Gambling On a Heart (14 page)

“That’s giving up a lot for a dream. You’re a lawyer, too. A damned good one. What’s Lance think of you leaving the firm?” Zack put his hands on his hips and assessed the job in front of them.

“I’ve already talked to Lance. He’s willing to cut me loose from the firm, but I can come back if things don’t work out again. My only pending case goes to court in a couple of weeks. After it’s settled, I’ll be set.”

No one could talk reason into Logan once he had his mind set on something. So, Zack let the subject slide. He glanced at his brother. “By the way, why the hell haven’t you ever given me a copy of your CD?”

Logan shrugged and turned away. “Because I figured you wouldn’t want it.”

Zack shook his head and looked down at his scuffed work boots. “Well, I do want a copy. Logan, it’s not that I don’t believe in you, but I hope you know what you’re doing. I’d hate to see you fail again.”

Logan sucked in a breath and glowered. “Why are my mistakes always failures, but yours are always someone else’s fault?”

Zack faced Logan. “What is
that
supposed to mean?”

“I think you damn well know what it means. You and Tracy.

“What–”

“Have you ever considered if you would’ve told her that you loved her, she might not have ever done what she did?”

Pinning Logan with a scowl, Zack took a step forward. “She knew that I loved her!”

“How?” Before Zack could answer, Logan said, “Tracy came to Colton as a shy, gangly, cross-eyed girl that had only one boyfriend before you. You were the catch of Colton High. How many girls had you dated before Tracy? Ten, fifteen? What if Tracy figured she was just one more statistic? Holy hell, Zack, you’re the one who gave her the god-awful nickname of Olive Oyl.”

“I...” Zack paused and remembered. He’d never told Tracy he loved her and had no real good reason as to why he hadn’t confessed his feelings for her. “That still doesn’t excuse the fact I caught her in the middle of the act with my best friend.”

Logan stepped over to Zack and put his hand on his shoulder. “Ask her about that, will ya? And if y’all do have a shot at an encore, don’t assume she knows how you feel.” Logan stepped away and grabbed a pair of work gloves from the crate of tools. “Let’s get busy. I have a gig tonight, and we’re burnin’ daylight.”

Chapter 7

Zack pulled his official Tahoe in behind the brand, spanking new Chevy Silverado and called in the license plate, which was standard procedure, but a waste of time. He already knew who the driver was.

“Morning, Brent.” Zack pushed his Stetson farther back on his head to allow him a better look at the speeder through his mirrored sunglasses.

The youngest Parker brother looked over the star pinned on Zack’s uniform before meeting his eyes. With a what-can-I-do-for-ya grin, Brent said, “Howdy, Zack. Is there a problem?”

“Sure is.” It never failed to amaze him how often drivers breaking the law asked that question. “A big problem. You were going fifty-three in a twenty-five mile per hour speed zone.”

Zack was waiting for the rest of the script, where Brent would play coy and deny that he knew he was driving excessively. Instead, he said, “S’pose I was goin’ a little too fast.”

“Speeding in this part of town isn’t acceptable, especially with the elementary school on this street.”
The school my daughter attends.
“I’ll need your driver’s license, registration, and proof of insurance.”

Brent chuckled, but it sounded a tad shaky. “C’mon, Zack, you aren’t really gonna give me a ticket, are you?”

A passing driver honked, so Zack turned to see a Ford Escape. He waved before looking back at Brent. “Yes. I’m giving you a ticket.”

“Boy, those Marines made you a hard-ass, huh?” Brent dug around in his glove box. He straightened with a grunt and pushed his lank dark hair from his face. “Here.”

With a curt nod, Zack took the information, went back to his SUV, and wrote the citation. Handing the ticket, license, registration and insurance card to Brent, Zack made a show of looking over the truck. “Nice wheels. Your driving gig with Jake must be paying well.”

Brent didn’t even glance at the slip of paper and cards before tossing them onto the seat beside him. From behind his sunglasses, Zack watched him closely. He’d known Brent as long as he’d known Jake, which amounted to Brent’s entire life. The air conditioner was working overtime, if the cool air escaping the open window was any indication, but Brent had sweat beading on his forehead. He also drummed his fingers in a fast tattoo. Brent looked out the windshield and said, “Yeah, it is.”

“Good. You’ve been out of work for a long time.”

“I’ve heard you’re seeing Tracy.” Brent looked back at Zack.

“What?”

“Jake mentioned he’d seen y’all at Bobby’s ball game. He said you and her looked pretty chummy.”

Zack wasn’t about to discuss Tracy with Jake’s brother. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Brent’s smile rounded his already pie face even more, and he shrugged his wide shoulders. “Oh, maybe that’s why she’s back with Logan, then. Are you done, here?”

“Yeah.” Zack stepped back and touched the brim of his Stetson. “Slow down.”

Brent glanced at Zack, nodded and put the truck into gear. Zack watched him ease away from the curb. “Oh, Brent, my boy, you’re such a tool.”

As Zack got back into the SUV, his mind suddenly replayed a snippet of Brent’s last comment.
Back with Logan?
What the hell did that mean? Tracy and Logan were never together–or were they? He knew they’d become friends over the years. He remembered the few times Tracy showed up at honky-tonks where Logan’s band played. The first time had been back in April down in Waco where she’d dressed to turn heads. Had it been Logan she’d hoped to impress? The bitter twist in his gut reminded him of the feelings he had when Tracy had cheated on him. He didn’t care what Tracy did. He couldn’t care. She meant nothing to him. They were barely friends.

Then why did he suddenly want to see her?

Why had she been at the forefront of every thought he’d had since her brother’s wedding?

He stopped at the intersection and took a deep breath. As he let it out, he corralled his conflicted feelings for Tracy into a corner of his mind and focused on Brent. Something was up with him. He’d asked Tracy to keep her ears open. Maybe she’d heard something he hadn’t.

When the light turned green, he circled the block and headed to Tracy’s salon.

* * * *

After Tracy removed the glasses she only wore to do computer work and to read, she sat back in her office chair. The letter from Jake’s lawyer, informing her of his intentions to reopen their custody case, came to mind. She wasn’t ready for a battle. Her father had advised her to dump her crappy lawyer and get a real one; after all, she could afford one. And she knew who she wanted to handle the case. Hopefully, she hadn’t waited too long. They were due in court in less than two weeks.

She wasn’t the type to cause waves, though Lord knew, she’d caused more than her share indirectly. Shaking her head, Tracy put her real problem aside to think of a less painful one. She couldn’t afford to become a sobbing mess for the afternoon. Her schedule was too full–one color, two perms, and two cuts and styles. Then she’d have to concentrate on the calculus class she’d been crazy enough to sign up for.

Melissa was doing well, and she’d cover the Thursday evening hours, but she was new and it would take a while before the women Tracy serviced trusted her with their hair.

She sipped her coffee and thought about what Melissa had asked earlier. What was she going to do with the apartment above the shop?
That
was much more conducive to getting through her day than thinking about living without her baby.

Renting it out made the most sense, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. She’d bought the old Victorian house on College Street a few months after her divorce became final. The downstairs had been a mom and pop store that had gone out of business. The upstairs had been remodeled into a two-bedroom apartment. It had been perfect for her and Bobby; they lived in the apartment, and she’d set up her styling salon on the main floor.

She understood her attachment to the apartment stemmed from it being the first and only place she could ever call truly her own. The big ranch house was beautiful and she could redecorate it in any way she wanted to, but it wasn’t hers. Dylan owned it.

Besides, her parents lived there as well. She had no idea how long that was going to work. Her parents hadn’t been around since she was eighteen, when her father had been assigned to Pennsylvania, and her mother had left to be with him while Tracy entered college in Colton.

“Oh, stop stalling.” The small place would be perfect for college students. A great many of her clientele came from the college at the northeast edge of town, just up the street. Making up her mind, she decided she’d call Mrs. Pratt, who owned a boarding house a few blocks away. She’d know how to go about having her place listed in the college housing office.

With that problem solved, her mind was again free. However, it wasn’t the pending custody battle with Jake that came to mind. She closed her eyes and replayed her evening with Zack at the football game last Wednesday. He’d actually flirted with her, though what had touched her more was his treating her like a friend.

The bell over the front door tinkled, and Tracy glanced at her watch. Her ten o’clock appointment had cancelled at the last minute, and she wasn’t expecting anyone until one. She moved down the short hall into the reception area of her shop.

The smile she’d pasted on to greet the potential customer became genuine the moment she noticed Logan Cartwright closing the door. “My goodness, I know certain people call me an artist, but I’m not sure anyone could make you beautiful.”

“Well, since I’m already drop dead gorgeous, it’s a good thing I’m not here for your services.” He laughed and embraced her in a tight hug.

“Is that what all the groupies are telling you?” Tracy stepped away from one of her best friends in the world. “How many times do I have to tell you not to believe them?” Although she was partial to only one of the Cartwright men, Logan was considered by most of the females in town to be as sexy, if not a little sexier than his cowboy-turned-Marine-turned-sheriff brother. She figured it had more to do with the fact he was a successful lawyer in his cousin’s law firm and just happened to be a fantastic singer.

“A few more times, at least.” He lost the smirk. “How’s college treating you?”

“Okay. I guess. But I still think I need someone to pound sense into me.”

He laughed and looked around the reception area. “Here I thought someone already had done that.” He met her gaze, and in typical Logan directness, asked, “What’s going on with you and my big brother?”

She groaned. “Please, tell me your aunt Winnie isn’t already ordering the china for our wedding.”

“Not quite, but she is as happy as a lark. Mom, on the other hand, would like to hire a hit man. You aren’t one of her favorite people.”

“Tell your mother she can save her money and avoid jail time because nothing is going on between Zack and me. We’re friends. If you can call barely tolerating each other a friendship.” She leaned her backside against the antique desk in her reception area.

“But you’d like to be more?” Logan sat his designer suit clad, six foot, two-inch frame on the replica of a Victorian couch in front of the windows. He outstretched his arms over the back of the sofa and rested a custom-booted foreleg on his knee. He was totally relaxed as he watched her squirm.

Other than their last names and the above average height and good looks, Zack and Logan were polar opposites. Zack had blond hair and blue eyes; Logan’s hair was brown and his eyes were green. Zack was more serious, while Logan didn’t take much seriously–unless it dealt with domestic and estate law or music. Many considered Logan the more successful of the two brothers in spite of Zack’s rodeo wins, military service, being the county sheriff, and his substantial bank account. Tracy knew Logan’s dream wasn’t about battling it out in divorce court for the Dallas rich. Logan wanted to sing his way to the top. Every Friday and Saturday night and every chance he got, he played guitar and sang lead with his band Texas Justice. And looked absolutely nothing like the wealthy lawyer sitting in her salon at this moment.

“You know I’d like to be more.” Lying to Logan was impossible. “But he’s still in love with a dead woman. Also, Jake’s trying to make it an issue.”