Daisy's back in town

Chapter One

Heat waves drifted across the concrete as the '63 Thunderbird slid from the shadow of the garage. Her big V8and Holley two-barrels purred like a satisfied woman, all warm and sexy and throaty. The hot Texas sun made ahundred little bursts of light within her wire wheels, slid along the chrome fins, and poured over the glisteningblack paint. The owner watched as she rolled toward him, and he smiled in appreciation. Several months ago,the Sports Roadster had been little more than a home for mice. Now fully restored to her former glory, she wasdazzling - a reminder of a time when Detroit had been more interested in cracking sixty in eight seconds thanmiles per gallon, safety features, or where to put the cup holder.

Jackson Lamott Parrish sat within the red leather interior of the big T-Bird, one wrist hanging over the redsteering wheel. The light caught in his thick brown hair, and fine lines creased the corners of hisgreen eyes as he lowered his lids against the blinding sun. He revved the big engine one last time, took his handfrom the steering wheel, and shoved her into park. He swung the door open, and the sole of his cowboy boot hitthe pavement. In one smooth motion, he stood and the owner of the restored Roadster stepped forward andhanded him a check. Jack glanced at it, noted that all the zeros were in the right places, then folded it in half. Heslipped it into the breast pocket of his white dress shirt.

"Enjoy," he said, then turned and walked into the shop. He moved passed a nineteen-seventy 'Cuda 440-6, itshuge Hemi engine suspended from a cherry picker. Over the sounds of air compressors and power tools, Jack'syounger brother, Billy, called out to a mechanic beneath a '59 Dodge Custom Royal Lancer.

The space just vacated by the T-bird would he filled the next day with a nineteen-fifty-four Corvette. The sportsclassic had been found in a dilapidated garage in Southern California, and Jack had flown out three days ago totake a look at it. When he discovered it had only forty, thousand original miles and all the numbers matched, hebought it for eight grand on the spot. Once fully restored, the ' He dropped her arm as if he couldn't stand thetouch of her.

"Yes, I know."

"Good. You stay away from me, Daisy Lee," he said, drawing out the vowels in her name. "You stay away orI'll make your life a misery."

She looked up into his dark face, at the passion and anger that had not abated in fifteen years.

"Just stay away," he said one last time before he turned on his bare heels and disappeared into the shadows.

She knew she would be wise to heed his warning. Too bad she didn't have that option.

Although he didn't know it yet, neither did he.

ette would bring ten times that. When it came to restoring vintage cars, Parrish American Classics was the best.

Everyone knew it.

Ground-pounding, ear-assaulting muscle cars were in the Parrish boys' blood. Since they'd taken their firststeps, Jack and Billy had worked in their daddy's garage. They'd yanked their first engine he lore either of themhad grown their short-and-curlies. They could tell a 260 V8 from a 289 with their eyes closed and could rebuildfuel injectors in their sleep. Proud native sons of Lovett, Texas, population nineteen thousand three, the Parrishboys had grown up loving football, cold beer, and tearing up asphalt on the flat open roads - usually while somebig-haired, loose-moraled female repaired her lipstick in the rearview mirror.

The boys had been raised in a small three-bedroom house behind the garage. The original shop was gone now.

Torn down and replaced by a bigger, more modern space with eight hays. The yard behind the garage had beencleaned up. The old cars and junked parts had been towed away long ago.

The house was the same, though. Same roses their mama had planted, same patches of dirt and grass beneaththe towering elm. Same concrete porch and the same screen door that needed a good dose of WD4O. The househad just been given a fresh coat of paint, inside and out. The same white color as before. The only realdifference was that Jack now lived there alone.

Seven years ago, Billy had married Rhonda Valencia and had happily given up his wild ways for domestic bliss.

As far as anyone in town could recall, Jack had never been tempted to give up his wild ways. As far as theyknew, he'd never met a woman who'd made him want a one-on-one. A forever.

But they didn't know everything.

Jack made his way to his office at the rear of the garage and closed the door. He stuck the check in a deskdrawer and pulled out his chair. Before he'd purchased the '54 Corvette, he'd searched out her history then flownto California to inspect her to make sure there wasn't any serious damage to the structural integrity of the car.

Searching the history of a vehicle, finding replacement parts, and restoring it, compelled him and kept at himuntil the vehicle was once again perfect. Fixed. Better. Whole.

Penny Kribs, Jack's secretary, walked into his office and handed him the day's mail. "I'm leaving to get my hairdone," she reminded him.

Jack looked up at the wispy black pile on top of Penny's head. He'd gone through all twelve years of school withPenny, and he'd played on the football team with her husband, Leon.

He rose and set the mail on his desk. "You goin' to get yourself beautiful for me?"

She had rings on just about every finger and long pink nails that curled like claws. He'd often wondered howshe typed without hitting extra keys or managed to put on all that mascara without poking out an eye. He didn'teven want to think about her wrapping her hand around Leon's johnson. The thought sent a shiver down hisbackside.

"Of course," she said through a smile. "You know you've always been my first love."

Yeah, he knew. In the third grade, Penny'd told him she loved him then she'd kicked him in the shin with herblack patent leather shoes. He'd always figured he didn't need that kind of loving. "Don't tell Leon."

"Oh, he knows." She waved a hand and moved to the door, leaving a trail of perfume in her wake. "He alsoknows that I would never get involved with you.

Jack folded his arms across his chest and leaned his butt against the edge of his desk. "Why's that?"

"Because you treat women like an anorexic treats a Whitman Sampler. You nibble here and nibble there. Maybeyou take a few bites, but you never eat one whole."

Jack laughed. "I think there are a few women who could set you straight on that."

Penny wasn't amused. "You know what I mean," she said over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

Yeah, he knew what she meant. Like most women, Penny thought he should he married, raising children, anddriving an SUV. But as far as Jack was concerned, he figured his younger brother had taken care of that task forboth of them. Billy had three daughters ranging in age from six months to five years. They lived on a quiet cul-de-sac with a swing set in the backyard, and Rhonda drove a Tahoe, the alternative choice of soccer momseverywhere. With all those nieces, jack felt no pressure to bring another Parrish into the world. He was "UncleJack," and that suited him just fine.

He returned to his chair and unbuttoned his cuffs. He rolled his sleeves up his forearms, and got back to it. Itwas Friday and he had a mountain of work to clear off his desk before he could start his weekend. At five, Billyopened the door to tell him he was leaving. Jack glanced at the Buick Riviera clock sitting next to his computermonitor. He'd been at it for three hours and fifteen minutes.

"I'm headed for Amy Lynn's T-ball game," Billy said, referring to his five-year-old daughter. "You gonna makeit by the park?"

Amy Lynn was Billy's oldest and Jack tried to make it to her games when he could. "Not tonight," he answeredand tossed his pen on the desk. "Jimmy Calhoun's bachelor party is tonight over at The Road Kill," he said.

Until recently, Jimmy had been a real carouser. Now he was giving up his freedom for a pair of matching goldrings. "I told him I'd stop by for a few."

Billy smiled. "Is there gonna he strippers?"

"I imagine."

"Don't tell me you'd rather watch naked women than a game of T-ball?"

Jack's grin matched his brother's. "Yeah, it was a tough choice to make. Watch women take their clothes off orfive-year-olds run around bases with their helmets on backward."

Billy laughed, in that special way he always had of tipping his head back and letting loose with a few heh-heh-hehs. It sounded so much like their father, Ray, Jack figured it had to he genetic. "Lucky bastard," Billy said,but without much heart. They both knew that Billy would rather watch Amy Lynn run around with her helmeton backward. "If you need someone to drive you home from The Road Kill," Billy added on his way to thedoor, "call me."

"Of course." A drunk driver had taken their parent's lives when Jack had been all of eighteen. The brothersmade it a point to never drive drunk.

Jack worked for another hour before he turned off his computer and headed out of the garage through the bays.

Everyone else had already left for the day, and his bootheels echoed in the silence. He locked the door and setthe alarm, then he jumped into his Shelby Mustang. It started to rain as he drove toward the outskirts of Lovett.

A light sprinkle of drops mixed with the dust and wind, and turned the car's shiny black paint a dull gray.

The Road Kill was a lot like other bars strewn throughout the Texas panhandle. Country music poured from thejuke while the patrons drained the beer spigots of Lone Star. A big red-white-and-blue DON'T MESS WITHTEXAS sign hung on the mirror behind the bar, while old road signs, stuffed armadillos and rattlers decoratedthe walls. The owner of the bar was also a taxidermist, and if a patron was so inclined, or was drunk enough, heor she could purchase a rattler belt or an ultra-attractive armadillo handbag at cut-rate prices.

When Jack walked into the bar, he pushed up the brim of his Stetson and paused in the doorway long enough toallow his eyes to adjust before he made his way to the bar. He exchanged a few heys with some of the regulars.

Over Clint Black on the jukebox, he could hear the sound of Jimmy's bachelor party going full tilt in the backroom.

"Bottle of Lone Star," he ordered. A bottle appeared on the bar and he handed over a five. He felt a soft hand onhis arm and looked across his shoulder into the face of Gina Brown.

"Hey there, Jack."

"Hey, Gina." Gina was the same age as Jack and twice divorced. She was a tall, lean cowgirl who liked ridingthe mechanical bull at Slim Clem's over off Highway Seventy. She wore her Wranglers tight, her Justinsstacked, and her hair dyed red. Jack knew she dyed her hair because she liked riding him too. But lately she'dhinted that she had him in mind for husband number three. He'd had to cool things down so she would get thatidea right out of her head.

"You here for the bachelor party in the back?" She gazed up at him out of the corners of her blue eyes. Hewould have to be blind to miss the invitation curving her lips.

"Yep." Jack raised the bottle to his mouth and took a long drink. He had no interest in heating things back up.

He liked Gina, but he wasn't husband material. He grabbed his change from the bar and shoved it in the frontpocket of his jeans. "See ya around," he said and turned to walk away.

Gina's next question stopped him in his tracks. "Have you seen Daisy Lee yet?"

Jack lowered the bottle and suddenly had trouble swallowing the beer in his mouth. He turned back to faceGina.

"I saw her this morning at the Texaco. Pumping gas into her momma's Cadillac." Gina shook her head. "I thinkit's been what, about ten or twelve years since she was last in town?"

It had been fifteen.

"I recognized her right away. Daisy Lee Brooks hasn't changed that much."

Except that Daisy Brooks was now Daisy Monroe and had been for the past fifteen years. And that had changedeverything.

Gina took a step closer and played with a button on the front of his shirt. "I was sorry to hear aboutSteven. I know he was your friend."

He and Steven Monroe had been almost inseparable since the age of five when they'd sat next to each other atthe Lovett Baptist Church, belting out "Yes, Jesus Loves Me." But that had changed too. The last time he'd seenSteven was the night the two of them had beat each other bloody, while Daisy looked on horrified. It was thelast time he'd seen Daisy too.

As if she didn't notice that Jack wasn't keeping up his end of the conversation, Gina rattled on, "I can't imaginedying at our age. It's just horrible."

"Excuse me, Gina," he said and walked away. An old anger, one he'd thought he'd buried, threatened to pull himinto the past. He pushed against it, tapped it down tight, and shut it out.

Then he felt nothing at all.

With his beer in his hand, he wove his way through the rapidly filling bar and moved to the crowded room inthe hack. He leaned a shoulder into the doorframe and turned his full attention to Jimmy Calhoun. The man ofhonor sat in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a dozen or so men, all watching two womendressed like rodeo queens bumping and grinding against each other while the Dixie Chicks sang about a sinwagon. Already stripped down to sparkly G-strings on the bottom, the girls popped the snaps to their silkyblouses. In unison their shirts slid down their toned shoulders and perfect bodies, exposing big breasts crammedinto tiny sequined bikini tops. Jack lowered his gaze from their full breasts to their G-strings tied at their hips.

Marvin Ferrell paused in the doorway beside him to watch the show. "Do you think those breasts are real?" heasked.

Jack shrugged a shoulder and raised the beer to his mouth. Obviously Marvin had been married too longbecause he was starting to sound like a woman. "Who cares?"

"True." Marvin laughed. "Did you hear Daisy Brooks is back?"

He looked down the bottle at Marvin then lowered it. "Yeah, I heard." Again he felt the old anger, and again hetapped it down until he felt nothing. He returned his attention to the strippers and watched them sandwichJimmy between their half-naked bodies while they kissed each other above his head. The wet, open-mouthedtongue-thrusting kisses had the guys hollering for more. Jack tipped his head to one side and smiled. This wasgetting good.

"I saw Daisy at the Minute Mart," Marvin continued. "Damn, she's still hot as she was in high school."

Jack's smile flat-lined as an unbidden memory of big brown eyes and soft pink lips threatened to drag him intothe black hole of his past.

"Remember what she looked like in that little cheerleader outfit of hers?"

Jack pushed away from the door and moved farther into the room, but he couldn't escape. It seemed everyonewanted a trip down memory lane. Everyone but him.

While the strippers took off each other's tiny bikini tops, the topic of conversation was Daisy. Between whistlesand catcalls, Cal Turner, Lester Crandall and Eddy Dean Jones all asked if he'd seen her yet.

Disgusted, Jack left the room and made his way back to the bar. It was a hell of a deal when a man wasn'tallowed to enjoy two mostly naked women making out with each other six feet in front of hint He didn't knowhow long Daisy would be in town, but he hoped like hell it was a short trip. Then maybe people would havesomething better to talk about. Mostly he hoped she had the good sense to stay the hell out of his way.

He set his bottle on the bar and made his way back out of The Road Kill, leaving behind talk and speculation ofDaisy Monroe. Rain pelted the top of his hat and wet his shoulders as he made his way across the parking lot.

But with each step he took, the memories followed close behind. Memories of looking into a pair of beautifulbrown eyes as he kissed soft lips. His hand sliding up the back of her smooth thigh, slipping beneath her blueand gold cheerleader skirt. Of Daisy Lee wearing a pair of red cowboy boots with white hearts on the sides, andnothing else.

"Leaving the party so soon?" Gina asked as she walked toward him.

He looked over at her. "Boring party."

"We could make a party of our own." Typical of Gina, she didn't wait for him to make the first move. Usuallythat bothered him. Not tonight. She raised her mouth to his, and she tasted of warm beer and need. Jack kissedher back. With her firm breasts crushed against his chest, the first tug of desire stirred low in his gut. He pulledGina into him and heated things up until all he felt was lust and the rain soaking his skin through his shirt. Hereplaced all thoughts of brown eyes and cheerleader skirts with the woman pressing herself against his buttonfly.

Daisy Monroe raised her hand to the screen door then lowered it again. Her heart pounded in her chest and herstomach twisted into one big knot. Rain beat against the porch all around her, and water ran from the downspoutand into the flower beds. The garage behind her was lit up, illuminating every nook and cranny surroundingParrish American Classics. But where she stood was pitch black, as if the light didn't dare creep any farther intothe yard.

The garage was new, rebuilt since she'd seen it before. The yard surrounding the garage had been cleaned up.

The old cars towed away. From what she could see the house was exactly the same, though, bringing a memoryof a nice summer breeze lifting her hair and carrying the scent of roses. Of the many nights she'd sat on theporch where she now stood, wedged between Steven and Jack, laughing at their stupid jokes.

Thunder and lightning boomed and lit up the night sky, shattering the memory. An omen that she should leaveand come back again some other time.

She wasn't good at confrontation. She wasn't one of those people who liked to face problems head oil. She wasbetter at it than she used to be, but maybe she should have called first. It wasn't polite to just show up onsomeone's doorstep at ten o'clock at night, and she probably looked like a drowned cat.

Before she'd left her mother's house, she'd made sure her hair was brushed smooth and flipped tinder just belowher shoulders. Her makeup looked perfect and her white blouse and khaki pants pressed. Now she was sure herhair had frizzed, mascara had run, and her pants were splattered with mud from the puddle she'd accidentallydashed through. She turned to go, then forced herself to turn hack. Her appearance wasn't really important, andthere was never going to he a good time for what she had to do. She'd been in town three days already. She hadto talk to Jack. Tonight. She'd put it off long enough. She had to tell him what she'd been keeping from him forfifteen years.

She raised her hand once more and nearly jumped out of her skin when the wooden door Swung open beforeshe could knock. Through the screen and dark interior, she could make out the outline of a man. His shirt wasmissing, and a light from deep within the house cast a warm golden glow from behind, pouring over his armsand shoulders and halfway down his naked chest. She definitely should have called first.

"Hello," she began before she could give into her trepidation. "I'm looking for Jackson Parrish."

"My-my," his voice drawled in the darkness, "ii it isn't Daisy Lee Brooks."

It had been fifteen years and his voice had changed. It was deeper than the boy she'd known, but she would haverecognized that nasty tone anywhere. No one could pack as much derision into his new him anymore.

"Hello, Jack."

"What do you want, Daisy?"

She stared at him through the screen and shadows, at the outline of the man she'd once known so well. The knotin her stomach pulled tighter. "I wanted to... I need to talk to you. And I-I thought... " She took a deep breathand forced herself to stop stammering. She was thirty-three. So was he. "I wanted to tell you that I was in townbefore you heard it from someone else."

"Too late." The rain pounded the rooftop and the silence stretched between them. She could feel his gaze on her.

It touched her face and the front of her yellow rain slicker; and just when she thought he wasn't going to speakagain, he said, "If that's what you came to tell me, you can go now."

There was more. A lot more. She'd promised Steven that she'd give Jack a letter he'd written a few monthsbefore his death. The letter was in her coat pocket, now she had to tell Jack the truth about what had happenedfifteen years ago, then hand over the letter. "It's important that I talk to you. Please."

He looked at her for several long moments, then he turned and disappeared into the depths of his house. Hedidn't open the screen for her, but he hadn't slammed the wood door in her face either. He'd made it clear that hewas going to he as difficult as possible. But then, when had he ever made things easy?

Just as it always had, the screen door squeaked when she opened it. She followed him through the living roomtoward the kitchen. His tall outline disappeared around the corner, but she knew the way.

The inside of the house smelled of new paint. She got an impression of dark furniture and a big-screentelevision, saw the outline of Mrs. Parrish's piano pushed against one wall-and she wondered briefly how muchhad changed since she'd last walked through the house. The light flipped on as she moved into the kitchen, andit was like stepping into a time warp. She half expected to see Mrs. Parrish standing in front by the almond-colored stove, baking bread or Daisy's favorite snicker-doodle cookies. The green linoleum had the same wornpatch in front of the sink and the counter tops were the same speckled blue and turquoise.

Jack was in front of the refrigerator, the top half of him hidden behind the open door. His tan fingers werecurled around the chrome handle, and all she could really see of him was the curve of his behind and his longlegs. One pocket of his snug Levi's had a three-corner tear, and the seams looked like they were just about wornthrough.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and she balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Then herose to his full height, and everything seemed to slow, like someone flipped a switch on a movie projector. Heturned as he shut the refrigerator door, and he held a quart of milk in his hand by his thigh. Her attention gotmomentarily stuck on the thin line of dark hair rising from the waistband of his Levi's and circling his navel.

She lifted her gaze up past the hair on his flat belly and the defined muscles of his chest. If she'd had anylingering doubts, seeing him like this removed them. This was not the boy she'd once known. This wasdefinitely a man.

She forced herself to look up at his strong chin, the etched how of his tan lips, and into his eyes. She felt theback of her throat go dry. Jack Parrish had always been a good-looking boy, now he was lethal. One lock of histhick hair hung over his forehead and touched his brow. Those light green eyes that she remembered, that hadonce looked at her so full of passion and possession, looked back at her as if he were no more interested inseeing her than a stray dog.

"Did you come here to stare?"

She moved farther into the kitchen and shoved tier hands into the pockets of her raincoat. "No, I came to tellyou that I'm in town visiting my mother and sister."

He raised the milk and drank from the carton, waiting for her to elaborate.

"I thought you should know."

His gaze met hers over the carton, then he lowered it. Some things hadn't changed after all. Jack Parrish, badboy and all around hell-raiser, had always been a milk drinker. "What makes you think I give a shit?" he askedand wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

"I didn't know if you would. I mean, I did wonder what you'd think, but I wasn't sure." This was so much harderthan she'd envisioned. And what she'd envisioned had been pretty dang hard.

"Now you don't have to wonder." He pointed with his milk carton toward the other room. "If that's all, there'sthe door."

"No, that's not all." She looked down at the toes of her boots, the black leather spotted by the rain. "Stevenwanted me to tell you something. He wanted me to tell you that he's sorry about everything." She shook herhead and corrected herself. "No... was sorry, I mean. He's been gone seven months and it's still hard for me toremember him in the past tense. It seems wrong somehow. Like if I do, he never existed." She looked back atJack. His expression hadn't changed. "The flowers you sent were really nice."

He shrugged and set the milk on the counter. "Penny sent them."

"Penny?"

"Penny Colten. Married Leon Kribs. She works for me now."

"Thank Penny for me." But Penny hadn't sent them and signed his name without his knowledge.

"Don't make it a big deal."

She knew how much Steven had once meant to him. "Don't pretend you don't care that he's gone."

He raised a dark brow. "You forget I tried to kill him.

"You wouldn't have killed him, Jack."

No, you're right. I guess you just weren't worth it."

The conversation was headed in the wrong direction and she had to turn it around. "Don't he ugly."

"You call this ugly?" He laughed, but not with pleasure. "This is nothing, buttercup. Stick around and I'll showyou how ugly I can get."

She already knew how ugly Jack could get, but while she might be a coward, she was also as stubborn asragweed. Just as Jack was not the same boy she'd once known, she was not the same girl he'd once knowneither. She'd come to tell him the truth. Finally. Before she could get on with the rest of her life, she had to tellhim about Nathan. It had taken her fifteen years to get to this point, and he could get ugly all he wanted, but hewas going to listen to her.

A flash of white caught the corner of Daisy's eye a second before a woman entered the kitchen wearing a man'swhite dress shirt.

"Hey, y'all," the woman said as she moved to stand by Jack.

He looked down at her. "I told you to stay in bed."

"I got bored without you."

Heat crept up Daisy's neck to her cheeks, but she seemed to be the only embarrassed person in the room. Jackhad a girlfriend. Of course he did. He'd always had a girlfriend or two. There had been a time when that wouldhave hurt.

"Hello, Daisy. I don't know if you remember rue. I'm Gina Brown."

It didn't hurt any longer, and Daisy was a bit ashamed to admit to herself that what she mostly felt was anoverwhelming relief. She'd come all the way from Seattle to tell him about Nathan, and now all she felt wasrelief. Like an axe had been lifted from her throat. She guessed she was more of a coward than she thought.

Daisy smiled and moved across the kitchen to offer Gina her hand. "Of course I remember you. We were inAmerican Government together our senior year."

"Mr. Simmons."

"That's right."

"Remember when he tripped over an eraser on the floor?" Gina asked as if she weren't standing there wearingJack's shirt and, Daisy would bet, nothing else.

"That was so funny. I just about -"

"What the hell is this?" Jack interrupted. "A damn high school reunion?"

Both women looked up at him and Gina said, "I was just being polite to your guest."

"She isn't my guest and she's leaving." He pinned his gaze on Daisy, just as cold and unyielding as when she'dfirst walked in the door.

"It was nice to see you, Gina," she said.

"Same."

"Good night, Jack."

He shoved his hip into the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

"See you two around." She walked back through the dark house and out the door. The rain had stopped and shedodged puddles on her way to her mother's Caddie, parked on the side of the garage. Next time, she woulddefinitely call first.

Just as she reached for the car door, she felt a hand on her arm whipping her around. She looked up into Jack'sface. Security lights shined down on him and shadowed the angry set of his jaw. His eyes stared into hers - nolonger cold, they were filled with a burning rage.

"I don't know what you came here looking for, absolution or forgiveness," he said, his drawl more pronouncedthan before. "But you won't find it." He dropped her arm as if he couldn't stand the touch of her.

"Yes, I know."

"Good. You stay away from me, Daisy Lee," he said, drawing out the vowels in her name. "You stay away orI'll make your life a misery."

She looked up into his dark face, at the passion and anger that had not abated in fifteen years.

"Just stay away," he said one last time before he turned on his bare heels and disappeared into the shadows.

She knew she would be wise to heed his warning. Too bad she didn't have that option.

Although he didn't know it yet, neither did he.