by Regan Black
Relieved that she hadn’t seen him while in his pillow-bashing frenzy, he nodded. “Everything’s good. Go on back to sleep.”
For a second he thought she might do exactly that, turn and make her way back to her room and the comfy mattress. Instead, she crossed the space separating them and took a seat on the other end of the couch.
“Are you sure you’re…” She looked down. “I mean, it’s the middle of the night and you seem a little off.”
Off. Interesting way of putting it. “I just needed to think,” he said. “Gus here is helping me do exactly that.”
“Is Gus okay?” she asked, her gaze going from Kyle to the dog and then back again. “I just can’t shake the feeling I had. An overwhelming sense that something was wrong.”
“Gus is fine. You just had a bad dream. Go on back to bed, Nicole. I really want to be alone.” Which was a bold-faced lie, now. What he really wanted was to push her back against the couch cushions and find out exactly what she did or did not have on under that T-shirt. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, and forget everything but the intoxicating feel of her body. Just the thought was enough to send all the blood rushing to one particular part of his anatomy.
To his mingled relief and disappointment, she pushed to her feet, mumbled a sleepy “Okay” and went back to her bedroom.
It took every ounce of disciplined restraint he possessed not to follow her.
He must have fallen asleep on the couch, because the next thing he knew, he opened his eyes to bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. Gus lay sleeping on the floor in front of him.
When Kyle sat up, the dog opened one eye and gave a lazy thump of his tail.
“Come on, boy,” Kyle said, grinning. “Let’s get you outside so you can take care of business. Then we can both have our breakfast.” He felt surprisingly good, as if last night had been only a bad dream, something he should put far behind him and not think of again.
As he puttered around the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee and trying to decide what he should make for breakfast, the doorbell rang. Grateful Gus wasn’t a barker, Kyle hurried to answer the door. Nicole and Jacob were apparently still sleeping.
Checking through the peephole, he was surprised to see Bret standing on the doorstep. He opened the door and welcomed his old friend inside, offering him some coffee.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate that.” Bret stifled a yawn. “I’ve been up all night. Heather went into labor a little bit early. I have a daughter. A beautiful tiny baby girl. We named her Emma. She’s on the small side, but perfectly healthy.”
“Congratulations.” Kyle thumped his friend on the back. “Sit. I’ll get your coffee.”
Bret sat. He rubbed his eyes. “I’m not going to stay long,” he said. “I’m going home to try to get a couple hours of shuteye before I head back up to the hospital.”
“I get it.” Kyle couldn’t help but grin as he teased his friend. “You look like you were out all night partying like we used to back in high school.”
“I imagine.” Bret grinned back. “But this was so much more awesome. I got to watch my daughter being born. It’s too damn bad you weren’t able to be here to do the same when Nicole had your son.”
Kyle froze. He finished filling the mug with coffee and carried it over to the table, placing it in front of Bret. “What did you just say?” he asked, trying to sound neutral.
If anything, Bret’s grin widened. “It’s all over town, Kyle. You know how people like to talk in this town. Word is that little Jacob is your son, not Bill Mabry’s. Nicole’s own mother confirmed it.”
CHAPTER 13
About to walk into the kitchen, Nicole caught the tail end of Bret’s statement and gasped. Both men turned to look at her.
“Hey, Nicole.” Bret’s easy greeting told her he either was physically as exhausted as he looked, or really believed she already knew about the unveiling of the truth of Jacob’s parentage. He probably thought her mother had called her, like most mothers would.
“Hi, Bret.” She gripped the edge of the counter, trying her hardest to seem nonchalant. “I have to admit, I’m absolutely shocked at what I just heard. You say my mother—Fran Shelton, to be sure—is publicly confirming that Kyle is Jacob’s father?”
“Yep.” Some of the goofy pleasure faded from his face. “Are you telling me you didn’t know?”
Reeling, she shook her head. “I had no idea. In fact, I’m still thinking it has to be untrue. Why would she do that? My mother in particular wanted to keep this quiet. She was worried about how this news might change how people in town thought of me.”
“Seriously?” Bret snorted, exchanging an incredulous glance with Kyle. “We’re not in the fifties. Sure, it’s a small town and people gossip. But everyone knew how close the two of you were—are. The surprising thing to most of us who knew you was that you got with Bill Mabry at all. No offense, Nicole.” He peered apologetically at her. “But Mabry was never your type.”
She didn’t really have an answer for that, since he was right.
“Sit,” Kyle directed. “I’ll make you a cup of coffee.” On the floor near him, Gus wagged his shaggy tail in greeting.
Grateful, she made her way to the table. After stopping to pet Gus, she pulled out the chair opposite Bret. Though she hadn’t yet showered, she was glad she’d taken the time to dress. When she’d gotten up to check on Kyle in the middle of the night, he’d looked at her with so much intensity she’d felt as if he could see right through her sleep shirt. Her entire body had tingled, long after she’d gone back to her room. She’d despaired, wondering if this insane craving would ever go away.
Gus went to the back door and whined. Kyle let him out.
Bret shook his head. “I never pictured you having a dog,” he commented. “That’s a mighty-fine-looking animal you got.”
“Thanks.” Kyle’s proud grin spoke of how highly he regarded his canine companion.
Meanwhile, Nicole still struggled to make sense of Bret’s news.
“Where did you hear all this about my mother?” she asked Bret. Part of her expected to learn the story wasn’t true, that someone had made it up out of boredom or spite.
“Heather and I went out with another couple for dinner yesterday, right before she went into labor. We were at The Burger Shack and ran into a couple more of our old classmates.” He took a sip from his mug and gave her an apologetic grimace. “Everyone is still talking about Bill Mabry’s murder and speculating who could have done such an awful thing. In the midst of all that, you and Kyle came up.”
“Understandable,” she allowed, accepting her own steaming mug from Kyle. “But I need to know how my mother came into all this. Forgive me for doubting, but I can’t imagine her confirming to everyone in town that I got pregnant out of wedlock with Kyle’s baby and then went ahead and married Bill Mabry.” Even though that was exactly what she’d done.
His earnest expression kind, Bret patted the back of her hand. “It’s okay, you know. No one thinks badly of you at all. We all thought Kyle was dead. Everyone saw how you almost lost your mind.”
Throat clogging, Nicole managed to nod. What no one knew was how her pregnancy saved her. She hadn’t wanted to live without Kyle. Only the knowledge that his child grew inside her had kept her grounded to this earth.
Kyle grunted and pulled out his own chair. Bret shot a quick look at him before returning his attention to Nicole. “Heather’s friend goes to your parents’ church. Apparently after Theresa Mabry tried to steal Jacob, your mother decided she’d had enough of her craziness. She confronted the Mabrys right there in front of the entire congregation the very next day.”
“Seriously? I’m having trouble believing this,” Nicole said.
“I bet. Oh, Heather’s friend Tildy said it was a sight to see. Both women got loud and shrill. The pastor had to step in be
tween them when your mom tried to push Theresa Mabry’s head down into a big bowl of homemade ice cream.”
Kyle made a strangled sound, as if attempting to hold back a laugh. Both Bret and Nicole ignored him.
“The two women started screaming at each other, Tildy said,” Bret continued. “The pastor tried to pull them apart, but they weren’t having it. Then Theresa said some awful stuff about you. Your mom lost it and told Theresa that she wasn’t really a grandmother anyway.”
Closing her eyes, Nicole tried to picture this scenario. Her cold, dignified mother, always so careful to say the right thing, constantly worried about appearances. No, this reality-show-type flamboyant person did not sound like her mother at all.
Right then, she was leaning toward it all being a fake story, made up just to cause trouble.
“Unbelievable,” Kyle interjected. “I can’t even picture it.”
“Neither can I. Heather’s friend actually saw this?” she asked. “Or did she just hear about it?”
Her question caught Bret mid-yawn. “Tildy was there. She watched it all go down.” He took another long drink of his coffee, setting down the empty cup. “Sorry, I have to run. I’ve got to sleep a few hours before going back up to the hospital. But I wanted to make you both aware of what’s going on so you wouldn’t be caught completely by surprise. You know the entire town is already gossiping about it.”
“Thank you,” Nicole told him, meaning it. “I would have been blindsided.”
“Yeah, me too. Thanks, bud,” Kyle echoed. Bret rubbed his eyes and left.
After showing Bret out, Kyle returned to the kitchen, his expression troubled. “This has got to be a huge shock. Are you okay?”
She nodded, did not even have to think about the answer. “Actually, I am. I have to say it’s kind of a relief, having the decision to reveal the truth taken completely out of my hands.” She took a deep breath. “Though I have to admit, I’m now worried about Theresa. She was unbalanced before. Imagine her now. She’ll be like a harpy on a mission of vengeance.”
Her colorful comment made Kyle grin. “Now that is something I can more easily envision.”
At the back door, Gus barked, then scratched at the screen.
“He’s apparently had enough of outside.” Kyle grinned. “Plus he’s probably wanting his breakfast.”
The affection in his tone made her smile back.
Gus came bounding into the kitchen, plumed tail wagging. Nicole braced herself for the big dog to jump on her in greeting, but someone had clearly taught him manners. He sat right next to her, tail swishing the floor, his bright gaze fixed on her intently.
When she reached down and scratched him behind his ear, she could swear Gus grinned. But as soon as Kyle poured some dog kibble in a bowl, Gus left her, raced across the room to sit and wait politely for his food.
Kyle placed the dog’s bowl on the floor and watched while the dog began to eat. “Someone spent some time training him.”
“He’s really smart,” Nicole said.
“He helped me last night.” Kyle’s words were nearly inaudible.
She knew better than to comment, so she only nodded.
He kept his gaze on the dog as he continued. “I’m going to look up that article you mentioned about service dogs for people with PTSD.”
Though she caught her breath, she managed to keep her face expressionless. “It’s an interesting article,” she allowed.
Gus finished eating. Kyle picked up the bowl and carried it to the sink, where he washed it out. When he’d finished, he turned to face her. “Are you going to call your mother?”
The change of subject confused her for a second. “I probably should, shouldn’t I?” she replied with no enthusiasm. “I need to hear it from her before I try to deal with Theresa Mabry.”
“Why would you have to deal with her?”
“I don’t know. I’m thinking she’ll probably call.”
As if on cue, her cell phone rang. Startled, Nicole winced. “I’m almost afraid to answer it?” But instead of her mother or Theresa, caller ID showed Caller Unknown, which 99 percent of the time meant a solicitor.
Because of this, she almost didn’t answer. Almost. But because even a solicitation call felt like a reprieve, she finally did. “Hello?”
The silence on the other end of the line usually meant a recorded sales pitch would come on. But, just as she was about to end the call, a husky, feminine voice said her name. “Nicole Mabry?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Leslie Tiner. I wanted you to know that I was in love with your husband. And I think I might know who killed him.”
Stunned, shocked, Nicole gulped in a deep breath before responding. She wanted her voice to be steady, despite the way her heart now hammered in her chest.
Meanwhile Kyle had come closer and watched her intently.
“Are you there?” Leslie finally asked.
“Yes. Sorry. I really don’t know what to say.”
“That’s okay,” the other woman reassured her, clearly not seeing the irony in that. “I mainly just need you to listen.”
“I think you should talk to the sheriff’s office,” Nicole replied. “They’re investigating Bill’s death. And they know about you.”
“About me?” Leslie sounded surprised. “How do you know this?”
Nicole explained about the credit card statement that she’d given to the police.
“Jewelry?” Leslie asked. “And lingerie? I have to say, I have no idea about any of that. Bill liked to take me dancing. Honkey-tonk’n is what we called it. When he bought me gifts, he liked to buy me clothes. Short dresses, high-heeled shoes, that sort of thing.”
“Um, that’s kind of a weird statement to make to Bill’s wife,” Nicole pointed out. “You said you had an idea who killed him. Care to elaborate on that?”
“I’m having second thoughts.” Leslie’s voice, previously smooth and confident, now sounded agitated. Upset even. “I’ll get back to you on that.” She ended the call.
* * *
After putting down her phone, Nicole raised her face to his. Her stricken expression had him crossing the room to her and pulling her into his arms. From what he’d heard of her end of the conversation, it had been an unusual phone call, to say the least.
“That was some woman claiming to be Bill’s mistress.”
Shocked, he grimaced. “I heard you say that she’d stated she had an idea who’d killed him.”
“She did. And then she said he never bought her jewelry or lingerie. Since he didn’t buy it for me either and the credit card statement clearly showed he bought it, who was the recipient?”
He had no immediate answer for that.
The doorbell rang. Loosening his grip on Nicole, he kissed her cheek. “Are you going to be all right?”
“I’m fine,” she answered crossly. “I think I’m feeling angrier than anything else. This Leslie person could have saved everyone time and just gone to the police. Why she feels she could call and try to torment me, I don’t understand.”
The doorbell chimed again, this second round belying his visitor’s impatience.
“Go.” Nicole waved him away. “Answer the door. I’ll be right here when you get back.”
He left her in the kitchen. When he pulled open the front door and saw Nicole’s mother standing on his doorstep, he almost closed the door in her face. Almost.
“The last thing she needs right now is more drama,” he warned, bracing himself for the tirade of invectives sure to follow.
Instead, to his surprise, Fran simply nodded and turned away, as if to leave. Watching her, he battled an internal battle, aware he didn’t have the right to dictate who Nicole wanted to see. Right when Fran reached her car, he opened his mouth to call her back. But before he could speak, she spun around and marched bac
k up the sidewalk toward him.
Since he figured he deserved whatever chewing out she was about to deliver, he stepped aside to let her past.
Instead, she stopped. “I owe you an apology,” she said, lifting her chin. “I want to let you know I’m sorry for the way I treated you all these years. I was wrong and from now on, if you’ll give me a chance, I’ll try to get to know you.”
Dumbfounded, he could only nod.
“Now where is my daughter?” she demanded. “Since I’m in an eating-crow mood today, I’ve got a lot to stay to her too.”
He led the way through the living room into his kitchen. Nicole looked up from her coffee, staring as her mother swept into the room.
“I’ll let you two have some privacy,” he murmured, backing away.
“Wait.” Fran’s fierce tone stopped him cold. “You sit too. You both need to hear what I have to say.”
Nicole raised her eyebrows. “Mom, if you came to let us know what you told Theresa Mabry, we’ve already heard. Actually, thank you. I was dreading telling her, so you saved me from that.”
For a moment, Fran’s determined expression faltered. Then she shook her head. “I should have known. Sometimes I forget how quick gossip spreads in this town.”
“Sit,” Kyle gestured at a chair. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, thank you.” Fran pulled out a chair and sank into it with a grateful sigh. “Nicole, I know you’ve been through a lot lately. I haven’t been much help. Will you accept my apology?”
Nicole stared at her mother, her flummoxed expression revealing the depth of her shock. “Yes, of course.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Then, to Kyle’s consternation, Fran began to cry.
Nicole shot him a panicked look, letting him know she wasn’t sure what to do. All her life, her mother hadn’t even been one for casual touch, never mind hugs or embraces or even kisses. Though it seemed plain to him the older woman was sorely in need of a hug right now, he also knew Nicole had to be the one wanting to give it.
So he kept his mouth shut and busied himself making Fran a cup of coffee. Since he wasn’t sure how she took it—and didn’t want to interrupt her sobbing to ask—he made it the same way he made Nicole’s.