his younger natural daughter. Blindly adoring, Treble had turned to Rich.

More than a decade later and he was still good-looking, she noted dispassionately. Was there no justice in the world? Ex-boy-friends who casually took your virginity, then moved on to college and older girls, were supposed to go bald and develop a paunch. It should be a law of physics. Rich’s black hair was close-cropped, but showed no signs of male pattern baldness. His body was as lean as ever.

Rich had been enjoying a plate of the best spareribs in the state, but looked up as if he’d felt her watching. For a second he was frozen with surprise. Then his lips curved into a slow, meaningful grin. As if he was remembering the “good times” they’d shared.

Good times that had ended one muggy August night. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to wait until we can be together again,” he’d cooed with persuasive and patently false caring. “I’m moving on, and you’ll be here with football games and high school dances you shouldn’t be cheated out of. There will be plenty of guys your age who want to go out with you.” Yeah, especially after Rich shot off his mouth about how willing she’d been in the backseat of his dad’s Cadillac.

Looking away from Rich, she whirled around so quickly she almost collided with Keith, Treble conjured a bright smile and equally bright tone. “It’s been forever since I ate here. What do you recommend?”

“I’m fond of the pulled pork sandwich.” He raised an eyebrow. “I would have you pegged as a woman who liked to decide her own order without advice.”

Pouting prettily, she wagged a finger at him. “Shame on you, judging so quickly. Wouldn’t it be more fun to get to know me? I don’t bite. Well, rarely.”

He studied her, looking unimpressed. “Are you always so…flirtatious with virtual strangers?”

Embarrassment warmed her cheeks, but she refused to get defensive. “That was just joking around, Doc. If I decide to flirt with you, trust me, you’ll know.” Irritating man. She hadn’t been coming on to him. She’d been anxious after his responses—make that non responses—about her family, and seeing Rich had been the toxic icing on the cake. Would it have killed Keith to smile back at her? Surely a guy who looked like this had some experience bantering with women.

“If you decide to flirt,” he said blandly, “give me a heads up so I can be elsewhere. I prefer genuine to calculated feminine wiles.”

No wonder the man was good friends with Harrison. Two like-minded judgmental sticks-in-the-mud.

A gangly teenager with minor acne and major amounts of musky aftershave cleared his throat, making it clear Keith and Treble were blocking the entrance. The doctor mumbled an apology and steered her away with his hand on her elbow. His touch was gentle but seared her skin nonetheless.

She jerked her arm away, then sighed inwardly. Now she probably looked petulant on top of everything else. What if she approached the situation as she would a caller she had inadvertently offended? Debate and sassy comebacks were good for the show, but there was a line she didn’t cross when it came to antagonizing listeners. Why not just try the direct approach?

“Sorry if I was snippy there for a moment.” Unwilling to discuss the family part of how difficult coming home was, particularly when she had a feeling Keith was already prejudiced on the subject, she gave him the other half of the truth. “There’s an ex-boyfriend of mine in here.”