When the truck pulled into Pamela Sue’s driveway, her friend sprinted out and opened the door. She pushed VJ to the center, then bounced onto the vacated seat. “What took you so long?” she asked, breathlessly. “We have to go down to Pearl’s. Drive, Bobby.”
“What’s at Pearl’s?” he asked, as he shifted into Reverse and peered at the rearview mirror. “I got to get back to the garage.”
“It’s a surprise for VJ,” she said. “Drop us off and skedaddle.”
VJ gave Pamela Sue a one-eyed stare. “A surprise like pin a scarlet letter on VJ or more like a surprise public flogging of VJ?”
When Pamela Sue had picked her up from the bus station, VJ’d asked to visit Pearl first, to apologize for leaving her former boss in the lurch. Pearl was a marshmallow, so she wouldn’t be the one pinning or flogging, but as for the rest of the town, it was anyone’s guess.
“Neither. Wait and see.” In a very un–Pamela Sue way, she kept her mouth closed clear through the single stoplight in the center of town. Right before Bobby Junior turned the corner at Pearl’s, she asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to come in, Bobby? You might be sorry you missed it.”
Now VJ was really curious. Oh. Everyone had missed her birthday. Surprise party, of course. She whimpered. Normally, she’d love that but with folks’ dirty looks and general hostility, attendance would be slim.
But then she caught sight of the parking lot at Pearl’s. It was full. Jam-packed, with cars and trucks lining the street for a block, and people streaming through the front doors.
Eyes wide, she glanced at Pamela Sue. “It is a public flogging. I’m suddenly feeling very feverish.”
“Just get out.” She hooked elbows with VJ and hauled her out of the truck the second Bobby Junior braked at the curb. The engine shut off, and Bobby Junior swung out of the cab.
“Can’t stay but a minute,” he said in concession.
All three of them trooped inside. The diner was dark—the kitchen, the dining room, entrance—but the rustle of people was unmistakable. The lights flashed and everyone yelled, “Surprise!” but there were no decorations, no cake and no balloons.
Instead, a line of people stood in the middle of the room, each holding a single yellow sunflower. Confused and a little weirded out, she turned to Pamela Sue. “What is this?”
“Take the flowers,” she said, which was no answer at all, and dragged her toward Mrs. Johnson, who was at the head of the line. VJ trailed after Pamela Sue, only because their arms were still hooked.
Mrs. Johnson extended the flower, which had a rectangle of white attached to it with a silky ribbon, and said, “I liked the red dress.”
A compliment. Not a judgmental put-down. Mystified, VJ gripped the sunflower, held it to her nose and inhaled the fresh fragrance. The dress hung in the back of the closet at Pamela Sue’s. Another memento she couldn’t toss. “Thanks. I liked it, too.”
“Read the card,” someone in the audience urged.
Intrigued, she flipped the card and took in the words. Her stomach seized up like an overheated engine. The card shook so hard in her trembling fingers, it was a wonder she held on to it. “I can’t. It’s Greek. I don’t know how to translate it.”
“I do,” Kris said from behind her.
She spun and oh, yes. There he was, in the flesh. Clad in black, ebony hair falling against his cheekbones, arms crossed and one hip leaned gracefully against the discolored wall. Beautifully, sinfully gorgeous and—
Dear Lord. Every person in this room knew they’d been intimate. Frozen, she stared at him. Couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. One hand flew up to cover her mouth.
Kris straightened and strode toward her, eyes fluid and searching and beguiling. He stopped a couple feet away but didn’t touch her.
His phone buzzed.
The only thing she could think to say was, “You went to the communication dark side and started carrying your phone in your pocket?”
With a wry laugh that almost broke the tension, he pulled it out and pitched the phone at the closest table. “I kept hoping you might call, and I didn’t want it to go to voice mail.”
She was the person too important to leave a message?
“What are you doing here?”
All around them, fascinated faces watched her and Kris, blurring into a ménage of colors as it crystallized.
He was here. In Little Crooked Creek.
“I’m doing what I should have done in Dallas when you said it was time to get back to reality.” He edged closer, his sensual aura overwhelming. “My reality isn’t the same anymore. You destroyed it and gave me something better. A reality where fairy tales come true. I’m here to recapture that reality.”