Chapter Nine
Ella’s car rolled into a parking space a few feet from the back entrance of The Cowboy Corral. Smoke rose from the edges of the hood. The glow of the headlights interrupted a couple in a passionate kiss. A loud, whistling crack rattled the car. Ella gripped the steering wheel with all the strength she had left. The lights died. The engine shook, sputtered, and took its last breath. She moved her foot to the brake, but the wheels stopped spinning. The car had found a place to rest. Shifting the gear to Park seemed fruitless, but she did it anyway.
Ella climbed out of the car and stared at the vehicle that should have lasted another four years. The damn thing seemed to laugh at her. One more “fuck you” in a day chock-full of them. She turned away from the car and everything it symbolized. Two drinks with the girls and then I’ll deal with the car.
Dinner plans developed into after-dinner drinks that turned into an attempt to make it there before they gave up on her and left. Maddie and Josie insisted they weren’t leaving until she arrived. There was a slim chance Maddie and Josie had stayed even though she arrived hours late.
She walked with an acid-filled gut of insecurity into Cade’s bar. If she hadn’t promised Maddie she’d be there, she wouldn’t have come, not after the shitty day she had, not after the week from hell.
She had cried on the phone to more customer relations people at the utility company than she could count before they agreed to turn her power on in her house today. She and the boys had been living without utilities for a week. After paying late fees, and penalties, she still owed more than she thought she’d ever be able to repay without taking out a personal loan or selling her house. Out of options, she had to put the house on the market and sell it quickly.
She couldn’t get a damn break, but her neighbor in the house next door could. Out of nowhere, they won some kind of random gift of one year of free utilities earlier that week. She needed a freaking random gift of free utilities, not her wealthy neighbors.
She weaved through the dense crowd of couples to the bathroom. She was ready to let down her hair, and reapply the makeup she cried off in the car on the way here. She wanted a drink of whiskey for the first time in a long time, and tonight of all nights she deserved to indulge in one or two.
A tall blonde swung open the door and headed straight for the bathroom stall.
“Thank God it doesn’t smell bad in here anymore.”
“Yeah,” Ella said. “I heard they had some issues with the cleaning service.”
She turned on the cold water and splashed her face. Yep, I’m having a drink tonight. She had enough cash for two drinks and a decent tip for the bartender. She hadn’t seen her friends at any of the tables, but they were probably on the dance floor having fun with the way the place was hopping. The girls wouldn’t have left her tonight when they insisted she come out. At least she hoped not.
“Have you seen the owner?” the woman asked.
“Nope.” She hadn’t spoken to Cade since he dropped her off at Maddie’s Tuesday morning, not that she had time to talk with work keeping her busy. Hearing his voice while he was out of town would have been nice instead of the few sterile texts she received. Texts that clearly stated he only wanted her in the friend category which screwed her in more ways than her heart. She never should have got sucked into that weekend with him.
She grabbed two paper towels from the dispenser and patted her face dry. She opened up her black leather purse, pulled out some essentials, and began applying makeup.
The toilet flushed and the blonde walked out as Ella finished putting on mascara.
“Mrs. Kellen?” Ella asked.
The woman tilted her head and took a closer look at Ella.
“Mrs. Winthrop?”
“Yes,” she said. “You can call me Ella. How are you?”
She didn’t want to talk, but she didn’t want to be impolite to Kyle and Jason’s high school social studies teacher. Her boys had been rude enough to her the first day of school and were still paying for it.
Mrs. Kellen sighed.
“Ella, I heard Kyle has been accepted into a few colleges, but he’s failing my class. If he doesn’t pass my class, he won’t graduate. College will be lost to him.”
Ella tucked the mascara into her purse.
“He’s been studying for finals.” Not that it mattered. The woman had it in for her boys.
“He needs to have a serious turnaround for the final, or I’ll call and tell the colleges that accepted him about his attitude. Both your boys don’t respect me. I know they’re smart, but they’re never going to get a job, or be successful if they keep treating everyone as if they’re stupid. They are barely passing with D’s, and they think they’re more intelligent than everyone else.”
The woman turned on the water and washed her beautiful, French manicured hands.
“I would hate to have to do something so drastic as to fail both of them, but they need to find a more appropriate way to treat their superiors, or life will be a challenge for them. Better they learn now…”
Ella clenched her jaw and politely listened. She seethed as Mrs. Kellen babbled on and on about the boys’ lack of social and writing skills. Her boys had aced all the dual credit courses available to them. Mrs. Kellen’s class meant nothing to their ability to get into the college of their choice.
The woman was an idiot. Kyle and Jason could study for an hour and get an A on the final exam, if the damn things were graded without bias. Her boys were smarter than everyone else. But Mrs. Kellen was right about one thing. In an academic setting, they treated everyone else around them as if they were dumber than dirt, probably because, compared to them, they were.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Kellen, but—”
“—I know it must be hard to hear your sons have problems that will stop them from being successful in life.” Mrs. Kellen reached across the counter, shoving her large, diamond engagement and wedding rings in Ella’s face on the way to grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser. “It must be hard to hear your sons might not graduate because they aren’t smart enough to pass my class.”
She turned from Ella, dismissing her. “Jason is putting forth a hair more effort, but he’s got a borderline D in my class too.” She flipped her hair and turned her head back to Ella with a big smile on her face.
“If I think for one minute Kyle and Jason are cheating, they’ll both be expelled. The only job they’ll be able to get is as a massage therapist.” She opened the door and held it.
Ella squared her shoulders. She crossed the threshold with her head held high and wished she wore something nicer than a blue-cotton T-shirt and baggy, work khakis.
Why did Cade have to rip off her clothes last weekend and ruin everything Josie bought her? It was pretty great being wanted like that, but she’d have enjoyed wearing an entire outfit that fit for this encounter. Mrs. Kellen and her cute little pink-and-silver-threaded western shirt, knee-length jeans skirt, and cowboy boots, trampled on Ella’s last nerve talking bullshit about Kyle and Jason. Then, the crack about massage therapy being a lesser occupation. Bitch. There was nothing less about being a massage therapist. She healed people.
“My boys don’t cheat. They’re honest.” She walked out into the hallway toward the crowd, standing as tall as her sneakers would allow her. Damn, Mrs. Kellen was tall. She should have thrown some freaking heels into her car this morning. Screw the leg pain. She wanted to glare at the blonde bitch, but she had to be polite. She didn’t want to make any more waves at the school. With a miracle, Mrs. Kellen would pass her boys, and the woman would be a distant memory.
“Have a nice evening, Ella.” Mrs. Kellen sashayed over to a table near the dance floor where a good-looking man waited for her. A beautiful couple. Ugh.
“You too,” Ella mumbled.
Mr. Kellen kissed Mrs. Kellen on the lips and pulled her onto the dance floor to the sounds of an old-time, country ballad.
Ella’s chest constricted around her heart. Being around people in love today sucked. She barely kept it together as it was. Why did Josie make plans for them to meet at Cade’s bar on couples’ night? What was the perky, ex-cheerleader thinking?
She surveyed the crowd for her friends. They hadn’t waited for her. They hadn’t called or texted to tell her they left. Tonight was a mistake, and she hadn’t even had a drink. She never should have walked through those rustic, bar doors.
Instead of calling for a ride home, she strutted straight to the bar for the two drinks she shouldn’t have. She shoved her way between two overweight men in western shirts and jeans and called out to the busy bartender for a shot of Irish whiskey. Two drinks—one for her, and one for Greg—and she would go home.
The handsome, mocha skinned bartender placed a shot of whiskey in front of her while the man to her right paid for it.
Ella slid onto the vacant bar stool between two men. “Thanks”
She downed the whiskey and exhaled. Smooth. Warm. Numbing. Just what she needed. She raised her hand and caught the eye of the bartender. She pointed to her glass and dug through her purse for cash.
“I’ve got it.” The man to her right in the blue-and-white-striped western shirt added it to his tab.
The bartender needed help but handled the rowdy crowd well. He took his time getting back to her side of the bar, but she had nowhere else to be. She’d call someone to pick her up after another drink or two. The odds of her car starting again was slim, very slim.
The bartender easily hustled from one patron to another, reminding her of the days she used to bartend at her father’s Irish pub before she married Greg. She’d been underage, but her drunken father hadn’t cared and neither had anyone else in her small town. Working as a bartender, she’d found a taste for whiskey—good whiskey. Her husband had enjoyed whiskey too. Cade always smelled like whiskey, although it had to be something in his cologne, because he kept the scent all weekend, yet only drank water.
Finally, the bartender served her side of the bar and poured whiskey into her shot glass and the man’s beside her.
“Thanks.” She looked up at the handsome bartender without a name tag. “Is it always this busy?”
He genuinely grinned for the first time since she sat down. “Yes, but normally two of us are behind the bar. Tonight, I’m on my own.”
She nodded. “You’re doing a great job.”
“Thanks.” He picked up a shaker and filled the next order.
She raised her glass. This one’s for you, Greg. I’ll always love you.
The whiskey caressed her tongue as it slid down her throat, leaving her with the taste and feel of days long ago. Greg. And a weekend not so long ago. Cade.
She exhaled. She liked Cade more than she should. After their weekend, she wanted things she hadn’t wanted since Greg and everything good in her life seemed to die. She called out for one more drink as another country ballad blasted over the speaker system.
She glanced around. Couples her age held each other on the dance floor and swayed to the rhythm of the music. If Greg hadn’t died, she would be one of those women hanging onto their husbands with a promise of a memorable evening at home. She wanted her heart to go numb for a little while so the pangs of missing him wouldn’t hurt so much. So she wouldn’t miss Cade, either. But she could still feel, and she didn’t have enough money to stop her heart from aching. Damn Cade for awakening her heart.
The bartender set down the shot and looked her in the eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She raised her gaze to his seemingly concerned hazel eyes. No, I’m not. I miss my husband.
Greg would have taken care of Kyle’s bitchy history teacher with one look. She just took whatever someone threw at her. She had children and a job to protect. She couldn’t make any waves in any social circle, or she might end up losing her spa. Her business was the only thing keeping things afloat.
When she eventually made it home, she had plenty to do before her head hit the pillow. Make more specialty blends for the large order that came in over the website Kyle set up. Develop more scents for her oils. Laundry. Dishes. The list never ended. She had to suck up her heartache and get back to reality. She raised the shot glass in her hand to her lips. Last one.
“Greg, I tried,” she whispered, then gulped the top-shelf whiskey down.
The house is all I have left of you, and I have no other choice but to sell.
She was drowning in debt. She’d finished paying off the final medical payment from Greg’s cancer, but her clients started bouncing checks left and right. The mortgage on the house was small, but the taxes were too high. The second mortgage was coming due. Her car was on the fritz. She had to sell her house but that could take months.
Maybe she’d have another drink after all. She hadn’t spent any of her money. She didn’t want to go home and deal with reality quite yet. One more drink. No more. Just a little relief from the pain.
“Another for the lady,” the man on the right said, making the decision to stay easy.
The bartender nodded in acknowledgement but worked the opposite side of the counter, mixing drinks and entertaining as the crowd thinned.
One boot-scooting song after another bled into the background as one last drink turned into four. The deejay transitioned the music to the old, heartbreaking, country ballads Greg had introduced her to. The songs they had danced to in the backyard after the kids were tucked in bed.
She looked over her shoulder at the couples on the dance floor and sought out the blonde bitch of a teacher. Mrs. Kellen clung to her husband, happily in love, without a care in the world.
I used to dance like that with Greg. I’d get lost in his world, in his love. Her heart seemed to stop working. A thick lump formed in her throat. Moisture filled her eyes.
She wanted to be in the safety of his arms again. She wanted him to be alive, and healthy, and the last seven years to be one bad nightmare, not her life.
The dance floor emptied as the tone of the music changed from sweet, love songs to rocking country. She held out her shot glass for another refill. The bartender poured amber liquid into her glass.
The couples on the dance floor left for the night. She needed to leave with them. She couldn’t remember how many drinks she had, but it hadn’t been enough because her heart still bled for the man she’d lost. She downed the shot her new friend paid for and held her glass out to the bartender. Being numb would give her some peace. She wouldn’t get sloppy drunk, just drunk enough for a reprieve from the memories.
One more drink and she might finally be free from the void, the loneliness haunting her heart and soul.
“This is it, darlin’,” the bartender said. “Hand over your keys and see me for a cab later.”
“I’ve got a friend picking me up.” She exchanged her keys for another shot. After the night ended she wouldn’t drink like this again for another year or two.
With no money for a cab and her needing-an-overhaul car—she would never cry over the damn thing again—calling Maddie for a ride became her only option. Maybe she’d get Kyle and Jason a manual and parts to repair it. Jiggling wires and praying for it to start wasn’t the answer long-term. It got her here. She might not have wanted the company she had, but it was better than being alone.
“What time is it?”
“Midnight,” the bartender said. “Your man didn’t show?”
“My friends probably left a while ago. I was late.”
Fate was against her. Cade wasn’t here, either. His flight was supposed to be in this evening. She’d texted him her plans to meet Maddie and Josie at his bar. He probably came and left too unwilling to wait for her. Or he wasn’t interested in seeing her. He probably forgot all about her. Or he had planned on meeting her here for the “friend talk,” not that he owed her anything after their weekend. They hadn’t made any promises. They had talked about seeing each other when he got back, but those lame texts didn’t mention getting together this weekend or anything resembling concrete plans for a future date.
She sipped the comforting whiskey. Warmth bloomed inside her belly, unraveling the knots of stress from the miserable day. She would call Maddie for a ride after one more drink.
“Did you just get a divorce?” the man to the right asked.
“No.” She made quick eye contact with the bartender. She pointed to her shot glass and hoped for another refill before he truly cut her off.
The bartender nodded.
“Are you a regular?” the man who bought most of her drinks asked.
She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell. “No.” She dialed Maddie and searched for cash to pay the bartender. She placed the bills on the counter, but the man next to her handed back the money.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “Have another one with me.”
“Thanks, but this is my—”
“Ella, where are you?” Maddie asked.
“I’m at the bar you’re supposed to be at.” She boldly drank the last shot of the night.
“You’re drunk,” Maddie said. “What happened?”
“I’m not drunk, yet. I’m selling my house, Maddie. My realtor thinks it will go quickly. She’s checking on comps, and I need a ride home. I need someone to tow my car home too. It’s acting up.”
“Mike is hanging with Mark at Josie’s. I’ll call him,” Maddie said. “Stay put. How much have you had to drink?”
“Not as much as I’d like.” She looked at her filled glass and smiled. So much for not having another. “I haven’t been here long.” Long enough to get her keys taken away, not that she would even consider driving home after having more than one drink. She wouldn’t.
The man next to her lifted his vodka shot, tapped her glass, and they drank together.
She listened as Maddie called Josie with her home phone and got back on the cell phone with her.
“The guys had a little too much tonight too. Crap, Ella, why were you so late?”
“I took two evening walk-in appointments, car trouble, utilities, the list goes on and on. Did I tell you my neighbor won some kind of contest and got free utilities for a year? Apparently she came home, and a note was posted to her door Monday afternoon from a CDJ Enterprises telling her all her utilities were prepaid for a full year. Do you believe that? I have the shittiest luck.”
“Wait, who got a year’s worth of utilities prepaid?” Maddie asked.
“My neighbors. You know the yuppies from Chicago.” Ella turned and winked at her drinking buddy. He didn’t look half bad.
She stared more intently at the man. I have to be at the apex of drunk, if my drinking partner is suddenly semi-appealing. She really needed to stop drinking and find a ride home. With her glass magically filled again, she paused from talking with Maddie and downed another shot.
“They’re great neighbors as long as you don’t have to talk to them. I’ve got to go, Maddie. I’ll call somebody else. I’m fine. Feeling good for a change. Sorry about tonight.”
“Call Cade. He’ll come and get you.”
“No.” She swiveled around in her stool. She had entirely too much to drink, which only led to crying after the numbness wore off. If Cade had wanted to see her, he would have been here. Anyway, she didn’t want her crappy circumstances touching him.
She caught the side view of a handsome blond walking through the door. “Well, I really must be drunk because I’m seeing Greg’s ghost again.” She laughed languidly. “It’s the healthy ghost, Maddie.”
“Are you really at Cowboy Corral. Or are you at Maggie’s Pub?” Maddie asked. “I’ll come get you.”
“No, Maddie. I’m good.” She hopped off the barstool and traveled through the dwindling maze of people toward him. She hadn’t been to Maggie’s Irish Pub and Grill, the last place she overindulged, for three years. She and Greg went there every Friday night until he got too sick to go. The last place she would step into today was that place. It hurt too much to think about the day of his funeral, and she didn’t want to hurt or think anymore.
“I wish you were here. The similarity…” The closer she moved to him, the more he resembled Greg.
“Maddie, I’ll be fine. I’ve got to be hallucinating, but I don’t want to wake up. Not after the day I’ve had. I’ll call Kyle and Jason after the ghost leaves. Don’t worry. He always leaves when I touch him.” She hung up and dropped the phone into her purse.
“Ella,” Greg’s ghost said.
“I’ve missed you,” she said. “Are you really here?”
“I’m here,” he said.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me like you never left. Kiss me like you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you.” She closed her eyes and waited for all of it to end like it always did when they touched.
His solid lips met hers. Electricity crackled between them. He pulled her against him and guided her out the door to a waiting black limousine.
He opened the back of the car and helped her inside.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered. “Are you really here?”
“I’m here.” He grinned. “I’m here, and I’m never leaving again.”
“Make love to me,” she murmured.
“Are you sure?” The strong and controlling hands holding hers were exactly like her dreams, but this dream seemed more real. With any luck, she wasn’t having a one-night stand with the semi-cute man buying her drinks who kept looking better and better as the night wore on. That wouldn’t work.
The man she held couldn’t be her drinking partner. He was dark-haired and overweight, not blond and athletic with muscles upon muscles.
“I’m sure,” she said breathlessly.
Her dream ghost gently and carefully lifted her shirt and kissed each nipple over the last surviving bra Josie bought her. He unsnapped the front clasp and pushed the delicate lace cups to the side.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered.
His lips circled her breast agonizingly slow.
She kicked off her sneakers and tried to undress as quickly as possible to get an orgasm before he vanished, and she awoke alone again.
“Please hurry.” She pushed up his black tee as he pulled down her pants and panties in one quick tug. Why am I still wearing baggy pants? I should be wearing something sexy. One of his white dress shirts and nothing else.
She unbuttoned his jeans as he took over. He lifted his shirt over his head showing off his perfectly developed symmetrical chest and abs.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you, Ella. I always have,” he whispered into her ear.
She spread her legs. “Now. Please, now. I need you so much. I need to feel you inside me.” She needed to be taken care of, and Greg had always done that for her, in real life and in her dreams. She didn’t have to think about money or having enough groceries or hocking the last of the jewelry he bought for her. She could trust he would take care of her financially, and he had until he…
He pulled her legs up around his waist and produced a condom. He ripped it open and slid it on. She had safe-sex-Greg in her dreams tonight? Strange. But she liked the safe-sex-Greg ghost.
“I love you, Ella. I love you.” Slow and steady, he made vanilla love to her like he had their entire marriage.
She moved naturally against him. His familiar body rose and fell in all the right ways to make her orgasm. He fit her better than she remembered.
He drew out her juices, coating her inner thighs with liquid desire, in every masterful retreat.
The scent of fresh, summer lemon groves seemed to surround her, taking her back to the days in Florida when he was healthy. She licked his neck and tasted him—salty man with no metallic chemicals burning her tongue. She was in a heavenly dream because he wasn’t there no matter how real he felt making love to her. He’d died three years ago that day.