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“I’ll call Billie. I don’t need a ride,” she said finally before turning and disappearing back up the stairs.
Shane wasn’t sure how long he stood in silence, gazing at the top of the stairs. Finally, he moved, inserted his ear buds, grabbed the sander and once more ran it along the huge piece of teak. Unlike his mind and his heart, his motions were controlled and the sounds of classic Van Halen blotted out the sound of a car pulling up to his place.
And of the slamming door behind the girl who’d damn near broken him.
Chapter Seven
It was a week after the wedding-that-never-happened and Bobbi was about to face her groom. Or rather, the groom and fiancé she’d stood up. As it turned out, he’d left for their honeymoon—taken his mother as his companion—and had only gotten back to town the night before. He had left a message with Herschel earlier and she knew he’d be by shortly.
Her sister Billie thought the whole thing was weird—taking his mother along on what was supposed to have been his honeymoon. According to Billie, it would have made more sense for him to take a buddy—someone to drink and party his way through the week with.
Bobbi knew that Gerald didn’t have too many close guy friends, at least none outside of business and she couldn’t fault him for taking the trip. It was certainly the practical thing to do, though really, his mother?
She glanced down at the diamond that still adorned her left ring finger, turning her hand slightly so the two carat stone reflected the bright sunlight that filtered in from the kitchen window.
“God, you’re still wearing that thing?”
She turned, her expression tightening as her other sister Betty wandered into the kitchen, her lithe form barely covered by a silky blue robe. Loosely belted, it gaped open, showing off more than just a little peek of her breasts, in fact, Bobbi’s frown deepened as her sister stretched and both of the girls fell out.
“Are you kidding me? Can you please put some clothes on? Gerald will be here any minute and he certainly doesn’t need to see those things.”
Betty tossed her head, her long hair sliding over her shoulder and grinned. Slowly…carefully, she tugged the ends over her exposed nipples and then tightened the belt.
“Damn, I supposed I could get dressed. It is two in the afternoon after all and lord knows Gerry doesn’t need the added excitement of seeing something that he only fantasized about on his uh, honeymoon.”
Something began to pulse back in the recesses of Bobbi’s brain. A sharp, something, that drew Bobbi’s frown deeper across her forehead.
There was a time, years ago, when Betty and Bobbi had been close. Really close. The other triplet, Billie was the one who never really fit in. She’d always been the third wheel. The athletic tomboy who didn’t give two shits about clothes or makeup or having a good time. But Betty? She was always down for whatever kind of trouble Bobbi was willing to get into, and damn, but they’d seen their share of trouble.
Yet, something had hardened inside her sister. Something twisted and mean. And though Bobbi would like to think it was because of the crazy life she’d fallen into—modeling and acting—she wasn’t so sure anymore. Something was broken inside Betty and the scary thing was, that sometimes, that blank, sad, look she saw in her sister’s eyes, stared back at herself when Bobbi looked in the mirror.
Bobbi sighed and glanced away. With all the problems facing her at the moment she didn’t have the time, or the inclination, to find out what it was or to try and fix it. Besides, her sister Betty had to want to be helped. Her addiction problems and crazy lifestyle had toned down a bit since she’d returned to New Waterford in the fall, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t trouble.
She was plenty enough trouble. Hell, the girl had left Bobbi’s wedding-that-never-happened-reception, with Matt Hawkins. Matt freaking Hawkins. He was one of the biggest horn-dogs around—at the age of thirty five he had children with three different women—and yet, Betty had left with him and was gone for three days and three nights. She’d returned to the Barker residence, in a pair of men’s jeans and an old ratty sweatshirt, with her long hair a tangled mess and makeup that had run and smudged.
She was either coming down from a high or still drunk, but there was no doubt that Betty had walked through the door looking like the worse walk of shame, ever—worse than Bobbi returning in her stained, wedding dress. And Bobbi was glad that neither Gramps, nor her father had been home to witness it.
“Just please get dressed or go back up to your room and do whatever it is you do up there.”
For a few moments the two girls stared at each other in silence, the only noise was the ticking of the ancient round clock above the fridge. They both jumped when the doorbell rang and Bobbi smoothed her pin straight hair as she tried to calm her nerves.
She opened her mouth once more in a bid to implore her sister to leave, but Betty saved her the trouble. She grabbed a bag of oatmeal cookies from the cupboard, saluted Bobbi, and disappeared up the back stairs.
Bobbi exhaled and headed for the foyer, taking a moment to glance at herself in the large hall mirror. She’d deliberately chosen something sedate and classy. A simple deep blue cashmere turtleneck with three-quarter length sleeves, coupled with simple black dress pants and plain black heels. A long gold chain hung from her neck and small gold studs were at her ears.
Her makeup was again, simple, with a dusting of shadow and mascara, and clear gloss on her lips. She looked put together and calm which was exactly how she wanted to look. Mostly because it was the polar opposite of how she felt inside.
Could she fix this? Would Gerald listen to her? She thought of her future. The one she’d planned so meticulously—the one she wanted in spite of what she’d done—and tried not to let the underlying panic bleed through.
The fact that he was coming to see her on his first day back was a great sign, and she needed to focus on the positive. She would fix this. She had too.
She paused at the door, her hand on the knob, her heart beating just a tad too fast, and though she would have loved a few more minutes to mentally prepare herself there was no way around it. She squared her shoulders, opened the door, and rested her eyes on the man she should be married to.
The man she wanted to marry. Everything else was a mistake.
Bobbi cleared her throat and as she stared at her fiancé in silence, she noticed a few things that were maybe, a tad alarming. First off, his hair was a mess. Not a windblown kind of thing either, but more like a controlled mess. From what Bobbi could see, Gerald had more product in his hair that any woman had a right to. It was sticking up in long spikes that would have looked good on a teenager but on a man of thirty-five?
Not so much.
