The Swinging R Ranch

Most women he knew took small nibbles. Not Abby. Obviously this was a woman not afraid to tackle anything. She started to say something else but her mouth was full.

Max jumped in while he had the chance. “I’m not heartless. This is business. Maybe I should reopen it.” Sighing, he raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with it. Last week it was bad enough when I thought I’d inherited a brothel. Today I find out it’s a retirement home.”

“I heard that.”

They both started and turned to meet Rosie’s disapproving frown. “Better not let Mona hear you spewing that stuff. Me, I know better. And I like things just the way they are, but you heard her earlier, she and Candy have this idea that Viagra is gonna change things around here.”

At the mention of Viagra again, Max almost lost his cookies. Except he hadn’t had any. Surely Mona had been joking earlier.

Rosie picked up the plate. “I don’t want you two spoiling your supper.”

Wordlessly, he watched her carry the cookies back to the kitchen. Abby hadn’t said anything either. She probably blamed the whole idea on him. He reluctantly looked her way and realized she was trying to keep from laughing.

He relaxed a little. Abby wouldn’t think this was funny if it were for real. “She’s joking, right? About Mona and the Viagra?”

“I doubt it. Mona is always talking about the good old days.”

“And you think that’s funny?”

Her eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful frown, all traces of amusement gone. And then her lips tilted slightly. “Good for you, Max.”

“What?” Something was wrong. She called him Max.

“You have no intention of reopening the Swinging R.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Her smile grew more triumphant. “The expression on your face just said it all. You looked traumatized by the thought Rosie isn’t kidding.”

“Traumatized?” He snorted. “What are you smoking? There is nothing in this little hick town that could traumatize or surprise me.”

Abby’s expression fell, then it tightened. He’d hurt her feelings, and ticked her off, too. “I’m sorry our hick town doesn’t meet with your approval. Amazing, you’ve been here all of one day and you’re able to pass judgment already.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“We already settled that fallacy. In order for me to be insulted, I’d have to value your opinion.”

“I believe you’re right. Let’s see…Oh, yeah, you don’t give a hoot about what I think.”

“Exactly.” She folded her arms across her chest. It wasn’t a big chest, but nicely proportioned, well-rounded.

Apparently he’d taken too long to make that determination because when he raised his gaze to hers, she seemed ready to bite his head off. He cleared his throat, loosened his collar, checked his watch.

“Are you staying for dinner?” he asked, trying to change the subject and hoping a chunk of his hide wasn’t on her menu.

She stared at him in thoughtful silence for nearly a minute. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“What?”

“I can get rid of the iguana while you’re here, if you tell my grandmother she can’t stay.”

That was unexpected. He rubbed his jaw, noting he needed a shave. “What’s wrong with her staying here?”

Abby let out a low exasperated groan. “She doesn’t belong here. She belongs at home with me.”

“She lives with you?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else? Husband, kids, boyfriend?” He shrugged when he saw the storm clouds gathering in her face. “Cats? Dogs?”

“None of your business. But no. It’s just Gramms and me.”

“So how come she ran away from home? You ground her or something?”

Sighing, she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Why do I bother?” She got up from the couch, dusted the cookie crumbs from her hands over an ashtray, then faced him with a phony smile. “Wish I could say it was nice meeting you, Mr. Bennett.”

“What are you getting all bent out of shape for? I can’t agree to throw an old lady—” he grimaced “—your grandmother out without understanding why.”

She stared at him again, in that measuring way, as if trying to come to a decision. “Apparently I’m just not enough fun for her. She thinks I’m a fuddy-duddy.”

“Well, you probably could loosen up a bit.”

“Here we go again.” She threw up her hands. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

Max grunted in disbelief. What happened to the old Bennett charm? Women didn’t treat him like this. They smiled and giggled and asked his opinion all the time. “Wouldn’t matter if you had. You’re obviously too stubborn to listen to anyone.”

“Ooh, I’m all Jell-O inside you have me so rattled with that snippy tone.”

Damn independent career women. This is why he stayed clear of them. They were too mouthy, too…immune. “Guess you know my answer. Estelle stays.”

Her smug expression wavered. “I’d hoped you could put our personality conflict aside and see reason.”

“Present me some reason to see. You haven’t told me a thing.”

She blinked, and visibly swallowed. “It’s sort of complicated. Part of it has to do with my involvement in the town, running for mayor…” she shrugged, shifted from one foot to the other, reluctance showing in her every movement “…even being a Cunningham.”

“She doesn’t agree with your running for mayor?”

“Gramms didn’t think I should come back to Bingo after college at all.”

Uneasiness crawled down his spine. This was personal stuff, none of his business. He should stop her. “Why are you here?”

“Do you still live in the place you grew up?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s Boston.”

“And you think Bingo is inferior, so why would anyone stay?”

He winced at the way she made it sound. “Guilty.”

“At least you’re honest.” Her smile was wry. “And at times I may even agree, but if we all, the townspeople here, felt that way, the town would just shrivel up and die.”

Max didn’t see what would be so bad about that but he decided to keep that gem of honesty to himself.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said without censure. “But Bingo isn’t a bad place to grow up. In fact, it’s a pretty damn good place to raise kids. And if anyone feels the need for bright lights and partying until dawn, Las Vegas is less than two and a half hours away.”

“But Estelle feels differently?” he asked, not sure how this information all fit together.

“No, of course not. She just wants someone else other than her granddaughter to carry the banner.”

“Or be the town martyr.”

Abby’s lips thinned. Anger glittered in her eyes. “No one is twisting my arm. I chose to come back of my own free will. Bingo needs me, so does my grandmother.”

Max mentally cringed. That would be good enough reason for him to get the hell out of town. He looked into Abby’s earnest eyes. Not her. She seized responsibility with eager arms. It finally hit him. Only twenty-six and she wanted to be mayor.

He took an uneven breath. Estelle was probably right. Abby needed to get a little selfish, go out and have fun, trudge through a couple of hangovers, get a life.

“Now,” she said with a weary sigh, as if she’d just spilled her guts, which to some degree she had. “Do you understand why I want my wonderful but misguided grandmother to come home? Why she needs to come home?”

Max rubbed the back of his cramped neck. He did not intend on getting in the middle of the women’s personal squabble. Nor could he kick the older woman out against her will. Which meant Abby was about to hate him forever.

5

ABBY WAITED until the waiter removed her plate of uneaten roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and buttered corn before she excused herself from the head table and made tracks for the bathroom.

Just like every other candidate in Bingo’s history, Abby and her volunteers held her fund-raising dinner at the community center, a modest room which her two campaign volunteers had crowded with tables and chairs, and a podium under which three tacky orange balloons floated. Behind that was the “Vote for Abby for Mayor” banner.

If you squinted you could see the crease in the fabric after Abby where Cunningham had been cut out and the banner had been taped back together. Someone had misspelled Cunningham. When one of the volunteers said it didn’t matter because everyone knew who Abby was, Abby didn’t miss the irony.

As she neared the bathroom, she swept her gaze over the room one last time in hopes of seeing her grandmother. She prayed she was here. Abby thought she had seen her briefly while dinner was being served, but she couldn’t figure out where Gramms was sitting, or why she hadn’t taken her place next to Abby at the head table.

Then again, maybe her mind was playing tricks on her and she hadn’t seen Gramms at all. Having gotten only three hours sleep last night was doing strange things to Abby’s concentration.

“Well, Abigail, don’t you look…” Mrs. Bacon took Abby’s hand, then stepped back to size her up “…different.”

Abby patted her hair and smiled at her boss, the middle school principal. “I thought the French twist would make me look older.”

Mrs. Bacon’s critical eye roamed Abby’s face. “You’re wearing more makeup, too. Don’t start looking too sophisticated or folks will think you’re clearing out just like every other young person who graduated from Bingo High in the past ten years.”

Abby frowned. She hadn’t thought of that when she’d decided to go for the more mature look. In truth, she hadn’t thought of much more than her grandmother and Max Bennett, the new thorn in her backside.

“I think most people know me better than that, Mrs. Bacon. I did come back to teach seventh grade just like I said I would.”

“That you did,” the older woman said, nodding her head, her gray, wiry hair barely contained in her customary bun. “And we’re all the better for it.”

Pride swelled in Abby’s chest. Mrs. Bacon’s compliments were few and far between. But more than that, such affirmations reassured Abby that coming back had been the right decision. Not that she ever doubted it, not really. Today had been an exception, a low time. It was one of the reasons she’d put her hair up, and worn makeup—to remind herself she was a grown-up. She hadn’t felt much like one today. All she’d wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide under the covers.

She missed Gramms.

Max Bennett, she wanted to tar and feather.

“By the way, where’s Estelle?” Mrs. Bacon peered around the room. “I thought she’d be sitting at the head table with you.”

“Abby! You have to speak in five minutes!” Trish, one of the volunteers, headed toward them, weaving in and out of the mob of tables and chairs.

“Please excuse me, Mrs. Bacon. If I don’t hurry to the rest room, it’s going to seem like an awfully long speech.” Abby smiled her apology and took off before she had to answer Mrs. Bacon’s question.

Trish hurried after her. “Have you seen your grandmother yet?”

Geez, Louise. Abby sighed. “What is this? Does everyone think she’s gone missing?

“Of course not. She’s here.”

Abby put on the brakes, and turned to Trish. The tall blonde stopped a hair short of running into her. “You saw Gramms?”

“Well, yeah.” Trish blessedly quit chomping her gum for a second. “That’s why I asked if you’d seen her yet. I want to know who the hunk is with her.”

Abby nearly choked. “Max is here?”

“You know him?” Trish’s eyes widened and she started to chomp her gum with a vengeance.

It had to be Max. He was the type of guy women reacted to like this—the bugged eyes, hair patting, lip-licking. Not her, of course. Disgusted, she turned away from Trish and pushed through the rest room door.

“Uh, I think that’s the wrong—”

Trish didn’t have to finish. The exact instant Abby realized she was entering the men’s room, she ran into Max Bennett on his way out.

Surprise flickered across his face, but he recovered quickly, and grabbed her upper arms when she stumbled backward. “Looking for me?” he asked, flashing a megawatt smile.

“Not even for an emergency lifeline.” She shook away from him, glaring fiercely to counteract her boneless legs.

Trish popped her gum loudly. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw the younger woman’s mouth drop open, prompting Abby to glance around to see if anyone else had overheard. They were in a remote corner, and fortunately, no one else was in sight.

Abby quickly stepped out of the men’s room doorway. “Trish, why don’t you go make sure everything is ready for my speech.”

Trish nodded, backing away, her gaze shooting from Abby to Max—especially Max.

“You look terrific,” he said, before Trish was out of earshot, and he lifted a hand to touch a stray tendril of hair at Abby’s temple.

She ducked away from him. He looked better than terrific in a perfectly fitted dark blue suit. Clean shaven, tanned, disgustingly even white teeth. And those beautiful green eyes…It would be a miracle if any of the women paid one second of attention to her speech. “What have you done with my grandmother?”

“What have I done with her?” One eyebrow lifted in amusement. “You give me way too much credit. Estelle has a mind of her own. Must run in the family.”

“Okay, here’s a simpler question. What the hell are you doing here?”

“My civic duty.”

“You’re not a resident of Bingo.”

“No, but I do own a business you’ve threatened to shut down.”

Abby’s breath caught. “This is only a speech, not a debate.”

“I understand.”

“I didn’t even plan on mentioning the Swinging R.”

Max smiled. “You sound nervous, Abby, maybe you ought to splash some cold water on your face before you have to get up on that podium.”

Cold water. Great idea. Right down the front of Max’s perfectly tailored suit.

“That would be a very bad move, Abby.” He shook his head. “It would look like poor sportsmanship at the very least.”

He couldn’t know what she’d been thinking… “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Hold on.” He grabbed her arm when she turned to go. “Someone should have caught this before now.”

She froze when he touched the back of her neck, his warm fingers grazing her skin and threatening an onslaught of goose bumps. The soft sound of a closing zipper startled her.

“There.” His hands fell away.

A tad disoriented, she took a deep breath and slid him a glance. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Call me later if you need help undressing.”

The haze evaporated. Abby snorted. “Now who’s giving you too much credit.”

He laughed. “Give ’em hell, Abigail,” he said softly, then sauntered away as if they’d just discussed the weather.

Abby took three deep breaths, then hurried into the correct rest room. She stared in the mirror at her flushed face. Her lipstick had worn off, certainly not from eating, as she hadn’t been able to do that all day. Her nose was shiny, her eyes too bright and she’d forgotten to bring her purse to tackle the repairs.

Topping it all off, she was late for her speech. Folks wouldn’t like that. They went to bed early in Bingo.

Quickly she checked her teeth and was about to turn away from the mirror when the stray tendril Max had touched caught her eye. It fell in a loose flattering curl on her cheek. When she turned slightly, golden highlights captured the light.

She did look nice tonight. At least better than usual. Certainly not on a par with Max’s standard, but nice. It annoyed the heck out of her that she gave a single hoot what Max thought, but there it was. His compliment had made her pulse speed and her heart had fluttered like a trapped butterfly.

Good thing she could at least maintain perspective. Guys like him didn’t go for girls like her. And the truth was, she wouldn’t be happy with someone like him. Not for the long haul, anyway. Of course she didn’t really know him, but she had some college experience with men like him. Good-looking, used to getting their way, never having to carry their fair share of the load because some poor smitten sap was willing to do it for them.

She straightened, feeling better about putting life back into perspective. Sure, she was still late, but she wasn’t feeling so rattled anymore.

As soon as she left the rest room, she heard the disgruntled murmuring of the crowd, and she hurried toward the podium. Halfway there she saw Gramms trying to get her attention, and all her newfound composure dissolved like a puddle of melted chocolate.

Abby had never been more glad to see her and she waited, in spite of the nosy looks and whispers, as Gramms got closer. Her familiar lilac scent reached Abby first, comforting her, making her feel a little emotional. Lack of sleep always made her a little sappy.

“You look beautiful,” Gramms whispered as she kissed Abby’s cheek.

“Where have you been? I was worried.” Abby ushered her away from straining ears to a spot near a deserted table.

“Mona couldn’t decide what to wear, and Candy misplaced Tami for an hour so we got here late. I’m sorry, honey. But surely you knew I’d come.”

“Mona and Candy are here with you.” Abby scanned the room without success. In fact, she couldn’t see Max either.

“Of course. So are Rosie and Herb and Max. He’s such a nice young man, don’t you think?”

Abby made a face. “Why are they all here?”

“To support you, of course.”

“Even after I threatened to shut them down?”

Gramms’s lips curved in a patient smile. “They know you didn’t mean it.”

“The place is a firetrap,” Abby murmured. “And it’s a wonder no one has broken a leg on those front steps.”

“Abigail.” The warning in her grandmother’s face and voice should have subdued Abby.

“If I’m mayor it’ll be my duty to review the condition of all public property. It’s nothing personal.”

“The Swinging R isn’t public property, young lady, you’re just being stubborn and manipulative.”

Abby gasped. “Gramms, I can’t believe you’re accusing me of being manipulative. Stubborn, I can see.”

Several heads turned, and Gramms said in a lowered voice, “Promise me you’ll leave the Swinging R out of our dispute.”

“Dispute? We’re not having a dispute. It’s just a tiny misunderstanding. Come home tomorrow and everything will be back to normal.”

Gramms sadly shook her head.

From the podium, Trish tested the microphone with an earsplitting gum pop.

Torn between saving potential constituents from Trish and pleading with Gramms, Abby looked from one woman to the other. The decision was made for her when Gramms kissed her cheek, wished her good luck, then headed toward the back of the room.

“ABBY SEEMS NERVOUS,” Mona commented to Estelle and Max. “That isn’t like her.”

Max studied Abby’s body language. Even sitting way back in the armpit of the room he could see Mona was right. He hoped he hadn’t said anything to upset Abby. He laughed at himself, thinking about how she would react to that notion. She’d say he was giving himself too much credit again.

“I’m afraid that has something to do with me,” Estelle said, sighing. “I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

To his disgust, Max’s curiosity was piqued, and he looked at Estelle, hoping she’d explain. Not that this crazy nosiness was new. After all, here he was at a sad excuse for a fund-raiser, sitting in the far corner with four older women, only one of whom, he suspected, didn’t have her receiver off the hook.

“Maybe we should sit up closer,” Mona said. “Being able to see you might comfort her.”

Max shuddered at the thought. He liked sitting back here in the semidarkness where he didn’t have too good a view of the ladies’ dresses, especially Mona’s. The plunging neckline and short tight red silk skirt were almost indecent. Well, not on a twenty or thirty-something, but on someone old enough to be his grandmother?

He glanced around the room, grateful that the rest of the audience sat in front of them and hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Weren’t you listening to Estelle?” Across the table, Rosie stopped fanning herself and frowned at Mona. “If Estelle thinks she’s the one who’s upset Abby, why in the hell would she sit in clear view and upset her some more?”

“Was I talking to you?” Mona angled her face away from Rosie, and in a loud whisper to Estelle said, “Guess she remembered her hearing aid.”

“You’re the one who needs a hearing aid. You obviously weren’t listening to Estelle.” Rosie lifted her chin, faced the podium again and resumed her fanning.

There had been an argument over who got to wear the last pair of black lace garters. Apparently, they hadn’t reached an amicable agreement.

“Ladies, I think Abby is about to start speaking,” Max said quietly, and received three conciliatory smiles.

Candy hadn’t bothered to enter the conversation at all, or even look at him. He figured she was still ticked at him for making her tie Tami to a pole in the garage. Tough. Just thinking about the critter gave him the willies, especially after today’s episode of hide-and-seek. No way that thing was sleeping in the same house with him.

The tall thin blonde who’d been with Abby earlier seemed to be having trouble with the microphone. She called a man from the audience up to the podium to help, while Abby stood aside and fidgeted with a small stack of index cards.

“Oh, dear, she is nervous,” Estelle whispered, leaning toward him. “She normally doesn’t need notes to speak.”

Max patted her hand. He liked Estelle, and frankly couldn’t figure out why she wanted to hang out at the Swinging R. The rest of the ladies had their good sides, too, but the place was definitely bordering on becoming a loony bin.

“If she’s prepared notes, then it must mean she was nervous before this evening and it has nothing to do with you.” He watched Estelle’s expression sag, and wondered again why the devil he was sitting here, and why he cared about what happened to Abby and her quest for public office.

Maybe it was his advancing age prompting his interest, like women who followed soap operas for half a lifetime, or retired men who sat around diners and barbershops retelling old war stories. God, the thought was depressing.

His gaze drew to Abby. More likely it was because she’d gotten under his skin, made him wonder about her, and what made her tick. He’d been disappointed when she hadn’t stayed for dinner, even though he’d hardly expected her to after he suggested she butt out of her grandmother’s business just as he intended to do.

“I’m afraid it does,” Estelle said, breaking into his preoccupation.

He hesitated, having lost the thread of their conversation. “Does what?”

“Abigail’s nerves. It has everything to do with me. She doesn’t understand why I’ve moved out.”

“Have you?” He heard himself ask the question, but he couldn’t believe it. Stay out of this, he told himself. “Permanently?”

“That depends.” She gave him an embarrassed look. “Oh, you don’t want to hear our problems.”

He shrugged. “If it would help to talk about it, I don’t mind listening.”

“Oh, that’s so nice, but no, really…”

He straightened. “No problem. Honest.”

A shrewd smile slightly curved her lips. She tried to hide it. Too late, he’d seen it. She’d baited him, dammit, and he’d fallen for it like a two-ton drunk elephant.

“Abigail thinks the town is going to fall apart without her. Not in a vain sense, of course, but she has this silly idea that Cunninghams are the glue that keeps Bingo together. And she feels she needs to do her share.”

He frowned. It wasn’t like the place was called Cunninghamville, nor did he see evidence that the family controlled the town.

Estelle smiled as if reading his mind. “There has been a prominent civic servant in our family for several generations. Prominent by Bingo standards, anyway. But it really goes deeper than that.” She paused, and glanced over at Mona and Rosie who were busy arguing over who needed glasses.