Lovin' a Good Ol' Boy Page 9

  During the drive through town, Anne was on the edge of her seat—literally and figuratively. Occasionally Buck would comment on what he thought might be a point of interest to her: a church that was over a hundred years old, the youth center, an interstate highway and what cities could be found on either end of it. But at one point he stopped the truck in the middle of the road to talk to a friend who was heading in the opposite direction. He introduced Anne to his friend, who smiled at her amicably. She smiled back, trying not to show how nervous she was getting about the traffic pulling up behind them.

  Granted, it wasn't exactly rush hour in Manhattan, but even for Webster, the drivers in the cars behind them were showing incredible tolerance for Buck and his friend. When they finally waved good bye and started moving again, Anne sank back in her seat and sighed with relief.

  "You know," she said informatively, "if you were to pull a stunt like that in New York, someone would have gotten out of their car and shot you both dead."

  Buck chuckled, and then holding out his hand as if to say it was a very simple matter, he said, "But that's the beauty of it, Annie. We ain't in New York."

  Anne just nodded.

  If you've seen one Steel Wheel, you’ve seen 'em all, she thought as they pulled up in front of the single-story brick structure, with its neon signs and beer displays shining through the windows. It looked very much like some of the bars in New York, Philadelphia, or Boston. It was a relaxed, cozy, let-your-hair-down sort of place that every faction of the working class seemed to adopt as its own. This one just happened to belong to the textile workers of Webster, Kentucky.

  Inside the Steel Wheel the air was cloudy with cigarette smoke and smelled of beer and bodies. It took several seconds for Anne's eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. She felt, before she could see, that their arrival was not going unnoticed.

  Gradually a hush fell over the crowd, leaving only the loud whining of some female country singer on the jukebox to fill up the silence. Only a few of the faces were familiar to Anne. The only conclusion she could come to from their expressions was that Bryce had carried out his mission well. The hostility in the crowd had diminished to suspicion and a wary dislike for her. There was some relief in knowing that they weren't going to jump her if she walked by their tables. She couldn't really blame them for not taking a liking to her. To her way of thinking, aloof tolerance of her presence in their bar was a grand gesture indeed.

  "Hey, you all," Buck called out in a friendly manner, slicing the air with his hand in greeting. "Looks like most of you know who this pretty little lady here is. We're out tonight socializin', just like the rest of ya. So if you got anythin' to say to her that isn't of a social nature, we'd be happy if you'd keep it for another time. But if you'd care to come over and show her what right fine people you are . . . well, hell, I’ll buy the drinks."

  Anne wanted to sink through the floor. Slinking off to a secluded table in one of the corners would have pleased her very much. Buck's announcement to a roomful of people that if they didn't have anything nice to say, to say nothing at all, which drew even more attention to her position in the middle of enemy territory, made her feel exceedingly vulnerable. And yet, in the back of her mind, she registered that Buck was addressing not strangers but his friends, neighbors, and allies. She couldn't help but wonder if she knew any other man who would do the same on her behalf.

  The reaction of the crowd was hard to judge. Expressions were mixed and varied, but within seconds the incident was over. Gradually people went back to doing whatever they'd been doing before Anne's invasion.

  Country music blared as she followed Buck around the bar while he sought out his brother. She was trying very hard not to look as conspicuous as she felt. It didn't work. Buck was well liked—no matter who he associated with—and greeted frequently. He kept trying to hold her hand and draw her into the brief conversations he was having as he passed from table to table, but her discomfort made her back away. It wasn't until after she'd spotted Bryce in the crowd that she realized the uneasiness she was feeling was of her own making. She looked back at the older gentlemen to whom Buck was speaking and saw for the first time that his timid glances toward her weren't filled with displeasure. He was naturally curious, but his demeanor was well disposed and accessible. The man seemed willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, presuming she was a halfway decent person despite her position with Harriman Industries.

  Instantly she warmed to the man and smiled at him. She looked back over the crowd, at the people Buck had spoken to previously, and saw the same willingness to accept her in most of their faces. She marveled at the strangeness of these Kentucky people. These were the same people who had given birth to the legendary Hatfields and McCoys. They knew how to hold a grudge. Still, they were willing to give her a fair chance and judge her on her own merits as a person. Somewhere deep down inside her she hoped she wouldn't disappoint them.

  When they finally sat down at the table Bryce had been guarding for them, Anne was almost relaxed. A barmaid came to take their order. The bar looked well stocked, but Anne knew better than to call more attention to herself by ordering anything other than a cold beer. Actually she liked beer, but it wasn't something she normally ordered in the chic New York lounges and nightclubs she occasionally went to.

  Bryce got up to put more money in the jukebox and Buck moved his chair closer to Anne's, looping one arm across the back of hers and leaning so he could be heard over the music already playing.

  "See. That wasn't so bad, now was it?" His face was so close, she could feel every word he spoke as his breath tickled across her cheek. She turned her head slightly, brushing his nose with hers. Then she smiled and shook her head slightly. His gaze was as intense as hers even when he continued to speak. "Most of these folks are good people. The best. Given half a chance, they could be the best friends you ever had in your life."

  Anne could only nod her agreement. Buck's face was so close, his eyes so intense, his body so warm and big, all she could do was stare back at him. For a moment she thought he might kiss her again. For that same moment she hoped he would. She'd been waiting all afternoon. He'd said he had plans for her, and she had assumed they were similar to the plans her heart and body had for him. But so far he hadn't done a whole lot to reveal that they were on the same wavelength. And frankly she wasn't sure how much more touching and looking she could take from him before she gave in to the tiny tingles and excited muscle spasms and just flat out attacked him.

  He wanted to kiss her. She could tell by the look on his face. And she certainly wasn't doing anything to prevent him. In fact the opposite was true. She did everything in her power, aside from screaming at him, to let him know that she wouldn't object to another one of his kisses.

  She inched herself closer to him. When his glance moved down to take in her lips, she purposefully moistened them with the tip of her tongue, trying to make the simple gesture as erotic as she possibly could, She'd seen the same ploy work a thousand times in the movies. But all Buck did was reach up with his hand, his elbow resting on the table, to play with a thick shaft of her hair.

  "You're about the prettiest thing I've ever seen," he uttered all of a sudden. This was good news to Anne, and she was very flattered, but she truly liked it much better when he was a quiet man of action.

  "You wanna dance, Anne?"

  It was Buck's scowl that tipped her off to the fact that he hadn't asked the question. She looked over her shoulder at Bryce and saw him looking from his brother to her and back again in confusion.

  "Unless you wanna dance with her?" he said, addressing his brother uncertainty.

  "Be my guest," Buck said, opening his arms wide as an invitation but still frowning at his brother. That the final choice was hers alone didn't seem to enter into their picture, and under other circumstances, Anne might have reminded them. But it didn't seem necessary as she'd have danced with Bryce anyway, just because she rather liked the unhappy glower on Buck's face.
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br />   She smiled at both gentlemen, and then let Bryce lead her to the small dance floor in the center of the bar between the sitting area and the pool tables in the rear. Multicolored lights dimly lit the space, on which only four or five other couples were dancing.

  Western music was another thing Anne wasn't altogether familiar with. She'd heard it before, of course, but dancing to it was foreign to her. Bryce started out with a bouncy, rhythmic step that caused Anne great pain when she couldn't move her feet fast enough to keep them out of his way. He quickly realized the problem and grinned at her.

  "Jeez, you Yankees don't know nothin,' do ya?" he said, teasing.

  "I guess not. So teach me," she said, leaning close to his ear and shouting to be heard over the music.

  "Everybody has their own two-step. There's the Texas two-step, the Tennessee two-step—in Virginia they call it a reel. They're all pretty much the same thing, only ours is more fun."

  "Of course."

  Slowly he took her through a series of stomps and small kicks, a step-close-step, then a hop and foot-brushing thing that was hard to get the hang of. She felt clumsy and awkward at first, but wound up in hysterics as her feet continually refused to do as they were told.

  "Okay. Let's do it," Bryce finally said, taking her left hand in his and placing her right hand on his shoulder.

  At first, she was stumbling over his feet and her own as well. But eventually everything seemed to slip into sync, and she gained enough confidence to look up and grin triumphantly at Bryce. He laughed at her. She was so proud of herself that she wanted to make sure that Buck was watching her.

  The next time Bryce turned her in Buck's direction, she looked over at him. Not only wasn't he watching her, he had a woman in his lap.

  "Oops. Sorry," she said to Bryce after she'd viciously trampled on his feet. She had to concentrate on her dance steps again to get back in rhythm but couldn't help stealing glances back at Buck.

  He was smiling and talking to the woman, as if they were old and very good friends. Very good friends. She was wearing tight jeans and a halter top and had long dark hair that covered most of her face and his, as she leaned over to hear him and to talk into his ear. Buck's arms were around her waist, holding her in place, his hands splayed out across her abdomen.

  Anne had to look away. She fought to control a rage she didn't even understand. She knew what it was. She'd felt jealous before. But she had no right or reason to feel jealous over Buck. Something had clicked between them, and they were friends. It was a tentative relationship at best, she told herself. It only made sense that he'd have other friends, other female friends, who'd known him longer and far better than she ever would.

  This all should have made sense to Anne, but feelings didn't always make sense.

  The music ended, and Bryce was about to take her back to the table. Flustered and angry with Buck, herself, and the woman in the tight jeans, Anne excused herself to go to the ladies room to regain some control over her emotions. She was in no condition to face Buck and his girlfriend.

  Once she was sure she was alone, she began to sort out her thoughts aloud.

  "Anne Hunnicut. You stop this right now," she told herself, staring straight into her own blue eyes through the mirror over the sink. "You're acting crazy. You have absolutely no claim on that man out there. You're going to be here a few days, two weeks tops. His whole life is here. He's bound to have a bimbo like that on every corner around here," she said, wishing she'd thought to bring along her own pair of too-tight jeans.

  "Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea what you're asking for?" She gave herself a blank stare. "Trouble. That's what. You'll get involved with this guy, lose your heart to him, and then have to leave. Is that what you want?"

  She looked away as she thought about it. "I can handle it," she said, facing her image once again. "Buck and I are mature adults with—with needs. I’ll only love him a little bit. That's all. And when I go back to New York, I won't have any regrets. I promise. It'll be a beautiful affair to remember."

  She stopped suddenly and gave herself a droll stare. "You're certifiably insane. You know that, don't you? You don't have it in you. The only place you'll ever find a beautiful affair to remember is late at night after the David Letterman show. You'll fall—"

  There was a noise in the hallway outside the restroom door. Anne didn't want to get caught standing in front of the mirror, so she quickly slipped into one of the toilet stalls.

  "See, there's no one here," she heard a woman's voice say, "Come in here and settle down before you blow a gasket."

  "Well, can you believe that hussy? Who the hell does she think she is anyway?" said a second woman, her angry words reverberating off the tile walls. "She waltzes in here like she owns the place, tries to shut down the mill, and then moves in on Buck. I wanna scratch her eyes out."

  "Settle down, Georgia. You don't own him. And it probably isn't anything serious anyway."

  "Oh, yeah? I told him that when he got tired of playin' with her, that he could always come over to my place. And you know what he said?" The other woman didn't have an answer. She was apparently waiting to get one from her friend. "He said that he thought his nights were going to be pretty well occupied from now on, but thanks anyway." She growled and released a squeaky little scream of rage.

  The first woman laughed. "Oh, he probably just said that to get your brassy little bottom off his lap. You know how he likes to tease." There was a short pause. "You know what I think?"

  When the other woman didn't answer, Anne mouthed, "What? What?"

  "I think he's just usin' her. He got her to reconsider lettin' us buy the mill, didn't he?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, maybe now he's workin' on gettin' her to help him with them negotiations."

  "Think so?"

  "Yes. Now you come on out here and act as if nothin's wrong. You'll see. In a couple weeks, when Her Majesty goes back to wherever she came from, everything’ll be all right and tight again."

  "You really think so? Her clothes are pretty tacky and she ..." The voice trailed off as the two women left the rest room, closing the door behind them.

  Slowly, Anne opened the door and walked out. The first thing she saw was her reflection in the mirror. The answer to her previous dilemma was clear in the hurt and disappointment in her face. Was that the plan Buck had talked about? Was all his charm, all those smiles and kisses just bait to get her to help him with his doomed employee-ownership scheme? Was she so gullible that she actually fell for it? Would any one of the men back at the office have been so stupid? If they had been, she certainly hadn't heard about it.

  No one was going to hear about this either. She'd come close, but she hadn't fallen into Buck's clever little trap. She hadn't screwed things up completely yet, and all her mistakes could be easily rectified.

  Buck and Bryce both looked up and smiled as she approached their table. There was a warm appreciative glimmer in Buck's eyes, but it didn't phase her the way it normally would have. The only flush of heat it generated in her came from the anger it fanned.

  "I'd like to leave now," she announced to the men's obvious surprise.

  They exchanged looks of confusion, and then Buck got to his feet. "Is somethin' wrong?" he asked.

  "Not anymore."

  He nodded and motioned for her to precede him, watching her closely. Over her shoulder he asked, "Did somebody say somethin'?"

  "About what?" "About anything. Did somebody say somethin' to upset you?"

  "No," she said flatly, closing the subject to further discussion.

  The ride back to Buck's house was much like the one the previous night. Very quiet. Except that this time it was Buck's turn to be uncomfortable while she was boiling mad, and when she got cold from driving with his window open, she didn't hesitate to tell him. "Close that damn window before I freeze to death."

  Buck hadn't even turned off the engine before Anne was slipping out of the truck on the passenger's sid
e.

  "Annie, aren't you goin' to talk to me at all? Tell me what this is all about?" he asked, sounding perplexed and frustrated.

  "Just please keep the motor running, will you? I’ll be right back," she said, before she slammed the truck door closed and turned to march straight up to the house.

  Seven

  The moon was full and bright, the sky clear. A zillion stars twinkled like diamonds on black velvet, and Anne could have cared less. In record time, she was back at the truck with her packed bags in tow. The only use she had for a romantically glowing moon was to light her way down the front path and away from Buck's home.

  "What's this?" Buck asked, having come around to her side of the truck. His frown deepened with his added confusion.

  "Would you please take me back to McKee's."

  "Yes. But why? Why are you leavin'?"

  "The danger's over. I should have gone back this morning."

  "Annie, tell me what happened."

  "Nothing happened."

  "That's a lie. Something happened, or you wouldn't be actin' like this," he said in total frustration.

  He had a point. And he'd most likely use it until he got an answer he believed, she reasoned.

  "All right. Let's just say . . . that I learned a good lesson."

  "About what?"

  "About. . . good ol' boys."

  "Good ol' boys?" "Yeah. Are you going to help me with these bags or not?" she asked, shifting under their weight.

  "Not. I don't want you to leave. I want you to tell me about this lesson you learned," he replied, leaning against the truck as if he were settling in for the night.

  "Fine. Then I’ll walk," she said. Then as it occurred to her, she added, "How come I don't have my car? I could have followed you here last night, or we could have picked it up today. How come we didn't do that?"

  The question sounded strange even to her, but her pain and outrage had compounded itself to a point where she could hardly see straight. She wanted to cry but didn't want to give Buck the satisfaction. She wanted to hit him but wasn't too sure whether or not he'd hit her back. All she knew for sure was that she had trusted him almost from the moment they'd met, she cared for him, and he had been deceiving her all along. All she wanted now was the privacy of her hotel room, bricks or no bricks, where she could cry and punch pillows as much as she liked.