Once In A Blue Moon

by Celia Stewart

  “No, ma’am. I raised her. She’s down at A and M now.” No way could she have missed the pride in my voice. And judging from the one arched eyebrow, she hadn’t.

  “Must not have been easy, raising a baby when you’re a baby yourself.”

  I shrugged. “I suppose. Kinda hard to hate something when it’s all that you know. Have a nice day, ma’am.” With a wave, I was off.

  Liar. You can’t hate something when it’s all you know, but you can hate and resent the irresponsible adults who put you there.

  Speak of the devil... I had a call to make. Curled up in my office chair twenty minutes later, I dialed Angelina’s number and woke her ass up.

  She finally answered on the fifth ring. “Lo.”

  “Angi?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice was rough from sleep and sounded like she had a pillow between her and the receiver. I heard a man’s voice in the background. My timing sucked.

  “It’s Bettina.”

  “Shit,” was followed by a hissed “Shhhh.” Obviously, Angi had decided I’d just been born yesterday.

  “What’s his name?” I loved calling her bluff. Always have.

  “Who?” Angi’s a God-awful liar. She sounded grumpy, and now I didn’t feel so bad for waking her up. Even on a Saturday. I also pay her rent, so I figured I was entitled.

  “That warm body next to you.” I chuckled. “Angelina, I know a man’s voice when I hear it.”

  “I’m sure you do. But what business of it is yours?” Her voice suddenly rang out loud and clear in my ear.

  She’s sure I do? “It’s not, as long you keep your grades up,” I snapped. We’d had ‘the talk’ when she was ten, and I’d explained periods, sex and men. I’d hoped my frankness would save her from a few of the hard lessons I’d learned.

  I didn’t expect her to be pure as the driven snow. Just smart and careful. She was private about her men and, for the most part, I respected that. Her sex life wasn’t something I pried into. And some things you just don’t want to know.

  “Don’t fucking nag me, Bet! It’s Saturday, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I’m not nagging. I haven’t heard from you since I left that message about getting married, so I called to talk.”

  “Well, if you called to chew my ass out for missing the happy event, you could have done it later!”

  Ouch! I sighed and rubbed my temples.

  “What’s his name?” I changed gears, wondering how serious she might be about him. I didn’t pry, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious. Especially since she’d never brought any men home from college--or dated much in high school either.

  “What business of it is yours?”

  I was fighting a losing battle. Obviously someone had woken up on the wrong side of their textbooks this morning. “Thanksgiving is Thursday,” I said softly.

  “So?”

  A slap in the face would have hurt less than that one little word. Shocked, I swallowed my tears. All this crying was getting out of hand. When Mom was alive, she was usually too drunk to do holidays, or she’d ruin anything we two had planned.

  “You’re not coming home?” After Mom died, we’d made even the silliest holidays fun, whipping up outrageous valentines filled with horrible verses or hiding psychedelic eggs from each other. We’d tended to overcompensate.

  Or maybe, it was me who overcompensated. I might have resented my parents for their failures but I’d never resented Angi. Whether she knew it or not, Angelina had been the one constant in my life, especially after Dad left.

  “Hang on.” She’d put her hand over the receiver so I all I heard were muffled voices. “I’m going to Rob’s for Thanksgiving.” Her voice was as cold as a January blue northern’.

  “Fine.” Hanging up, I brushed away the tears that broke free, struggling to hold back the sniffles riding hard on their heels. Pregnancy had turned me into a damned watering pot.

  Sniffling again, I reached for a box of tissues, struggling to pull myself together before my first client arrived.

  “Boss?” came Tara’s voice over the intercom.

  “What?”

  “Angi’s on line one...”

  Shit. I’d bawl all over the phone if I talked to her.

  “--And your eight-thirty is here.”

  “Tell Angi I’m busy, and tell Derlinda I’ll be right out.”

  I headed for the bathroom to fix my face. Time to pull it together. I had work to do and a long day in front of me.

  * * * *

  Late in the afternoon I sat in my office unwinding and snacking on apples when Cassi strolled in. “What happened now?”

  I frowned, wondering how the hell she’d known there was something wrong.

  “You’re pouting, or doing some really heavy thinking. Besides, Tara told me Angi called and you didn’t want to talk to her. You always talk to her. Sherlock Cassi figures you’re pissed at her.”

  I snorted with laughter, finally feeling like it wasn’t quite so horrible. But I was still pissed. “Damned ungrateful heathen brat’s not coming home for Thanksgiving. And she was a total bitch about it.” Cassi was practically family. Long explanations weren’t necessary.

  Rule Number Eleven: Your Best Girlfriend is Worth Her Weight In Ice Cream.

  “Where did you go wrong with that one?” she drawled, hugging me.

  Another bubble of laughter slipped out. “Hopefully I’ll do better with this next one,” I said, patting my belly.

  “Boss, Jeff’s here,” Tara broke in over the intercom.

  “I’ll be right there.” I stood and eyed Cassi. “Duty calls. Wanna come keep me company?”

  “Sure.” She sighed, fanning herself.

  Having Jeff as my last customer of the day was always a treat--for Cassi and me. She wouldn’t admit it but she had a huge thing for Jeff Callaghan, one of San Antonio’s most sought-after bachelors. I’d started doing his hair when he was in college, working construction for book and tuition money, and I was a new business owner.

  “Wanna wash his hair for me?” I teased, strolling through the door ahead of her. I’d been pushing them at each other for months.

  “Shut up!” she hissed, nudging me in the back.

  “Just thought I’d ask.” With a laugh, I headed up front while she got his beer.

  “Hey, Jeff.” I walked toward the couch where he sat, all six feet of him dressed in old Levi’s, complete with holes in the knees, and a worn T-shirt. His shaggy dark hair was hidden beneath a ball cap, and his five o’clock shadow looked like it’d been there a few days. Jeff could almost pass for a street bum. You’d never know to look at him that he was filthy rich. Literally. He specialized in urban architecture and wasn’t above getting his hands dirty on a construction site.

  He unwound himself from the sofa and stood up, squeezing my fingers and kissing my cheek. “Hey there, beautiful. When are you going to give in and go on a date with me?”

  “She’s married,” Tara replied from behind me.

  Big mouth.

  “What?” He looked me over, a huge grin shaving ten years off his tanned, stern-looking face. “You’re lyin’.”

  I nodded, my frozen smile turning more genuine.

  “I had no clue?”

  I shrugged.

  “She’s...”

  I turned and scowled at Tara, grateful the reception area was currently empty. “Shut up, Tara.”

  Jeff barked with laughter and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Congratulations! Now, gimme a beer and fill me in on how I lost my favorite lady.”

  Despite his flirting, nothing had ever gone on between us.

  Rule Number Twelve: Never Mix Business With Pleasure. When I’d moved into my new digs four years ago, Jeff had designed them for me.

  We headed for the shampoo bowls, then my room where Cassi waited with his beer. Heineken, in the bottle. While I snipped and Cassi drooled, Jeff peppered me with questions. It was almost like having a big brother to laugh and tease me.

&nb
sp; “I can’t believe you let some cowboy knock you up. What the hell were you thinking, honey?”

  “Gee, thanks.” I scowled at him in the mirror.

  How the hell could I explain to Jeff what I didn’t understand myself?

  Chapter Sixteen

  All dressed up...

  Knocked up? Some cowboy? Honey? Ty stood outside the door to Bettina’s room, a dozen pink and purple roses clutched in his hand. He hadn’t meant to listen, but the conversation was hard to ignore.

  “Jeff, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna snip that ear off,” Betti threatened.

  “I’m just trying to picture you married to a ... cowboy.”

  Why had he picked tonight to dress up? Because he’d wanted to spark a little with his wife. His usual dancehall wear consisted of jeans and a T-shirt, topped off with a ball cap. Tonight he’d gone all out, dug out his black Stetson, ironed his jeans, and put on the fancy shirt Jessa had gotten him for his birthday--a snazzy green affair with pearl snaps and white piping. Too late to change now.

  “Gee, thanks.” Bettina again, and he could hear Cassi giggling.

  A pretty black woman with intricate braids eyed him as she walked past, leading another woman from the shampoo area to the room next door to Bettina’s.

  He looked down at the roses in his hands. Maybe he should just give them to Tara.

  “Aw now, honey...”

  Oh, now that was enough.

  A surge of jealousy pushed him to step through the doorway. “Honey.”

  “Honey” watched him through the mirror, biting her lip and blinking in obvious surprise. From behind her, Cassi choked on her laughter. Bettina slowly turned around, her lip still caught between her teeth.

  Was she checking him out?

  “Is that him?” the man in her chair asked.

  Ty checked him out through the mirror. “Jeff” reminded Ty of Tim and not just because he was dark. His attitude was pure lady-killer. He was a man who worked hard and played harder. But how well did he know Ty’s wife? For that matter how well did Ty know his wife?

  Her breathless little hi, the shy smile on her pretty face both reminded him why. He’d made a commitment and this wasn’t the time for doubts. Besides, he’d missed her.

  “Are you busy?” He glanced from her to Jeff, aware of a thorn on the roses digging into his left index finger.

  “Just Jeff and I’m done.” She stood staring at him wide-eyed, her eyes flickering from his face to the roses.

  Cassi snorted, muttering, “Just Jeff.” But was she teasing Jeff or him?

  Bettina wasn’t usually one for nerves. But she seemed to have a good case of ‘em.

  “Well introduce us, honey.” The man in her chair gave her a nudge.

  His jaw tightened at the other man’s familiarity. If “Jeff” called his wife honey one more time, Ty was leaving. Bettina stammered through their introductions while Ty stood there feeling like a caveman. He wanted to snatch her up, beat on his chest and shout, “Mine!”

  “Ty,” a perky voice behind him squeaked. Tara. Who had the biggest, cheesiest grin on her face. “Would you like me to put those in some water for you?”

  Before he could hand them over, Bettina stepped up, that tiny smile still on her face. Her cheeks were all pink, but he couldn’t read the expression on her face as he handed her the roses. The roses he’d spent three hours on the phone to find and driven to the other side of San Antonio for. Lavender roses apparently weren’t all that common.

  Cassi snorted, then Jeff teased her. “You better behave over there, little Cassi girl,” Jeff quipped. “Maybe someday I’ll bring you roses.”

  Ty tuned them out, watching Bettina clutch the roses to her chest and bury her face in them. Despite his jealousy over Jeff, his heart swelled till he thought it might burst at the soft expression on his wife’s face. He fought the urge to reach up and rub his stinging eyes when she stepped closer and whispered, “They’re beautiful.”

  She slowly handed them over to Tara who kept smiling and blinking at him. They were just roses. Sure they’d been hard to find, but you’d have thought he’d brought her the Hope Diamond.

  He swallowed, trying to think of something to say. Wishing they didn’t have an audience. Wondering why his insides were all jittery.

  “I don’t wanna keep you. I just ... wanted to bring those by. Since I hadn’t seen you.”

  “Why don’t you grab a beer and stay a while?” Jeff asked. He acted like he owned the place. And maybe he did. Maybe that’s why Bettina let him get away with calling her honey. Not that Ty appreciated it.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got to run.” He put on his best manners, deciding it was time to make himself scarce. He didn’t want to be the cause of Bettina losing her job.

  “You can stay, if you’d like.” Bettina smiled up at him, her hands behind her back, head tilted to the side and that same soft look still in her eyes.

  “I was just leaving.” Cassi wormed past them and marched out, slamming the door across the hall so hard Ty blinked.

  Jeff grinned at him in the mirror, holding out his hands as if to say “women.”

  “I need to get to the dancehall.” A part of him didn’t want to leave her alone with Jeff.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  “That’s not necessary.” The rest of him wanted to throw her over his shoulder and high tail it home. Ty glanced at Jeff again who just shrugged. Asshole.

  “I insist.”

  “Finish your haircut.” Jeff might be her boss, but Ty was her husband. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, wanting nothing more than to nuzzle her neck and pull her against him. “See you when I get home.”

  * * * *

  Out in the truck he shoved the key in the ignition and started it up. While the truck warmed up he tried to figure out what had bothered him so much about Jeff.

  With a groan he snapped his seat belt.

  He was jealous.

  He’d missed her. And 3:00 a.m. was such a long damn ways away. So much for asking her to dinner.

  Ty was so used to leaving Bettina sleeping, he’d woken up this morning feeling lost without her there beside him. Well, lost and a little sexually frustrated. He’d also woken up with a full blown hard-on. They hadn’t had sex since Wednesday night. Really early Thursday morning, before he’d gone out to work with daddy and the hired hands.

  He felt like a sex fiend but he also missed her and the easy feeling that she left him with deep down in his chest.

  He'd taken off early, hoping they could at least have dinner together before he had to play. Instead, it looked like he’d be eating alone.

  Ty stopped at the sandwich shop across the highway from the dancehall and grabbed a bite to eat. Only to come to a screeching halt at the sight of Rhea sitting on his tailgate.

  How the hell could she breathe in those tight-ass jeans?

  His grip on the cup of Dr. Pepper in his hands tightened. He forced himself to relax or he’d end up with sticky soda all over himself. And if he were late getting to the dancehall, Rowdy and Zack would give him hell.

  “My, my, my, Mr. Boudreaux look at you.” For once her hair was halfway tame and most ... some of her assets were hidden beneath a denim jacket that looked suspiciously like one of his that had gone missing after she left.

  “What do you want?” His stomach jumped, the turkey and Swiss sandwich he’d eaten sitting heavy in his stomach. Slow and easy, buddy.

  “Now is that any way to greet your wife?” She slid off the tailgate, a pout on her too-red lips, her hands on her slender hips, pushing the coat back. She knew her nipples, covered but not hidden by her pink thermal shirt, were loudly protesting the cold.

  “You’re not my wife.” He grinned but didn’t elaborate. Or laugh. What she didn’t know suited him just fine.

  But he screwed up. She now stood between him and the door of his truck. Only inches separated them.

  “What are you all dressed up for?” She flicked open his coat, sidled
closer and gently squeezed his sides.

  He wouldn’t flinch. He kept his eyes on her face, refusing to look down at the breasts barely an inch from his own chest.

  He knew this act. The pursed lips, the smile, the touching. She wanted something.

  “It’s Saturday.” Ty forced himself to keep breathing slow and steady, deathly afraid she’s move closer and mark him with her scent. Or hear how loud his heart was pounding.

  “You look good enough to eat,” was followed by what would have been a sexy purr on any other woman. On Rhea, he wasn’t sure what it qualified as.

  Time to cut bait and get the hell away from her.

  “But I suck in bed, remember? Unlike your pal, Billy.” Was that a flinch or just the cold wind? Maybe he shouldn’t have taken that potshot. Bitter and angry were her MO, not his. He just wanted to be left the hell alone to get on with his life, with his wife. His real wife. “What do you want, Rhea?” He frowned down at her, not surprised when she moved away, a hurt expression on her face.

  “I just wanted to say hey, but if you’re gonna be all nasty and shitty--you know, I don’t see any reason we can’t get along. Be friends. Act like adults.”

  Her pouting only made him tired.

  “Gotta run.” He shoved past her and climbed in his truck, thankful he hadn’t locked it. Thankful he hadn’t found her in his truck.

  He started it up and backed out, feeling strangely sad when she just stood there watching him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Killing time

  What just happened?

  “Honey.” At first I’d thought my room had developed an echo.

  Nope. My husband had come calling.

  What happened to all the oxygen in here? I smiled at Ty through the mirror, my arms suddenly numb as I got a good look at him. Lordy, he was so handsome. And that black Stetson hat was just the cherry on my sundae.

  It wasn’t just the fact he looked good but the bouquet of pale pink and lavender roses he held out to me that left me feeling weak. Weak, hell, I was practically giddy.