Chapter Two
With the persistent rain, one dreary day blended into the next, yet didn’t stop the Christmas season from moving into full swing. The diner stayed busy as soggy, tired shoppers came in to dry off, rest their feet, and enjoy a wedge of Pete’s signature rum cake with a warm drink, either spiced cider or his coffee, the latter renowned to be strong enough to give even the most tuckered-out holiday bargain hunter a second wind. Every stool at the counter was taken and all the tables were occupied, one booth that was a four-top accommodating six, and the line was out the door and around the corner the morning of the Christmas parade the following Saturday. The same had been true for the tree lighting in the nearby town square the evening prior.
All in all, it wasn’t much different than a typical Saturday. Mainly because Dry Creek, North Carolina, her home town, situated about forty minutes north of Asheville along I-26 was a small town, the population barely exceeding five thousand, and it didn’t have much to offer in the way of culinary choices. It was either the McDonald’s off exit 119, Sturgill’s store, which offered only a small deli selection, or Pete’s. If you didn’t want to drive all the way into the city, that is.
That meant the diner was always busy, and Pete was constantly looking for waitresses because with crowds such as these, turnover was high. Tips were decent, the hourly wage not so much, and except for a lull on weekdays between two and four in the afternoon, there wasn’t much chance for a break. But the biggest reason of all was that Pete could be ornery. Okay, downright crotchety if she were honest about it. But after a decade, Dixie was used to it, and Janice, who had been there three times as long, simply ignored him. She was the proverbial duck, letting his guff roll off her back when he threatened to ‘can her ass’ on an almost daily basis.
Personally, Dixie put up with it because opportunities were few and far between in town, she could walk to work, and again, the tips made it bearable. Besides, Pete kind of grew on a person, rather like mold.
“Janice,” she called as she walked through the double doors out of the kitchen. “I’m taking my supper break.”
“Okay, kiddo. I’ve gotcha covered.”
“Everyone has their check except table fourteen. They’re waiting on a to-go order that Dustin has already got fired.”
“No problem. Sit down and take a load off, girlie. You skipped dinner altogether.”
Leave it to Jan to notice. The woman took more breaks than the entire diner staff combined. She smoked, and everyone knew smokers got breaks on a four-to-one ratio to nonsmokers. At time or two, when her feet were aching and the wait for a table was over thirty minutes, Dixie had considered taking up the nasty habit for the sole purpose of getting to pee at least once every four hours, but it was too disgusting to bear even for regular potty trips.
Today, Dixie was pulling a double since the new girl had fallen in the face of Pete’s wrath and walked out on them last night. It also meant by the time a lull finally hit around ten p.m., her feet were screaming, and her belly was gnawing a hole clear through to her backbone. Breakfast—toast and juice—was a distant memory. She had picked up her plate from the window and settled into a vacant booth when the door opened, letting in a burst of cold air. Her mouth was full of cheeseburger when she glanced up at the newcomer. Then she choked, almost inhaling a diced onion into her lungs the next second, such was her surprise at who stood inside the door.
Kyle Prescott, with vivid blue eyes, sandy brown hair, and a killer smile that could melt the panties off a nun.
Dixie hadn’t seen him since his graduation, not in person, that is. She couldn’t have missed seeing him in the headlines of the local paper and on TV. A year ahead of her in high school, Kyle had been an all-state quarterback, class president, and valedictorian. He’d gone on to play football for Georgia Tech, starting as a sophomore. After college, he’d been drafted by Jacksonville as a backup quarterback, but hadn’t made it past two years with the team when an injury to his knee, a torn ACL or something like it, had ended his pro career. After that, she’d lost track.
It wasn’t like she’d stalked her old high school crush, but he was a local boy who’d done well for himself and gotten out of the mountains. This made him a celebrity in these parts, of which there were few. There was Oscar winner Charlton Heston, and Roberta Flack, who hit it big with several chart toppers way back in the seventies and eighties; otherwise, not many of greater Asheville’s native sons and daughters went on to bigger and better things.
And now he’d shown up once again and at of all places, her little diner. Imagine that.
She hadn’t thought of him in… well, about a day. Dixie would have liked to have said he never came to mind, but Kyle was the kind of guy a girl never forgot. For three years, she’d crushed on him, hard, and prayed one day he might take notice. It wasn’t like she was a wallflower or invisible, she was reasonably pretty and semi-popular, but she didn’t run with his crowd. He came from money, his dad some kind of businessman in Asheville, she wasn’t sure what, but he’d gotten a tricked-out black mustang for his sixteenth birthday and had never seemed to lack for anything. Ordinarily, that would have been enough to turn her against him, but unlike the other rich kids, he hadn’t seemed affected by it.
They’d had the same lunch period and Spanish II together, and sometimes he’d ask her about homework assignments. He’d been nice, or so she’d thought until the Monday after homecoming her junior year. It was on that day when her crush had officially ended, and she remembered the event that had done it as vividly as if it were yesterday.
Standing at her locker, she was digging through her book bag for a permission slip that was due to be turned in for a field trip for Mrs. Espinosa’s class. If she didn’t find it and hand it in by sixth period, she’d have to go to regular classes while the other kids were ‘immersing themselves in Latin American culture’ at the fair they were supposed to attend in Knoxville, Tennessee, about a two-hour drive away by bus. Not only would she miss all the fun, food, and culture, she’d have to spend the afternoon in study hall with Mr. Lipper. That was a fate worse than death! The man gave her the creeps. He had a seriously bad comb-over that would give Donald Trump’s a run for its money, and he stared at her, not in a predatory way, but with his lazy eye that made you wonder who he was really looking at. She shuddered and dug deeper.
“She was so hot, she was panting for it. I swear.”
Dixie froze at the sound of the vaguely familiar voice. It was coming from right around the corner.
“Oh, man, and you say you touched her titties? Skin on skin?” a squeaky, pubescent male voice said excitedly. “I dream about those tits.”
“You jack it to dreams of her tits, you mean,” another said and snickers followed.
Although she was disgusted by the crass boy talk, she was glad for the laughter, which drowned out her squeak of surprise. Boys and boobs, is that all they thought about?
“What were they like?” another asked. “Are they as big and soft as they look in a sweater?”
“Bigger, and they felt fucking amazing. The softest pair of tits I’ve ever laid my hands on.”
There was a snort from someone, to Dixie it sounded like whoever it was, didn’t believe this yarn of teenage lust.
“Lucky prick. Dixie Culbertson has the best rack in the eleventh grade.”
Her hand flew to her mouth in utter disbelief as this new voice, one she recognized as belonging to Charlie Ensor, joined in the discussion. Charlie was Spencer Hicks’ best friend.
Suddenly, the vaguely familiar voice that continued to talk about her body and all the things he allegedly had done to it lost its ambiguity. It was Spencer and every word he spoke was untrue. They’d had a date this past Saturday to the homecoming dance, but other than a few dances and a brief kiss good night, he hadn’t touched her. Now, the jerk had the nerve—and sheer stupidity—to stand around the corner from her locker and make up filthy lies about her to entertain his friends.
Furious, she shoved her bag into her locker, ready to take them all on.
“But Spencer here said he was an ass man and that hers was fine. Isn’t that what you said, bud, only the other day? As an ass man, I thought you’d have gone there first.”
Like a fist to the gut, the air left her lungs in a whoosh, because she knew that voice without question. She ought to; she’d been surreptitiously listening to it since she was a freshman. It was Kyle Prescott. Her heart did a little pitter pat that he’d notice her ass at all, but on the heels of the weird exhilaration came bitter disappointment.
If this was how he acted out of earshot, she’d had him pegged all wrong. A boy talking about her ass, or any girl’s for that matter, or about boobs wasn’t surprising, not from any of the sex-obsessed boys in the school. But she’d put Kyle on a pedestal, high above the rest, and with this, he’d toppled from it.
“Kyle, my man, I can vouch that both her tits and ass are fine, but take it from me, her pussy will blow your mind.”
The air rushed from her lungs at the outrageous lie. Spencer had just told them she put out, which was the same as calling her a slut in front of who knows how many boys.
Someone said something else, but it was all white noise to her now. With an enraged squeal of anger, she rounded the corner. Six sets of eyes, wide with surprise, watched as she pushed through the group of jocks, all five foot four of her, to get to deceitful, two-faced snake-in-the-grass Spencer Hicks.
She weighed one hundred fifteen pounds soaking wet, but in her anger had the strength of two pissed-off women twice her size. When Jimmy Owens, middle linebacker for the Warhorses and voted All-District Defensive Team two years straight, didn’t move, she shouldered by him, taking some small satisfaction when he rocked on his heels.
The other guys quit grinning, and crimson heat stole into Charlie’s face as he left Spencer hanging mid-high five. Her jackass of a prom date looked ridiculous with his hand suspended in the air by his shoulder as, unlike his best bud, all color leached from his face. As she approached, Charlie stepped out of the way wisely, and with a shrewd move toward self-preservation, left him to face her wrath all alone.
She came to a stop nose to nose with the lead jerk in the bunch. Or rather, nose to chest because at six feet, he was a good eight inches taller than her. So she stood on her toes and got right in his face. As expected, his bravado shriveled in the face of her anger and he shrank back at least a foot. She wouldn’t allow the retreat, and followed.
“How dare you tell such bold-faced lies, you braying baboon!” Her insult was received by smothered laughter from his crew. Dixie thought this an appropriate slur since he was showing his hind end like one of the old-world monkeys and with his fair complexion, his face had turned a glowing crimson. She could only imagine the rest of him had followed suit and his big baboon’s ass was flushed bright red too.
“Now, Dixie, you must have misheard…”
“Don’t ‘now Dixie’ me. You’re nothing but a giant lie-spewing asshat.” She poked him in the chest, moving him another step. “I didn’t mishear you bragging to your friends about how you scored with me. Or did you forget,” she stuck out her arm and pointed to the nearby corner, “that my locker is ten feet from this very spot?”
His mouth hung open as more muffled laughter rose from behind her. She spun and faced them.
“Tell me something, boys. Does a sisterly peck equal a home run these days?” She spread her arms wide to indicate the group of senior jocks who were enjoying watching their friend squirm. “Surely with all your vast experience with women, you must know.”
Her focus locked on David Parker, the pimply-faced, skinny one who was also the team’s kicker. She didn’t know him other than by name, but he had to be the one with the squeaky voice. Her assumption was proved right when he said in his high-pitched cracking voice, “I gotta get to class.” And with his face as red as a fire hydrant, he practically ran down the hall.
She sent the remaining boys who had been surrounding Spencer, eating up every morsel of his ridiculous lies, a scathing glare. In her book, they were equally as guilty for standing there and egging on the ugly gossip, which had the potential for ruining her reputation. For a girl, being labeled promiscuous was devastating, but it would only elevate the rep of the pathetic boy who was spreading the whoppers to begin with. High school, like life, was unfair, but she refused to let this slide.
Dixie took a step back, once again addressing Spencer, but now facing the entire group.
“Why don’t you tell them the truth, Spence? That the only one who got close to first base Saturday night was me.”
Kyle laughed out loud and her eyes shot to him. Unlike the others, he didn’t wither beneath her icy stare. Of the bunch, he was the coolest, the smartest, and up until now, she’d thought him the nicest too. But her disappointment was beyond profound that he’d be a party to any of it.
She shifted her gaze to her victim, having turned the tables quite handily. He wasn’t spouting bull and bragging anymore. But then Spencer had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, and in a battle of wits, he came unarmed.
“Does it make you feel like a big man to crow about your sexual conquests? How about we tell your buds the real tale of your prowess, stud? In fact, I’ll break it down to jock speak so they all understand. Not only didn’t you make it to first base,” she poked him in the chest, rocking him back on his heels, “you were so tongue-tied from staring at my boobs all night, you struck out at the plate while looking.”
“Ooh,” came a low murmur from a few of the boys.
“And you were such a heart-throb, sweeping me off my feet, that I had to drive.” She gave him another poke and he moved again. “We went Dutch treat at dinner ‘cause you’re a cheapskate and are too lazy to get a part-time job.” Yet another poke and a bigger step; soon he’d be flush against the lockers and have no more room to retreat. “And, when I dropped you off—in my car—at your front door, it was me that kissed you on the cheek to thank you and say goodnight.”
This time both of her palms gave him a shove, the loud bang announcing clearly that he’d run out of real estate. She glared up at him, practically vibrating, she was so irate.
“Why’d you go out with him in the first place, Dix?” Kyle asked, grinning at her with a glint of appreciation. Well, he could forget it. That ship had sailed. Her crush on the all-state QB with a scholarship to play college ball was over. He had already been found guilty by association. If you could judge a person by the friends they kept, he was a loser like Spencer.
“Hell,” he added. “We’ve all been trying to figure it out for days. We know what he’s like. And we know you wouldn’t go there with him.”
“Hey!” Spencer protested.
“Oh, shut up, you pathetic turd.” Her head snapped around to her prime target. “I went out with him,” she said to Kyle while giving Spencer a withering glare, “because his sister asked me to.”
“Holy shit!” one of the boys said under his breath, the others laughing louder. “It was a pity date.”
Spencer was mortified at that news. If she hadn’t been so ticked off, she could almost feel sorry for him. Well… not quite.
“He’d asked out three other girls—” she continued.
“That’s true,” Kyle put in. “I know Ashley, Tracy, and Brianna all said no.”
“Yes, and Sherrie said he was all broken up about it. Then she told me he really wanted to ask me, but was too gun-shy after being shot down by the other three. I broke up with Ryan two weeks ago, so I was free. I thought, what the heck.”
“You said you were excited about going,” Spencer accused.
“What was I supposed to say? I wanted to go to the dance and you needed a date.”
“You used me.’
“No!” I snapped, poking him more sharply. “I was being nice. Don’t try to turn this around on me. I wasn’t the one bragging to my friends about what a stud you were.”
“You mean a dud, don’t you?” She didn’t know who said that, but another round of laughter followed.
“I’m disappointed in you, Spencer. And your sister is going to get an earful.”
“No, Dix, please. I’m sorry. Sherrie’s got a big mouth.”
“Yep. And you should have thought of that before you went shooting off yours. She’s my best friend. I tell her everything. Who she tells from there…” His mother was best friends with her own mom and both women would be fit to be tied. “I was being a friend to you, Spencer. I specifically said we’d go that way when I said yes. I wasn’t using you or leading you on. If this is the way you treat your friends, I feel sorry for them.”
Her attention cut to Kyle, who wasn’t grinning anymore, but looking at Spencer with obvious irritation. Having said her piece, she flipped her long copper ponytail over her shoulder, then spun on her heel and walked away.
She remembered feeling his eyes boring into her as she stalked off. The cool intensity in that unique blue gaze wasn’t something she’d forget. When they had turned on her, all those years ago, her heart had always done a stutter step. As it did now. Only this time, when it skipped a beat and she sucked in a deep breath to steady herself, she forgot she was eating and a sesame seed went down the wrong pipe.
Dixie coughed and sputtered while dropping her burger and reaching for a napkin. Soon, she was wheezing and guzzling her ice water to dislodge what was stuck.
“Miss, do you need help?” The velvety smooth voice that had made her swoon as a girl was deeper now and held twice the power to make her insides quiver. When she didn’t answer, he persisted. “Are you all right?”
She wasn’t sure that she was and shook her head, unable to see him any longer through her watery eyes. A solid thud connected between her shoulder blades and she went flying forward, her hands the only thing keeping her face from becoming a permanent part of the table top, such was the force. But it worked and she drew in a full, although wheezing, breath. It was followed by more coughing and hitches of air, but the obstruction was gone.
Another blow followed and she squeaked, “Stop. I’m good.”
“Ah, you’re able to talk now. A good sign.”
Finally, she managed to blink the tears away enough to look up at him. “Thank you,” she said in a raspy whisper, which was all she could manage.
“Dixie!” Janice cried as she came running up and nudged her rescuer aside. “Dang, girl, you had me scared. I thought you were gonna cock up yer toes and bite the big one before I got over here.”
“Something went down sideways. I’m okay now.”
“Ya sure?”
“Yes.”
“All right, then.”
She took another sip of water as she watched Jan go back to work. The spot where Kyle had been standing was empty. Her heart fell, although for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.
“You look good, Dix.”
She startled, so much that her body jerked, causing her knee to hit the underside of the table and making the silverware jump. Her head twisted to find he had slid onto the bench on the opposite side of the booth.
His expression was amused as he watched her. “You sure you’re okay? You seem rather flustered.”
She cleared her throat. “About dying from asphyxiation tends to have that effect on me.”
“I suppose it would anyone.” He grinned.
Having the full force of his attention focused on her, she couldn’t seem to find her tongue. His amusement increased over that as did the full wattage of his smile. Even Sister Mary Edna down at the corner thrift shop wouldn’t be able to keep her panties dry under the intensity of Kyle Prescott’s gorgeous smile, and Dixie, being far less of a saint, felt her panties begin to melt.
“I’ve got tables.” Actually, she had twenty minutes left on her break, but it seemed like a good excuse at the time.
Reaching across the table, he laid his hand on top of hers. The warmth of his fingers on her bare skin had a paralyzing effect on her and she sat there mutely staring as his gaze dipped to her plate. “You’ve taken one bite. Aren’t you hungry anymore? I could keep you company while you finish.”
Her lust-infused mind seemed to think it a fabulous idea all of a sudden and she could think of nothing she wanted more. So she nodded, feeling another rush of liquid heat to her panty area as he lightly squeezed her hand. Numbly, she stared down at his long tapered fingers and neatly trimmed nails. She caught a glimpse of taupe-colored lace on a black background out of the corner of her eye. The unclaimed umbrella had somehow gotten onto her table and was lying near their hands. Lifting her head, she looked over his shoulder at the coat rack by the door. Only a few coats remained and the hook where the umbrella had hung for weeks was empty.
“What are you doing with that?” she blurted out.
“Pardon?” he asked, his perfect brows climbing up his forehead in surprise.
“The umbrella. Is it yours?”
He laughed. “It’s hardly my style. Someone I know thought she left it here and asked me to stop in on my way and check. I’ve been meaning to swing by and pick it up for at least a month.”
Someone. He meant a woman. Of course he did. As gorgeous as he was, Kyle wouldn’t ever be hurting for female companionship. He hadn’t in high school, going through the elite of the senior class and half the juniors—excluding her. Not that he hadn’t asked her out, but after the incident with Spencer, Kyle and his circle of friends, and any cocky, confident seven or higher on a scale of ten, became the exact type she avoided like the plague. Still did. He spelled trouble with a capital T.
Handsome, charming, the kind of guy every man wanted to be, and every woman wanted to be with—no matter the sacrifice. He knew it and took advantage of it. That he’d callously talk about women in the hall like they were nothing more than a conquest, not a person with feelings or a reputation to protect, but another notch on his belt, made him a horn-dog in her book.
Her daddy had been cut from the same cloth. Ray Culbertson had attracted women like a moth to a flame and her mama had been one of them, when she’d been eighteen. They’d married six months later when she ended up pregnant with R.J., Dixie’s eldest brother. Four more babies had followed in six years, three boys and then a little girl, herself, who was the last. She’d been two when he’d finally had enough and left them.
Dixie was too young to remember her father being there. But she heard the stories about the drinking and the women, of coming home at all hours. Those tales hadn’t come from Mama, though. She’d never said a bad word about him. It had come from her grandparents, her aunts, and from R.J., who grew up exactly like him.
At thirty-six, her eldest brother practically lived at the Rocking Horse, the country western bar on the edge of town. He drank to get drunk, screwed anything in a skirt, and like dear old Dad, caroused until all hours. It had been too much for his first wife, who’d taken their infant daughter and went home to Weaverville to live with her mother. It had happened again with wife number two. Thankfully, they hadn’t started a family when she’d gotten fed up.
Her middle brother, Darrell, never let any moss grow beneath his feet as he moseyed from one bed to the next. Married, single, widowed, he didn’t care as long as he could add a notch for another pussy claimed to his bedpost. They were both carbon copies of their dad.
At least Bobby and Lee, her youngest two brothers, weren’t married. But they went through girlfriends so fast, she’d come out and asked why they didn’t install revolving doors in their bedrooms. That had gotten them high-fives, like it was an achievement when she’d posed that question in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner. Lee at least had seemed embarrassed as she and Mama had glared at the four of them.
Then there had been her friend Cissy’s old man, who had cheated within a year of saying “I do” and while she was carrying her precious baby girl. And she couldn’t forget the four other pregnant girls from her senior class who were left to go it alone after graduation. And Dixie herself had not been immune to the love ‘em, get in their panties, and leave ‘em type. It hadn’t only been Spencer Hicks as he’d bragged so audaciously, but also a boy in college who she thought was different. After a few weeks of getting to know each other, hand holding and sweet kisses, he’d pushed for more and she’d let him in—gifting him her virginity, which was the last time she’d heard from him.
All the men in her life were horn-dogs, especially Kyle. Although she had hoped desperately that he’d be different, he wasn’t. And she’d never forgiven him for playing a part in ruining her junior homecoming, what should have been a fond memory.
Were all men this way, or did she attract jerks like her mama? She’d always wondered. Or maybe, like one of her friends had pointed out, she subconsciously sought them out to continue to prove her theory right. Perhaps it was a self-fulfilling prophesy so when they let her down, as she expected, she wouldn’t be left heartbroken and devastated like her mother was.
“My break is almost over.” She pushed her untouched piece of pie his way. “Here, help yourself. I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Dixie, wait.”
But she didn’t, having already gathered the rest of her untouched meal and slid out of the booth, tray in hand. She heard the squeak of vinyl as he also left the booth. And she didn’t turn at the occasional slap of his wet sneakers against the tile floor as he followed her all the way across the diner to the gap in the counter, which led to the kitchen and dish room in back. Before she could disappear through the swinging doors, he caught her arm and turned her around. The dishes on her tray rattled.
“Until today, you haven’t said two words to me since high school. And it wasn’t from my lack of trying.”
“Do you blame me? In one brief snippet of conversation, I’d heard enough to last a lifetime.” She drew her arm away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Give me a chance to explain.”
“What’s to say? You and your football buddies were talking about my tits and ass in the hallway and what an easy lay I was.”
“You walked in on something you didn’t understand.”
“And I never will. I don’t understand treating any woman like a piece of meat.”
“I’ve always regretted not having a chance to explain what went on that day. And you do have a nice ass, Dix. The truth doesn’t hide that fact.”
“Gee, thanks. I can now die happy knowing that you think I’ve got a great ass.”
“I said nice, baby,” he corrected with a teasing grin, “but upon further review, I could go with great.”
Her face flooded with heat. “Goodbye, Kyle.”
“Wait, I shouldn’t have tried joking to ease the tension.”
She stared at him, deadpan.
“Damn! I’m screwing this up. Give me a minute to explain.”
This time when she tried to pull free, the bells on the front door jangled. They both glanced up as a large, boisterous group of women walked in. It was enough of a distraction to twist out of his grasp and she sailed through the kitchen doors, not looking back.
She was spraying off her plate and loading it into the dish machine with the rest, when Janice came in a few minutes later. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You getting into it out front with hottie Kyle Prescott, MD.”
Her eyes came up at this revelation. “He’s a doctor? Do you know him?”
“Babe! Everyone in the Western Carolinas and East Tennessee knows him.”
“Yeah, well, we went to high school together. He’s not all that and the bag of chips people think he is.”
“Yeah… he is. And not only because he’s a bone doctor that travels abroad to fix up poor kids in foreign countries with birth defects. You know, like clubbed feet and that spinal deformity.”
“Spina bifida?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Plus, he’s hot and rich, and did I mention hot? Don’t know about you, but that’s a whole case of all that and a bag of chips, to me.”
Dixie didn’t reply. Last she’d heard, Kyle was a hotshot football player, nothing more. But the articles she’d read hadn’t focused on much more than stats, passing records, and his signing bonus.
“You didn’t know? Don’t you read the papers?”
Frowning, she shook her head. “I stopped getting it a few years ago.” About the same time Kyle was injured, and left the NFL and the spotlight.
“Any girl would kill to sit down in a cozy booth with Dr. Kyle. What’s wrong with you?”
She scowled at her friend. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m simply not interested.”
“Not interested in handsome and sexy? Not interested in generous and kind? Not interested in an eight- or nine-figure inheritance?”
“I don’t care if he’s rich, Jan.”
“So says the girl with student loan debt out her ass and no degree to show for it, working five or six days a week, and most of those pulling double shifts to make ends meet.”
“It’s not as bad as all that.”
Janice stared at her for a moment. “Will you be getting in that car of yours to get home tonight or are you walking in freezing temperatures because it got repossessed when you couldn’t keep up with the payments?”
“So what should I do? Jump his bones and spread for him to get access to his trust fund? Geez, Jan, that’s rather mercenary even coming from you.”
“Only way you’re gonna see the light of day in this Podunk town, babe.”
“Hey!” The bellow came from Pete, who was glaring at them through the order window. “You girls working tonight or did I miss my invite to the hen party?”
“Coming,” Dixie called. To Janice, she whispered, “Please, don’t talk to me about the good doctor. We have a history that I don’t care to get into. Just know that the boy I knew couldn’t have possibly disappeared with a poof and been replaced by a philanthropic angel. He’s still in there, believe me.”
“Whatever you say, girlfriend.”