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Maybe she should tackle his instead. “Do you have relatives in the area?”
“No.” His jaw tightened in punctuation.
Well, she was just batting a thousand. By the time they parked in front of Adam’s Ribs, her appetite was no longer her top concern. What had Keith heard about her? Charity wouldn’t have said anything bad, not purposefully, but the doctor was a friend of Harrison’s. Had her stepfather disparaged her? Was he glad she’d done the sisterly thing by coming home, or did he wish she was still in another state? Treble told herself she didn’t personally care, she just didn’t want any latent tension or awkward moments upsetting Charity this late in a complicated pregnancy.
Whatever bad karma was responsible for her defunct car apparently hadn’t finished toying with her. Feeling borderline apprehensive already, the last person she needed to see the second she stepped into the smoke-scented restaurant was Rich Danner. Now you know that’s not true, Treb. It could have been Mitchell Reyes… But her mind immediately shied away from that memory and the pain associated with it. Rich Danner was bad enough.
He’d been a high school senior, two years older than her, the year her mother had been killed by a drunk driver. Treble had desperately needed solace and felt outside the circle of grief Harrison Breckfield shared with his younger natural daughter. Blindly adoring, Treble had turned to Rich.
More than a decade later and he was still good-looking, she noted dispassionately. Was there no justice in the world? Ex-boy-friends who casually took your virginity, then moved on to college and older girls, were supposed to go bald and develop a paunch. It should be a law of physics. Rich’s black hair was close-cropped, but showed no signs of male pattern baldness. His body was as lean as ever.
Rich had been enjoying a plate of the best spareribs in the state, but looked up as if he’d felt her watching. For a second he was frozen with surprise. Then his lips curved into a slow, meaningful grin. As if he was remembering the “good times” they’d shared.
Good times that had ended one muggy August night. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to wait until we can be together again,” he’d cooed with persuasive and patently false caring. “I’m moving on, and you’ll be here with football games and high school dances you shouldn’t be cheated out of. There will be plenty of guys your age who want to go out with you.” Yeah, especially after Rich shot off his mouth about how willing she’d been in the backseat of his dad’s Cadillac.
Looking away from Rich, she whirled around so quickly she almost collided with Keith, Treble conjured a bright smile and equally bright tone. “It’s been forever since I ate here. What do you recommend?”
“I’m fond of the pulled pork sandwich.” He raised an eyebrow. “I would have you pegged as a woman who liked to decide her own order without advice.”
Pouting prettily, she wagged a finger at him. “Shame on you, judging so quickly. Wouldn’t it be more fun to get to know me? I don’t bite. Well, rarely.”
He studied her, looking unimpressed. “Are you always so…flirtatious with virtual strangers?”
Embarrassment warmed her cheeks, but she refused to get defensive. “That was just joking around, Doc. If I decide to flirt with you, trust me, you’ll know.” Irritating man. She hadn’t been coming on to him. She’d been anxious after his responses—make that non responses—about her family, and seeing Rich had been the toxic icing on the cake. Would it have killed Keith to smile back at her? Surely a guy who looked like this had some experience bantering with women.
“If you decide to flirt,” he said blandly, “give me a heads up so I can be elsewhere. I prefer genuine to calculated feminine wiles.”
No wonder the man was good friends with Harrison. Two like-minded judgmental sticks-in-the-mud.
A gangly teenager with minor acne and major amounts of musky aftershave cleared his throat, making it clear Keith and Treble were blocking the entrance. The doctor mumbled an apology and steered her away with his hand on her elbow. His touch was gentle but seared her skin nonetheless.
She jerked her arm away, then sighed inwardly. Now she probably looked petulant on top of everything else. What if she approached the situation as she would a caller she had inadvertently offended? Debate and sassy comebacks were good for the show, but there was a line she didn’t cross when it came to antagonizing listeners. Why not just try the direct approach?
“Sorry if I was snippy there for a moment.” Unwilling to discuss the family part of how difficult coming home was, particularly when she had a feeling Keith was already prejudiced on the subject, she gave him the other half of the truth. “There’s an ex-boyfriend of mine in here.”
She gave Keith credit for not turning to scope the ex in question, which Alana would have done immediately. Then again, Alana was a friend with a vested interest in Treble; Keith most likely didn’t care.
“Bad breakup?” he guessed.
With aching, unwanted clarity, she remembered crying all night over the one-two punch of losing her mother, then her first love. She’d gone behind Harrison’s back and against his wishes to see Rich; learning that her stepfather had been correct in his assessment had only made her angrier. How could Harrison be so perceptive when it came to a teenage boy he barely knew yet remain so blind about how much Treble needed him?
She swallowed. “Bad enough. I wasn’t trying to use you to make him jealous or anything. I haven’t even thought about him in years. It was just disorienting, walking through the door and…Sometimes we’re not prepared to come face-to-face with our past, you know?”
“Yeah.” He glanced away, but not before she saw the sudden intensity in his eyes.
Her earlier annoyance faded into curiosity. She knew what her issues were. What lurked in Dr. Caldwell’s past that he’d rather not face?
LUNCH WITH Treble reminded Keith of his first-year labs in med school. Part of him had enjoyed the challenge while the rest of him was edgy because he’d sometimes second-guessed whether he knew what the hell he was doing.
Treble’s earlier moment of vulnerability had startled him, leaving him to wonder if he’d imagined it as she effortlessly dazzled the young man working the register. By the time they left the counter with their food, Keith concluded that his companion was as unpredictable as she was gorgeous, which was saying something. The more moods he watched play across that expressive face, the more the full impact of her beauty hit him. Did she know men were watching her as she sauntered across the room?
Of course she does. She paints her fingernails blue and carries bright red luggage. This is not a woman who hides from attention. And yet she’d seemed sincerely nervous about running into some long-ago flame. From her reaction, Keith guessed the guy must have dumped her. Had this ex been the jealous type and didn’t like others checking out Treble? Or maybe he’d been intimidated by her. Or—
“Well, well, well. Looks like Trouble’s back in town.” A man stopped next to Treble’s chair. “Time’s been good to you, darlin’.”
“Certainly better than you ever were,” she returned sweetly.
Or maybe the guy who dumped her was just a jerk, Keith concluded. He didn’t know Rich Danner very well except that the landscaper had moved back to Joyous about two months ago, apparently licking his wounds from a divorce. He’d remarked to Keith that they were the most eligible bachelors in town. “Us and Jason McDeere, but he’s raising a toddler, which puts us ahead in desirability. ’Course there’s plenty of fillies to go around for all three of us.”
Now, Rich was turning green eyes full of apology toward the “filly” he’d let get away. “Don’t be like that, Treb. I was a kid. Teenagers make bad romantic decisions.”
She reached for her sandwich. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Keith grinned at her implication, but the diss had obviously sailed over Rich’s head.
“I knew you’d understand. How about I join you, and we can reminisce about what good times we had before I screwed up?”
“Actually,” Keith interjected, his impulsive words surprising him, “I kind of wanted Treble all to myself for another few minutes before we have to leave. She was fascinating me with stories about her job as a DJ in Atlanta.”
Treble’s eyebrows shot up, but she played along. Truthfully, they’d never once discussed what she did for a living, but Charity had mentioned it. Whereas Harrison rarely spoke of his stepdaughter, Charity was effusively proud of her older sister, her naked affection almost masking her disappointment when Treble missed yet another holiday or birthday at home.
“Sure, buddy.” Rich held his hands in front of him and gave a quick nod of male understanding. “I get it. But, Treble, we’ll have to catch up some other time.”
When they were alone again, Treble said, “Thank you. I don’t need a man to rescue me, but I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth, either.”
“Does everyone born in Tennessee compare people to livestock?”
“What?” Lines of confusion furrowed her brow.
“Never mind. And you’re welcome,” he added. “That guy can get on my nerves.”
She nodded, taking a big bite of her sandwich and letting out a moan of pleasure. “God, I forgot how great Tennessee barbecue is. I mean, I knew I loved it, but this…This is better than sex.”
He squeezed his own sandwich and barbecue sauce ran down his fingers.
If she’d noticed, he would have been embarrassed, but she seemed oblivious, lost in enjoyment of her food. Some of the women in town would have fainted—blushed, at the very least—at having the word sex tossed casually into meal conversation, but Treble clearly thought nothing of it.
She washed down her food with a swallow of soda. “Earlier, you said people ‘born in Tennessee.’ So you’re not a native?”
“Nope. Charity first mentioned you when she heard I’d moved here from Atlanta. I went to med school and interned there. Grew up in Savannah.”
A city steeped in rich tradition and history, Savannah seemed like a good place for ghosts. He preferred to leave his there. In the E.R. of a major Atlanta hospital, he’d found himself dealing with too many reminders, too much trauma. He’d become a doctor because he wanted to save people, but if he’d stayed where he was, he was the one who’d wind up needing saving. So he’d found salvation in the relatively peaceful town of Joyous. He had the practice, real friends. Of course, Charity tutted that he’d be even happier once he found a girlfriend.
“It’s not as if there aren’t willing women,” she’d teased, threatening to count the number of foil-covered casseroles in his freezer.
He’d considered deflecting her interest in setting him up by suggesting she encourage her dad to date instead—Harrison needed something in his life besides control of the dairy business and grueling workweeks. But even though it had been a long time since Charity’s mother died, Keith didn’t push the idea of a replacement romance. Losing family was hard, and Charity had mentioned how much she’d been missing her mom lately.
“I suppose you think it’s pitiful that I called my sister and begged her to come be with me?” Charity had asked.
“Of course not.” The only thing Keith hadn’t understood was why Bill and Harrison had been so shocked Treble agreed. If Keith’s older sister were still alive, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.
“Keith.” Treble’s voice was soft, but persistently inquisitive. “Are you okay?”
He met her eyes, not sure what to make of the woman. Her gaze was filled with what seemed like empathy, hardly the selfish person she’d been painted as in unflattering gossip. He understood better than most the value of a fresh start. Maybe Treble had changed, maybe she’d returned not only to help her sister but to earn her stepfather’s forgiveness for whatever youthful transgressions were in her past.
“I’m fine,” he assured her, “but a lousy lunch date, huh?”
“Well, you won’t be winning any awards for witty conversation, but you’re easy on the eyes, so it balances out.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice conspiratorially. “You do know there’s a blonde in the corner who’s been checking you out, don’t you?”
His gaze darted in the direction she’d subtly indicated, and he spotted elementary school receptionist Dinah Perkins having lunch with two other women. When Dinah caught him noticing, she smiled and offered a small finger wave. Moments later, she and her girlfriends huddled into hushed conversation. Either they wanted to know who the stranger was sitting with Dr. Caldwell, or they already knew and, like Rich Danner, were intrigued by Trouble—er, Treble’s—return to Tennessee.
“Friend of yours?” Treble asked Keith.
“Just a friend,” he stressed.
How long had it been since he’d had a girlfriend? Med school and his stint at the hospital had been hectic, and since moving here he’d been…cautious. There’d been a few dates and a nice weekend when a female friend had come to visit, but if his love life hadn’t completely flatlined, its prognosis wasn’t rosy, either. Eventually, he wanted to find the right woman to make his fresh start complete, but now that he was fitting in, he didn’t want to jeopardize that with social missteps. Citizens gathered round their own, and if Keith broke up with a local girl, he risked becoming an outsider again. Maybe he was overanalyzing, but he hadn’t felt at home anywhere in a long time.
It wasn’t something he was willing to lose.
“About done?” he asked Treble.
She nodded. “I’ve taken up enough of your day. If you can swing me by the garage so I can give the mechanic my keys, you’ll be rid of me soon.”
Standing, she leaned over to grab a couple of napkins and clean off the table. He found himself looking straight into a tempting view of her cleavage. Stop ogling Harrison’s daughter! But forcing himself to turn away was damn difficult.
In one short afternoon, Treble had had more of an effect on him physically than any of the women he’d met in town. Maybe it helped that she had a body that was sinfully perfect, making him think of fallen angels, but he was a doctor. He’d seen lots of bodies, many of them undressed.
The sooner he delivered her to Charity’s, the better.
With the “downtown” area covering only a half-dozen blocks, it didn’t take them long to reach Carter and Sons. Keith had just pulled up to the garage when a mechanic in dusty blue coveralls emerged from one of the open bay doors.
“That’s Ronnie,” he told Treble. “She’ll have your car working better than when you drove it away from the dealership.”
“She?”
There was no need for him to answer since Ronnie was removing her cap. Sleek red-gold hair fell to her shoulders.
“Huh,” Treble grunted. “You know, before you came to get me, I was expecting ‘Doc Caldwell’ to be a good bit older. And Ronnie’s definitely not what I anticipated. Lots of surprises for such a sleepy little town.”
Sleepy? A twinge of foreboding rippled through him as he regarded the woman seated in his truck. He’d watched her varied reactions to Joyous—apprehension over arriving, sassy rebuffs to an ex-boyfriend, nearly sensual enjoyment of good barbecue—but now he wondered how the town would react to her. Treble James looked like a wake-up call waiting to happen.
Chapter Four
Treble stepped down from the truck, shaking her head. She’d always teased Charity over her affection for routine. “Don’t you ever want to mix things up a little?” she’d asked her younger sister.
“Nope,” Charity had maintained. “Predictability suits me just fine.”
At the moment, Treble could use a few less surprises herself. “You’re the mechanic?”
The woman nodded. She was shorter than Treble, their height difference exaggerated by the mechanic’s flat-soled sneakers. Her clear jade eyes were lovely, but Treble wondered if men looked past the freckles bridging her nose and the shapeless, grease-stained overalls to notice.
“Ronnie Carter.” The redhead extended a hand, noticed some black smudges near her fingertips and winced, dropping her arm to her side. “Technically, Veronica. No one calls me that. My brothers use ‘Red,’ but only to make me crazy.”
Keith came around the side of the truck to stand with Treble. At his renewed nearness, her body hummed—it was like static electricity she couldn’t control. Try harder. The good doctor probably wouldn’t appreciate it if she drifted closer and stuck to his clothes.
“Afternoon, Ronnie,” he said. “Treble had some car trouble outside town, and I assured her you were the best in the state at taking care of the problem.”
“Flatterer.” Ronnie grinned at him, but then her eyes widened and she swung her gaze back to Treble. “Good Lord. You’re Treble Breckfield, aren’t you?”
“James. Treble James.” The distance she put between herself and her stepfather’s name was automatic, although at least Harrison Breckfield attempted to stand by his responsibilities. More than she could say for her biological father. “I’m Charity Breckfield’s sister. Er, Charity Sumner’s.”
“Wow. My brother Devin was crazy in love with you in high school.” Ronnie nodded thoughtfully. “I can see why.”
Treble couldn’t remember Devin but hoped she wasn’t awful to him.
“Daniel warned him that a guy two years younger didn’t have a shot.” Ronnie’s tone was matter-of-fact, not vengeful on her brother’s behalf. Good thing. A mechanic wielding a grudge was not someone you wanted tinkering with your engine.
Treble searched her memory for Carter brothers and finally landed on a name, though she couldn’t put a face with it. “Are you related to William Carter? He was in my grade. Salutatorian, I think?” Her high school graduation ceremony was a blur, mostly occupied by plans to leave that summer. Despite the times she’d been sent to the principal’s office for behavior problems, she’d kept her grades up and aced her SATs—college had represented her ticket out of town.
“Yeah, Will was the bookish one,” Ronnie confirmed. “Though you wouldn’t know it to look at him—he’s as hulking as the other two. He went to university in North Carolina and settled there. The rest of us stayed,” she said wistfully. Gifted mechanic or not, Ronnie didn’t sound one hundred percent satisfied with her life.
Well, who is? Treble ignored the impulse to draw out the conversation and brainstorm solutions; this wasn’t a radio broadcast. “So, Ronnie, are you as good with cars as I keep hearing?”
“No. Better.” The woman’s confident smile completely endeared her to Treble.
They chatted for a few minutes about where Trusty was parked, what the escalating symptoms had been before the vehicle died altogether, and where Treble could be reached.
“I’ll call you this evening at your sister’s,” Ronnie said after she’d filled out some paperwork and taken Treble’s keys. “I doubt I’ll have fixed anything yet, but I should at least have an idea of the problem.”
Moments later, Treble and Keith were back in the truck and en route to Charity’s house. Charity had issued several invitations to visit over the years, and Treble might have been quicker to accept any of them if her sister had moved more than four miles away from the Breckfield family manor. Treble wondered if she could ever step inside the ancestral home—built on profits of the century-old dairy—without immediately thinking that it seemed cold. She’d been four the first time she’d visited, once her mother and Harrison were seeing each other, and it had seemed large and drafty. Like the haunted houses in scary stories. It hadn’t improved her opinion that the place was full of antiques and Breckfield heirlooms that she was admonished not to touch.
At least Mom warmed it for a while. With her gone, the place had become positively glacial, full of long, mournful silence and, as Treble grew more rebellious in her teenage years, even colder arguments and chilly words.
“Hey.” Keith’s voice was amused. “I’ve seen people in hospital waiting rooms less nervous than you. Your car’s in great hands with Ronnie.”
“Hmm?” Treble followed his sidelong gaze to where she’d been drumming her fingers on the passenger side windowsill. “Oh, no, I…” On second thought, it suited her fine if he attributed her apprehension to vehicular woes and not her dubious homecoming.
“You what?” Keith prompted.
“I’m sure Ronnie’s terrific. I guess I’m anxious because I know the car’s on its last legs. Or tires, as the case may be. I need it to hold out until I find a house, get approved for financing and close.” The goal warmed her from the inside, and she smiled at the plans she couldn’t wait to start making. Decorating, furnishing, even landscaping. “My apartment’s become a bit claustrophobic over the past year.”
Keith nodded. “For me, the city got claustrophobic. A mentor of mine knew Doc Monaghan and let me know he was looking for a replacement. I’d never even heard of this place, but as soon as I moved…It’s like I could finally breathe again.”
She chuckled wryly.
“Guess that was corny,” he said, sounding more guarded.
“No. No, I was laughing at the irony. I feel free in Atlanta, whereas here I would suffocate.” Under expectations, the watchful eyes of nosy neighbors, the weight of the past.
