Texas Heat

by Rhonda Laurel

  “Bite your tongue. Give Morgan a kiss for me. Tell her Jake is fine. Great even. He loves Isabelle.”

  “Do yourself a favor. Don’t fight with my son for Isabelle’s attention. You will lose. He’ll flash those six teeth so fast and you’ll wonder why you got stuck with the check.” Seth burst out laughing.

  “Morgan’s favorite cousin, eh?”

  “Like a sister. Tread carefully.”

  “Relax, I have no dubious intentions.” He ended the call.

  Tate lay back on the bed. He hadn’t felt that comfortable with a woman—ever. Maybe it was because he knew she’d had a long day or suspected that his usual charming shtick wouldn’t work on her. There was something about her that made him feel…peaceful. She shared a love of his three favorite things: music, Jake, and Sydney’s mac and cheese.

  He held up his watch and sighed. The old gold watch had seen better days and hadn’t worked properly in years, but he still wore it every day. Lila had given it to him when his first album had gone platinum. The watch was a family heirloom; it had belonged to her father and was the only expensive thing she’d owned that his father, Joe, hadn’t managed to destroy. When times had gotten hard, she would pawn it to get money to keep the house afloat. She would always buy it back, even if it meant getting an extra job to do it.

  * * *

  Isabelle didn’t know why she’d gone into the library instead of heading to her room, but she’d suddenly gotten nervous when she and Tate were headed in the same direction. It was getting late, but she felt as though they could have talked all night. She pretended to be looking for a book just in case he passed by, not wanting to look as foolish as she felt.

  She and Morgan used to have so much fun when they’d visit Aunt Elizabeth at the library. Those were some of the best days of her life. Being a military brat and only child who moved around a lot, she treasured the times her father was stationed close to Philadelphia. Colonel Lucas Reed had a long career in the marines and had taken his family all over the world. She and Morgan would write to one another weekly until the Internet caught fire and letter writing became passé. She’d saved all those letters, rereading them often. Morgan would lament about her rowdy brothers, her overbearing father, how much she missed her mom, and how their cousin Charisma was a big pain in her ass. But they also exchanged thoughts about their dreams. Books had always been in Morgan’s blood. Isabelle loved music and played in the band at every school she attended. They’d talked about writing a joint memoir one day about their lives together. She smiled, thinking of how exciting and full of possibilities the world had seemed to be at the time.

  Isabelle took out her phone. Hopefully, Morgan was still up. She wanted to apologize for the trouble the impromptu visit had caused this afternoon and for almost stabbing her gorgeous brother-in-law.

  “Hi, Morgan, sorry about the early arrival,” Isabelle said when Morgan answered the phone.

  “No problem, Izzy. My house is yours, so relax and have a good time before you have to see the relatives.”

  “Thanks. How’s Seth enjoying the vacation?”

  “He’s having a great time.” Morgan giggled.

  “Is he still amped up that he renewed his contract with the Titans?”

  “That has subsided. Now he’s just enjoying California.”

  “I thought for sure he’d sign with the Tomcats. What changed his mind?”

  Morgan paused for a moment. “I’ll fill you in next week. Right now I’m hoping that nobody in Texas is burning my image in effigy. How’s the arm?”

  “Getting better. I had a great home-cooked dinner tonight. Mac and cheese and chicken-fried steak. Tate was right. The home cooking did make my arm feel better.”

  “So how are things with you two? After the near fatal stabbing?”

  “So far, so good. Can you imagine me getting arrested for stabbing the gorgeous country-western singer Tate McGill?”

  “Gorgeous, eh?”

  Isabelle bit her lip. “You know what I mean. I was just saying what some media person would say.”

  “Right,” Morgan said sarcastically.

  “Stop it.”

  “Hey, you said gorgeous, not me.”

  Isabelle sighed. “I’ll let you get back to Seth.”

  “OK. If you need any help, call Sydney, Nina, or Michelle. In that order. If you’re looking for trouble, call them in the reverse order.”

  Isabelle laughed. “Sure. It’s so nice you let Sydney take care of Jake.”

  “I’m the late bloomer of maturity.” Morgan laughed. “One thing before I go. Whatever you do, stay away from the nightstand in my bedroom.”

  Isabelle furrowed her brow. “OK. Why?”

  “I just wouldn’t.”

  “Now I’m very curious.”

  “Fair warning. And if you even think Jake is headed in that direction, throw yourself in front of my door or toss a grenade in the room and blow it up.”

  Isabelle blew a raspberry into the phone.

  “When I get back next week, we can go shopping for dresses for the wedding.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I have nothing to wear. Love you, Morgan.”

  “Love you too, Izzy.”

  * * *

  “Uncle Tate! Phone!” Jake ran out into the hallway from Seth’s study with Isabelle’s phone in his hand, then ran back in to watch Doodles the Bear climb a tree while reciting the alphabet.

  “Thanks, partner.”

  Tate looked at the display, saw the name Bane of my Existence, and figured it had to be her ex. Besides that, the ringtone was a hurtful shrill sound that one might hear in a horror movie. There was only one way to find out.

  “Hello,” Tate drawled.

  “Hello?” There was silence for a moment. “I think I have the wrong number.”

  “Well, you have a good day now.” Tate ended the call.

  A minute later the phone rang again.

  “Hello,” Tate said.

  “Who’s this?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  “I’m looking for Isabelle Johnson,” the man barked.

  “I don’t know an Isabelle Johnson, but this is Isabelle Reed’s phone.” Tate laughed to himself. He could play this game all day.

  “Same person. That’s my wife. Who the hell are you? Where is she?”

  “I’m Tate. A very good friend of Isabelle’s. I think she’s in the bedroom. I can go see if you like.” Tate grinned.

  “No!”

  “I’ll let her know you called.” Tate hung up again and burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Isabelle said as she came around the corner.

  Tate could have lied and said it was something Doodles the Bear had done, but there was nothing funny about that big bear dancing around all the time while teaching the alphabet. He hoped Isabelle had Morgan’s sense of humor and wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.

  “Are you in a good mood?” Tate handed her the phone.

  “Sure.” Isabelle shrugged.

  “Your phone rang and Jake brought it to me. It was your ex. I had a little fun with him. I told him you were in the bedroom and I would go get you if he needed to speak to you. Oddly enough he didn’t sound too thrilled.”

  Tate relaxed when Isabelle laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes.

  “You just made my day, Tate.” She looked at her phone.

  “He still refers to you as his wife.” Tate raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m sure that was his bruised ego talking. He hasn’t wanted to be my husband in a long time.”

  Tate leaned against the wall. “So what did happen? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  He thought maybe he’d touched a raw nerve when Isabelle stood there frozen for a moment.

  “Sometimes things happen that are unforgiveable. I had a decision to make, like there really was one. Instead of putting on the classic tune ‘Stand by Your Man,’ I opted for ‘These Boots Are Made for Walkin’.’”

 
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Tate shook his head.

  “Such is life. I was actually happy I could correlate my unraveling marriage with relevant theme songs.” Isabelle smiled.

  The phone rang again. It was her ex-husband. She let it go to voice mail.

  “He’s a persistent little jackass, isn’t he?” Tate said, glancing at the display.

  “He can be when motivated by the wrong things. He called me one time deliberately during my class, and we had it out. I lost it in front of my students and called him a douche bag, but then I had to explain what a douche bag was and why they shouldn’t use the phrase.”

  “Students?”

  “In my spare time I teach music classes. Molding young musical minds and all that.”

  Tate smiled. The Reed women were always helping someone in need.

  The phone rang again.

  “Isabelle, why don’t you answer that. Let me handle Mr. Johnson.” Tate waggled his eyebrows.

  Isabelle gave him a skeptical look.

  “There are three things I do well, and one of them is pissing off husbands and boyfriends.” Tate folded him arms over his chest.

  Isabelle gave him a wicked smile and answered the phone. “What do you want, Ned?” She rolled her eyes at whatever was said on the other end. “No, I can’t look through any boxes. I donated everything I’d moved to my new apartment… Yes, everything. I sit on a crate to eat dinner now.”

  Tate stood in front of Isabelle, waiting for his moment to interject. The standard voice in the background wasn’t going to do it for the asshole who had cheated on a great woman like her. He may have been in a jovial mood, but his blood boiled that the guy had the nerve to call up as if he still had a claim on her. It was time for Ned to grow up.

  Tate leaned in, waiting for the precise moment Isabelle was sniping at Ned, and kissed her on the spot where her neck met her jawline. He’d seen her caressing that spot the last few days and figured it was sensitive to her. She smelled like fresh flowers and peaches. Just as he’d expected, she let out a low moan into the phone and almost dropped it. When she didn’t slap his face, Tate grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him and continued with a trail of kisses down to her collarbone. When he finished, she was looking up at him and Ned was doing a whole lot of cursing into the phone.

  “Bye, Ned,” Tate said as he took the phone and disconnected the call.

  They stood there for a moment looking at each other.

  “Do you get shot at a lot?” Isabelle whispered.

  “In the past I’ve had to jump out of a window or two.” He winked.

  “I think you succeeded at pissing him off for the rest of the year. Thanks.” She reached out for the phone.

  “Why don’t you let me hang on to this for a little while? Just in case he calls back.” Tate stroked the stubble on his face.

  “OK. I’ll go watch Doodles the Bear with Jake.” Isabelle turned and made a hasty maneuver to avoid bumping her cast into the doorframe.

  Chapter Five

  Isabelle prepared for her music class in the library. She’d had a pleasant afternoon with Tate and Jake and was ready for a nap. Tate had set out to a gourmet supermarket to get the ingredients for the seafood lasagna he was making tonight, so she’d tagged along. It was fun roaming around her hometown with him, pointing out historical landmarks and telling him stories about her childhood. Tate had stopped in this terribly expensive chocolatier and had gotten her to sample some of their product. She’d gone nuts over the milk chocolate and hazelnut combo, so Tate had asked for a couple of pounds. Tate wanted to make a chocolate mousse and was going to shave the chocolate over the whipped cream. Her heart had almost stopped beating when the cashier informed him the total was over two hundred dollars. But Tate hadn’t batted an eyelash and moved on to Williams-Sonoma, looking for a special stoneware lasagna pan.

  She looked forward to a good meal tonight with her boys, but she had to focus on teaching her class. They had a concert coming up in a few weeks and needed to be in top form.

  “Good afternoon, class!” Isabelle bellowed into the microphone.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Johnson,” the students returned the greeting in a droll tone.

  June, her star pupil, pushed up her glasses and leaned closer to the camera. “Sorry, we’re supposed to say Ms. Reed, right?”

  “It’s OK, June. I’ll answer to both.” She sipped her coffee.

  The students began firing off questions.

  “Your background looks different. Are you not home?”

  “How’s the arm?”

  “Is your name legally Ms. Reed again?”

  “When are you returning to work?”

  “Do you miss performing?”

  “Do you want us to slash your ex-husband’s tires or break the car windows?”

  Isabelle shook her head. She wished they applied this much interest to their music lessons. “OK, one, I’m visiting my cousin Morgan in Philadelphia. I told you about her. Two, the arm is getting better. Three, yes, it’s legally Ms. Reed again. Four, I won’t be returning to work any time soon. Five, I miss performing, but I don’t miss the draft in the concert hall. And six, thanks for the offer, but not only would that not be nice to damage someone else’s property, it would be illegal and hardly worth the trouble.”

  “Holy crap! You’re in Seth Blake’s house?” Carlos, the oboe player, yelled out.

  Isabelle laughed. “Language. We are playing classical music. We can at least pretend to be classy. Can we get down to work? Whose turn is it this week to select the piece we’re going to practice?”

  The kids looked at each other.

  June spoke up. “We were actually arguing about that in the game room. I think it’s mine, but Donovan insists it’s his turn.” She rolled her eyes.

  “It is my turn.” Donovan pushed June out of the way to hog the web camera.

  Isabelle suppressed a smile. She remembered the days of not being able to tell a boy she liked him. Those two found some reason to fight each session. She glanced at her notes. “June, it is Donovan’s turn.”

  Donovan blew a kiss at Isabelle. “Thank you, Ms. Reed.”

  His action plan of making June jealous by showering Isabelle with flattery was working. June looked like she wanted to strangle him with a violin string.

  Isabelle started her music lecture as she normally did with a witty anecdote about Mozart. She liked squeezing in some history about the instruments and the people who mastered them. The Classical Music Rocks program was comprised of promising young music students from various schools. The money they raised giving concerts went toward providing scholarships and instruments to kids from low-income families who couldn’t afford them.

  After the chatter subsided, they began practicing Donovan’s selection, Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.” Isabelle was pleasantly surprised that someone who was part of the group under duress had selected a great piece. Donovan’s first love was the electric guitar, but being the offspring of a famous concert pianist, he had to participate in the program in exchange for being able to rock out with his band on the weekends. June was a violinist, like Isabelle. She saw so much promise in her. But June was having trouble for weeks, and unfortunately Isabelle’s broken left arm prevented her from helping June work through some of her weak spots.

  They’d moved on to a new piece, but June was still having trouble.

  “It’s OK, June. Let’s try it again.” Isabelle sighed.

  When June came to a screeching halt, Isabelle thought it was time to take a break, and they’d only just started.

  “Maybe I can help with that,” came a voice from the doorway.

  Isabelle looked up to see Tate leaning against the library doorframe. “How so?”

  “You tell me what to play and June can mimic me. Is that OK with you, June?” Tate stepped in view of the webcam and waved.

  “Sure.” June’s cheeks turned a pretty pink, and her smile got bigger by the second.

  �
�Ms. Reed, who is this?” Donovan was attempting to eyeball Tate through the webcam.

  “Class, this is Tate McGill. He’s a country music singer.”

  “Yes, he did that duet with Lana McNeal.” Carlos said. The class erupted into a super storm of chatter.

  Isabelle gave up, letting them have their disruptive moment. She tried not to look at the snug white T-shirt he’d changed into with the Texas flag on it or the way his jeans seemed to be glued to his corded thighs.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” she said to him.

  “Not a problem. I just put Jake down for his nap. He wouldn’t go to sleep until I checked the stock report for five companies that are apparently in his portfolio.” Tate shook his head.

  “OK.” Isabelle reluctantly gave him the violin and bow. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but no one touched her violin. It was like a part of her body that Tate now held gently in his hands. It was hard focusing on the lesson when his cologne was launching a sensual assault on her nose. It was a mixture of something woodsy and masculine yet soft and enticing. The past week that scent had haunted her. Isabelle closed her eyes and took a whiff.

  “Isabelle?” Tate drawled into her ear.

  Her lids flew open. “Yes?”

  “I think the class is ready.”

  Isabelle turned to find her entire class watching them.

  “Mr. McGill, I loved your performance on the Epic Awards! I loaded that single with you and Lana onto my iPod.” June beamed.

  “Thank you, June. Does that mean you’re a fan of my work now?” Tate smiled.

  “For sure!” June squealed.

  Isabelle cleared her throat. “OK, Mr. McGill is going to be our visual aid.”

  “Can he change his shirt? I don’t think he can play the violin with his shirt being that tight,” Donovan murmured.

  “It’s fine!” two of the girls in the back yelled.

  “OK, June, how about we play this piece together?” Tate broke up the chatter.

  Isabelle sat down and watched as Tate played in time with June. She was so fixated on the way his arms moved as he handled her violin, she didn’t realize when they’d finished the piece.