Matt—The Callahan Brothers (Brazos Bend Book 2) (23 page)

“Don’t do that!” Matt hastened to say. “I’ll take care of it. I promise. I have a plan.”

“I like green bean casserole,” Torie piped up.

Matt ignored her. “Les, this thing with Branch has changed the situation.”

“Expected it would. Can’t see you leaving town with him in the hospital.”

“Well, it’s even more than that. Mark will be over later to explain.”

“That’s fine. I just want you to put a stop to all the women showing up.”

Hear hear,
Torie silently echoed.

Back on the road, Matt played the radio during the drive into town, which effectively discouraged conversation between them. When he pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant with big plate windows and wood shingle siding, he finally turned down the rock and roll and glanced at Torie. “Looks like they have a crowd this afternoon. We’re bound to face some questions. Let me do the talking.”

“I wouldn’t know what to say about Branch.”

“They won’t just ask about Branch.”

“What do you mean?”

“Me showing up with a woman in tow will cause a stir.”

Wonderful. “Maybe we should go somewhere else. Like a nice, quiet steak house. Aren’t I supposed to lie low?”

“No. This is perfect. Believe me.”

Believe him? He was a spy. He lied for a living. Her heart full of trepidation, Torie followed Matt toward the front door of P3.

The aroma of fried catfish teased Matt’s senses as he opened the door. The restaurant was a Brazos Bend fixture, one of several Pioneer restaurants in town that offered home-cooking-style menus. He wouldn’t go so far as to call it cuisine. The restaurants did big business at lunch, on Sundays after church, and especially on all-you-can-eat catfish days, when a wait for a table sometimes lasted an hour. Luckily today, they were on the tail end of the rush and the hostess showed them to a table almost immediately.

“Well, this is ... interesting,” Torie said as she slid into the booth’s red vinyl seat and stared up at the Hereford head mounted on the wall above them. “I hope he doesn’t drool on my hamburger.”

Perusing the selections on the table-side jukebox, Matt replied, “P3 doesn’t serve the regular menu on catfish day. You won’t be able to get a burger.”

“A salad?”

“The catfish platter comes with coleslaw.”

“I don’t plan on ordering catfish.”

“That’s all we’re serving this afternoon, honey,” came a cheerful feminine voice.

Matt glanced up at the waitress, who set two clear plastic glasses of ice water on the table. Recognizing her as a high school classmate, he gave the woman his friendliest smile. “Hello, Nancy.”

“Well, if it isn’t Demon Callahan,” she said with a grin. “I’d heard a rumor that you were back in town. Welcome home, Matt.”

“Thanks. It’s good to be back. How are Frank and the kids?”

“They’re good.” She gave him a brief rundown of her family, then smiled politely at Torie. “I’m sorry. We’re being rude. I’m Nancy Snow. I went to high school with Matt.”

Torie smiled in return and extended her hand in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you, Nancy. I’m Vicky. “She glanced at Matt, a question in her eyes. He nodded imperceptibly, and she finished, “Vicky Bradshaw.”

“Oh! You’re that photographer who was taking bluebonnet pictures at Cottonwood Cottage. Penny Russell told me about it, but I was too late to get my kids in on the deal.”

“Victoria is a wonderful photographer,” Matt said. “You might have heard of her professional name—Torie Bradshaw.

Nancy’s smile melted like a snow cone in the sun. “Torie? Torie Bradshaw?
The
Torie Bradshaw?”

Torie lowered her hand, her brow dipped quizzically. ‘‘
The?
I’m no
the.
What do you mean,
the?
”

Wide-eyed, Nancy looked at Matt. “Your father comes for liver and onions at noon every Wednesday. He was here the day the governor called to tell him you were in surgery at Walter Reed.” Glancing back at Torie, she finished, “Branch Callahan had quite a lot to say about you that day. Your name stuck in my head.”

“I see.”

Matt could tell that Torie was struggling to hold on to her smile. He’d be sure to order peach cobbler for dessert. That should improve her mood.

“So, why are you here with Demon?” Nancy unfortunately continued. “Trying to make amends for ruining his life?”

“I didn’t ruin his life!”

“You shot him. You ruined his career.”

Since Torie’s eyes were now firing poison darts, Matt thought it best to intervene. “It’s a more complicated story than that, Nancy, and besides, that’s all behind us.” Ignoring Torie’s snort, he added, “Have you heard the news about Branch?”

“What news?”

“We took him to the hospital this morning. Heart attack, it appears.”

“Oh, no.” The waitress and Matt discussed his family for a few minutes until he mentioned being hungry and she dragged herself back to work by asking, “So, what can I get y’all to drink with your catfish?”

Torie snapped, “I don’t—”

“Two teas, Nancy,” Matt interrupted. “Thanks.”

“—want—”

“To cause a scene,” he concluded.

She shot him an irritated frown. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

Matt couldn’t help but grin. “You sparkle like sequins in a ballroom when you’re in a snit.”

“Sequins in a ballroom?” She rolled her eyes. “Puhleese. Don’t they teach you better lines in spy school?”

“Now, Victoria, no need to—” Matt was interrupted by a shrill, feminine voice cutting across the room.

“Demon! Demon Callahan. You’re back!”

And so it began. One after another, the babe parade marched by the table to flirt and fuss and offer fake welcomes to Torie Bradshaw, whose temper escalated with every introduction. After the third such exchange, she started ignoring them and turned her attention to the booth’s individual jukebox. Digging quarters from the bottom of her purse, she selected the single rap song among a playlist filled with country. She repeated her selection each time another woman approached the table.

“Ah, Torie. Please. No more,” Matt protested as she asked a passing waitress for change. “It’s not my fault. The thing is, they see me as eligible ever since Luke got married. My brother is the one who deserves your wrath.”

“Demon!” came another squeal.

“All right, that’s it.” Torie tossed down the French fry she’d been nibbling on, reached across the table, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him toward her. She planted a kiss right on his mouth.

***

Okay. This fits right with my plan. Couldn’t have worked any better.
 

Matt was just settling in to enjoy it when she let him go and shoved him away and declared to Miss Brazos Bend 2006. “He’s busy now.”

“Well, I never ... ,” the young woman said.

“That’s your problem,” Torie fired back.

As the beauty queen marched away in a huff and Matt let out a soft chuckle, she turned on him with a glare. “This is so not working for me, Callahan.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, arching a brow. Though, of course, he had a pretty good idea.

She drummed her fingers against the table. “Catfish. Catty women. What are we doing here? I don’t understand the plan. First I’m in hiding and then I’m not. You want me out of town, then in your bed and in your boat. I know it’s been a difficult couple of days, what with your brother getting hurt and your father collapsing, but it’s not been a walk in the park for me, either. I like maps, Callahan. They keep me grounded. I like to know which direction I’m going in all areas of my life—relationships included. I don’t like being surprised like I was earlier today when you decided to ... rock the boat.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“You caught me off guard. It was after your father’s thing and you looked ... upset.”

“I was upset. You helped me.” It was one of the few truths he’d spoken for a while.

“Fine. I’m glad.” She tucked a stray strand of golden silk behind her ear. “But we go from that to this? This is absolutely not part of my fantasy. The afterglow is definitely doused. When I dreamed about you, you were 007, not Barney Fife.”

Now, that surprised him. Matt’s fork slipped from his hand and clattered against his stoneware plate. “Excuse me? Did you just call me Barney Fife?”

“Okay, maybe that’s too harsh, but come on. On the island you were dark and dangerous and smooth as Sean Connery. Here, you’re ... not.”

Affronted, he said, “This is Brazos Bend, Victoria. Not Vienna or Paris or Moscow. A good agent blends in with his surroundings.”

She placed her hands flat on the table, leaned forward, and spoke just above an agitated whisper. “A man who has just had broad-daylight sex should listen when a woman wants steak instead of catfish for lunch!”

Okay. Maybe he should have spent a few minutes cuddling before disembarking, so to speak. “But it’s really good catfish, honey.”

At the same moment he spoke, a trio of women squealed, “Demon!”

Torie curled her lip at him and said, “Then you can have mine.”

She dumped her plate in his lap, stood, and marched for the door. Matt frowned down at the coleslaw on his jeans, then followed her path with a narrowed gaze while around him, high-pitched feminine voices blabbered.

Now, he decided. This was the perfect time to take his plan a step further. Taking deadeye aim on his objective, he shoved to his feet, tossed a twenty onto the table, then called after Torie in a loud, clear voice. “Now, darlin’, be fair. You’re the one who wanted to keep our engagement secret.”

The attentive crowd gasped.

Victoria Lynn Bradshaw halted so fast that her sandals squeaked against the linoleum floor. She turned slowly, her expression stunned. “What did you say?”

“Well, hell.” Smothering a grin, he grabbed his red cloth napkin off the table and dabbed at the mayonnaise stain on his jeans. “I let it slip, didn’t I? Sorry about that, love.”

Her mouth worked, but no sound emerged. She finally managed a growl that reminded him of her purse pet; then she whirled around and stormed from the restaurant. P3 erupted with excited chatter, and as a few bolder souls called out questions to Matt, he winked and waved them off. “Later, boys.”

He grabbed a peppermint from the jar beside the cash register, popped it into his mouth, and sauntered out the door. With his secondary objective accomplished, he debated the best route to take in pursuing his primary goal. After considering a handful of possible scenarios, he settled on one that had worked in the past. Catching up with her in the parking lot, he said, “You planning to walk back to the lake house?”

“It’s certainly preferable to riding anywhere with you.”

He put his hand out to stop her, and she shrugged him off. Chuckling, he clamped his arms around her waist and pulled her struggling form back against him. “What’s the matter with you?” she screeched. “I swear, your personality has gone Bond to Bubba in the blink of an eye. Let go of me!”

Bond to Bubba? “Can’t let go.” He nuzzled her neck. “Gotta make it look good for the audience, since I’m your fiancé and I have to charm my way out of your doghouse.”

“Of all the ... oh, for heaven’s sake. About that engage—”

He twirled her around and launched his best weapon, cutting her off with a kiss.

***

Whoa. Holy cow. Mamma mia.

He was doing it again. Dammit.

Isn’t it wonderful?

Without conscious thought, Torie lifted her arms and draped them around his neck. How was she supposed to take his head off if she melted all over the blacktop? She sank against him, boneless and mindless, but oh, so hot. No wonder they called him Demon. He kissed like the very devil himself.

Her blood raced. Her skin tingled. She ached between her legs. Why couldn’t she resist this man? Where was her self-control? Her self-respect, for heaven’s sake?

He released her mouth and licked her collarbone.

Oh well. Who needs self-respect when James Bond is bent on seduction?

Too much. This was way too much. But Torie didn’t want it to stop. When finally, he gently nipped his way across her jaw to nibble at her earlobe, she dragged in a breath and said, “You make me totally crazy.”

“I know the feeling.”

“You can be such a grade A number one jerk.”

“It is a talent of mine.”

“So why did you do something so asinine?”

“You mean go from ... how did you say it?” He licked the whorl of her ear, the curling motion of his tongue creating a tingling sensation on her skin. “From Bond to Bubba?”

“Yes. It totally ruins the mood.”

“Does it?” He took her lips again, his kiss long and deep and soulful. Holy Moses. She couldn’t think. Could barely breathe.

Then he murmured against her ear. “I want to use you, Victoria.”

Yes, please.

No, wait. She had more pride than that. “You already did. Remember? The boat?”