“I can get it on Wednesday,” I offered and his eyes hit mine again and my hands immediately went behind my back to pull at the apron strings. “I’ll let you cash me out.”
“Good thinkin’,” he muttered.
I gave him my apron, he moved to the back of the bar and I turned to Wendy who gave me wide eyes but those eyes were dancing and she was biting her lips.
“Don’t laugh, that wasn’t funny,” I whispered.
“Sistah, you haven’t worked with Tonia enough,” she whispered back. “Trust me, that was hi… larry… us.”
“Definitely,” Dalton muttered and Wendy let a giggle escape, Tate turned to us, Wendy scampered and Dalton sauntered down the bar.
I waited and when Tate handed me my tips, I didn’t even count them, I just mumbled, “Thanks, see you later,” shoved my tips in my purse and got the heck out of there.
* * * * *
I’d had another moonlight swim that night which, right then, lying facedown on my bed, I realized was a really stupid idea. I should have conserved my energy or maybe broke into the Italian restaurant, fixed myself a mess of spaghetti and carbed up.
I dragged myself out of the bed, took a shower, did the most minimal toilette preparations I would allow (blow dried hair, face powder, swipe of blush and mascara), put on a pair of white shorts (that were strangely hanging way loose on me) and a spaghetti-strapped top made out of gauzy material that was a random pattern of muted pastels, had a thin ruffle at the material that crossed at the bodice and another tiny ruffle adorned the hem. I slid on flip-flops, grabbed my sunglasses (because it wasn’t only warm, it was super sunny as only Colorado seemed to be able to be), made myself a huge coffee in one of Betty’s big mugs and shuffled out to the lounge chairs by the pool.
I waved to Betty as I went, she waved back, I hit the closest lounge chair and collapsed in it.
I took two sips of coffee while staring at the twinkling water of the pool, set my mug on the cool deck and promptly passed out.
* * * * *
“Ace,” I heard.
I thought that was weird. When I was asleep I heard a lot of things that Tate had said to me (though, lately, it wasn’t the first comment about me being old and fat, it was the stuff he’d said since, about Brad throwing away a good thing, about Tate giving me sweet dreams, about him calling me his, and the like). But I never heard him calling me Ace.
“Babe,” I heard.
There it was again. Strange.
I shifted slightly, doing a little arched back stretch and then settled back into sleep.
“Laurie, baby, wake up.” I heard Tate say gently as I felt fingers close around mine and squeeze. “You’re gonna fry out here.”
I opened my eyes to see Tate leaning over me and my body lurched.
“Holy crap,” I breathed, “what on…” I stopped talking, looked around and saw I was lying on a lounge chair by Betty and Ned’s pool. “Darn,” I whispered, “I fell asleep.”
“Yeah,” Tate said and my eyes went to him to see he was moving and I watched in shock as he slid a hip onto the side of the lounge chair, pushing my hips out of the way to accommodate his. “You got sunscreen on?” he asked.
I was staring at his hip pressed to mine so I wasn’t following.
“Sorry?”
“Sunscreen, babe, you’re closer to the sun up here, there aren’t any clouds and, you don’t have sunscreen, you’re gonna fry.”
My eyes went to his face. “I don’t have sunscreen.”
“Then you’re gonna fry. Let’s go to your room.”
My body froze.
“My room?”
He stood and stretched his hand to me. “Up, Ace.”
“What?”
He didn’t repeat himself. He bent, grabbed hold of my hand and hauled me out of the lounge. Then he bent again and nabbed my nearly full coffee mug. Then, his hand still in mine, he dragged me across the parking lot.
I was still kind of asleep so I didn’t protest but I looked toward reception and saw Betty was watching us. When my sunglass covered-eyes caught hers, she started waving enthusiastically and I wasn’t sure but it looked like she was bouncing up and down on her chair.
Tate stopped me outside room thirteen, taking me directly to my door, the location of which there was no way for him to know, something I was also still too drowsy to notice.
“You got your key?” he asked when I just stood there with him.
I fished it out of my pocket, he took it from me, opened the door, used my hand to maneuver me in front of him and push me in and he followed.
Then he dropped my hand, the door closed and he went straight to the curtains, throwing them wide and bright sunlight hit the room. I shoved my sunglasses up my face taking my hair with them until they were on my head but I thought better of it when all that sunshine hit me.
He turned to me, tossed the key on the bed and declared, “Quick Way probably carries aloe vera.”
I blinked.
“You burn,” he explained, walking toward me then beyond me to the bathroom saying, “You’ll need aloe vera.” Then he called from the bathroom, “Quick Way across the street.”
“I know where it is,” I called back, coming to myself and wondering how I allowed Tate to be in my room.
I heard the faucet and then he came out and went right to the kettle. He lifted it up, swished it around to check if there was water in it, put it back in its base and flipped the on switch.
“You need coffee,” he announced when he’d set the mug down and straightened.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Right,” he said and walked the four steps to me, his hand at his back pocket. When he arrived, his hand came round, his other one grabbed mine, lifted it, palm up and then he planted an expensive-looking cellular phone in my hand. “Cell,” he said unnecessarily, his one hand still holding mine as his other hand went back to his pocket. It swung around again to put an envelope on top of the phone in my hand. “Your info, your number. It’s charged. Got the charger and box in my bag on the Harley. Saw you fryin’ and left it to wake you up.”
I was still staring at the cell.
Then I looked up at him. “You bought me a cell phone?”
“You were sleepin’ in the sun, babe, not goin’ to the mall to get a phone. So I got you a phone.”
“Why?” I asked.
“You need a phone,” he answered.
“But –”
“It ain’t safe, not having a phone.”
“I –”
“And I’m not fuckin’ squabblin’ about it.”
It was then I realized his fingers were still holding my hand palm up so I tugged my hand from his and took a step away.
“I’ll pay you back,” I said.
“Did already, did most of a stock take. Not your job. That’s your bonus.”
“But –”
He cut me off and he didn’t do it angry, he did it sounding part frustrated but also part tired. “Lauren, seriously, just shut up, all right?”
I stared at him. He’d worked a double shift and it was busy last night. He’d had a long day working a job he wasn’t supposed to be working in the first place. He’d fired someone and even though he was really a jerk about it, with the way Wendy and Dalton reacted and the way I saw Tonia be myself, it was likely a long time coming. Someone had to do it and it probably wasn’t pleasant. Now, we were a waitress down and they’d still been on the market after they hired me because, in reality, before they got me, they were two waitresses down. He was, as ever, stuck.
“You had a long day yesterday,” I blurted.
His brows drew together. “Come again?”
“Nothing,” I muttered. “Do you want coffee?” I asked and his eyes focused on me so intently, I could swear he was looking at me like he didn’t know who I was.
Then he said, “No, Ace, need to get to Bubba’s and make sure its fuckin’ namesake has his ass behind the bar.”
&nbs
p; “So Bubba is back?”
“Yeah, though he’s not much better than Tonia, at least it doesn’t cost us money for him to take up space.”
“Oh,” I said softly and then jumped when a knock sounded on the door.
“Expecting company?” Tate asked and I looked at the door then to him.
“It’s probably Betty,” I muttered, turning back to the door and I saw her head peek around the window to look in and then it disappeared so I smiled. “Betty,” I confirmed then I saw a uniformed policeman move to stand full in the window and look in and the smile froze on my face. “What on –?”
But Tate was on the move. He was across the room and had the door open before I could blink.
“Frank,” Tate greeted, opening the door wide and the officer walked in as did Betty.
“Been lookin’ for you, saw your bike,” the policeman said to Tate then his gaze came to me.
“Hope you don’t mind, Laurie, but he said he needed Tate,” Betty put in.
“What’s goin’ on?” Tate asked and he hadn’t taken his eyes off the officer.
“Tonia Payne was raped last night,” the officer announced.
I gasped, tossed the stuff in my hand on the bed and rushed to Tate’s side at the same time I whispered, “Oh my God.”
The officer looked at me and stated, “You got that right.”
“What the fuck happened?” Tate growled and I belatedly noticed he was holding himself perfectly still and his face was rock hard but there was a lethal energy emanating from him. It was so forceful, so strong, it was quickly filling the room and if Betty wasn’t standing in the door holding it open and letting some of Tate’s energy out, I fancied it would choke us all.
“Bad, man, and when I say that I mean bad,” Frank told Tate. “She’s messed up, in the hospital. Did her with a knife.”
Betty cried out and, without thinking, my hand shot up and I grabbed onto Tate’s bicep and leaned my weight into it because if I didn’t, I might faint.
Tate shifted so my hand disengaged but I didn’t drop to the floor because he shifted so his arm was around my waist and he hauled me deep into his side.
“Jesus Christ, Frank, you got an audience,” Tate ground out.
Frank glanced at Betty and me and mumbled, “Shit. Right. Sorry.”
“Right, sorry,” Tate repeated on an infuriated clip. “You can’t say that at three in the mornin’ when these women won’t be able to sleep because that shit you just shared is poundin’ into their brains.”
“Sorry,” Frank mumbled again.
“Tell me you got this guy,” Tate demanded.
“Why you think I’m here?” Frank asked.
“Because you don’t fuckin’ got this guy,” Tate bit out.
“We need you, Tate,” Frank stated and there was the thin, but desperate, thread of a plea in his four words.
But I was surprised. Why would they need Tate?
I looked up at him to see a muscle leap in his jaw.
Then he clipped, “Outside.”
Betty moved from the door and Frank moved out of it but Tate gave my waist a squeeze before he curled me into his front. Right into his front, our hips and bellies were touching and everything!
Looking down at me, he ordered, “Close that door, make your coffee and don’t fuckin’ listen. I’ll be back.”
Then he let me go and followed Frank.
“Oh dear,” Betty said and I looked at her.
“Tonia,” I whispered and my eyes filled with tears.
I mean, I didn’t know her very well and I didn’t like her but to be raped with a knife?
Betty nodded, grabbed my hand and led me to the bed. Once there, she put her hands to my shoulders and pressed down.
“I’ll make coffee,” she whispered after I was seated and then turned to the kettle.
Betty was silent while she made coffee and I got myself together. Then she brought two mugs to the bed, sat down beside me and handed me mine.
That’s when I asked, “Why would the cops come to Tate?”
“Well, he used to be one of ‘em,” she answered and I stared at her.
“Really?”
“Yeppo… and a good one.”
“Why isn’t he now?” I asked.
“Neeta,” she answered.
“Sorry?”
“Neeta.” She saw my face then patted my knee. “Long story and a sorry mess it was. I’ll tell you later. But now isn’t the time with Tate outside. Okay?”
I wanted to know then but she was right so I said, “Okay.”
“Anyway, it’s good they came to him,” she said. “Tate’ll find him.”
“But, how can the cops ask him to help if he’s a bartender?” I asked and she smiled.
“He isn’t a bartender, sweetie, he’s a bounty hunter.”
“What?” I breathed.
“Good one ‘a those too, I hear. When Bubba isn’t playin’ hooky and Krystal’s got a full staff, Tate gets called all over the country to find fugitives from the law.”
“Really?” I was still only talking in breaths.
“Yeah, Laurie. Tatum Jackson’s not the kind of man to spend his life behind a bar.”
My eyes moved to the door.
“Wow,” I whispered.
“Drink your coffee,” Betty urged and I looked back at her and just sat there so she prompted, “Coffee, sweetie.”
“Right,” I whispered and I drank my coffee.
* * * * *
Five minutes later there was a knock on the door.
Betty ran to get it because I was sitting cross-legged on the bed taking a sip of coffee.
Tate nodded at Betty when he walked in but he came right to me, stopped, tossed a phone charger and a shiny box on the bed and looked down at me.
“Night swims are done, Ace,” he declared in a hard voice.
I stared up at him and whispered a shocked, “Sorry?”
He bent at the waist, put a fist in the bed on either side of my hips, got in my face and I was too stunned to move.
“No more swimmin’ unless its daylight and Ned or Betty are around,” he ordered.
“But, how do you –?”
“You get in your room, you put the chain on and you stay in it, got me?”
“But –”
“You don’t open the door unless you know for a fact who it is and that they’re alone,” Tate went on.
“I –”
“I programmed my numbers into your phone. You need to go somewhere and it’s night, you call me, I’ll come down and you’re on the back of my bike.”
I swallowed but the tears still filled my eyes.
“She’s bad,” I whispered.
“She’ll be lucky to survive,” he whispered back.
“Tate,” I kept whispering, calling him by his name for the first time ever.
I watched with some fascination as his eyes closed and something weird rushed into his features. It was weird because it appeared both warm and painful.
He opened them and said quietly, “I cut her loose last night.”
My hand moved to wrap my fingers around his forearm. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I cut her loose,” he repeated.
“Tate, don’t,” I whispered.
“I wasn’t nice about it,” he went on.
“Don’t –”
“Last thing she heard from my mouth was me callin’ her a bitch.”
“Tate –”
“She was on shift –”
My fingers squeezed and I leaned closer, “Honey, don’t.”
He was silent and we stared into each other’s eyes for awhile.
Then he ordered, “No more nighttime swimmin’, babe.”
“Okay,” I replied softly.
He pushed away and walked to the door, saying to Betty, “She may need some aloe vera.”
“Right, Tate,” Betty replied to no one because he was out the door.
Betty turned to me and grinned in a
way that, if I wasn’t strung out on a variety of emotions, I would have thought, especially considering the circumstances, was bizarrely, happily hopeful.
But all I could say or think was, “How did he know about me swimming?”
“Why he was a good cop, why he’s a good bounty hunter, Tate Jackson knows all,” Betty answered.
I didn’t think that was good news, not for me.
I just hoped it was equally bad news for the man who hurt Tonia.
Chapter Five
Exhausted You
The next day, it was just passed two in the afternoon and it was another slow day at Bubba’s when he came in.
I was on and Dalton was behind the bar.
My body ached from boot camp, all over, and I spent some time that morning trying to figure out if it was my leg muscles, arm muscles, ab muscles or butt muscles that hurt the most but I couldn’t decide since they all hurt equally bad.
When Jim-Billy came in, Dalton and Jim-Billy spent time discussing Tonia. Dalton looked slightly strung out, like he had no sleep, looking this way probably because he was freaked about Tonia. They talked about Tonia until they saw it was distressing me, Jim-Billy gave Dalton a look and they’d both shut up about it.
I ran out to get Dalton, Jim-Billy and myself sandwiches from the deli, popping by La-La Land to buy us all brownies with peanut butter morsels in them.
“Peanut butter’s the theme this week, babeeee,” Shambles had shouted upon my entry that morning to get my coffee and breakfast so I had to go back for treats for the boys if peanut butter was the theme. I loved peanut butter.
I was spending the day finishing up the stock take I hadn’t quite finished two days before, running back and forth to the front to make sure Dalton was good. I had just finished my task and was mentally designing the spreadsheet I was going to create on my laptop that night and present to Krystal. I was walking up the hall when I saw the front door open and Tate walked in.
I took one look at his face and tripped over my feet.
“Hey Tate, got news?” I heard Dalton ask almost the instant Tate arrived.
“Ace,” Tate called, his eyes on me, not answering Dalton’s question. “Turn around. Office,” he ordered.
I didn’t protest. I nodded, turned, hurried down the hall and waited for him outside the office door. When he arrived, he unlocked it with his keys and pushed it open, holding it so I could precede him. I flipped on the light switch as I entered, took several steps in and turned. Tate closed the door and put his back to it.
Sweet Dreams Page 9