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    Return to Redlin
    Return to Redlin
    Return to Redlin
    Ebook98 pages1 hour

    Return to Redlin

    By Lazette Gifford

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Return to Redlin is a romantic adventure novella

    Ginger returned to Redlin after her failed marriage and buried herself in a calm life, working for the Senior Center during the day and as a clerk at the Gas and More at night. But when the high school bad boy, Derrick Weston, returns after ten years to attend his grandfather's funeral, things take off in ways she didn't expect.

    Old rivalries and new robberies put the two in close contact -- whether they want it or not.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherA Conspiracy of Authors
    Release dateFeb 7, 2011
    ISBN9781466143333
    Return to Redlin
    Author

    Lazette Gifford

    Lazette is an avid writer as well as the owner of Forward Motion for Writers and the owner/editor of Vision: A Resource for Writers.It's possible she spends too much time with writers.And cats.

    Read more from Lazette Gifford

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      Book preview

      Return to Redlin - Lazette Gifford

      Return to Redlin

      By

      Lazette Gifford

      Copyright 2010 Lazette Gifford

      An ACOA Publication

      Smashwords Edition

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

      Chapter 1

      Trouble walked through the door of the Gas and More at three minutes before closing on a cold Thursday night in October.

      I glainced up from counting change and frowned. No car had pulled up to the pumps. However, a tall man in a long black overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat pulled the door open against the wind. His right sleeve hung loose and I feared there might be a gun in his hidden hand where I couldn't see. There'd been a rash of robberies in the neighboring counties, and faced with the possibility --

      The door swung shut. I just want a couple sodas and some chips. Am I too late?

      His question, at least, sounded less ominous than what I'd expected. I mean people don't usually ask if they're too late to rob you, right?

      Sure, there's time. I waved toward the shelves. My arm trembled a little, but I don't think he noticed.

      The guy limped back toward the sodas and beers and I started to count quarters again. I gave up when I lost track after half a handful. The alarm clock under the register went off, reminding me of the time. Too many nights I sat here far past midnight, reading and losing track of the world. I'd finished my book early tonight, though, so I'd already mopped up, straightened the magazine rack and dusted the little stand of porcelain dolls back in the corner. I only had to wait for the tall, dark stranger to get his sodas and chips and I'd be pretty much done for the night.

      He seemed to be having some trouble. Damn, he muttered softly. I heard him easily in the empty store. Okay, I'm going to stick one of these sodas in my pocket until I get up there. I can't carry them in one hand. Don't want you to think I'm shoplifting.

      Fine. My heart had stopped doing double time. I even kind of felt sorry for the guy as he limped back to the cash register, put the items on the counter and looked up.

      My heart did a double thump for an entirely different reason. I hadn't seen Derrick Weston since about two months before graduation, when the police dragged him out of class and took him off to Juvenile Detention down at the county seat. That had been a little over ten years ago.

      Hey, you're Ginger, aren't you? he asked and smiled.

      Hell. I never suspected he even knew my name back at Jefferson High, when one of those smiles would have made any of the girls melt. Oh yes, the local bad boy. . . and from cast and sling on his right arm, he probably hadn't changed much.

      Yes, Ginger. I finally smiled. Sorry. You caught me by surprise, Derrick.

      I could tell.

      What are you doing in town?

      I came for my grandfather's funeral, he said, eyes narrowing.

      Oh, right. I'm sorry. I forgot Lily --

      Most people forgot Lily. His face hard-edged and angry, which I remembered far better than the smile.

      "I forgot Lily was your mother, I said, finishing my statement. I rang up the sale, feeling a needle of irritation as I jabbed at the keys. He had no right to judge me. I remember her very well. She taught my art class at church when I turned ten, and her death . . . I had never lost a friend before."

      He stared at me for a moment, surprised and shocked. I'd forgotten he was Lily's son. Derrick had continued to live with his step-father and older step-brother after Lily died. Tom Weston later married Markie, who brought another four kids of her own, and they had three more... and somehow I had forgotten Derrick wasn't their son. I think almost everyone had forgotten -- but not him. Not from the way he reacted to the mention of his mother.

      He pulled out a hotel key and a billfold from his back pocket while I put the sodas chips in a bag. He didn't appear to be much like a junk food addict, not from what I could see of his chest and arm. A cast covered the right arm from above the elbow right up over the fingers. His face had a little scar above the right eyebrow, not too old. He'd filled out, but not changed much. My mother had called him 'Elvis-pretty' back ten years ago. He wore his hair longer and he had grown a little mustache, and . . . and he I realized he had trouble getting money out of the billfold while I gawked.

      Here, let me, I offered.

      He nodded and sat the billfold down. I pulled a five out, noting a lot of money in there -- and gave him back the change.

      The door to the shop opened again. I looked up with a start, and found Deputy Miller stepping inside. My heart settled right back down again.

      Everything all right, Ginger? he asked, lifting his chin toward Derrick.

      Fine.

      Derrick turned around, and I thought I saw his shoulder's straighten. Miller blinked and his hand almost went to his gun. Not a good reaction.

      Son of a bitch. What are you doing back in town? Miller demanded. He stopped and shook his head. Your grandfather's funeral.

      Yes, Derrick said, his own voice sounding cool.

      What you say we have a little talk, boy. Miller signaled him outside.

      Derrick grabbed his bag and followed Miller out, who stood holding the door open for him. I thought the reaction uncalled for, to be honest. I mean Derrick had been hell on wheels (especially when they weren't his own) back when he was seventeen but now? I thought about the cast, the limp and the scar, and wondered if he'd changed at all. Miller had been a deputy back then, too. He might have a reason to think Derrick still needed some rules laid out.

      I couldn't clearly see, but I noted when Miller left and Derrick had already started back to the hotel. Good. I quickly counted the change, dropped the money bag into the floor safe, and grabbed my keys --

      And I saw Derrick's billfold on the counter where I had put it when I took the five out. Damn. Well, I could walk past the hotel on the way home. I grabbed the wallet and my coat and keys. Then I dropped the wallet --

      The billfold fell open to a picture of a Derrick, a lovely oriental woman and two kids about six or seven years old. They were all laughing.

      Married. Well, I guess he'd changed quite a bit after all. I put the billfold into my pocket, shut down the pumps and locked up the shop. I only lived seven blocks from the store and even on cold October nights I usually didn't mind the walk home. The Highway Hotel

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