The Ex-Girlfriends' Club. Rhonda Nelson

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СКАЧАТЬ straight he owed Grady Wilder. And while returning to Hell might not have been on his top-ten-things-to-do list, he’d do it anyway.

      After a lot of blustering and roaring, Grady had finally agreed to let him renovate the house and the barn. Speaking of which…Bennett thought, reaching for his cell phone. He needed to call Ryan Mothershed—his previous employer, his soon-to-be contractor and the only friend he’d kept in contact with since leaving Hell.

      He and Ryan had forged a friendship on the gridiron which had survived despite Bennett’s abrupt enrollment into Badass 101 after high school, as well as his subsequent move out of town. Ryan had participated in a foreign exchange program to England during college and returned with more than a degree—he’d brought back a wife, as well. Bennett often teased him about successfully transplanting an English rose in Hell. They had a little boy—Tuck—and another baby on the way.

      “Mothershed,” Ryan answered by way of greeting. Bennett could hear various saws buzzing in the background as well as the hydraulic whoosh of a nail gun firing.

      “I just rode into town,” Bennett told him.

      “That explains it.”

      “Explains what?”

      “The collective gasp of horror from the old biddies I heard echo through the streets.”

      “Smart-ass,” Bennett groused, chuckling. “So have you looked at your schedule and figured out when you can get started on my renovations?”

      The house needed a little TLC and some updated wiring to competently hold what would be his second office, and the old red barn would house his new shop. In the meantime, there was a small shed in the backyard that would accommodate him. It’s where he’d started, after all. He’d hired movers to transport his must-haves, and barring any unforeseen problems, he should be back on track by the end of the week. In truth, Bennett could have done the majority of the renovations himself, but he simply didn’t have the time. A good thing, he told himself, whether Grady agreed or not.

      “I can have a crew out there Wednesday,” Ryan said. He shouted an order to someone in the background, then swore under his breath. “I just thought you might need a little time to talk Grady around.”

      “Done,” Bennett told him.

      “He’s completely agreed? He isn’t going to give me any trouble?” The last time Ryan had worked for Bennett’s grandfather, repairing a section of the front porch, Grady had positioned his rocker within a foot of the crew for optimum critiquing power. Needless to say, it hadn’t been a positive experience for his friend.

      “He knows that the work has got to be done if I’m going to stay here.”

      Provided he had the right space, he could work here just as well as in Savannah, he’d assured Grady, who’d immediately given up any pretense of wanting to live alone.

      The fact was he simply wasn’t able. Hip replacement had corrected the majority of his physical problems, but getting around was still a chore. Add his failing sight to the mix and he was an accident waiting to happen. Bennett didn’t think Grady needed round-the-clock care, but another warm body in the house would go a long way toward his peace of mind.

      Initially Bennett had tried to talk Grady into moving in with him in Savannah, but he might as well have been asking Thomas Jefferson to trade places with George Washington on Mount Rushmore for all the good it had done. His grandfather had been every bit as solid in his reserve. Hell’s not a bad town, he’d said. You’ll see when you come back. Perspective changes things.

      Bennett didn’t know about that, but he did know one thing. He would not allow anyone the privilege of making him feel like a second-class citizen again. He’d done a lot of growing up over the past three years, knew that he’d given everyone in Hell plenty of reason to treat him like the bad seed he’d tried to live up to as a bitter kid, and later, as a bitter adult.

      But he’d changed, and the difference between the old Bennett Wilder and the new one was simple—he liked himself now. Screw ’em if they didn’t like him. Other than making a few late-in-coming apologies—particularly to Eden, he thought with another mild grimace—he didn’t owe them anything. He was who he was. They could either accept him or not, but it wasn’t going to change his attitude or the purpose of his moving home. Grady deserved better. Hopefully he could simply slip back into town and become part of the scenery. Blend in. Keep it low-key. Be unremarkable.

      That was the plan, at any rate, inasmuch as he had one. Only time would tell if it would come to fruition.

      “You want to meet up at Ice Water tonight?” Ryan asked.

      Bennett knew what his friend was doing and appreciated the show of support, but shook his head. “Thanks, but no.” Walking back into Hell’s infamous watering hole—the gossip hub of the community—the first night he was back in town didn’t coincide with his keep-a-low-profile plan.

      “All right,” Ryan told him. “I’ll see you Wednesday morning then.” He paused. “Happy to have you back, man.”

      Then that made one of them, he thought grimly, but thanked his friend anyway and disconnected.

      Welcome to Hell, my ass, Bennett thought. He damned sure wasn’t expecting anyone else to be happy with his return.

      3

      “DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT son of a bitch said to me, Eden?” Josie Brink screeched as she aimed a loaded. 22 rifle at her quivering husband’s privates.

      Eden rounded the hood of her patrol car and released a weary sigh. “No, I don’t, but you can tell me after you’ve put the gun away. You know better than this, Josie. Don’t make me call the chief. I’ll look like an idiot, and you know he promised to take that rifle the next time you threatened to emasculate your husband.”

      Josie blinked and shot her a questioning glance. “Emasculate?”

      “Shoot his dick off,” Eden clarified.

      Understanding dawned and she nodded, then her eyes narrowed into angry slits once more. She cocked her head. “Yeah, well, after I shoot his sorry ass, I won’t need the gun no more, will I?”

      And there was that, Eden thought, trying desperately to summon patience. This had been the day from hell. Jeb Wheeler had once again been on his cross crusade, stealing the little white memorials which had been placed on area roadsides by loving family members in honor of accident victims.

      For reasons no one could explain, Jeb would periodically troll the roads, steal the little wooden crosses and install them in his front yard. Evidently he thought they made fetching lawn ornaments. Jeb’s pulled his little Arlington again, was the usual call that went out over the radio.

      Eden had spent the majority of the day convincing Jeb to give up the crosses—she was the only person who’d ever successfully talked him into giving them up, which is why she always got stuck with the call—then returning them to their rightful owners. She’d had less than an hour to go on her shift when this call had come in.

      As the only woman on the force, she generally got any calls the guys dubbed “girl trouble.” Sexist? Yes, but given Josie’s current state of mind, Eden couldn’t imagine any of those tactless oafs she worked with being able to handle this one, either.

      “Come СКАЧАТЬ