The Bully (Calamity Montana #4)(66)

That had pissed her off enough that she’d left.

What was wrong with me? Why was I such a damn mess? I could blame it on the shit role model that was my father, but really, it was me. The coward.

“Hey.” I jerked my chin to Pierce as I stepped onto the deck.

“What’s up?” He walked over, glancing over my shoulder to the house. “Where did Nellie go?”

“She left. And Harry and I are taking off too. Harry’s not feeling great.”

“Oh. Damn.” He clapped me on my shoulder. “Are you coming back?”

“Yeah.” There was nothing for me at the Winnebago. Nellie had stolen the book I’d been reading. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

I lifted a hand to wave at Kerrigan, then hustled for the driveway.

Harry was in the passenger seat of the Land Rover with the door open to let in some air. Next time, I’d have to remember to take my keys with me and lock the door.

I slid behind the wheel and hit the ignition button, then plucked my sunglasses from the console. Even with the shades on, I sent her a glare. “I’m never inviting you to another party.”

“Newsflash, Cal. There isn’t a party in Calamity I can’t attend without your invitation.”

I growled, knowing she was right, and put the SUV into reverse. Of all the people for me to make friends with in Calamity, why had I picked this salty woman? Damn Harry for being so popular.

When we’d arrived earlier, I’d assumed that I would need to make a few introductions. Nope. Harry knew everyone but the Grays Peak employees, who I hadn’t met either. And Harry hadn’t met Nellie.

My beautiful Nellie who’d left here on the verge of tears.

Was she okay? Maybe I should stop by her place to check in. At the very least, if she wanted to be at the barbeque, I could give her the all clear. She could return in my stead.

“You can drop me at the lobby,” Harry said as we neared the motel.

“Okay.” I eased into the parking lot, seeing Marcy through the office windows.

Harry waved at her, then opened her door, but stopped before stepping out. “Does she feel the same way about you?”

I blew out a long breath. Nellie didn’t hate me. But love? “I don’t know.”

“Only one way to find out. And now that your afternoon is clear . . .” Her eyes darted toward First, like she could see to Nellie’s front door. “Take a chance.”

Maybe. Maybe I should.

Or maybe I should let Nellie go.

“Have a good afternoon, Harry.”

“Why do I get the feeling I should smack some sense into you again?” She sighed and stepped outside, shaking her head as she walked to the office.

I eased onto the street, hating that Harry’s disappointment hit so hard. Whatever. I drove along First, the sidewalks crowded with people exploring downtown. Calamity was just as busy as everyone had warned, the summer tourist traffic making it hard for me to spend much time downtown.

Yesterday, I’d stopped at the grocery store for some beer, my contribution to Pierce’s barbeque, and had been asked for three autographs. The day before, I’d pulled into the gas station and the guy on the opposite end of the pump had not-so-conspicuously taken my picture.

Until the bustle died, I’d be sticking close to safe places. The Winnebago. Pierce and Kerrigan’s.

The turnoff to Nellie’s house approached.

I tightened my grip on the wheel.

Don’t turn. Do not turn.

The green street marker inched closer.

Keep going straight.

My foot eased off the gas and pressed the brake.

Don’t.

I turned and drove to her house, parking against the curb. The tires were stopped. The engine was off. But I couldn’t bring myself to open the door.

What was I going to say? What was I doing here? Granted it was broad daylight, but the lights inside were off. Was she even home? Maybe she’d gone for a drive. Maybe she’d stopped downtown.

I shouldn’t be here. It was too soon. Nellie and I did better when we gave each other space. Tomorrow. I could come back tomorrow. Or the next day.

Before I could pull away, my phone rang through the car’s speakers. I hit the button to answer my mother’s call. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi. I was hoping to catch you.”

“What’s up?”

“Cal . . .” She sighed. Mom always sighed before a guilt trip. Son of a bitch. I was going to hate this phone call. “The fundraiser at Benton is next weekend. I just got off the phone with Dean Hendrickson.”

“Mom—”

“Before you interrupt me and say no, just listen. Please.”

I stifled a groan. “Okay.”

“They already announced you’d be speaking.”

“No.”

That was my father’s fuckup, not mine. He should never have volunteered me. What did he think? Now that I was retired, I had free time? The bastard hadn’t even bothered to run it by me first. What if I’d been busy?

“Cal, this is important. Don’t do it for your father. Don’t even do it for me. Do it for one of the kids who will be there. Dean Hendrickson just told me her story and it is heartbreaking.”

Dean Hendrickson knew how to play my mother, didn’t he? Like she knew how to play me.