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The man wiped his hands on the front of his apron. “Millie is off today.”
“Does she still live upstairs?”
“No.” The man rounded the corner. “I’m a huge fan. That acoustic show you did at the Opry was something else.” He grabbed a notebook from the counter. “Hey, do you think I could get an autograph?”
“Sure,” Cal said, taking the offered pen and pad.
“My name’s George Caplan.” He inched closer. “If you don’t mind using my last name so’s folks believe me.” He ran his stubby fingers over a hairnet that barely managed his hair. “Bad day for me to forget my cell phone at home. Maybe we could get a selfie some other time?”
“Some other time,” Cal murmured. He scribbled his name, then handed back the pad. “Can you tell me where Millie’s at?” He asked the question lightly, hoping the man in front of him didn’t know the details of their history.
“She bought the old Fenton place at the top of Big Creek Road. It overlooks the valley. Last spread up there with a big old porch. You can’t miss it.”
He knew exactly where it was. Cal backed away and gave a small wave. “Thanks.”
He hopped back in his truck and checked his phone. Still no response from Ryland. Cal thrummed his fingers across the top of the steering wheel for a good two minutes and frowned. He knew Millie had no desire to see him. She’d made that pretty damn clear. And he knew if he went over to her place, there was a fifty-fifty chance she’d try to run him off with a shotgun. And if she didn’t do that, he knew there’d be arguing and yelling and maybe some throwing. It was what they did.
But as he headed out to Big Creek Road, he supposed there was a part of him that wanted all that friction. He wanted her to put him in his place. In fact, he deserved it.
Besides, when was the last time anyone pushed back where he was concerned? Said no or told him he was being ridiculous? Not a one. At least, no one since Millie or Bent.
Not that he wanted Millie to toss him on his ass before he found out where the hell Ryland was at. But he had to at least try. And the way Cal saw it, she was his best chance. The Sundowner was the epicenter of Big Bend, and anything worth knowing was heard at that bar.
So, even though he knew showing up at her door was a bad idea, he kinda felt it was his only option.
He just hoped like hell Millie saw things the same way.
CHAPTER5
Millie Sue wasdeep in dreamland when persistent pounding managed to worm its way inside her head and wake her up. With a groan, one eye slid open, and she spied Mr. Higgins proudly cleaning his nether regions on the pillow beside her.
“Really?” she said, voice like sandpaper.
The cat paused for all of two seconds, lifted his left leg higher, a fuck-you if she ever saw one, and got back to work. God, it was too early for this. A glance at the clock on the bedside table told her it was nearly nine thirty, and while that was late morning for most folks in these parts, it was not the case for Millie. She’d closed the bar the night before, and once home, made her way through more than her fair share of bourbon while singing and playing the guitar to no one but the cat.
The drinking she’d blame on Cal Bridgestone. The man brought out nothing but the worst in her. But the singing was what she did. She sang when she was happy. Or excited. Or confused. Or sad. She pictured Cal and made a face. She definitely sang when she was annoyed.
Millie frowned and rolled out of bed, then stumbled toward the hallway because the pounding on her front door was an ongoing situation that wasn’t stopping. It was probably Mike Paul, and man, she was going to give it to him.
Her bedroom was in darkness on account of the thick blinds she’d installed the day she moved in, but the rest of the house was awash in the kind of brilliant sunshine that bounced off the snow outside and zipped through the windows, nearly blinding her as she emerged from the cave she slept in.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that was hung on the wall near the kitchen and grimaced. Her hair was a wild mess that was going to take some effort to get through in the shower, and the circles under her eyes told the tale of the night before. She needed water badly, but decided to deal with Mike Paul first.
She should have peeked outside before answering the door, because she would have noticed the truck parked behind hers. A brand-spanking-new truck that belonged to no one she knew, because no one she knew spent over one hundred grand on a tricked-out set of wheels. But because she wasn’t thinking clearly, on account of the door banging and the bourbon, she reached for the handle and yanked open the door. “Jesus, stop with the noise. You know I’m not a morning—”
Cold air hit her square in the face and wind whistled around the tall man who stood in front of her. A tall male who was definitely not Mike Paul. She had to blink a few times to rid the sunshine from her eyes, and when she was finally able to focus, Millie noticed Cal’s eyes were nowhere near her own but had traveled lower.
Much lower.
She didn’t have to look down to know she was barely dressed. Heck, she was a simple girl, and if she wasn’t sleeping naked, she was wearing…
“Still like Minnie Mouse, I see.”
His voice was low, intimate. It set off all kinds of things inside her. Hot things. Electric things.Angry things. It was the angry things Millie decided to concentrate on, because the angry things would keep her out of trouble.
“What are you doing here?” She poked him in the chest.
“I need to talk to you,” he replied, inching closer even as she took a step back.
