Texan for the Holidays. Victoria ChancellorЧитать онлайн книгу.
She’d been surprised earlier that his vehicle was red, but hadn’t made any snappy remarks. She was trying to be on her best behavior, since the man had bought her a meal, and she was way too bored to go back to the salon early if she insulted him accidentally.
He’d told her that he’d really just wanted to make up for making her angry, for letting their conversation in back of the salon get out of hand. The way she remembered it, she’d been the one who’d accelerated that conflict, but he had made her angry with what he saw as a reasonable suggestion. She still didn’t see why he’d put himself in the middle of the hair wars between her and her clients.
She sighed, and didn’t realize he’d heard until he asked, “Are you okay?”
“Sure. I’m just thinking.” She sat up straighter. “Hey, look at those Christmas lights! That’s really cool.” A whole herd of white-light reindeer stood on a small lawn where all the bushes and trees sported multicolored lights.
“You probably haven’t seen any of our Christmas lights, have you? Would you like to drive around a little?”
“That would be great!” She definitely wasn’t ready to face another boring night of country-and-western Christmas tunes on the FM radio at the salon.
James turned left off the road that led downtown from Dewey’s, onto a smaller residential street. “Lots of families around here go all-out to decorate their homes for the holidays. Sometimes you can see the lights from hundreds of yards away, when the houses sit far back from the road.”
He cruised slowly down the street, which was lined with normal-size yards and houses.
“I love the icicle lights that hang down from the eaves and gutters,” she said, leaning close to the window. Since the temperature was fairly mild, her breath barely made a frosty spot on the glass.
When she was a little girl, she would breathe on the glass on purpose and write with her finger. Her parents were not amused, since they’d paid someone to wash the car and clean the interior. She got in trouble even after she started writing her sister’s name on the glass, which apparently didn’t fool anyone, since her sister was too much of a goody-two-shoes to deface clean car windows.
“Oh, look, multicolored icicle lights. I like those.”
“You would,” James said.
She heard the smile in his voice and glanced at him. His profile was nearly as perfect as his face. His hair still looked adorably ruffled, as if he’d rolled out of bed and run his fingers through it.
Which, of course, hadn’t been her intention when she’d cut it earlier. Had it?
“Why did you say that? Do you know me so well already?”
“I know that the traditional icicle lights are white, so naturally you’d like the most colorful ones. Tell me if I’m wrong.”
She settled back against the seat. “No, you’re right. I’m a rebel without a cause.”
“Maybe you don’t have a cause, but you have a goal, and that’s just as important.”
She sat up a little straighter. “I suppose you’re right! Even if other people don’t understand or agree with me, it’s my goal, and darn it, I will get to California.”
“I never doubted it for a second. And,” he said, slowing the car and looking over at her, “I really wouldn’t have filed a lawsuit and kept you in town. I only said that because you…well, you irritated me for a moment.”
“I never seriously thought you would. Oh, you might think about it. You might even mentally plan the whole thing. But I didn’t think you’d go through with it.”
“You know me that well?”
She shrugged. “Seems that way. Now, let’s find some more Christmas lights before they roll up the sidewalks in this town.”
James laughed and turned left at the end of the street. Scarlett smiled into the darkness, blew on the glass and wrote his initials with her finger. However, unlike when she was just a kid, she didn’t draw a heart around them. That would be just too stupid, since in a couple of days she’d be out of here.
But she wanted to…
ON WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON Claude McCaskie called and asked Clarissa if Scarlett could walk over to the service station. Since she didn’t have any customers then, Scarlett skedaddled out the door, hoping like heck that the man would have good news.
“Tell me you’ve found the parts,” she said, breathless from nearly-jogging in her high-heeled boots.
“Nope,” Claude replied. “The places I usually get reasonably priced parts from in Fort Worth don’t have any piston rings for that engine, and I’m runnin’ out of options.”
“No! I really need to get my car fixed.”
Claude shook his head. “I’ve got one more place to check in Dallas. Now, the problem is, the rings they get might be really used, if you get my drift.”
“I know we were trying to save money. That’s the only way I can afford the repairs.”
“Just so you know. But I don’t want to leave you stranded again beside the highway. There might not be another town so close by.”
That was true. She was nearly to the most desolate part of her trip, out through the uninhabited Wild West lands of New Mexico and Arizona. “Could you try? Maybe they can find slightly used parts.”
“Missy, ain’t nothin’ slightly used on an old engine like this unless it was wrecked right off the bat. But I’m tryin’.”
“I appreciate it, Claude,” she answered, trying not to seem too dejected.
“If I can’t find them parts, do you want me to look into new ones? It’s gonna cost a lot more, but they’d be a lot more reliable.”
Scarlett sighed. “Get me a price and I’ll see what I can afford.”
“You could always see what you’d get for junk.”
“Junk?”
“For the Mercedes. At the junkyard or the auction.”
She felt her eyes widen and the breath leave her lungs. Just for a moment. “No, I can’t do that.” Not yet. The Benz was still in good shape. It was just those pesky piston rings. Surely people didn’t trash their perfectly good cars because of something so small.
So darn hard to find!
Besides, the car was her link to her past. Okay, to her family. They’d given it to her. It didn’t seem right to practically throw it away.
“’Course, we could try for a new engine. Well, not new, but with less miles. New to this car.”
“Oh, that’s an idea. How much is a new engine?”
“Probably about the same as new rings, but I ’spect we’d be able to find an engine. I can get some prices.”
“Thanks, Claude. Call me when you have news. You know where I’ll be.”
“I surely do,” he replied with an irritating chuckle.
Scarlett left the service station and pulled her hoodie close around her. The wind was picking up again, but it wasn’t too cold. The sun shone on the silver tinsel and candy canes along the main street, pulling her eye toward the two-story building on the next block. The one next to the little park, which she hadn’t visited. Yet.
With resolve to get out of her funky mood, she set off for downtown Brody’s Crossing. Maybe she should visit a park. Or a lawyer who had an office right beside one.
JAMES LOOKED UP FROM reading a brief when his door opened, then closed. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He hoped no one had any more bad-hair cases.
“Hello?”