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And maybe that’s what had hurt the most.
Belle hadn’t cared. She’d just been following her sister’s orders.
Mrs. Stokes coughing pulled him from his thoughts. She’d always had a smoker’s cough, but now it sounded much worse. As soon as she stopped coughing, he voiced his concern.
“You need to stop smoking. It’s going to kill you.”
She shrugged. “If not it, something else.”
“Then let it be something else.”
She studied him. “You love to act like you don’t care about anything or anyone, but you care, Corbin Whitlock. You care a lot.”
“Nope, I’m more of the town villain.”
She grinned. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much. I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.”
“I doubt a podiatrist is much of a bad boy.”
“You heard about that, did ya? Well, Jeffrey isn’t my boyfriend anymore. He gave great foot massages, but was boring as hell. He knew absolutely nothing about business. Which leaves me dateless for the Memorial Day picnic this weekend.” Her eyes narrowed. “Unless the town villain would like to escort me and entertain me with how he made his millions?”
He couldn’t help laughing at the woman’s audacity. “I’ll be happy to escort you, but only if you promise not to smoke. You might not care about your lungs, but I care about mine.”
She snorted. “Prissy.”
After Corbin left the bank, he headed back to the ranch. Hank was going to show him how to clean Homer’s hoofs—something he wasn’t looking forward to. But on his way out of town, he passed a car sitting on the opposite side of the road. He cussed when he recognized the face of the woman behind the wheel. From that distance, he wasn’t sure which twin it was, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t ignore a stranded woman.
Even a Holiday.
He made a U-turn and pulled in behind her, then got out and walked to the driver’s side. She was staring out the windshield and didn’t see him until he was standing at the window. She startled and turned to him.
He recognized Belle immediately. She was crying, and looking into her watery green eyes made him feel like he’d swallowed a grapefruit whole. She quickly looked away and swiped at her eyes before she rolled down the window.
“Hey.” Her voice sounded nasally and unsteady. “I was just . . . taking a phone call and didn’t want to drive and talk.”
Her cellphone was nowhere in sight, but he went along with the lie. “Smart.”
“And my allergies are kicking up.” She grabbed a tissue out of her purse and he noticed her hand shaking.
“Allergies are bad this time of year.” He sighed. “Look. Are you okay?”
She pinned on a fake smile. “I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”
“You sure? I can give you a ride back to the Remingtons’ Ranch if you want. Rome can send someone to pick up your car later.”
“No! I mean I’m not ready to go back yet. I just need . . .” She let the sentence trail off as if she didn’t know how to finish it. So he finished it for her.
“A stiff drink?”
She blinked and a determined look settled over her features. “Yes. As a matter of fact that’s exactly what I need. A stiff drink. Thank you.” Without another word, she put the car into drive and pulled away, leaving him standing on the side of the road in confusion.
He figured he had two choices. He could get back in his truck and mind his own damn business. Or he could follow her and make sure she didn’t take his advice and get into trouble. If she was going where he thought she was going, she could easily get into trouble.
The Hellhole was a family restaurant that served the best barbecue in the county . . . or some said the entire world. It was also a cowboy bar that could get real rowdy later in the night. Luckily, it was still early when Corbin stepped in the door. The spicy scent of smoking meat made his stomach rumble. No one made barbecue like Bobby Jay. But since taking over the Holiday Ranch, Corbin had stayed away from the bar. If the glares he was receiving were any indication, it had been a smart choice.
Too bad Belle had taken that choice from him.
He found her sitting at one end of the bar. He could have taken a seat at a table and kept an eye on her from a distance, but he had never been a covert kind of guy. He took the stool next to her, wincing when his butt hit the hard wood.
