Valiant(19)
“I was kidding.”
Tim wasn’t buying it. “You were not. Is it leaking again? Come on, Tam. Let me help you. We’re friends. Hell, we’re practically family. I know what you make and its shit. You couldn’t go to college the way I did. You had your grandma to take care of and I know you’re still paying off her debts. That house she left you is a death trap. Let me buy you a new roof. Do you need any other repairs? I have the money and it’s just sitting inside a bank account. It’s not as though I have a girlfriend to blow my money on.”
Tammy sank the black ball. Game over. She frowned at her best friend. “We’ve had this argument before and I won’t take your money. Thank you from the bottom of my heart but I’m not a leech.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. I’d never accuse you of that. You always had to do everything for everyone so let me help you this once. It’s what friends and family do for each other.”
“I don’t want to fight.”
She walked away from the pool table and moved to their table. She gripped her beer, peered at the lime stuck inside it, and took a sip. She rarely drank alcohol but sometimes she had the urge. She finished off her first and last beer of the night as she drained the bottle. She’d felt the need to feel a slight buzz more often since she’d met Valiant.
“We’re not fighting. I’m trying to reason with you. I live with my parents and I don’t pay a mortgage. The house is paid off. I just pay the taxes, which are chickenfeed. I make really good money and I have all the toys I want. Let me help you out. Do you remember when my dad had his stroke last year and they sent out that shitty home nurse from the hospital for him? You came and took care of him. You found the wonderful woman who takes care of him now. You changed his diapers for weeks and wouldn’t take a penny. Now let me help you.”
“Tell you what,” Tammy sighed, turning to face him, “you can come change my diapers if or when I ever have a stroke. Until then, don’t shove money at me. It’s different.”
Tim laughed. “Finally! You’re giving me a green light to take your pants off.”
Tammy laughed and shook her head. “You’re disgusting.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Hey, that’s the closest thing to an invite to see you naked that I’ve ever gotten.”
“That’s not true.” She disposed of her beer bottle inside a trash can and gripped her purse. A glance at her watch showed it was just after eleven. “Don’t forget the time I wanted to go skinny dipping when we were ten. You chickened out. You thought a snapping turtle would latch onto you in a bad place if you took off your underwear and waded into the pond. You could have seen me naked.”
“That doesn’t count. I thought all girls were yucky at that age and besides, you hadn’t grown up enough yet to see anything good.”
She laughed and waved. “Neither had you. I have to go. We have to cater a luncheon tomorrow at the church and I have to be at work at seven to help prepare. Ashley Bless met some guy and is getting married. Tomorrow is their engagement luncheon.”
Tim shuddered. “Someone is marrying her? Did she have a personality transplant? She’s the most annoying person I’ve ever met. Poor sucker.” He took a deep drink of his beer.
Tammy snorted. “No. She’s still a bitch but she’s convinced this idiot it’s somehow cute to listen to her rant about everything. That or she uses that big mouth of hers to give him amazing head.”
She walked toward the door, waved, and blew him a kiss. She heard Tim choke on his beer over her parting comment and laughed as she left the bar.
Summers in northern California could be weird. It had been hot during the day but the sun had gone down, bringing a chilly breeze that stirred around Tammy as she headed for her car. She glanced around, enjoying the quiet night. Growing up in a small town had always been great. She knew almost everyone and she’d had a lot of freedom since her grandmother had been half senile. Tammy had moved in with her just after her eighth birthday but she still remembered living in a big city before that. She loved the rural area more.
“Hey,” a man called out. “Are you Tammy Shasta?”
She’d already withdrawn her keys for her car. She turned to stare at the tall stranger who wore jeans with a green, long-sleeve, cotton, button-down shirt. He had finished his outfit with a pair of faded brown cowboy boots. He was definitely not someone who lived in her small town. He had short brown hair and appeared to be in his midthirties. She instantly became more alert. She had been taught to never trust strangers, especially men.