Borrowing Bentley (Wishing Well Texas Book 9) Read online

  The door flew open and Orville entered without knocking. “There you are! I was wondering where you ran off to. I was lookin’ all over.”

  Your first thought wasn’t to check my office?

  I smiled, assuming he was speaking to me. “What can I do for you?”

  “Oh no, I was lookin’ for Benny boy, here.”

  Of course you were.

  Orville tucked his thumbs in his suspenders and rocked back on his heels. He’d always reminded me of Boss Hogg from Dukes of Hazzard. The TV show, not the film version portrayed by Burt Reynolds. All that was missing was a large cigar hanging from Orville’s mouth and a white hat, and he’d be the spitting image.

  “Did I interrupt a strategy meeting? What’s the game plan?”

  That question was definitely directed at me. It made sense to pose that question to the adult in the room.

  But before I could answer, he wagged his finger between the two of us. “Are you two going to play nice?”

  Play nice? How condescending could he be?

  “I have every confidence that we will.” I used the same patronizing tone and verbiage that he had earlier. Not that he noticed. It went right over his head.

  “Great!” He clapped his hands together. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

  “Benny boy,” Rogers slapped Bentley on the shoulder, and he stood to face him. The acting mayor continued, “It’s gonna be great, having you around for the next few weeks. Maybe we can get a pick-up game goin’. When’s the last time you got out on the gridiron? Man, I’ll never forget that interception and eighty-yard run to win the championship.”

  Oh, for the love of Dolly Parton.

  If I had to hear about the game-winning touchdown for the next four to six weeks, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. No, scratch that. I wouldn’t make it.

  I sighed. Yes, I would. I had to. My daily mantra came back to me.

  Everything that is happening now is happening for my own good.

  I repeated it over and over again in my mind, silently, as Orville continued his pigskin-related ramblings.

  “Maisy?” The mayor’s voice tilted on the last syllable indicating he was expecting a response.

  Shoot. What had he asked? I searched the recesses of my mind hoping that the information had imprinted itself even though I hadn’t consciously heard it.

  Nope. No luck. I had no clue what he’d asked. My mind was totally blank as I stared at the man that held my career in the palm of his hand.

  “Maisy was just telling me that she thinks it best if we keep all of our findings confidential until we’re ready to file an official report. That way there’s less chance of anything leaking, or false information being spread around,” Bentley lied.

  Although, that had been my plan. The last thing we needed was for half-truths to start circulating.

  “Good thinking, Ms. Turner. I like where your head’s at.”

  Ms. Turner. That earned me a Ms. Turner and a compliment? All because Bentley covered for me.

  It must’ve been clear as day to him that I had no idea what Orville had asked me. He could’ve easily let me fall on my face. But he didn’t. Why?

  What was his angle?

  Was he setting me up?

  “Son, why don’t I give you a tour of City Hall now that it’s been all spiffed up.”

  Orville waved his arm out as if the building was his home and he’d personally overseen the renovations.

  “Sounds good.” The smug grin that spread on Bentley’s face at the invitation made me want to punch him. But then again, what didn’t make me want to punch him?

  Bentley Calhoun needed to come with a warning label: Side effects of exposure include nausea, irritation, cursing, and sudden outbursts of violence.

  As the two men headed out of my office, Bentley turned his head back. When our eyes met, he mouthed, “You owe me. Big time.”

  There it was. This was a quid pro quo. The only problem was, I had no clue what the quo would be for his quid. More than likely it would be something humiliating, degrading, or downright dangerous. Would he want me to do some sort of jackass-style stunt where I light my hair on fire?

  That wouldn’t be out of his wheelhouse. The summer between our junior and senior year, he’d jumped from the roof of City Hall to the roof of the library. I remembered exactly when it happened, because it had been on my sixteenth birthday.

  But, no. As annoying as he was, I didn’t think he’d actually put me in danger. More than likely it would just be covering for him, so he didn’t have to do his portion of the work. Just like when he’d cheated off of me in Geometry. And in U.S. Government. And in Human Physiology.

  I’d only ever narced on him once. That was after the very unfortunate incident in the hallway, where he’d kissed me thinking I was Madi—about which I was still suffering from sex dreams…er, um nightmares… even twelve years later.

  Shaking my head, I decided not to waste a second more of my energy on the past, or whatever Bentley Calhoun would come up with for my quo.

  I needed to save every ounce of my strength to face working side by side with him for the next few weeks.

  Or, at least until he was cleared to return to duty. Maybe I could bribe his therapist?

  No. What was I thinking? Bentley not only made me curse, he also made me consider breaking the law.

  “Hey, chickadee!” I heard the voice at the same time a knock sounded on the door.

  I looked up and saw one of my best friends standing in the doorway. Olivia Calhoun. I didn’t hold it against her that she happened to be related to the devil himself. Olivia and Molly Calhoun were twins, and also happened to be Bentley’s little sisters.

  They were a grade behind us in school, but when we all met, the five of us had instantly clicked. Probably because of the twin/triplet thing.

  “I was drivin’ by and saw Benny’s truck out front. Have you seen him?”

  Unfortunately.

  “He’s around here somewhere. He’s on a tour.”

  “A tour? A tour of what?”

  “City Hall.”

  Olivia’s face scrunched. “Who is he giving a tour to?”

  “No one. He’s getting a tour. From the mayor.”

  “Really?” She looked over her shoulder and then lowered her voice. “I heard that he stole a bunch of money and got out of Dodge. Why’s he giving Bentley a tour?”

  “Not Bradley. Orville. He’s acting mayor.”

  “Oh.” She nodded.

  I watched as she bit her bottom lip and asked, “Is everything okay, Liv?”

  “Yeah, it’s cool. I just wanted to check on him. He didn’t come home last night.”

  Olivia and Bentley lived next door to each other. After moving out on her own, she’d had a tough time adjusting to it. So, he’d bought the condo next door to her. Which, even I could admit, was sweet.

  “He probably crashed at Brady’s. I heard he could barely walk when he left the bar last night. How did he seem when you saw him?”

  Arrogant. Cocky. Rude.

  “Fine.”

  “I’ve been texting him all morning. He’s not answering.”

  “He probably turned his phone off for the press conference.”

  “Press conference? Why was he at a press conference?”

  “Bentley and I are working together on a task force.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  “I wouldn’t kid about that,” I said flatly.

  “Do you think you guys can…I mean, can you work together without…”

  “Killing each other?” I finished. Our mutual dislike for one another was no secret. Everyone in town knew that we didn’t get along.

  “Yeah.”

  No. Absolutely not. “We’ll see, won’t we?” My phone rang and I looked down. “It’s Melly.”

  “Okay, see ya later. And good luck.” Olivia cringed as she waved and walked back out of my office.

  I swiped my phone, cu
rrently lit up with my sister’s face.

  “Hey, Melly.”

  “I just heard. Is it true?” Melody asked.

  “Is what true?” I didn’t feel like it was my place to comment on the affair or embezzlement, even to my sister, and even if everyone already knew what had happened.

  “Are you really on a special task force with Bentley Calhoun?”

  Now that I could comment on.

  “Unfortunately.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “I’m not exactly sure.”

  I’d had no clue that Bentley had a degree in forensic accounting or that he’d spent three years as a volunteer fireman. Or that he had any specific skills to speak of, in fact.

  All I’d known was that he was a jerk. And a cheat. People in town might think the sun shined out of his hindquarters, but the one ding in his knight-in-shining-armor was that he’d cheated on Camilla Lake, his long-time on-again-off-again girlfriend. She was the town sweetheart. Literally. She’d won the title of Wishing Well Sweetheart at the annual carnival three years in a row. And then she’d gone on to win Miss Texas.

  Their breakup had been big news. Bigger than Jen and Brad splitting up. Or Angie and Brad splitting up, for that matter. They’d even run a story in the newspaper about it. It hadn’t been front-page news, but it had taken up valuable ad space as a half-page ad in the Neighborhood News section.

  “Have you two…talked about the situation?” Melody questioned.

  “Not really.”

  “I’ve always thought it was so weird that out of the Calhoun boys, Bentley is the one you don’t like.”

  “I’m not a huge fan of Brady either.”

  “Obviously. Who is? But that’s my point. Compared to Brady, Bentley is practically a saint. Why don’t you two get along again? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened.” I lowered my voice as I got up to close my door. The last thing I needed was Bentley to walk in on me discussing him. “It wasn’t just one incident. We just don’t like each other. And it’s not just one-sided. It’s mutual.”

  People always tried to make it seem like I was the one with the issue. But he was the one that did the prodding. I just reacted.

  Not this time, though. This time there was too much at stake. This time, we were under a magnifying glass, and people were waiting for us—or me, at least—to self-destruct. There was no way I would give any of them the satisfaction.

  Especially Bentley. He was the last person on earth I wanted to satisfy.

  Chapter 6

  Bentley

  “A man without a purpose is about as useless as the nipples on his chest.”

  ~ Granny Turner

  Unsettled.

  That’s how I felt as I stood at the bar waiting for Bryson, my friend and the owner of The Tipsy Cow, to make my drink. I scanned the crowds of people blowing off steam after work.

  I had four to six more weeks of giving up my Monday nights to promote my mom’s dance studio, Simply Dance. It wasn’t that I hated being used for my incredible dance moves or paraded around in front of willing women. It was just that I hated that I was available to do so.

  Before I was put on leave, my mom had never asked me to do this. Not that she’d asked me now. It was more of a, “You’re not working, you’re going to come to the Cow on Mondays for our promo night.” I was unwillingly volunteered.

  So, because I was enough of a good ol’ Texas boy to know that you never say no to your mama—and definitely not when she used that tone—I’d spent the past four Mondays here, at the Cow, twirling women around the dance floor when what I should really be doing was protecting and serving.

  I was sure that was what the unsettled feeling in my chest was. It had nothing to do with my new co-worker. Or how hot she looked sitting behind her desk.

  After Orville and I’d left Maisy’s office, he kept me busy until damn near four. He took me to lunch and paraded me around downtown as he made his rounds to all the local businesses, letting them know he was acting mayor. When we finally got back to City Hall, I’d had to go see HR and sign all the paperwork. By the time I was done with that, it was time to call it a day.

  I hadn’t seen Maisy again, and for some reason I was disappointed by that. The next few weeks were going to be interesting, that was for sure. And for the first time since the shooting, I was excited to wake up in the morning and start my day.

  “Keep it in your pants tonight, Calhoun!”

  I looked over my shoulder and saw that Tami Lynn’s long red acrylic fingernail was pointed directly at me as she sidled up to the bar next to me. “I don’t want a repeat of last week down at the Spoon.”

  The week before, three of my Monday dance partners had caused a scene at The Greasy Spoon, the diner where Tami Lynn waited tables. I hadn’t been there to witness it myself, but apparently there was hair pulling and plate throwing and some real salty language. And it all started because the trio had been comparing notes and discovered that all of their names had been written on my after-hours dance card.

  “Tami Lynn, can I just say that you are looking particularly lovely tonight. Is that a new shirt?”

  “Do not try that on me, Bentley Calhoun. You might be able to charm these other women, but I’m immune to your baby blues and dimples.”

  No. She wasn’t.

  I gave her a once over. Nothing lascivious, just appreciative. I took a sip of beer and clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “That Emmitt sure is a lucky man.”

  I wasn’t lyin’. Tami Lynn might’ve been in her sixties, but she wore it well. I was sure that she’d turned quite a few heads in her day. Not only because she told me as much, but also because I had eyes.

  “That’s what I keep tellin’ the man.”

  “He knows he’s punching way above his weight.”

  When I saw a blush appear on Tami Lynn’s cheeks beneath the line of artificial pink that she’d applied generously, I knew I’d been forgiven.

  “There you are! I didn’t think you’d shown up yet.” My little sister Olivia hugged me.

  “I promised I would.”

  Olivia ran the promo night for the dance studio and had demanded three things of me after she’d informed me that our mother had volunteered me as the sacrificial lamb—AKA dance stud.

  The first was: Don’t be late. The second was: Make sure our older brother Brady didn’t show up and act like his usual ass of a self. The third was: Don’t sleep with the potential clientele.

  Hell, two out of three ain’t bad.

  When she released her bear-hug hold on me, she crossed her arms. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day.”

  I could see the worry in Liv’s eyes. She was the nurturer in the family. Molly, her twin, was more of a sit back, eat popcorn, and enjoy the show kinda gal. Molly liked to say that she was Switzerland—she never took sides or tried to step in if there was an issue, just waited to see where the chips would fall, a bemused smirk planted firmly on her face the entire time.

  Liv was the opposite. She wanted to make sure that everyone was okay, and she wanted to fix things. If someone she cared about was upset, she would do everything she could to make it better.

  “Sorry, Liv, it was a long day.” I’d seen the texts and missed calls, but I knew that I’d see her tonight, and I didn’t want to hear the lecture I was sure was coming.

  “I heard you tied one on last night.”

  There it was.

  “Can’t a man have a little fun?”

  “I think it was more than a little fun. Brady said you broke into his place at quarter past four.”

  “I didn’t break in. Why would I do that? I have a key.”

  “I know, which is why he thought it was strange when he caught you climbing in through the kitchen window.”

  As soon as she said that, a vague memory began to float to the surface of my subconscious. I remembered turning over a planter and using it as a stool. Popping the screen off and then hoisting myse
lf up in through the window.

  “Oh, shit,” I laughed. “Yeah, I think I might have done that.”

  “You don’t remember?” Olivia’s eyes widened even further.

  “It’s blurry.”

  “Well, here. Does this clear things up?” She took out her phone and showed me photographic evidence of my window escapade. “Brady took them.”

  The first one was just my body, half in and half out of the window. The next was of me standing in the kitchen sink. And the third was of me laying on the kitchen floor and looking like the trip in between the two hadn’t been much fun.

  Damn, that must’a been where the bruise came from.

  Normally, I would’ve made some smart-ass comment that downplayed both her worry and my behavior. Something like, Come on, sis. I just wanted to seize the opportunity to make the whole “ass over teakettle” thing literal by taking a tumble in a kitchen. What’s the big deal?

  But for some reason, this time I stayed silent.

  After a moment, she said, “I think you need to talk to someone. You need to see someone that you haven’t been involved with.”

  “It’s Wishing Well. If I’m not related to them, then chances are, I’ve been involved with them.”

  Just as I made that statement, the front door of the Cow opened. I looked up to see Maisy walk in. At least, I thought it was Maisy for a split second from across the room, but then quickly realized that it was either Melody or Madison. The triplets were identical, so the only way I could tell them apart, aside from when Maisy was going through her dyed hair phase, was my body’s response.

  Every single time I saw Maisy, I had a physical reaction. The hair rose on my arms and the back of my neck. It happened the first time I saw her on the playground when I was five, it happened when I saw her at City Hall this morning, and it had happened every time in between.

  Since my hair wasn’t rising, I knew it wasn’t her.

  “I’m serious, Benny.” Liv put her palm on my cheek and turned my face so I was looking at her again. “I know this isn’t the place to talk about this, but it’s the only place I see you. I’m worried about you.”