Wildly Inappropriate

by Eden Connor

  Running across the crisp grass in her bare feet, Cynda rounded the tractor and skidded to a stop. Panic jammed her heart into her throat, and she longed to turn and run back into the house, but fear that Daisy couldn't see well enough to fight the danger to her baby pinned her in place.

  Chapter Eight

  Before he opened the door to his truck, Dan knew something was wrong. Daisy's bark sounded hoarse, as though she'd been raising Cain for hours. He ran for the shed.

  "Daniel!" Cynda was on her knees on the tractor seat, holding aloft a plastic quart bottle of oil. She shouted to be heard over the barking. "A raccoon! I think it has rabies."

  Dan's heart nearly stopped as he rushed toward the shed. "Cynda, raccoons can climb."

  She glanced over her shoulder. Her cheeks were wet with tears. "He's trying to bite Daisy or get the pup." Daniel saw the ringed tail when the animal darted out from under the tractor. Cynda hurled the bottle, striking the raccoon in the side. The dark form turned and he saw the foam dripping from its jaws before it darted back under the tractor. Six other bottles of oil were strewn across the dirt.

  He kept his tone low and calm, his heart leaping because he had Colton's shotguns in his truck but falling again when he recalled none were loaded. The few feet into the house seemed like miles. "Cynda, I'm going to shoot the 'coon, but I have to have to go inside to get ammo. If it's a choice between you or the dogs—"

  "Noooo," she cried. "Not the baby. And Jacques needs his momma. Hurry, Daniel, I only have one more quart of oil. I think he went under the tractor."

  He wasn't going inside and leaving Cynda alone. Racing across the yard, Dan turned on the spigot and grabbed the hose. The nozzle had a powerful spray. He used it to wash his truck, but he knew the hose wouldn't quite reach the shed where he'd parked the tractor the day before. Dropping to the ground, he saw the glittering eyes of the raccoon. It huddled beneath the tractor beside one of the large rear tires. If he sprayed it, the sick animal might turn back toward Daisy. Even if one of Colton's rifles had been loaded, the shot might penetrate the 'coon and hit Daisy. The drool combined with the fact the nocturnal animal was out in broad daylight and attacking Daisy lent credence to Cynda's suspicion of rabies and he knew rabies was almost always fatal in humans. Fuck.

  Daniel dropped the hose nozzle into a low spot in the yard closer to the edge of the yard where the miles of orchards began, some distance from the back door. Cynda was clutching the bottle of thirty-weight like it was a lifeline. He thought about a tire iron. He'd never had a flat in this truck. The jack and tire-changing apparatus would be bolted down. Do I have time to undo all of that?

  The sound of running water got the animal's attention. It darted from beneath the tractor, running in a jagged line toward the growing puddle. As soon as it cleared the shed Daniel raced inside. Cynda jumped into his outstretched arms. "We can't leave Daisy out here," she sobbed, dropping the oil to wrap her arms around his neck. Her legs locked around his waist.

  "One female rescued at a time," he informed her, hurrying back toward the house. The raccoon still reeled across the yard, away from the dogs.

  Once he had Cynda safely inside, he put her down. Running for the gun safe in his office, he looked at the.22 rifle but reached for a handgun instead. The Glock was already loaded. One shot put the infected raccoon out of its misery. Cynda burst from the house as soon as he discharged the gun.

  "Daisy! Jacques!" She ran toward the shed. The dress she wore was streaked with dirt and rust from the tractor, but Dan stared at the way the skirt whirled around her legs and the flash of her crinoline.

  Jacques? "Who the hell is Jacques?" he asked, unlatching the door to the barn. He'd need to bury the 'coon deep and put something on top of it to stop the dog from digging up the body. Daisy was a digger, always unearthing or burying something.

  "The pup. I named him Jacques." Her voice came from the back of the shed. He pictured her kneeling in the hay.

  Daniel snorted as he grabbed a shovel. "Hell no," he yelled through the wall. "I'm gonna keep that pup, and I'm not gonna be out in the woods with my huntin' buddies, calling for a damn birddog named Jacques."

  "I saved his life. I get to name him," she insisted. "And here's another good reason to sell. You got crazy-ass raccoons wandering around. Take the money and move to town."

  When he stepped out of the barn, she'd come out of the shed and was cuddling the pup to her neck. "Such a pretty baby," she crooned. Daisy trotted at her heels.

  "Keep Daisy back till I get this thing buried," he warned. "The saliva can spread the virus. She's been vaccinated, but I don't want to take any chances."

  "Let's go smell the flowers," Cynda said, he hoped to the dogs. She seemed calm as could be now that the danger was past. So did Daisy, but he had to blink at the sight of his dog ignoring him in favor of Cynda. Well, she was holding Daisy's pup.

  Cynda crossed the driveway and stepped into Cammie's garden. By the time he'd buried the raccoon and found a few heavy rocks to place on top, she'd made herself a circlet of purple coneflowers. Daisy wore a necklace made of them, too. Something about the sight of her, with her floral crown and yellow dress while his sightless dog stared up at her took his breath. Dan stood stock-still holding the shovel, just watching her as she crooned to Daisy in the sweet tone women used when talking to babies. "Such a brave mama. You weren't about to run off and leave your baby, were you?"

  He suddenly wanted to punch something. Staying at the house felt impossible, but irrationally, looking at Cynda made him lose the urge to burn the place down. "Did you make that salon appointment?"

  She stood still, and peeked at him from beneath her curly lashes. "Yes, Daniel. But it's not till six."

  "You're beautiful as a barefoot garden goddess, but let's get the hell outta here." He grinned at her. "Shoe shopping will kill the time. I'll call Colton and check on Lila while you change."

  "Let me put Jacques back in the shed." She looked up at him imploringly. "I don't suppose we could move Daisy and Jacques into the house where they'll be safe?"

  He felt like a fool but after he stowed Colton's shotgun and rifles in his gun safe, he found a box and an old baby gate in the attic, getting Daisy settled into the laundry room while Cynda changed. "You're just about the only female I understand," Dan confided to Daisy as he led her into the house. He raised the pup in his hand to eye level. "And your name is not Jacques."

  * * * *

  "What happened to Iris?" Cynda asked when they pulled out of the driveway. Dan had one hand on the wheel and one eye on the way the dress she'd selected cupped her breasts.

  "Who?"

  "Iris. Your mother."

  "Cammie," he corrected. "I told you, she left. The first Sunday in September of eighty-four she put lunch on the table and walked out the back door. Never came back."

  She saw his knuckles whiten as he gripped the wheel with both hands.

  "And yes, we looked for her. My dad had the whole county out hunting for her, for months. The police, volunteers, anyone who'd help. He must've walked every inch of this end of the county, looking for her… her body. The police questioned people. Her photo was on the front page of every newspaper in the state for weeks. It was like she just vanished."

  "Something must have happened to her," she replied calmly. "She had a man who loved her and four pretty babies. She'd have come back if she could've."

  "How the hell do you know if he loved her or not?"

  He sounded angry now and she regretted bringing up the topic, deciding not to mention the diaries. "The lockets I found in the attic. He gave her pretty things and he had them engraved I love you, Rafe. He looked so proud with his babies in his arms." She winked at him. "And you sure looked cute in a dress." She narrowed her eyes critically. "Hard to believe you were ever that small, though."

  He huffed out a laugh. "Cammie wouldn't agree. I can remember hearing her tell Georgia I was so big she thought she'd given birth to an elephant."

  "Well,
it's big, but not that big."

  He gunned the big truck onto the highway. "Sounds to me like you need to experience it again."

  "Yes, Daniel." There was power in that phrase, judging by the way it made his eyes go green. She wasn't used to feeling like she had any power at all. She liked this game. His cell phone rang and she listened quietly to his end of the conversation. When he ended the call she couldn't resist asking, "Something happened to your brother's girlfriend?"

  "She was speeding like a damned fool and ran her truck off the road. Slight concussion and a cut on her scalp, but that's one hard head. They're keeping her overnight at the hospital to run some tests."

  "I've never had a speeding ticket," Cynda informed him proudly. "Or any other kind of ticket. But then again, I've never owned a car."

  "I commend your driving record." He smiled at her and she'd never felt so proud of being afraid to drive above fifty-five in her life. She was flat-out terrified of interstates, but decided he'd laugh at her for that, so she kept it to herself.

  "I drive my grams' old Volkswagen GTI," she confessed. "Had to take the keys away from her when her cataracts got so bad, but it was the last car my Grandpa Earl picked out for her so she won't sell it."

  "Cammie got it in her head she wanted a Jaguar," he responded. "Rafe bought an old nineteen fifty drophead coupe and restored it for her. Picked that one because the body was made of steel and he worried about her safety. It's under a cover in the barn. I can't bring myself to sell it, and I won't let my brothers drive it." He smiled at her. "But that GTI, it's a damn good car. Reliable and solid."

  She let him ramble about cars, a topic she knew nothing about, simply enjoying looking at him. He was handsome and when he talked about things he liked, his face sort of relaxed and he lost that watchful look he had, like he expected something bad to happen every minute. It was becoming abundantly clear that he had no need of the money from selling any land, and she began to worry about how she'd stop King from taking Grams' house.

  "Where's your favorite shoe store?" He interrupted her worries.

  She told him and sat lost in thought, trying to figure out how to handle King while he drove to the opposite end of town.

  She felt embarrassed walking into the store wearing no shoes. The white sales clerk stared pointedly at her feet and rushed from behind the counter, headed in her direction.

  "These shoes are cheap. And tacky," he announced once they stepped through the door and he took a brief look around.

  The store was inexpensive. That's why she shopped here, but why would he want to spend a bunch of money on shoes anyway? He might not realize how much it was going to cost to get her hair braided. In her limited experience, men always underestimated the cost of girly things. "No, they're fine," Cynda argued, picking up a pair of purple pumps she'd die to own. They had stacked soles and little brass-colored studs all over the leather. "Let me just try these on in my size," she begged. She turned the shoe over, delighted to see a sale sticker. "And, they're only fifteen dollars."

  "You set your sights too low, Cynda."

  "May I help you?" the clerk asked.

  Unsure what he meant but stung by his tone, she set the pretty shoe back on the display. He selected a simple white sandal. The clerk brought out her size and she dutifully tried them on, but had to blink back tears. He'd suggested shoe shopping, not her. This was his game, she reminded herself, but the man had bad taste in shoes. And dog's names.

  "Walk around and be sure they don't hurt your feet."

  Cynda rolled her eyes but did as he said, annoyed when the clerk followed her.

  Daniel apparently noticed the woman's behavior. When she returned to say they felt fine, he whispered, "Why's she following you?"

  Cynda looked over her shoulder disdainfully, raising her voice slightly. "She's concerned because I'm SWB." She saw his brows knot, so she interpreted the acronym so familiar to her and apparently so foreign to him, "Shopping While Black."

  His expression darkened. "Take those shoes off, Cynda."

  She didn't want them anyway and was glad to obey, yet felt further humiliated when the woman sneered at him, her expression saying the white bitch thought he'd lowered his standards to be out with Cynda. He shoved each sandal roughly into the box and held it out to the clerk. "No, thank you. I'm sure there are other stores where we won't be treated like criminals. Stores with nicer shoes."

  Following him out of the store, she didn't speak again. He hadn't been the one disrespected, had he? She suddenly longed to see Grams. What was the point in living in his house, pretending to be something she wasn't when she needed to be home figuring out a way to help Grams stall King? They drove in silence to a strip mall she'd never been to. Lost in thought, she got out of the truck and dutifully followed him into the new store. Catching sight of a rare pay phone, she almost asked him for the change to call someone to come get her.

  A salesman wearing a jacket and tie rushed to greet them. The shop was small, but smelled expensive. "Her favorite color is purple," Dan announced. "Find this beautiful woman a pair of purple shoes that'll put the sparkle back in those gorgeous brown eyes, please. Size seven. Then, find her an everyday pair of sandals, in white."

  The salesman led them to a pair of chairs with gilded frames that looked to Cynda like they belonged in the living room of a queen. She sank into the seat, looking at him in amazement. "How did you know that?"

  "Easy," he shrugged, propping an ankle on his knee and settling back in the other chair. "In a garden full of colors, you chose the purple ones to make your crown." He wrinkled his nose. "Not to mention that hideous nail polish."

  She couldn't decide whether she wanted to hug him or slap him.

  The salesman came back holding the most gorgeous shoe she'd ever laid eyes on. "I thought the temptress theme would be appropriate." He spoke to Dan and held out a lavender-tinted shoe that appeared to be covered with silk. The heel was gold metal. A snake with jeweled eyes wound around the slender spike. The reptile had sparkling stones that looked like amethysts set in double rows down his back and it coiled into loops around the back of the shoe. Its head featured a large, glittering white stone. She tried not to squeal aloud as she reached for it.

  "The stones are Swarovski, of course," the salesman informed Daniel as Cynda slipped her foot into the shoe. "The shoe is handmade in Italy from the finest leather and covered in dyed raw silk. We have only the one pair. I just unpacked it from the shipment."

  "That's the look," Dan stated. "We'll take them." He raised his brows as she stood to prance across the floor. "Unless they hurt your feet."

  Cynda grinned at the salesman. "I don't care if they make my toes fall off." She twirled carefully on the high heels in front of a full-length mirror while the two men laughed at her, but she didn't really mind.

  He selected a pair of cute white sandals with a delightful flower mounted to the strap that slid between her toes. The leather forming the petals was so thin the flower almost looked real.

  She gasped when she heard the price, prepared to have to give them back, but Dan calmly doled out one hundred dollar bills, ten in all, getting back minimal change.

  He showed the same assurance at the hair salon, flipping through a book of photos and asking to see the beads to be sure they were wooden and not plastic. "This style," he stated, pointing to a photo. "The white wooden beads, at least ten on each braid."

  The dark-skinned shop attendant shook her head. "Ten's hard. Unless I make smaller braids the braid won't fit through the holes. She has thick hair." The older woman put her hands on her hips and looked up at Daniel. "And smaller braids mean more time and more time means more money." She looked over at Cynda. "Besides, looks like you just straightened your hair, why you wantin' to braid it?"

  "Would you like to be paid in advance?" he asked calmly. "I'm going to hang out with Colton at the hospital while you get this done," he said to Cynda, lifting her chin. "I'll leave you my credit card. Call me when they're done s
o I can come back and pick you up." He looked at the shop attendant. "See to it she gets something to eat, please. And pay yourself for going to get it."

  To her utter shock, he kissed her, just a soft press of his lips to hers. Then he pulled his card from his wallet along with cash for her food, laid them in her palm, and just walked out the door as if he dropped her off every week for a hair appointment.

  The shop girl leaned over the counter to watch him walk to his truck before giving Cynda a hard once-over. "Good Lord, your man's hot. Girl, where in the hell did you get those shoes? And that dress looks like something out of a museum. I gotta get me a white man. He got any brothers?"

  * * * *

  Dan wished miserably that Eric wasn't at the beach. Neither he nor Colton could coax a smile from Lila. Eric was good at that. He excelled at either pissing Lila off or making her laugh till she cried. Black silk stitches showed through her pale hair, still streaked with blood. He thought she might not have latched her seat belt in her anger and she could've hit the windshield. The more he watched her, lying so still with her hands over her stomach, the more he thought he might be right. If she'd gone over the steering wheel and then the air bag had deployed, that would account for a tummy ache. He didn't ask. Colton looked stressed out enough.

  "Take him out in the hall and talk some sense into him, Daniel," Lila pleaded, sounding weary. "There's no need for him to sit in that chair all night when he has a perfectly good bed. I'll just sleep. Watching me do that is silly."

  Taking the hint when she closed her eyes and turned off the light above her bed, the brothers stepped into the corridor.

  "You goin' or stayin'? Dan asked.

  "I'm not going anywhere," Colton burst out. "She's been trying to get rid of me ever since I walked in. I had to raise holy hell to make them let me into the Emergency Room with her. Finally just walked on back." Colton shook his head worriedly. "All she's done is cry right up until you got here. Those damn doctors didn't give her any pain meds. I'm worried about her. And now I gotta find her another truck. I might get her a bigger one, like mine. Those little ones she favors just aren't safe."