Back to Texas. Amanda Renee

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СКАЧАТЬ I’ll be— I—”

      “She’ll be with you in a minute. Meanwhile, you can look this over.” The other waitress thrust a menu at him, placed her hands on both of Bridgett’s shoulders and turned her toward the pass-through window. Adam couldn’t hear everything the other woman whispered to Bridgett, but he clearly understood the words, “What the heck is wrong with you?”

      Bridgett swatted the woman away when she offered to take his order instead. He’d had women stumble over him before, but this was different. He genuinely didn’t think they knew him from...well...Adam.

      “I’m sorry.” She returned, her voice interrupting his thoughts. “Let’s start from the beginning. I’m Bridgett, welcome to Ramblewood.”

      She offered her hand. Her skin felt soft as velvet against his callused fingers. Adam wondered if his attraction to her was real or if the sudden freedom to roam where he wished had seduced him. He probably had a ridiculous grin plastered across his face, but he didn’t care.

      “Adam. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Not waiting for her answer, he rose slightly on his stool and leaned on the counter, her hand still in his. “Are the boysenberries really local in the Local Boysenberry French Toast?”

      Bridgett moved closer to him and whispered, “Yes, and it’s to die for...my personal favorite.”

      “Well, on that recommendation—”

      The sound of a woman clearing her throat caused them both to look down the counter. The other waitress stood with both arms full of dirty dishes, one eyebrow raised.

      Releasing him, Bridgett stood up straight and adjusted her apron. “And this is Lark.”

      “Charmed,” Lark grumbled. “Unless you want more gossip floating around, I suggest you two cool it until you find a more private place to ogle each other.”

      “More gossip? Involving you?” Adam asked. Could there be more to the reporter story than Bridgett indicated earlier?

      “She means small-town gossip in general.” Bridgett may have dismissed the question, but Adam caught the slightly aggravated inflection in her voice. The sidelong glance she shot Lark was a clear message for the other woman to shut up. “Where were we? Oh, yes, the French toast. A local farmer grows and cold-pack cans the boysenberries so we have them year-round. Maggie’s boysenberry syrup is incredible. And a few of our pastries have a boysenberry filling.”

      “Maggie?”

      “Maggie Dalton.” Bridgett checked her watch. “She owns the luncheonette, but she ran to the farmers’ market this morning. She should return any minute.”

      Bridgett’s green eyes reminded him of the dew-covered clover he’d seen in Ireland last summer. “I’ll have an order with a side of bacon and a coffee.”

      “Coming right up.”

      Bridgett bounced into the kitchen, her ponytail swinging. Adam swiveled on his stool, checking out the rest of the luncheonette. The complete opposite of the clubs and expensive restaurants he usually frequented. Only a dozen tables and booths filled the narrow space. He’d once enjoyed eating in similar places. Comfortable and cozy. Where everyone knew everyone else. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed those simpler days until now. He’d trade every cent he’d made to have his family back.

      The vibration of his cell pulsed in his leather jacket. He tugged it out of the pocket, powered the phone off and tossed it on the counter. Twenty-four hours ago, Adam had knocked on his parents’ door and pleaded for forgiveness. He probably would have gotten further with them if he hadn’t reeked of whiskey and stale cigarettes. The final night of a tour meant an enormous party for the band and crew. In the spirit of the celebration, Adam had drunk more than he should have. He’d celebrated for a different reason...his final show. Period. He’d decided to quit when another fight had broken out between the bass guitarist and drummer minutes before hitting the stage. Tempers and egos had reached a boiling point and they hadn’t discussed future projects in ages.

      As the band’s front man, Adam knew he needed to let them and their management in on his decision. But he’d rather do it in person. He’d bailed early on last night’s party. Houston had been their final concert—an hour away from his hometown. The fact that he had to be assisted by the limo driver to climb out of the car should have been his sign to wait another day or two. But he couldn’t wait. He had wanted to share his decision with his parents first. When he’d rung their bell at four in the morning, his mother had appeared in the sidelight window next to the door. She hadn’t recognized him until he’d shouted, “Mom, it’s me” loud enough for her to hear. Adam had placed his palm on the glass. Slowly she’d lifted hers, matching his on the other side of the window. She’d held his gaze. The longing and loss etched into her face had broken his heart. Squeezing her eyes shut, she’d mouthed his name and disappeared from view.

      He had repeatedly rung the bell, calling to her. He’d stopped when he heard the deadbolt unlock. His father had swung the door wide, stormed onto the portico and demanded that Adam leave before someone overheard him and called the police. He’d thrown in a “have you looked at yourself in the mirror” followed by the crushing blow “you’re no longer a part of this family.” When Adam had tried to explain he wanted to move home to Katy, his father had cut him short, reiterating that he needed to leave.

      Adam’s jaw clenched at the memory. When he’d arrived at his sister Lizzy’s, she’d been waiting for him, tipped off by their parents. She’d had no choice but to let him in since he owned the house she lived in. Adam had purchased it two years ago, after Lizzy’s ex-husband had beaten the crap out of her. The home was tucked away in a gated community boasting its own security guards. Adam had added an alarm system rivaling Fort Knox to ensure her safety.

      It had irked his parents how he’d provided for Lizzy. Especially when they’d offered her a place to live on their small ranch. Her violent marriage and the traumatic end to her career because of those injuries had almost been too much for Lizzy to bear. Moving in with their parents would have been the final blow to Lizzy’s pride. And although Adam had arranged for a generous bank account for Lizzy to draw on if she needed, she hadn’t touched a dime of his money.

      He’d still been dressed in his fetid stage leathers, and Lizzy had demanded he shower before she’d permitted him to sit on any of the furniture. She had thrown his clothes in the trash can outside and had given him a pair of sweats and a T-shirt her new boyfriend had kept at the house. Determined to convince his family he wasn’t the terrible person they’d presumed he was, Adam had asked his sister to transform him physically into someone more socially acceptable.

      Lizzy may not have approved of his choices, but she’d stood by him when no one else had. She’d offered to explain Adam’s decision to their parents while he wrapped up things in Los Angeles. He dreaded the fallout from management and his fans. But if he wanted his family to take him seriously, he needed to make real changes and put an end to the lies.

      “Cream and sugar?” Bridgett interrupted his thoughts.

      Adam swiveled to face the counter. “Yes, thank you. I guess I’ll need a dog to stay at the Biscuit Shack. Have one I can borrow?”

      “Bed & Biscuit.” The corners of her mouth lifted. “The Biscuit Shack’s on Highway 87 in Boerne—great food. It wouldn’t matter even if you had a dog because it’s booked solid this weekend.”

      “Order СКАЧАТЬ