wad of cash. “As I said, the lady’s account has been cleared.” He flattened what appeared to be a fairly large sum onto the counter and casually made his way toward her.
Her pride bristled to have him clear her account, as if he believed she needed him in order to survive. She lifted her chin in defiance. “That wasn’t necessary, Terry. I can pay my own bills.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up as his gaze swept all over her. “Oh, I know you can. It was only a thank you.”
Thank you for what? She eyed him critically, wondering what that was supposed to mean, but decided not to ask in front of Byron.
Terry wore a hoodie, blue jeans, and boots, like many other tourists. Not a fancy leather jacket or crisp slacks. Still, she imagined he had a gun hiding somewhere.
Did Gabe think this was some kind of joke? Why didn’t he say Terry was already here? Now she felt completely trapped and forced to babysit him.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t stop thinking about every little detail since he’d popped into her life almost five months ago. She could only manage to stare at him like a deer in the headlights, unsure how to carry on. After his last visit and no word from him she thought either he was dead, or he didn’t give a shit anymore. She often thought about Terry and how he’d blown into her life that day. Every day his face filled her vision, even as she mourned Tom.
How could she miss Terry as if he was an important part of her life?
She was a traitor to herself.
Still, she wanted to wrap her arms around him and forget her messed up life, even though she was angry by his lack of a phone call.
Maybe she should take Gabe’s money now. It would be what Terry deserved. But then again, that would basically make her a hooker—if her dreams held any weight in the real world. She stared at him, at war with what she should do. How could he show up in her town like this, like he had no care in the world? Were all criminals this casual?
Terry reached a hand out and shook Byron’s. “Terry McCoy.” He eyed the terrified look on her face and smiled. “I’m an old friend of Mary’s. Thought I’d swing by and check up on her, make sure she’s doing okay.”
“Oh, wonderful.” Byron smiled, clueless to how freaked out Mary felt right at this moment, and pumped Terry’s hand enthusiastically.
Mary didn’t know what to do but plaster a smile. “That’s nice of you, Terry.” She eyeballed the sexy criminal and said through clenched teeth, “Totally unnecessary, but kind all the same.”
“Always nice to bump into an old friend.” Byron made his way back to the counter and picked up the bills, completely unaware by the intensity flaring between them.
His eyes widened when he counted the money on the counter. “Friends are a good thing, indeed.”
“Is that enough?” Terry asked, not bothering to look at the man.
“Oh, yes. Absolutely.” He pocketed half the money and put the rest in the register. No sooner than he cleared her account, old Byron picked up the phone. Mary knew damn well he was calling everyone he knew with the news of the widow Billings’ “old friend” with money.
Mary wondered how old Byron would react if he knew who Terry McCoy really was, or what he and his posse were capable of doing. She tried not to think too hard about it and glanced up at Terry with an awkward smile. By rights her shirt should rip open her heart pounded so hard. “When did you get in? Gabriel came to see me, but I—”
Terry pushed her lips shut with his pointer finger. She glared at him, taken back by his audacity, yet powerless to shove his hand away. The heat of his finger sent a little trigger of heat between her legs, and before she could control it, she sighed softly.
He chuckled, his blue gaze soaking her in deep, apparently aware of his effect on her. “I checked in to The Siesta last night.” A thick, manly blond brow arched high. “I kinda like the rustic brown paneling and blue
Her pride bristled to have him clear her account, as if he believed she needed him in order to survive. She lifted her chin in defiance. “That wasn’t necessary, Terry. I can pay my own bills.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up as his gaze swept all over her. “Oh, I know you can. It was only a thank you.”
Thank you for what? She eyed him critically, wondering what that was supposed to mean, but decided not to ask in front of Byron.
Terry wore a hoodie, blue jeans, and boots, like many other tourists. Not a fancy leather jacket or crisp slacks. Still, she imagined he had a gun hiding somewhere.
Did Gabe think this was some kind of joke? Why didn’t he say Terry was already here? Now she felt completely trapped and forced to babysit him.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t stop thinking about every little detail since he’d popped into her life almost five months ago. She could only manage to stare at him like a deer in the headlights, unsure how to carry on. After his last visit and no word from him she thought either he was dead, or he didn’t give a shit anymore. She often thought about Terry and how he’d blown into her life that day. Every day his face filled her vision, even as she mourned Tom.
How could she miss Terry as if he was an important part of her life?
She was a traitor to herself.
Still, she wanted to wrap her arms around him and forget her messed up life, even though she was angry by his lack of a phone call.
Maybe she should take Gabe’s money now. It would be what Terry deserved. But then again, that would basically make her a hooker—if her dreams held any weight in the real world. She stared at him, at war with what she should do. How could he show up in her town like this, like he had no care in the world? Were all criminals this casual?
Terry reached a hand out and shook Byron’s. “Terry McCoy.” He eyed the terrified look on her face and smiled. “I’m an old friend of Mary’s. Thought I’d swing by and check up on her, make sure she’s doing okay.”
“Oh, wonderful.” Byron smiled, clueless to how freaked out Mary felt right at this moment, and pumped Terry’s hand enthusiastically.
Mary didn’t know what to do but plaster a smile. “That’s nice of you, Terry.” She eyeballed the sexy criminal and said through clenched teeth, “Totally unnecessary, but kind all the same.”
“Always nice to bump into an old friend.” Byron made his way back to the counter and picked up the bills, completely unaware by the intensity flaring between them.
His eyes widened when he counted the money on the counter. “Friends are a good thing, indeed.”
“Is that enough?” Terry asked, not bothering to look at the man.
“Oh, yes. Absolutely.” He pocketed half the money and put the rest in the register. No sooner than he cleared her account, old Byron picked up the phone. Mary knew damn well he was calling everyone he knew with the news of the widow Billings’ “old friend” with money.
Mary wondered how old Byron would react if he knew who Terry McCoy really was, or what he and his posse were capable of doing. She tried not to think too hard about it and glanced up at Terry with an awkward smile. By rights her shirt should rip open her heart pounded so hard. “When did you get in? Gabriel came to see me, but I—”
Terry pushed her lips shut with his pointer finger. She glared at him, taken back by his audacity, yet powerless to shove his hand away. The heat of his finger sent a little trigger of heat between her legs, and before she could control it, she sighed softly.
He chuckled, his blue gaze soaking her in deep, apparently aware of his effect on her. “I checked in to The Siesta last night.” A thick, manly blond brow arched high. “I kinda like the rustic brown paneling and blue
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