Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty)

by Lakes, Krista

  “I hate men like that. So many of them.”

  “He married some other gal. She had a boy about our age. I always imagined him playing ball with him instead of us. Wasn’t sure why he picked some strange kid over his own.”

  “So it did bother you some.”

  Dane squeezed her tighter. “Okay, maybe some.”

  “Grandma taught me all about making jewelry. Gems. Beads. Design. We made a whole world out of the character of glass and wood and crystal.”

  He fingered her necklace, brushing her collarbone. “This one of yours?”

  “Yes. Everything I wear always is.”

  “You know, you can’t leave right now, not with your grandmother like she is.” He hated to say it, to bring her back down.

  She dropped her chin to her chest. “Yes, I will wait. Of course.”

  He had her back. He’d work hard to fix his mistake, his hesitation that upset her too much. They needed time, and taking off right now would be a disaster. He’d buy that time, see if they had something that might work, and hopefully the town would let them be.

  14

  Grandma Falters

  ––––––––

  “LOOK what the cat drug in,” Stella’s mother yelled. She was vacuuming the rug around Grandma Angie’s hospital bed.

  Stella dropped her bag on a chair. “You have to do that now? It’s so loud.”

  “She can’t hear anything.”

  “You don’t know that.” Stella clasped her grandmother’s limp, dry hand. She hadn’t been awake at all since they’d made the bracelet. Might not again.

  Vivian killed the motor on the fat canister. “Hate this old thing. She never would buy a new one.”

  “How is she?”

  “Slow decline. Opens her eyes now and then, but I’m not sure anything registers.” She rolled up the cord. “You shacking up with that boy now? You didn’t come home, your dad said.”

  “I’m twenty-two.”

  “Going on sixteen. If you don’t got the sense by now to stay away from trouble, I can’t get it in your head at this late date.”

  Stella smoothed the wrinkled skin over her grandmother’s brow. “I’m here, Grandma.” The triple-strand bracelet slid up and down her arm.

  Her mother snorted. “A bracelet already?”

  Stella ignored her. Grandma’s face seemed weighted down, heavy, like it was already reaching for her spot in the ground. Stella hoped she would awaken one more time. Just for a bit. She’d been so good on the beads day. Like her old self.

  Vivian loomed over the head of the bed like a vulture. “Nurse’ll be back by in an hour or so to check on her. There’s signs, she said, that tell you about when it’ll be.” Vivian walked to the end of the bed and threw back the blanket. Grandma Angie’s ankles and feet were purple, almost black.

  Stella held back her gasp. “That’s a sign?”

  Vivian nodded, settling the blanket back into place. “Next she’ll start breathing irregularly, so she said. Her blood pressure has already started to drop.”

  “But she was just awake and sitting up!”

  “I told you it might be her last good day. They turned the morphine back up yesterday.”

  “Why are they keeping her asleep?”

  “She’s in pain, Stella. It hurts.”

  Lots of things hurt. She could use a little morphine herself right now, straight to the chest.

  “We need to start thinking about closing up this house. I’ll need your help cleaning things out, figuring out what you want to keep and what we should sell off.” Vivian turned to a china cabinet, assessing the dishes and serving pieces.

  “Not now,” Stella said. “I can’t now. Let her house stay in one piece until she’s not in it.”

  “It’s not going to make her any difference.”

  “It makes ME a difference.”

  Vivian’s hand on the cabinet door handle stilled. “All right. We’ll wait.”

  Stella had never felt this level of pain before without being sick. How did people manage it, the heaviness inside, the feeling that you were going to throw up at any minute? She watched her mother leave the room and suddenly wondered about her. Grandma Angie was her mother! But then, of course, Stella wasn’t sure what she’d feel when Vivian’s time came. Love seemed to have skipped a generation.

  Stella fingered the drip going into Grandma’s fragile hand. She had hidden her pain so they could jewel together one more time. “Thank you,” Stella whispered. Her heart broke all over again that Dane’s bracelet would be the last they’d do together. They should have fixed the one Stella had broken on the water tower. Then her last piece would be something that held no meaning with someone who might be temporary. She could never smash Dane’s bracelet like the others.

  It had to work out with him, it just had to. He’d been so good last night, so careful after the mess by the car. Something long-lasting with him seemed possible, like no one else ever had.

  They’d slept wound together on his sofa. If Ryker returned, they didn’t hear him, nor had they seen him this morning. Dane dropped her off with the promise to take the car to Joe’s for a new windshield. He would meet her at the perfume shop in a couple of hours to get his motorcycle out.

  She imagined what it would have been like if they had just gone off last night. Driven away without a care, heading to God-knows-where, laughing.

  But there were things in the way, she realized. His bike in the perfume store. Grandma’s car to fix. And, of course, Grandma herself. There’d be a funeral soon. Her breath caught in her chest, so tight it couldn’t come out. She wouldn’t think about it yet. Not yet. Not till she had to.

  But definitely when all this was over, when Grandma was truly gone, she’d leave. With or without Dane.

  *

  Stella entered Good Scents a few hours later, still heavyhearted.

  The curtains zipped open with the flourish of a theater production. Beatrice stepped through, arms high. “And presenting...” She swirled her hands through the air. “Mr. Right!”

  Dane passed through the entrance with a sheepish grin, a flannel shirt loose over a black T-shirt. Hiding the Smurfs, no doubt, as it was too warm for long sleeves. “Not sure ’bout that.”

  “Okay, we’ll go with Mr. Right Now.” Beatrice repeated her gestures. “Applause!”

  Stella clapped slowly. “Not sure I’m cheering-up material.”

  Dane kissed her with simple familiarity, as if they’d greeted each other this way a thousand times. “What’s wrong, Stell?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer but pressed her close to him. She lifted an arm to his neck, the slide-lock bracelet sliding down from her wrist. “Grandma. She’s not going to wake up again, they said.”

  “Awww, Stell.” Dane rubbed the back of her neck.

  “It’s really going to happen. She’s going to leave me.” His shoulder smelled of detergent and dust.

  Beatrice came up from behind and entered the hug. “Wasn’t any Grandma any better than Angie.” She patted Stella’s back. “I was pleased to have known her.”

  But wait. Dane hadn’t met her. Grandma needed to meet Dane! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She broke free of the embrace. “Dane, take me to her house.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  She clutched his hand. “I need you to meet her, before it’s too late.” She began dragging him to the front door, then remembered his motorcycle. “Your bike is here, right?”

  “In the back.”

  She changed directions. “That will be faster.”

  Beatrice leaned against the counter, shaking her head. “It’s all right. Take the morning off.”

  Stella stopped. “I’m sorry. Will you be all right?”

  “Of course I will. You go on. Introduce your boy to Grandma. She can still hear, even if she doesn’t open her eyes.” Beatrice absently rearranged the desk supplies by the register. “Be mindful what you say.”

  “We will.” Stella t
ugged on Dane. His bike was parked by the back door. “I don’t know why, but I feel like we have to hurry.”

  “I am good at speed.” He rolled the bike out the door and threw his leg over the seat. “Hang on.”

  Stella jumped on behind him and grasped his belly tightly. She laid her head in that perfect spot between his shoulder blades, her cheek against the back of his heart. He fired up the motor, and they lurched forward, zooming down the alley to connect with the back street.

  “Which way?” he shouted.

  “Right on Cherry Street. Blue house on the left.”

  Stella’s sense of urgency increased as they approached the driveway. Dane had barely come to a stop before she leapt from the bike and dashed up the walkway.

  The door was locked, so she fumbled in her purse for the keys.

  Dane caught up with her. “Hey, slow down.” He pulled her to him. “Take a breath. One minute isn’t going to change anything. This doesn’t happen suddenly. Someone would have called if it was close.”

  “What do you mean, it doesn’t happen suddenly? She was talking two days ago!”

  “The time from when they stop talking to when they stop breathing is a couple days.”

  Stella rushed into the living room, immediately spying the form of her grandmother. A nurse sat in a rocking chair next to her, reading a book.

  Seeing Stella’s alarm, she closed the cover. “She’s no different. No need to panic.”

  “Has she woke up?” Stella reached for Grandma’s hand as though she hadn’t seen her in months, years, even though she’d been there just an hour ago.

  “I don’t think she will at this point. Blood pressure is down again.”

  “How long?” Stella watched the gentle flicker behind Grandma’s eyelids. If only she’d open them, just once!

  “You never really know. But I’d guess one to three days,” the nurse said.

  One day! Stella stole a quick peek under the covers at her grandmother’s legs as though the discoloration might be a barometer. They didn’t seem to have changed. She kept having this vision of the purple creeping to her knees, her thighs, and eventually taking her over.

  Dane’s hands encircled her upper arms, squeezing lightly. “She’s a lovely lady.”

  “You should see pictures of her as a girl,” Stella said. “A show-stopper.”

  “You take after her.”

  Stella knelt by the bed. “I don’t hold a candle to her. She was kind to everyone. You just wait. The whole town will be at her—” God, she’d almost said it. Right in front of her.

  Dane got on his knees beside her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grandma Angie.”

  “This is Dane,” Stella said. “The one we talked about.”

  Still nothing. Stella washed over with disappointment. She had hoped that maybe this would wake her up a little, sharpen her enough to cut through the morphine, just for a moment.

  “We’re getting along real well, Grandma, just like you said.” Stella stole a glance at Dane. “Too bad you’re not up for taking a look at him. You wouldn’t be sorry.” Her voice broke a little. Damn emotion. “He’s a real looker.”

  “A bodacious babe,” Dane chuckled. “You know, I haven’t missed the Valley speak at all since I’ve been to Holly.”

  “They string you up for talking like that,” Stella said.

  “I can believe that.”

  They shouldn’t talk of that either. “Isn’t his voice a lovely thing, Grandma? I’m glad you at least get to hear it.” She nudged Dane. “Talk some more.”

  “I never was much for pretty words,” Dane said.

  Stella nudged him again.

  “But I do come from Texas. I work on motorcycles.” He glanced down at Grandma and covered Stella’s hand so that they both held on to Angie. “My mother passed on just a month ago. I’d be mighty appreciative if you brought along a greeting to her should you cross her path.”

  And Stella felt it. The tiniest twitch in Grandma’s hand. She lifted it, along with Dane’s, to kiss her fingers. “She moved!” She swallowed thickly, vowing not to cry. “Thank you, Grandma, for letting us know you heard him.” She looked to heaven. “And thank you, too.”

  15

  Ryker’s Warning

  ––––––––

  DANE closed the door gently behind him. His mother had been a chronic door slammer, and he’d always hated the sound. Sometimes he imagined that was why his father had left them when Dane was little. One too many slammed doors.

  Ryker sat at the kitchen table, his boot propped on one of the rickety metal chairs. He rolled a bottle of Miller Light between his palms. He’d been peeling the label, and it flapped with each movement. They hadn’t seen each other all day, as Ryker had the afternoon off.

  “Get through a day without anybody slicing a chunk out of you?” He tugged a fresh bottle from the six-pack and tossed it to Dane.

  The throw was low, but Dane managed to snatch it before it hit the ground. Ryker normally had good aim. He must have had a few. No way to tell from the empties. The kitchen was a sea of brown bottles reclining in various positions, like whores in a Wild West brothel.

  “Dick is intact.” His workday had been uneventful, and for that he was damn grateful. He’d finally gotten that Yamaha running smooth again.

  Ryker kicked the chair out from under the table and pushed it toward Dane.

  Dane turned the seat around and straddled the back. “What’s up?”

  Ryker pondered the label on his beer a moment, then tore the rest of it off. “Some information has come my way.” He flicked the paper on the floor. “Seems there’s going to be more where that cut came from.”

  Dane leaned on the chair, the bottle loose in his fingers. “Why they got to keep this going? I’m clear of Darlene.”

  Ryker set the beer on the table. “Remember when Mom dated Mike, that asshole plumber?”

  Dane grunted.

  “Yeah. How many times did she try to quit him?”

  Dane downed a swig. “Five, maybe.”

  “He just kept coming back, angrier every time.”

  “She should have kept it clean. I’m keeping it clean.”

  Ryker leaned forward on the table. “That’s the thing. It’s clean to Darlene, and it’s clean to you, but it’s not to Bobby Ray. He thinks as long as you’re still seeing Stella, he’s got an ax to grind.”

  Dane pushed the chair away to pace the kitchen, kicking pizza boxes out of his way. “We ought to bulldoze this pigsty.”

  Ryker jumped up, grabbing Dane by the shoulder. “You’re not listening. I think they’re going to fuck you up. Bad.”

  “I’m not going to live my life in fear of sons of bitches like Bobby Ray.”

  “You don’t have to be afraid to see the handwriting on the wall.”

  “I’m not giving up Stella.”

  Ryker pushed Dane away and plunked back down in the chair. “She better be worth it.”

  Dane sat down opposite him again. “Look. He had a thing for her. That’s all. He’s just pissed right now. He’ll get over it.”

  Ryker shook his head. “These people don’t have anything else to do or think about. They’ll keep it going just for the hell of it. So they aren’t bored. Or thinking about what shit their life is.”

  “So what are you saying? I should get out of town? Just leave?”

  “Maybe.”

  Dane crossed his arms over the back of the chair and laid his head down. “Stella is planning on blowing out of here.”

  “Well, problem solved. Leave with her.”

  “I’ve known her less than a week.”

  “So what? You can see if it works. If not, take off.”

  “Why is leaving the solution to everything for you?”

  Ryker stared at him, stunned, and Dane realized what he’d said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Ryker plucked another beer out of the carton and popped the top on the edge of the table. “You always acted like
I was cut from the same cloth as Dad.”

  “Didn’t mean it like that.”

  Ryker took a long pull on the beer. “You going to be fucked up all your life over that?”

  “Don’t plan on it.”

  “You’re doing a mighty fine imitation of it, then.”

  Dane lifted his head. “I hardly knew the man.”

  “And you always hated that I knew him longer.”

  Dane didn’t want this. Not now, not really ever. “Dad did what he had to do. Mom was no picnic.”

  “You got that right.”

  Cars rumbled by outside. Holly began its slide into night, quieting down by degrees. Dane remembered when his mother died. “Your father” was all she’d managed. Last words on her lips were about that bastard.

  Ryker rocked the chair back on two legs. “At least lay low, brother. Try to get off everybody’s minds.”

  16

  Good-Bye

  ––––––––

  STELLA couldn’t get Dane out of her mind. Once again, two days had passed since she’d seen him. Layin’ low, he’d said. But he’d called, and they made plans for the weekend. Big ones. To get on his bike and leave town for a while, be free and without worry of who might be watching or plotting.

  As Grandma Angie’s life clock ticked down toward inevitable silence, Beatrice sent Stella home more and more, anytime the shop was quiet. “You’ll want to be there, love,” she told her. “It’s something everyone should do, usher a loved one out of this world and into the next.”

  Business had picked up that morning, though, as the first cold front blowing through Holly sent everyone into a rush of buying new scents to go with fall clothes.

  “Don’t get stuck with a summer perfume now that it’s cold,” Beatrice told some housewife whose name Stella could never remember. She spritzed Poison on a card. The look on the woman’s face said she was believing the whole gambit. Stella had learned from the best.

  She kept busy removing the summer displays with beach balls and sandpaper, ready to replace them with fake leaves and orange tissue. Redecorating was one of her favorite parts of the job, something she never got to do in Vivian’s house. Everything had to be just so at home, the perfectly matched drapes and pillows, even though most everything was bought at Wal-Mart. Stella wasn’t fond of people putting on airs in the first place, but doing it when you were barely holding on to a façade was even worse.