and Tanya exchanged a few barbs, then Ben left. Tanya lit a cigarette. “Ben’s hopeless. He is such a drunk.”
“I know,” Marisa said, preoccupied with all that had transpired in only a few hours.
“Marisa,” she said, “do you think we’re gonna get kicked outta here?”
Bingo, Marisa thought, but she said, “I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“I heard the dude’s here, staying in the new trailer at the back of the park. I’ll bet he’s a fat old fart that sweats. Have you seen him?”
Before Marisa could answer, the “dude” sauntered through the front doorway and Marisa felt a surge in her pulse. A royal blue crew neck sweater a little brighter in hue than his eyes topped well-washed Levi’s that molded around his thighs. A wide black stripe crossed the front of the sweater, emphasizing his wide chest and shoulders. “That’s him,” she whispered.
Tanya glanced in the new owner’s direction and her jaw dropped. “You’re shittin’ me.”
As Terry Ledger weaved his way through the flea market the hairdresser eyed him up and down. Marisa thought of one of those predatory South American plants that trapped bugs and ate them.
When the victim reached the lunch counter, Tanya stuck out her hand and tilted her head sideways, letting her long hair cascade over one shoulder. “Hi, I’m Tanya Shepherd. I’m the stylist next door? And I own the museum. Art of the West?”
A blind man could see the hairdresser’s interest had little or nothing to do with this stranger being her new landlord. There was no missing Mr. Ledger’s assessment of the view of Tanya’s phony boobs and the tattoo, either. Marisa crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. Maybe Tanya should introduce the lizard, too.
The new guy shook Tanya’s hand and smiled, which seemed to come so easy. Too easy. “Charisma.” That was the word. A special charm or allure that inspires fascination and devotion. She had seen it in crossword puzzles many times. And he had to be a bastard. Most men with that special quality just were.
“Terry Ledger,” he said. “I haven’t been into your establishment yet. I intend to drop in today.”
Tanya smiled back and shrugged, shifting the site of the lizard’s head. “Cool.”
She held her cigarette poised between two fingers, her elbow resting on the countertop as her eyes roved down Mr. Ledger’s lanky frame. Marisa wanted to pinch her, but she kept her hands and her thoughts to herself, unable to resolve why this guy’s unexpected appearance sent a jiggle through her whole system. Well, she might not know the answer to that, but at least she now knew his name.
He turned her way and took a seat beside Tanya at the lunch counter. “Didn’t you say you served breakfast all day? Sometimes I like breakfast for lunch. How about a couple of eggs, bacon and toast? Maybe a shot of that coffee.”
“You should try one of Marisa’s special coffees,” Tanya piped up, turning her head and blowing out a cloud of smoke. She turned back and extended such a blatant invitation to Mr. Ledger with her eyes, Marisa had to turn away, embarrassed. “She buys all these special beans and grinds and mixes them up herself.”
Marisa felt a blush crawl up her neck and wished she handled compliments better. Terry Ledger smiled again and it came back how his smile had affected her the day he appeared beside her in the tiny café kitchen. Yep, charisma. That was the word.
“Really?” he asked. “Why go to the trouble?”
Marisa figured what he didn’t say was, Who cares, out here in the boondocks?
“She’s one of those gourmet types,” Tanya said. “She went to this fancy cooking school in Dallas.”
“Tanya,” Marisa said, “stop—”
“Really?” Terry asked again. “Which one?”
What he didn’t say was, If you’re such hot stuff, what are you doing out here in the boondocks?
“She’s only here because she takes care of her sick mother,” Tanya said,
“I know,” Marisa said, preoccupied with all that had transpired in only a few hours.
“Marisa,” she said, “do you think we’re gonna get kicked outta here?”
Bingo, Marisa thought, but she said, “I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“I heard the dude’s here, staying in the new trailer at the back of the park. I’ll bet he’s a fat old fart that sweats. Have you seen him?”
Before Marisa could answer, the “dude” sauntered through the front doorway and Marisa felt a surge in her pulse. A royal blue crew neck sweater a little brighter in hue than his eyes topped well-washed Levi’s that molded around his thighs. A wide black stripe crossed the front of the sweater, emphasizing his wide chest and shoulders. “That’s him,” she whispered.
Tanya glanced in the new owner’s direction and her jaw dropped. “You’re shittin’ me.”
As Terry Ledger weaved his way through the flea market the hairdresser eyed him up and down. Marisa thought of one of those predatory South American plants that trapped bugs and ate them.
When the victim reached the lunch counter, Tanya stuck out her hand and tilted her head sideways, letting her long hair cascade over one shoulder. “Hi, I’m Tanya Shepherd. I’m the stylist next door? And I own the museum. Art of the West?”
A blind man could see the hairdresser’s interest had little or nothing to do with this stranger being her new landlord. There was no missing Mr. Ledger’s assessment of the view of Tanya’s phony boobs and the tattoo, either. Marisa crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. Maybe Tanya should introduce the lizard, too.
The new guy shook Tanya’s hand and smiled, which seemed to come so easy. Too easy. “Charisma.” That was the word. A special charm or allure that inspires fascination and devotion. She had seen it in crossword puzzles many times. And he had to be a bastard. Most men with that special quality just were.
“Terry Ledger,” he said. “I haven’t been into your establishment yet. I intend to drop in today.”
Tanya smiled back and shrugged, shifting the site of the lizard’s head. “Cool.”
She held her cigarette poised between two fingers, her elbow resting on the countertop as her eyes roved down Mr. Ledger’s lanky frame. Marisa wanted to pinch her, but she kept her hands and her thoughts to herself, unable to resolve why this guy’s unexpected appearance sent a jiggle through her whole system. Well, she might not know the answer to that, but at least she now knew his name.
He turned her way and took a seat beside Tanya at the lunch counter. “Didn’t you say you served breakfast all day? Sometimes I like breakfast for lunch. How about a couple of eggs, bacon and toast? Maybe a shot of that coffee.”
“You should try one of Marisa’s special coffees,” Tanya piped up, turning her head and blowing out a cloud of smoke. She turned back and extended such a blatant invitation to Mr. Ledger with her eyes, Marisa had to turn away, embarrassed. “She buys all these special beans and grinds and mixes them up herself.”
Marisa felt a blush crawl up her neck and wished she handled compliments better. Terry Ledger smiled again and it came back how his smile had affected her the day he appeared beside her in the tiny café kitchen. Yep, charisma. That was the word.
“Really?” he asked. “Why go to the trouble?”
Marisa figured what he didn’t say was, Who cares, out here in the boondocks?
“She’s one of those gourmet types,” Tanya said. “She went to this fancy cooking school in Dallas.”
“Tanya,” Marisa said, “stop—”
“Really?” Terry asked again. “Which one?”
What he didn’t say was, If you’re such hot stuff, what are you doing out here in the boondocks?
“She’s only here because she takes care of her sick mother,” Tanya said,
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