He could have lived out there, Colt thought with irritation. Instead, he made the long drive back and forth between Bluebonnet and the dealership because he was the big man around town. In a bigger city, he’d just be nobody, and Allan Sunquist couldn’t stand to be a nobody.
Colt pulled in next to a row of shiny trucks, all decked out and sparkling clean. His own Jeep was clean, but it was also older. He didn’t see the need for a big expensive vehicle. Most of his money went to savings anyhow. He wasn’t going to be like his father—living in a broken-down trailer, selling scrap metal for money. He saved, and he invested in CDs. He had several he’d bought back when he was in the military that were about to mature and it’d be a nice chunk in his savings account. Beth Ann could use the money. He’d give it to her if she asked. He’d clean out the entire damn account to bring a smile to her face.
But she wouldn’t ask. And that made him feel helpless.
This, at least, he could do.
He strolled into the enormous building. Glass double doors opened and slid back as he stepped inside, and Colt glanced around. There were several offices behind glass partitions, but he also knew Sunquist made a lot of money. He’d have an office somewhere.
“Welcome to Sunny Motors. Can I help you?”
Colt turned to see a man with a fake smile and too-perfect hair grinning at him. Salesmen. He hated ’em. Colt turned and looked around the showroom again. There was another BMW a bit like Allan’s, but not quite the same. “Looking for Sunquist.”
“Do you have an appointment?” the man asked politely.
Colt turned and gave him a scowl. “No. But I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”
“Gotcha,” the man said with a too-friendly wink. “Follow me, friend. I’ll let you talk to his secretary.”
So he was getting pawned off on someone else? That was just fine. Colt followed a few steps behind, and the man led him past the suite of glass offices to a back room. The room had a reception desk and boasted a fake plant in each corner. Award after award dotted the wall, along with pictures of salesmen. Allan’s image was in several of the photos—salesman of the month, salesman of the year. He certainly was good at selling people a story.
“Can I help you?” the woman seated at the desk said sweetly. Her voice was young, and when he turned his gaze back to her, she smiled. She was pretty—thick, curly brown hair streaked with red highlights. She wore a little too much lipstick, and her blouse was low cut. He could practically see her damn navel when he stood over her.
“I’m here to see Allan.”
She smiled up at him and smacked her gum. “Your name?”
“Tell him Colt Waggoner needs to have a talk.”
She scribbled down a note and gave him a coy smile. “Be right back.” She slid from her desk and crossed the room, disappearing out a door behind her desk that was marked private.
Not before he caught a flash of red sole, though, and his attention was drawn to her shoes. Pink. High-heeled with a red sole. Beth Ann had been wearing the exact same shoes when he’d rescued her from the mud. She’d laughed when he’d snapped the heel off.
“I always got a pair of these when Allan cheated on me,” she’d told him. And it seemed that Allan had given the exact same pair to his mistress. Fucking a**hole. Colt clenched his hands, feeling the need to smash his fist through the man’s face.
The secretary returned a moment later, all smiles. “Mr. Sunquist will see you now.”
Good. He nodded at the woman, and then pushed through the door.
When he entered the room, Allan was standing, frowning at Colt. He was dressed in an impeccable dark gray suit, a red collared shirt underneath, slightly open. And he was frowning intensely at Colt.
“What are you doing here, Waggoner?”
Colt stood in front of the desk, crossed his arms. “You and I need to have a talk. I want you to leave Beth Ann alone.”
Allan snorted and sat back down at his desk. It had stacks of paperwork neatly piled in one corner of the desk, and the other had trophies crammed together. Behind him, on a shelf, he saw even more trophies—car sales mixed with football trophies from high school and college—and a picture of Beth Ann and Allan smiling, their cheeks pressed together. They both wore formalwear, Allan in a tuxedo, and Beth Ann in a sedate black dress, her hair pulled back in a tight updo. She looked young in that picture, but even in the photo, Allan’s face seemed to take up most of the picture, as if she were just a charming accessory and he the star.
“I’m not leaving her alone. Not when I think she’s making a mistake.” Allan sneered at him. “You do realize this is all a phase, right? She’s mad at me. She’s going to pout and insist on her independence for a few months, and then she’s going to miss me. And when I apologize again, she’s going to take me back, and we’re going to get married.” He gave Colt a dismissive look. “You’re just a speed bump in the road.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really.”
“You’re full of shit,” Colt said, suddenly furious. “You treated her like garbage. You cheated on her. She’s done with you.” He glanced back at the door. “I saw your secretary’s shoes. Beth Ann had a pair just like that. You give everyone you f**k expensive shoes so they don’t ask questions?”
Allan’s face flushed red with anger. “You need to mind your own goddamn business—”
“I am,” Colt said flatly. “Beth Ann is my business. And you don’t need to text her and try to get her back because you miss her. You had her. You lost her.”
Allan’s face grew sly and he tilted his head back, staring up at Colt’s looming form on the far side of the desk. “I see what this is. You’re mad because I found out the truth.”
“What truth?”
Allan waved a hand. “About your little weekend rendezvous. About how you lied to her so she’d have to spend all weekend with you in the woods. She was probably desperate and lonely and you probably nailed her as soon you could get her alone. What was it—she needed to cuddle up against you for warmth? And you just had to slip your hand in her panties and diddle her?”
Colt’s hands twitched, images of pounding the man’s face in flashing behind his eyes. “You don’t know shit.”
“I know plenty, you piece of trash,” Allan bit out. “I talked with Rob over at the fire department. He said you called him and said there was no one else out there that weekend and you were heading in. But to hear Beth Ann tell the story, you two were stranded and had to stay out there all weekend. Sounds like a hookup to me.”
Colt’s jaw clenched. “That’s not what it was.”
“No? Then what was it?”
Colt said nothing. The weekend had started out to teach her a lesson. To make a spoiled, prissy woman get knocked down a few pegs. To get subtle revenge on a town that hated him and thought he was garbage because of his last name.
But that sounded just as bad. Worse, maybe. So he said nothing.
Allan’s smirk was knowing. “I thought so. Let me tell you something, buddy. Beth Ann is always crying about trust and how much she values it. And as soon as she finds out your ass lied to her, you’re out the door and I’m back in it.”
Rage burned through his mind. He wanted to grab the man’s face and slam it into the front of his desk. Deck him with one of those stupid trophies. “You’re not going to say a thing,” he bit out.
“No? And why wouldn’t I?”
Colt clenched his hands. Forced himself to breathe. This shithead was baiting him.
Allan just smiled, the look smug. As if he’d won. “Why wouldn’t I?” he repeated.
“Because I know your secrets, Allan Sunquist,” Colt said with a drawl, pretending a casualness that he didn’t feel. “Big man of Bluebonnet. Everyone’s favorite town councilman. A veritable saint. No one can figure out why Beth Ann left you. They just can’t understand it. I guess they don’t know that you cheated on her, do they?”
Behind the desk, Allan stiffened.
“But I know the truth,” Colt continued. “She won’t tell anyone that you cheated on her, will she? She doesn’t want to hurt you like that. She’s not mean like that.” He leaned over Allan’s desk. “But…I am. And I’m not afraid to tell everyone how you cheated on her—repeatedly.”
Allan gave him a cold stare.
“It sure would make everyone in town look at you differently wouldn’t it? To know that you had a beautiful, smart, funny girl like Beth Ann and you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants? That you had to f**k anything moving just because you needed to feel like the big hero?” He glanced around the office, then back at Allan. “I’m sure reputation’s very important in a job like yours. How many cars you sell to the good folks of Bluebonnet?”
Allan’s face had turned a dull red again. He said nothing for a long, long moment. Then, slowly, he gave Colt a narrow-eyed gaze. “So is this all a master plan?”
“Plan?”
“Take my fiancée. Destroy my job. My reputation. This some big revenge plan because of who I am and who you are?”
Colt barked a laugh. “Fuck you. It has nothing to do with me.”
Allan tilted his head. “Liar. That’s what it is, isn’t it? You want everything that I have—everything you didn’t—and you want to destroy it because you’re jealous. Because you’ve never had what I had.”
Now the man was just talking nonsense. “All I want is for you to leave Beth Ann alone.”
“That’s what this is,” Allan repeated again, his eyes angry slits in his handsome face. “Well, I’m not going to sit here and let you walk all over me, Waggoner.” He emphasized Colt’s last name with a sneer. “You cross me and I’m going to make your family so f**king miserable they won’t be able to see straight. Your father has some outstanding warrants, you know. Needs to clean up his property or they’re going to haul his ass to jail. He can’t run a junkyard on private property. The neighbors are complaining. I’d hate for such an old man to be carted off to jail, but what can you do?”
Colt stared at Allan’s evil smile, hate seething through him.
Allan stared back, not moving.
“You leave Beth Ann alone,” Colt said slowly. “Or the next time I pound your face in, I’m going to do more than give you a few black eyes.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.” And he stalked out of the dealership.
FOURTEEN
Colt slammed into his Jeep and punched the steering wheel. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Any leverage he might have had over that smarmy a**hole was gone. His father had f**king warrants out for his arrest? The Waggoner property had always been a disaster. Had someone finally complained? The old man was going to get tossed into jail. And Colt was going to have to be the one to bail him out. Berry didn’t have the money. Marlin worked as a truck driver. He wouldn’t have the money, either. Goddamn it.