She’d never admit it to a living, breathing soul, but that was what had hurt more than anything—Ronnie hadn’t loved her enough to stay. And that was his most unforgivable sin of all.
Chapter Four
Ronnie was sitting in some dive of a bar with Toby Keith in the background singing a song about a “Dear John” note. Every time the singer repeated in a low, sad tone, “She’s gone,” Ronnie thought of Dana Sue. She was gone, all right, and he still didn’t have the first clue about how to win her back. He’d spent two years pondering the problem and, beyond his decision to do something by Thanksgiving, he was no closer to an action plan now than he’d been on the day he’d left Serenity.
Funny that twenty-seven years ago, when his family had moved to Serenity, he’d seen exactly what he needed to do to win Dana Sue’s heart. Even at fourteen he’d noticed how the boys swarmed around her, drawn not only to her long legs and developing chest, but to her easy temperament and laughter. He’d also realized that the only way to stand out from the crowd would be to feign indifference. Sure enough, that had caught her attention. He hadn’t pursued Dana Sue. She’d come after him. He wondered if that technique would work again.
Probably not, he concluded sadly. He’d been gone two years, and as near as he could tell, she wasn’t pining for him. She certainly hadn’t chased after him.
As he continued pondering a strategy, a thirtysomething woman wearing tight jeans, a low-cut tank top and spike heels slid onto the stool next to him. Her black hair was long and straight and her lipstick was as red as her tank top. She was a stark contrast to Dana Sue’s leggy, wholesome appearance. Most men would have found her sexy, but to Ronnie she was simply trying too hard.
“Hey, sugar, you look like you could use some company,” she said in a low purr that should have set his pulse racing.
He met her gaze, took a long, slow sip of his beer and tried to work up some enthusiasm for whatever she was offering. But pretty as she was, she wasn’t the woman he wanted.
Still, he forced a smile out of sheer habit. “Buy you a drink?”
“Sure,” she said. “A light beer.”
He beckoned the bartender over and placed the order, then swirled his own beer around in the glass, wondering why not one of the women who’d come on to him since his divorce had held any appeal. Maybe what he should have been asking himself was why one woman had managed to sneak through his defenses back when he’d still been very much married. To his everlasting regret, he couldn’t even remember what she’d looked like, or any highlight of their conversation.
“You want to talk about it?” his companion inquired, taking a sip of her beer. “My name’s Linda, by the way. Folks say I’m a real good listener.” She leaned in closer. “Among other things.”
Ronnie gave her another speculative once-over, but the attraction just wasn’t there for him.
“Come on,” she prodded. “Every man has a story he’s just dying to tell.”
“Not me,” he insisted.
“Broken heart, then,” she concluded. “Men hate talking about being dumped.”
“The broken heart wasn’t mine,” he corrected, then thought about it. In the end, his heart had been just as shattered as Dana Sue’s, and he’d had a load of guilt to go along with it.
“What did you do?” Linda asked. “Sleep around on her?”
“Something like that,” he admitted.
“Then I imagine you’ll do it again. Men always do.”
“Is that so?”
“In my experience, anyway.”
Amused by her world-weary attempt at wisdom, he said, “Then you must have real bad taste in men.”
She laughed. “Says the guy I’ve been coming on to for the past five minutes.”
“Like I said, bad taste,” he agreed. “But your luck’s about to change, because I’m going to do you a favor and take off.” He put some bills on the bar, then met her disappointed gaze. “And just so you know, if I ever convince my ex-wife to take me back, she’ll have nothing to worry about. I learned my lesson. She’s the only one for me.”
“You gonna try to sell me some of that swampland east of here next?”
“Nope. I’m just gonna wish you better luck with the next guy who comes along,” he said, and walked away.
“I wonder if this ex of yours knows she’s a lucky woman,” she called after him.
Ronnie chuckled at that. “I most seriously doubt it, unless she considers herself damn lucky that I’m gone.”
“Then she’s a fool,” his new friend said.
Ronnie shook his head. “No,” he said in an undertone not meant to be heard, “that was me.”
And sometime in the next couple of months, he was going to try to convince Dana Sue of that.
* * *
Back in his dingy room at the motel his boss had made a deal with for the out-of-town construction crew, Ronnie checked the time, figured Dana Sue would still be at the restaurant and called Annie on her cell phone. After the first few months of sounding either angry or distant or both, she’d finally let down her guard. They’d almost recaptured the closeness they’d once shared. He treasured these calls and he was pretty sure Annie did, too. He missed his daughter as much as he missed Dana Sue. The months when Annie had frozen him out had taken a real toll on him, but he’d kept calling.
“Dad!” she said eagerly, sounding like her old self. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he lied, then listened to the loud background noise on Annie’s end of the line. “Where are you, baby? It sounds like you’re at a party.”
“Wait a sec. I’ll go in the other room so I can hear you,” she said.
It was suddenly quiet on
