Our Red Hot Romance Is Leaving Me Blue

by Dixie Cash

  fifteen

  Justin watched the Domestic Equalizers leave and then sauntered into his house. He stopped in the living room and looked at the motion-sensitive camera the women had installed. It blended into the decor and he doubted anyone who didn’t know what to look for would ever notice it.

  He recognized it because he’d seen similar devices before. Arson cases had been solved with the aid of such equipment. His training had taught him to recognize and salvage it if at all possible. He had never considered that he would ever see it in his own home, wouldn’t have believed it possible, and especially not for the reason intended now. He slowly shook his head. Lord, he would have to remember to keep his skivvies on while walking around the house.

  In the kitchen he noted a monitor above the bar, set for a perfect view of the refrigerator door. The Domestic Equalizers appeared not to have missed much, but he still wondered if they knew what they were doing. This business of hiring a fortune-teller had him off balance.

  On the bar lay a business card he had casually tossed aside days back after finding it stuck in the frame of his front screen door. He read it again for about the dozenth time: LONE STAR OIL & GAS EXPLORATION, MIKE BOOKMAN, VICE PRESIDENT. A note had been written on the back of it:

  Mr. Sadler, please contact me at your earliest convenience.

  MB

  Justin recognized the address as the Texas Bank and Trust Building in Odessa. He couldn’t imagine Lone Star’s interest in him. His land had been tested and passed over as a potential drilling site years back. But with time to kill until seven o’clock, he would drop in and see what Mr. Bookman’s note meant. Exiting his house via the back door, he double-checked the lock and left his home to whatever or whoever might choose to enter.

  Halfway to Odessa he was hit by a pang of hunger. He had been too wired to eat all day. He knew just where he wanted to go, too. Mama Hayes’ Family Dining, hands down, had the best food in the Permian Basin. He seldom ate in restaurants. He had become an accomplished cook from taking his turn in the kitchen rotation at the fire station, and once his shift ended, he usually went home and prepared something for himself. With the necessity to eat out, Mama Hayes’ was his best choice.

  A short time later, he parked in back of the restaurant and inside found a foyer full of customers waiting their turn for a seat. While waiting himself, he looked around the big dining room and was surprised to see Sophia Paredes sitting at a table, sipping iced tea. He walked past the others and went directly to her.

  “Hello, Sophia.”

  She looked up with a wide smile. Lord, her smile did brighten a room. “Oh, hello, Justin.”

  “How’d you find the best place in town to eat? Did you ask around or did it come to you in one of those visions you said you see?” He gave a huh-huh-huh at his own joke.

  She laughed too. “Actually, I entered the word restaurants in the GPS and this was the first one it listed. Is it the best in town?”

  “Absolutely. Mama Hayes is famous for her fried chicken, chicken-fried steaks and peach cobbler. I highly recommend all.”

  “Fried chicken is what I just ordered. Won’t you join me?”

  Justin glanced over his shoulder toward the crowd waiting for tables and scowling at him. “I hate to cut in front of those folks.”

  “Nonsense. They’re waiting for tables of their own, not to share one with me. Please. Sit down.”

  The aroma of food was overpowering—hot yeasty rolls, something sweet and delicious. And the idea of killing time with Sophia held an equal appeal. For the past year, he hadn’t ventured to think about female company, but even if he had, his conscience would have stepped up and reminded him he was a widower and still in love with his wife. Still, his body and a deep yearning in his soul reminded him that he had once enjoyed the company of a beautiful woman and still did. “I don’t know, Sophia. Some of those ol’ boys might fight for a seat with you.”

  She smiled up at him again. “Thank you, Justin.”

  He sat down directly across from her and waited for the awkward moments he expected from dining with a stranger, but they never came. He and Sophia immediately fell into talking and laughing as if they had known each other for years instead of hours. He felt…well, comfortable.

  Sophia told him about her life growing up as a ward of her beloved grandmother, how hard she had worked getting her education and how much she adored the children she taught. She confessed her desire to leave El Paso. The legacy of the well-known psychic who had raised her was so overwhelming, Sophia could scarcely go anywhere in the city that she didn’t hear whispers and experience peoples’ reactions to her grandmother’s reputation. “If I ever marry and have children of my own,” she said, “I don’t want that stigma to follow them.”

  Justin was surprised. He assumed a celebrity-like status would be appealing to a young woman of Sophia’s beauty, but talking to her and watching her, he could see that she wasn’t particularly aware of her appearance. She seemed to be focused on the life she wanted for herself and her offspring in the future instead of the one she had now.

  “I suppose the good part of having a teaching degree is that you can use it anywhere.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said nodding, but then added, “As long as it’s in Texas. I could never live anywhere but Texas.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Justin agreed.

  The waitress came with Sophia’s food and took Justin’s order without bothering to write it down.

  “I don’t know how they do that,” he said as the woman left. “They must take hundreds of orders a day. I’d never get anything right.”

  Sophia laughed. “It is a challenge. I know because I’ve worked in restaurants before.” She shook packets of sweetener into her iced tea. “I feel terribly impolite eating in front of you. Would you like some of this?” She slid her plate an inch in his direction.

  “No, no, you go right ahead. My food will be here soon.” He picked up a puffy roll and scooped a little pile of honey butter from a little crockery bowl on the table. “I’ll just chow down on these rolls and butter until I can’t stand up without assistance.”

  They both laughed heartily and before they were aware of it, not only had they finished their meals but everyone else in the café had finished too, and vacated the place. Not once in the entire time had there been mention of why Sophia was in Odessa or the occurrences in Justin’s life that had brought her here.

  Looking around the room, he said, “Well, it looks like we’ve run everybody off.” Justin stole a peek at his wristwatch. “Would you believe it’s almost four o’clock? We’ve been sitting here over two hours.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the oilman’s business card. “I came to Odessa to see a guy. I wonder if his office is still open.”

  “An appointment you had?” Sophia asked.

  Justin handed the card to her. “Not really an appointment. This was left in my door a couple of weeks ago. But I guess I don’t need to go to their offices. If they really wanted to reach me, they’d have tried again by now.”

  Sophia studied the card, then looked up at him. He couldn’t read her expression, but her demeanor was somehow different. “My goodness,” she said all at once. “I’ve kept you too long. I apologize. You should have told me to hush. I’ve been prattling on and on.”

  “Heck, no. I’ve been having a good time. Doing just what I wanted to do.”

  “So have I,” Sophia replied, her eyes homing in on his.

  For the first time in more than two hours an uncomfortable silence grew between them. Justin picked up the green meal ticket and rose. “I’ll take care of this. It’s part of our agreement.”

  “Oh. Oh, yes, the agreement.” Sophia rose too, and followed him to the register.

  Justin wasn’t sure if the reminder of his financial commitment to her or the innocent remarks about how much they had enjoyed each other’s company had formed a wall between them, but it was there and he couldn’t deny it. Looking down at her, h
e said, “I’ll walk you out to your car.”

  “Oh, uh, no,” she stammered. “I’m, uh, going to the ladies’ room.”

  Odd. Why was she suddenly so nervous? He locked his eyes on hers. “Tell me the truth, Sophia. Will you really be coming back to my house this evening?”

  She stiffened and lifted her chin. “Of course. I said I would.”

  “Yes, of course.” He mustered a smile. “Well, then. I’ll see you at seven.”

  “Yes, I’ll see you then.”

  Justin walked outside, leaving Sophia inside the restaurant. He drew a deep breath. The last time he had felt that much at ease with a woman had been when he first met Rachel many years before. And the most uncomfortable he had ever felt was just now at the reminder of Rachel and the reason Sophia had come here.

  Sophia stood in the restaurant’s vestibule and waited until she thought Justin had enough time to get out of the parking lot. She hoped that by doing so she could avoid further encounters and the tension that had developed between them in the last few minutes.

  A vision had come to her while touching the business card he had shown her and it was still vivid in her imagination. A dark figure meant Justin harm. Perhaps it was a good thing he missed his meeting with Lone Star Oil and Gas. She considered how she would discuss that bit of news with him. Perhaps this evening she would have the opportunity to talk to him in private. Then, she could disclose what she had seen.

  She felt bad for him. The aura she had sensed earlier when she had touched the photograph in his house had been strong and not particularly friendly. The women named Pearl had been a distraction, but it hadn’t overridden the aura. She didn’t yet know whether the dark vision she had seen was of Rachel, but if it was, it wouldn’t be easy convincing her to abandon the house she had shared with Justin and move on.

  Sophia needed to preserve all of her strength. No mentalist with any background or foreknowledge would attempt a full-fledged séance without preparation and meditation. Dealing with spiritual entities could be as demanding on the body as hard outdoor labor. It zapped everything she had in reserve, both physically and mentally.

  She pulled a list of items from her pocket. She had just enough time to pick these few things up, rest and meditate and be back at Justin’s by seven.

  At Justin’s by seven. That sounded good. She liked Justin. Really liked him. Leave it to her bad luck to finally meet someone she would like to know better, only to have her competition be his dead wife.

  Gran Bella, life is so unfair, she thought woefully.

  I never taught you otherwise, came the gentle reply. You really like this young man. Is that why you bought a magazine about sex?

  Well, no…

  Gran Bella’s voice came again. Best to read the Holy Bible.

  “The Bible might teach me how to live my life, Gran Bella,” Sophia muttered, “but it won’t teach me how to attract a man. I know the Bible. I don’t know how to appeal to men.”

  In a barely audible whisper a loving voice replied, Patience, my sweet Sophia, patience.

  Passing Mama Hayes’ café, John Patrick Daly had spotted his brother-in-law through a window, sitting at a table with a drop-dead-gorgeous brunette. Had Justin started dating? he wondered. Had he met someone on the Internet?

  Normally, John Patrick would have satisfied his curiosity by stopping and going into the café, but he’d had a passenger—a banker with whom he was discussing a business deal. He hadn’t exactly relished the idea of asking questions of Justin where the banker could hear him. He had solved the dilemma by stomping the accelerator and depositing the banker in record time at Texas Bank and Trust.

  Now back at the café, he was disappointed to see that Justin’s truck was no longer in the parking lot. Damn, he had missed him. Then, as he sat there cussing himself, the restaurant door opened and the brunette came out. God almighty, she was a beauty, built like a brick shithouse. Where had a weenie like Justin met somebody as fine as her? She wasn’t from around here or John Patrick Daly would have known her.

  He eased the Cayenne into a parking slot and watched as she made her way to a small car. He recognized the logo on the bumper of a local car-rental agency. So he had been right. She was from out of town. So why was she here?

  The little Chevy started up and she pulled into a lane of traffic headed back into town. This was far too interesting to abandon at this point. He positioned himself behind her.

  Within a mile her right blinker came on and she turned into the parking lot of a SuperTarget. John Patrick parked several cars away from hers, hopped out of the Cayenne and followed her into the cavernous store. He watched as she latched onto a cart and maneuvered it with purpose. No browsing or looking around. Apparently she knew just what she wanted.

  In the home décor department, she picked up a handful of candles of various shapes and sizes. In the music department, she chose a CD. After she had moved on, John Patrick picked up the same disc and mumbled the title. “Mood Music for Lovers.” Crap. He didn’t like the looks of this.

  Walking briskly and searching for her, he caught up with her in the grocery department, where she added a box of crackers to her cart. She chose some cheese, a container of fresh strawberries, a box of chocolate candy and a bottle of wine. The last item she put in her cart was a bouquet of roses—white roses from the floral department.

  A tailor-made romantic evening with all the trimmings came to John Patrick’s mind.

  And he had thought he was the one with secrets. He had always believed Justin to be an open book. Apparently he had been wrong.

  His worse fears were confirmed when he followed the brunette to the Blue Mesa Inn and watched her carry her purchases inside.

  A notion powerful enough to make his head swim hit him and beads of sweat formed across his upper lip. What if she worked for Lone Star Oil and Gas? What if their rep had tired of leaving calling cards on Justin’s door and the company had decided instead to send in their heavy artillery?

  Was Justin set to spend Saturday night with a total babe who had an ulterior motive? He would see what he could do to alter that situation. An unexpected visit from the dead wife’s brother should throw cold water on anything hot.

  sixteen

  And I told him we’d pick them up at six. Is that okay?”

  John Patrick didn’t know what made him look up—the sudden silence in his wife’s constant yakking or the pregnant pause heavy with anticipation. “What?” he asked her. “What did you say?”

  “I said, silly, that I told Mama and Daddy we’d pick them up at six.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Well, yes, pumpkin.” John Patrick heard exasperation creeping into Felicia’s tone. “The Cattlemen’s Auction has been the third Saturday in June for the past twenty-five years, J. P., and that’s tonight.”

  She came to his side and stroked what was left of his hair, her touch making him cringe. He supposed she was indebted to him for marrying her. God knew no one else would have stepped up for that torture. Anyone who thought looks didn’t matter when the lights were out hadn’t been in John Patrick Daly’s shoes.

  “You know Mama and Daddy don’t drive anymore,” she said. “Besides, your SUV will have room for the painting.”

  “What painting?”

  “John Patrick.” She planted her fists on her hips and stamped her foot, “you didn’t hear a word I said. Daddy is donating one of his G. Harvey paintings to the auction. ‘Rawhide and Thunder.’ He wants you to show it.”

  John Patrick knew the artwork well. Since it was large, when he carried it out and held it up in front of the well-heeled bidders, only his boots would be visible, if that. He would look comical, which is exactly what his father-in-law, Boots Carlisle, was counting on. Another opportunity for the man to poke fun at the small stature of his son-in-law.

  John Patrick bit down on his lower lip. He had been married into the Carlisle family long enough to know how to play this game. He wouldn’t put up an obvious fig
ht. The best defense was to appear dumb.

  “Me? Can’t he get someone else to do that?”

  “Daddy’s counting on you doing it,” Felicia whined.

  “Yes,” John Patrick answered dully, “I’m sure he is.”

  As early evening came, Debbie Sue pulled herself away from assisting Buddy with the construction of the deck. “We should call it a day so I can go inside and shower. I need to be at Justin’s house by seven.”

  All afternoon, Debbie Sue had allowed Buddy to delegate menial chores to her, such as handing items to him, holding the end of a tape measure and plugging in various electric tools.

  Buddy began arranging his tools neatly on one side of the deck. “Thanks for your help today, Flash. It’s nice having you here helping me. Anything I can help you with in the shower? Hand you the soap or wash something you can’t reach?” He gave her a devilish grin.

  She freed her long hair from the scrunchie holding it in a ponytail out of her way. “Hmm. Now that’s a great idea. You could bring the measuring tape with you. I think I could find a use for that.”

  Buddy chuckled. “You think you’re kidding, but I’m right behind you.”

  She returned his devilish grin. “Oh, yeah?”

  He put both hands on her shoulders and pushed her along, following her into the house. They were already stripping as they crossed the bedroom on the way to the bathroom. Her cell phone blasted “The Eyes of Texas” from her purse, which sat on the bed. She grabbed for the purse and pawed inside it for the phone.

  “Let it go to message,” Buddy said, dropping to the edge of the mattress and prying off his boots.

  “I’d better get it in case it’s not a telemarketer. It could be Justin. Or Sophia.” She flipped open the phone and answered brusquely, hoping to send the caller a message that she was in the middle of something.

  “Debbie Sue?”

  Oops. Not a telemarketer. “Justin. Hey, what’s up?” His tone sounded different. She felt her brow tug into a frown.