Ugly Ducklings Finish First (3 page)

Wiley’s eyes were half-closed, as if watching the memory. “How old were you then?”

“Around thirteen.”

“Lord, you were young. I never realized how young you were. You always seemed so much older.”

“Maybe if I had been, I might have been able to cope with things better.” Then Payton shrugged. Maybes didn’t matter. “I’ll never forget how that table of your friends went dead silent, like I’d trespassed on hallowed ground or something. I said something like needing to talk to you about setting up a study schedule. You looked at me like I was a creature from Mars and said—”

“
Go away
,
Baby Brain
,
can’t you see I’m busy?
” He looked at her and winced. “Right?”

“Right.” Payton nodded, deflating with a sigh. “It was the unforgettable birth of the Baby Brain moniker that followed me for the rest of my high school life. I remember Laurie laughing in that shrill twitter of hers. In that moment, I honestly didn’t know who I wanted to murder more—you or her.”

“Payton.” At a loss and clearly damned by his own memory, Wiley spread his hands wide. “I don’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t seem to cover it. I know it’s not an excuse, but I can tell you the reason for my behavior that day was nothing short of mortal embarrassment. I didn’t mean to be cruel to you.”

“I get that you were embarrassed.” Pride had her lifting her chin, irritated now that she’d allowed him to see just how much that moment had added to her long-ago misery. “Who wouldn’t have been? Bitterthorn High’s official Queen Geek spoke to you in front of your cool friends. Talk about the social kiss of death.”

“Wrong.” His heavy-lidded gaze slid over her, and the heat of it was so intense her skin tingled wherever they touched. “I was deathly embarrassed I needed help. It wasn’t exactly barrels of fun having everyone know I was too stupid to get through high school on my own.”

“Wiley, you were ashamed to even know me, but that’s—”

“Payton, I never thought I’d say this, but don’t be stupid. I’ll admit in the beginning I wasn’t all that eager to hang out with you, but that was before I got to know you.”

She searched his face, wanting to believe it so much she shied away from it. “The only time we ever spoke, the only time you even acknowledged my presence, was during our study sessions away from school. Not once did you speak to me in public, Wiley. Not once.”

“Every time I saw you at school, you had your head buried in some book.”

“I was studying—”

“You were avoiding me,” he shot back, dead-eye accurate. “You used to walk right by me without even looking at me and my—what did you call them? My dumb-jock friends. You never deigned to acknowledge my existence. And believe me, I looked for it.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” Payton said defensively. “Considering how our first meeting went, there was no way I was going to risk approaching you publicly again. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s learning a lesson and learning it well.”

“Too well.” His tone was as dark as the night around them, and for some reason it made a shiver run up her spine. “Payton, I’ll be the first to admit I could have tried harder to connect with you outside of our study time, but trust me—the vibe you always gave off made you impossible to approach. What’s more, you were wrong about not wanting to approach me in public, if that’s even the truth. I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“What do you mean,
if
that’s the truth? Why else would I have avoided you?”

“You made no secret that tutoring a dumb jock who couldn’t even get past algebra was beneath you. That
I
was beneath you.”

Her jaw dropped. He couldn’t have shocked her more if he’d claimed he was the Tooth Fairy. “Wiley, the only time I ever called you that was when you refused to show everyone how intelligent you are. I used to wonder if you were afraid people would think you were becoming like your nerdy tutor.”

“After a week of knowing you, I stopped thinking like that. And I wouldn’t let anyone else think that either. When that moron Lenny Deutsch—ah hell, never mind.” He tugged at his tie as if it were strangling him. “None of this matters now.”

“Lenny Deutsch?” Payton searched her memory as the name sent up a red flag. “As I recall, you and he got into a fight or something, right?”

“Or something.”

“That Neanderthal broke your nose,” she announced with a snap of her fingers. “I never did get the full story of what happened, so I’m fuzzy on the details. But I clearly remember you were suspended for a week because of it.”

“Your memory is scary good.”

“I thought that was so unfair, you getting the suspension while that knuckle dragger remained in school. It’s not like you started the fight.”

“I did, actually.”

“What?” Stunned, Payton searched his face in the sodium-lit gloom for signs of humor. He was dead serious. “Why? Your philosophy has always been that of a lover, not a fighter.”

“It is. Usually.”

“But not then?” She tilted her head as she tried to unravel the mystery. “Help me understand this. You said you wouldn’t let anyone think badly of me. Did Lenny...” She paused, because the thought was so inconceivable she could barely put a voice to it. “Did he say something...about me...to make you angry enough to hit him?”

“It was over a decade ago, Payton. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” She was shocked by how much. “He did, didn’t he, Wiley?”

“Yeah.”

It was a barely audible growl.

“Oh.” Something clenched in her chest, and she lifted a hand to press against it. How could she not have known he’d defended her without a thought to his popular reputation? He’d had his perfect face rearranged—albeit for the better—because of her. Worse yet, she’d been so wrapped up in her own teenage misery it hadn’t even occurred to her to delve any deeper into the matter. Talk about self-centered. “Wiley...wow. Why would you do that? I wasn’t worth it.”

“Don’t ever say that,” he shot back with surprising force. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Because whether you agree with me or not I considered you one of my closest friends, Payton. I always will.”

“Then I’m incredibly lucky.” Not wanting to show how much he’d moved her with his twelve-year-old act of chivalry, she reached out to grasp his hand. “And now that I have a friend who’s a crack attorney, what are my chances for suing Laurie Beeson for emotional damages?”

“The success you’ve made of yourself is revenge enough.” With the reluctant beginnings of a smile Wiley steered her toward his car. “Though, if you want to go back and kick her in the shins...”

“I’m good, thanks. Oh, no,” she gasped as she reached for the Corvette’s door. “Wiley, someone’s keyed your car.”

“Yeah.” He grimaced at the deep gouges in the otherwise glossy paintjob, before reaching around her to open the door for her. “That happened last week, followed by a good old-fashioned tire slashing day before yesterday. I’m being bedeviled by Bitterthorn’s version of a crime wave, and it’s eating up a lot of my leisure time.”

“Are the police looking into it?”

“Absolutely. It’s fine, Payton,” he assured her when she didn’t get into the car. “It’s just some kids having the wrong kind of fun. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Chapter Three

“I always wanted to come here when we were in school.” Dark eyes sparkling, Payton craned her neck to look beyond their high-backed padded booth situated at the front window of the fifties-style café, The Dirty Duck. “This was where all the cool kids hung out after school. If you could walk in here and hang with your posse, it meant you were officially awesome.”

“It hasn’t changed much.” Wiley sipped his coffee, not distracted by the bustling café with its horseshoe-shaped chrome counter, whirling black ceiling fans and a neon-lit jukebox, from which Doris Day crooned about her “Secret Love.” His focus remained on the woman opposite him, so familiar and yet so different.

When had Payton gotten so damn sexy?

Her sable hair caught the light to show warm golden highlights, and a flush of excitement outlined her sculpted cheekbones. Laughter lurked in her doe eyes and danced at the corners of her full-lipped mouth. It looked sweet, that mouth. Impossibly, irresistibly sweet.

His sweet tooth was frigging killing him.

“It’s fabulous.” Payton released a sigh of pleasure so profound Wiley had to grit his teeth against the instant heaviness in his loins. “I wonder if it’s still
the
place to hang out.”

A little savagely he put his coffee mug down. “It is.”

“Even better. I wouldn’t want to be seen in a place that wasn’t cool.” With a laugh, she poked her straw at the ice in her glass. “If I hadn’t already put down roots in Houston, I think I’d buy this place.”

That surprised him enough to momentarily set aside feverish thoughts of tracing the pouting fullness of her lips with his tongue. “I thought your heart belonged to medicine.”

“Oh, it does. I just wonder what my life would have been like if my path hadn’t been set so early.”

“By your mother.” Wiley frowned when the light trickled from her expression. “I never was sure who wanted you to go to med school more—you or your mom.”

“It was her dream at first. It became my own a long time ago.”

“I remember when I met your mom. There I was, walking up to your front door for the first time, wanting to be anywhere but there. Suddenly there was Deborah on the front porch, arms crossed and looking like she was going to bar the door against me.”

Payton’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“She wasn’t exactly thrilled with the situation. Why do you think I always entered through your window?”

“I thought you were keeping in practice for when you visited your girlfriends.”

“Cute.” And she was, he realized half-angrily. When she wrinkled her nose and laughed at him, she was the cutest damn thing around. “Coming in through your window was my way of avoiding Deborah. Despite the fact that tutoring me looked good on your college applications, she thought it would cut into your studying time.”

“She was always worried about that.” She poked at the ice again. A cube spun up and almost cleared the rim. “I think she was disappointed I only skipped three grades.”

“She wanted the best for you.”

“She wanted the best from me.” Then she shook her head, a gesture packed with frustrated resignation. “Crap. That isn’t fair. She
did
want the best for me. That meant making sure I received an education that would take me far away from this ‘hick town.’”

“That’s right. I remember Deborah wasn’t Bitterthorn’s biggest fan.”

“She still isn’t.”

“Really? You sure about that?”

“I know my mother, Wiley.”

“You knew the woman she was.” When Payton frowned, he wondered if anyone ever had the chance to correct her. Probably not. “When was the last time you saw your mom?”

“Well...we were never very close.”

“When?”

“Good grief. I bet you’re a killer in the courtroom.”

“You should see me in action. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“It’s been seven years. Counselor,” she added sweetly and crunched down on an ice cube. “We had an epic screaming match after my father’s funeral.”

“So I recall, since it was right there at the cemetery.”

She winced. “Ouch. That’s right, you were there, weren’t you?”

“You were there for me when my dad died. I wanted to return the favor.”

“I can still hear myself screaming at my mom,” she said without emotion. “I felt that after a lifetime of waging war with him, she’d finally won by killing him off with her never-ending poison of how much she hated the life he made her live in Bitterthorn.”

Wiley grimaced. “I always knew there was tension between your folks, but I never knew how bad it was until your dad’s funeral.”

“At the time, I really believed she’d pushed my dad into a premature grave with all her nagging.” Then she shrugged. “I could never figure out why they married in the first place. It was so obvious they were mismatched, they never should have gotten together.”

“Your dad was a native of Bitterthorn, wasn’t he?”

“It’s weird, but whenever you ask me a question I feel like I’m on the stand.” Payton shot him an exasperated glance. “Yes, he was a native of Bitterthorn, he loved it dearly and not only was he this town’s last librarian, he was the founder and sole member of Bitterthorn’s Historical Society. But you know that already.”

“I’m just making sure you knew it as well.”

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“Your mother still lives here in Bitterthorn, seven years after your father’s death.”

“That’s not exactly a newsflash.” Setting her glass aside, she fiddled with her necklace before bringing it to her lips. “What point are you trying to make?”

“No point, really.” The urge to touch her was overwhelming, and Wiley had never been one to curb his impulses. He reached across the table, caressing the soft silk of her lower lip as he brought the chain from her mouth. “Not unless you see one there.”

She jerked back as if burned. “Don’t.”

He gave a shot at looking innocent. “Don’t what?”

“Look, I’ll admit I’m baffled by my mother’s refusal to move,” she said, ignoring him. “Everything she’s ever done baffles me. I mean, a big-city woman from Dallas, marrying a quiet small-town librarian? Anyone could see that relationship for the train wreck it was.”

“Love’s blind that way, I guess.”

“Blind? Try stupid.” She couldn’t seem to hold back an eye roll. “There’s no other way to describe it. After all, it was my mother who agreed to marry him and live out the rest of her life in Bitterthorn, knowing full well what she was getting into. He never lied to her about how much this town needed him, since he was the driving force that kept the library going. Yet not a day went by when she wasn’t complaining about living in this town.” Sudden realization lit her face and she snapped her fingers. “Maybe that’s why she’s staying on here. Maybe she feels she’s atoning for the past.”

“Or maybe she saw just how important your dad was to this community when the library did close after his death,” Wiley offered, fascinated at how the ebb and flow of emotions played across her face. If she ever tried to play poker she’d lose her shirt. “It’s possible she realized you can’t make people be what you want them to be, and she’s had enough time to accept that.”

“Trust me, my mother isn’t the accepting type. And I seriously doubt she’s had a miraculous change of heart when it comes to Bitterthorn. People don’t change in just a handful of years.”

“True. Sometimes a person can change in a single day.”

She made a sound of exasperation. “Wiley, my mother’s one burning ambition throughout my entire life was to get out of Bitterthorn.”

“It could be that it was enough she got you out.”

“I wouldn’t know about that. I do know she and I are more alike than I thought.” Apparently that didn’t sit very well, if Payton’s disheartened sigh was any indication. “I can’t deny I’ve always had ambitions, and they didn’t always come from my mother.”

“Ambitions to do what?”

“To achieve. To succeed.” Her smile was rueful as she encapsulated her life in two short phrases. “I’ve always needed that.”

“And that’s what you’ve done.” Before she had a chance to dodge him, he covered her hand with his. Pure delight coursed through him at how it curved into his palm as if made for that purpose. “Has it been enough, Payton?”

Distracted, her gaze bounced from his hand to his eyes, and the turbulence he saw in her fascinated him. But before he could discover its source, a steaming coffeepot appeared between them, followed by a voice that was the texture of quarry gravel.

“I can’t remember how many times I’ve seen you holding hands with a pretty lady.” A hangdog face peered down at them as he refilled Wiley’s cup. “Some things never change.”

“Evening, Buddy.” Wiley’s gaze traveled reluctantly from Payton to the older man, but he quickly glanced back when she slid her hand from his. “Busy night tonight.”

“I do more business than usual, come reunion time.” Clearly pleased with this, the pudgy proprietor of The Dirty Duck cast a satisfied glance around the bustling dining area. “You know how it is. People wanting to relive their old high school days.”

“God forbid,” Payton muttered so quietly Wiley almost missed it.

Buddy glanced at her. “What was that, miss?”

“I said, absolutely.” She turned a smile on Buddy that was so charming Wiley couldn’t blame the man when he struggled to pull in his generous belly. “This place was always jumping when Wiley and I were in school.”

“Still is,” Buddy announced with a proud nod. Tugging on his waistband, he peered at her with renewed interest. “You went to school with Wiley?”

“Yes, I did.”

“That’s funny. I’m pretty good with faces, but I don’t seem to remember you.”

Her smile turned bittersweet. “This is the first time I’ve been in here.”

“Buddy, this is Payton Pruitt.” Wiley’s tone was mild, but a smoldering knot of anger at both her and himself burned a hole in his gut. Payton’s social ostracism had been so complete she’d known she hadn’t been welcome in a public restaurant. Yet, for all her inner fire, she hadn’t fought against it.

And goddamn it, neither had he.

“Pruitt,” Buddy said meditatively before perking up. “Deborah Pruitt’s daughter?”

Payton’s brows shot up. “That’s right.”

“So you’re the smart one!” Well and truly pleased now that he had her pegged, the older man leaned against Wiley’s side of the booth. “I remember hearing about you when you were in school. Thought you were gonna be one of those mad scientists splitting atoms or something. You doing that now?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Payton’s a doctor now.” Wiley couldn’t help but smile when he caught the ironic light in her eyes when Buddy called her “the smart one.” “A medical doctor, specializing in family care and pediatrics. She’s more used to sniffles and broken wrists than split atoms.”

“Isn’t that something?” Buddy shook his head, eyeing her closely. “So. You coming back to practice medicine here?”

She shook her head. “I just signed a partnership contract in Houston.”

“That’s a shame.” Some of the light dimmed from Buddy’s face. “This town sure could use you.”

“What about old Doc Benson?”

“You said it yourself, Payton. He was old.” Wiley stirred cream into his coffee and watched her out of the corner of his eye. “He died shortly before he was supposed to retire, leaving no one to take his place.”

“How has everyone been getting medical care?”

Wiley shrugged. “San Antonio has plenty of doctors.”

“But it’s thirty miles away!”

“Twenty-eight,” he corrected, and had to stifle a grin at her characteristic sound of impatience. “We’re a small town, Payton. Places like Bitterthorn don’t attract that kind of talent, and you’re living proof that what homegrown talent we do have is lost to the cities.”

Since there was clearly nothing she could say to that, she waved it aside. “How long has this been going on?”

“Three or four years now.” Buddy cast her a mournful look. “It wouldn’t hurt to think about coming back to Bitterthorn, Dr. Pruitt. I’m sure your mother misses you, and you know what they say—there’s no place like home.”

Payton snorted as someone called Buddy’s name. “You can say that again.”

“I don’t suppose you would think about coming back,” Wiley mused as the older man waddled away. “After all, you’ve made it painfully clear you don’t have the greatest memories about this town.”

“It wasn’t all bad.” Her chin lifted, and she managed to look both dignified and feisty. “Don’t bother wasting your pity on me, pal.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I do have good memories of Bitterthorn, you know.”

“Really. Such as?”

“Wading in the river,” she said after a moment’s thought. “The strawberry festival. The annual rummage sale at First Baptist Church and Monique Corozon holding forth on how to hunt for antiques. Fourth of July picnics under the stars and all the fireworks. Combing the Giddings’ pumpkin patch for just the right jack-o’-lantern. Pauline’s praline ice cream.” Frustrated, she groped around for something more. “Watching you play basketball.”

“Payton, bless your heart.” His face split into a pleased grin. “I never knew you saw me play.”

An intriguing flush bloomed over her high cheekbones, and she reached for her empty glass once more. “Well...yeah. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe I saw a few of your games.”

“Just a few?”

“All right, I saw all your home games.” Her flush went nuclear, and he couldn’t have been more satisfied if she were a hostile witness confessing to murder under cross-examination. “So what? I love basketball.”

“God knows you’re tall enough for it.” Delighted out of all proportion, Wiley leaned his forearms on the table. “Do you play?”

“I’ve got a fabulous baby hook.”

“I’d love to see it.”

“I won’t be here that long.”

“That’s not fair.” Again he grasped her hand, this time curling his fingers warmly around hers. “After all, you’ve seen me play.”

She stared at their clasped hands as if she couldn’t figure out how to untangle them. “If this is a new spin on ‘if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,’ I don’t have time for it.” She pulled her hand away on the excuse of digging into her purse for a couple of bills. “And speaking of time, I really have to be going. I want to be fresh tomorrow morning.”