She was very good with paperwork. Organized to perfection. She could find any one of her ten-thousand-some pictures in seconds.
Sandra had probably been incredibly organized, too. And his parents had adored her.
If the fact that Jessy wasn’t Sandra was all his mother had against her, Jessy would be relieved. It was the other possibility, that Ramona knew through gossip from old friends what kind of person Jessy was, that made her feel ragged inside. Dalton said it didn’t matter, and he’d made love to her again after dinner as if it really didn’t, but still…She already had one train wreck of a family. She didn’t need another.
She did a quick walk-through of the dining room, as formal as anything in this homey place got, then the laundry room next to the kitchen. There was one door she hadn’t opened, across from the bath, so she did and saw a handful of stairs disappearing into the absolute blackness of a basement.
Still restless, she closed the door, padded down the hall, and let herself out. Oz, who’d taken a seat in the recliner, leaped after her before the screen door closed and ran into the yard.
The night was quiet, the air sweet with the scent of flowers, the moonlight gleaming off a lone curious palomino, turning its coat silver, ethereal. The scene should have been peaceful, should have soothed every last raw nerve in her body. How could anyone have a problem that mattered when surrounded by this beauty, by this sense of all is right with the world?
Once again, Jessy was the exception to the rule, and not in a good way.
She settled on the porch swing, knees drawn to her chest, catching occasional glimpses of Oz as he wandered the yard sniffing, then peeing. Life was good for the dog. Could it ever be that good for her?
The screen door didn’t squeak exactly—more like the hinges rubbed as it swung open—and Dalton stepped out, hair standing on end, jeans hugging his hips, feet and chest bare. Was it odd that she found the first as appealing as the last?
Not odd. She just loved her a cowboy. Would God or karma or destiny let her have a happily ever after this time? Or was she doomed to another broken heart?
He sat on the swing and set it in motion. The swaying tried to lull her into a serene state, but she had too many insecurities to give in easily. He wasn’t feeling too complacent, either. The air around him was practically simmering.
She didn’t have anything to say, so she didn’t. After a while, he broke the silence. “I told you, it’s family tradition to give the first two sons names beginning with a D. Mom was okay with that, as long as she got to choose the names. She’d originally picked something normal like Daniel and Douglas, but when we were born, she changed her mind and went with Dillon—like Marshal Dillon on the TV show Gunsmoke—and Dalton, from the outlaw gang that operated in Oklahoma when it was still Indian Territory.”
When we were born. Jessy’s breath caught. Dalton was a twin. The brother he never talked about was his twin. Identical? Was there another man walking around out there with the same black hair, brown eyes, awesome smile, smoldering good looks, incredible body? Holy crap.
“Of course, she got it wrong. We each lived up to the other’s name. I was the respectable marshal, Dillon the reckless outlaw. We looked exactly alike, but it would have been hard to find two brothers as different as we were.” He glanced at her. “Though I suspect you and your sisters qualify.”
Identical twins who were smokin’ hot. They must have left a trail of fluttering teenage hearts everywhere they went.
“We weren’t inseparable. We never had that bond people talk about, but still, he was my twin. That was supposed to mean something…but apparently not to him. When we were nineteen, he ran off in the middle of the night. Took his clothes, his beat-up old truck, and my girlfriend and just left. Turned out, he’d been seeing her behind my back. They’d been planning their great escape from small-town life and family expectations for weeks. The whole thing broke my parents’ heart, and…”
He cleared his throat, but it didn’t erase the huskiness in his voice. “It kind of…broke mine, too. I mean, it pissed me off that, with all the girls he dated, he couldn’t keep his damn hands off the only one I was with. But the fact that he didn’t care any more about the family than to just blow us all off…Disappear. Never come back. Never call. Never let us know if he’s even still alive. Hell, Noah doesn’t even really remember him. Mom and Dad have never gotten over it, and…I guess I haven’t, either.”
He and his brother had more of a bond that he was admitting to, Jessy ventured. If they didn’t, the hurt and anger would have faded over the years. Dalton would have realized one day that it was a done deal—selfish for Dillon, sad for the family, but the broken hearts would be in the past with their memories, where they belonged.
No, this was Dalton subconsciously trying to keep as much of the hurt as possible deeply buried. With all he’d gone through with Sandra, he didn’t need the unanswered questions of Dillon haunting him.
He gave a heavy sigh, the tension leaving his body. “So that’s all there is to know about Dillon.”
“Wow.” Jessy hadn’t seen or talked to her sisters in longer than she could remember—a lie she told herself; of course, she knew to the month how long it had been—but she hadn’t tried in all that time. She knew where they were, she had their e-mail addresses and phone numbers, and they had hers, and she knew they were okay. How would it feel not to know? To have no clue whether they were happy and well? Whether they were alive or dead?
And twins…She could—and did—put her sisters out of her mind, but every time Dalton looked at himself, he saw Dillon, and he must wonder and feel bitter.
“I wonder if my sisters ever felt that I’d betrayed them by leaving. I don’t think so. By then, I was such an embarrassment to the family and their great name.”
“Your situation was different. They were trying to force you to be someone you’re not. Dillon was just being Dillon.”
Giving him a flirtatious smile, she scooted closer to him. “Lucky for us that I ran. You never would have looked twice at the Jessamine they wanted me to be, and I would never have known what it was like to be happy.”
He lifted her onto his lap, just as she’d hoped he would, and she rested her head against his heated broad shoulder. As his fingers skimmed lightly across her skin, he asked, “Are you happy, Jessy?” Before she could take a breath, he touched his index finger gently to her mouth. “Be grown up. Don’t blurt out the first answer that comes to mind.”
I have a tendency to act on impulse, she’d told him that night in the gazebo behind the courthouse. It was natural that at times he wanted from her a thoughtful answer, just as there would be times when she would be pleased with a totally impulsive response from him.
After a moment, she pulled his hand away. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve had issues. When your own parents don’t love you, you get some warped ideas. And Aaron’s death…Feeling like I didn’t deserve to live and—and things. I think I have all the family stuff way behind me, then out of nowhere, I get this yearning for the relationship we never had. Carly says I beat myself up too much, so I’m focusing on not focusing on all the messes I’ve made, but—”
Chuckling, Dalton interrupted, “Impulsive answers have their place sometimes.”
She fixed her gaze on his face, and automatically her mouth turned up in a smile. “Seeing you makes me happy. Spending time with you, hanging out with my girls, working at the animal shelter, taking care of Oliver and the other animals, knowing that I can make someone’s day better just by being in it, even if it is a stray dog…”
Her chest tightened as she realized she’d told the gospel truth. All those things did make her happy—not just content, not just helped her through the day, but filled her with happiness. Like Carly had told her, she was blessed.
Laying her palm against his cheek, she murmured, “Yes, I’m happy. Let me tell you what else would make me happy right now.”
Wiggling her butt against his lap, she whispe
red the words into his ear, going into enough detail to steal the breath from his lungs and to make his heart stutter as the swelling of his erection commandeered blood flow that should have gone to his brain.
He pushed to his feet, his hands cradling her butt, and he reached the door in a couple long strides. Jessy opened the screen, then called for Oz. The dog streaked through the shadows, leapt onto the porch and inside the house, panting and heading for his water dish. His master was also panting but headed straight up the stairs to the bedroom. They slipped out of their clothes, shoved aside the mussed covers, and with a string of unused condoms trailing across the sheet, they proceeded to make each other very happy, indeed.
Chapter 14
After work Tuesday, Jessy opted to drive her car to The Three Amigos for dinner. Sure, the girls would tease, but it had been a long couple days…and a busy couple nights. She smiled at the memories as she climbed out of her car in the parking lot outside the restaurant and sighed contentedly.
It was hard to believe she’d been afraid of sober sex. Hell, it was the best thing ever invented. Of course, the man she was sober with made a huge freaking difference.
As she approached the patio, Marti gave her a brows-raised stare. “You drove. I can’t remember you ever driving. Can you, Lucy?”
“Nope,” Lucy agreed, and Fia added, “Me, either.”
“I walked to work this morning, I walked seven dogs—long walks—and then I walked home. Even my toenails are tired. Hey, Mamacita.” She sank into the chair next to Ilena, then bent toward her belly. “John, aren’t you ready to make an appearance in this world? Your mama needs to be able to see her feet so she knows when her shoes don’t match, but right now, you’re kinda in the way.”
“My shoes don’t match?” Ilena wailed. She twisted to the left, then the right. “Oh, my gosh, my shoes don’t match! I wore these to work!”
“Relax, doll. One’s navy blue, and the other’s red-and-white stripes.” Bennie popped a chip in her mouth. “You’re being patriotic. Besides, you know how the kids wear mismatched socks. Maybe you’ll start a trend of mismatched shoes.”
“I’ll tell you, I’m ready to get this little guy born. My house is a mess. If I drop something, it just stays where it landed because I can’t bend that far. I haven’t made my bed in a month, and I shave my legs blind because I’m not going into the delivery room with hairy legs. It’s a wonder I haven’t bled to death yet.”
“Poor baby,” Lucy said, and Therese and Fia joined in. “Poor, poor baby.”
After the laughter faded, Jessy said, “I’ll come over tomorrow after work and pick up everything you’ve dropped. I’ll even change your sheets and make your bed and make sure all your shoes are lined up together in matching pairs.” When everyone’s gaze turned her way, she scowled. “Hey, I clean house.”
“We know,” Therese said. “But only because you hate clutter more than you hate housework.”
Jessy gestured to Ilena’s belly. “Special circumstances.”
“Do you clean the cowboy’s house?” A sly grin lit Bennie’s face.
“I help with the dishes and make the—” As their expressions turned to smug delight, she narrowed her gaze again. “You guys were talking about me before I got here, weren’t you?”
“We were just placing bets on how big you’d be smiling.”
She’d better be smiling real big when we see her again, cowboy, Bennie had called out when they’d left the church Saturday.
She could ignore them, if they were in a being-ignored sort of mood, which they never were. She could inform them that her sex life was private, but that would make them laugh too hard. Nothing in their world was totally private. It was one of the things she loved about them.
Instead, she smiled. Bigger. Wider. When her mouth stretched as far as it could, she used her fingers to force it farther.
The dolls sighed, some of them melodramatically. “Was it wonderful?” Marti asked wistfully.
She opened her mouth to respond with equal melodrama, but the words that came out were quiet, simple truth. “It was incredible.”
Fia fanned herself with a menu. “That does it, girls. We have got to get ourselves some boyfriends. We’re too young to be giving up sex.”
“You work around hard bodies at the gym all day,” Marti pointed out. “Haven’t you seen at least one you’re attracted to?”
Fia shook her head. “A gorgeous body isn’t everything.”
“No, but it’s a start.” Bennie punctuated the words with her own menu fan.
“I—” Lucy glanced around the group and flushed. “I’ve met someone. You guys have met him, too. Ben Noble, Patricia’s son.”
Self-consciously she ran her finger along the rim of her glass—iced tea, Jessy realized. There wasn’t a margarita on the table. The fact that her girls had given up their trademark drinks in support of her efforts at sobriety made her choke up, and her vision went blurry.
Must be pollen in the air.
All the little voices in her head snorted.
“We went to dinner at Luca’s on Saturday night,” Lucy went on, “and this Saturday we’re going to the Drillers game.”
There were oohs and ahs, then Ilena asked, “Do you like baseball?”
“No…but…I like Ben.” The last came out in a soft voice loaded with insecurities.
Jessy knew Lucy well enough to know the taunts the little voices in her head were throwing at her: He’s gorgeous. You’re plain. He’s a doctor. You’re a secretary to a doctor. He makes a boatload of money. You get by. He’s got a great body. You’re fat. Guys like him don’t fall for women like you. She wanted to wrap her arms around Lucy and assure her that guys like Ben did fall for women like her. What else would explain why Dalton had fallen for Jessy?
Though she didn’t know what would come of it, if it was a short-term thing or if he had something more in mind. She was afraid to admit even to herself that she wanted more. It made Realist Jessy snipe even louder than usual. You were a horrible wife to Aaron. What makes you think you deserve another chance? Sandra never would have planned to divorce Dalton when she finally got home. Only a selfish bitch would.
“You okay?”
Startled, Jessy glanced around and saw that their food had been delivered. Therese’s hand was resting lightly on her arm, her expression solemn. “Yeah. I was just…”
Something surged through her, made her stomach tumble, sent quivers along her nerves. She wanted to silence Realist Jessy—to strangle her, truthfully—but she needed help from her sisters. Quickly, before she could come to her senses, before the trembling inside her spread to the outside, she blurted out, “Can I tell you guys something?”
Everyone exchanged looks, then Ilena said, as if it was obvious, “Honey, you can tell us anything.”
“Will you still love me?” Jessy managed a weak smile, hoping it covered the fear bubbling through her. Without her margarita sisters, how would she survive?
“Of course we will.” The answer came in a chorus from around the table before an expectant silence fell over them.
Her palms were sweaty, and her heart rate was pounding somewhere in the range between orgasm and imminent death. She wished she could say Never mind, or better yet, take back the questions. Wasn’t it better to simply wonder if she was an awful person than to have it confirmed by the people who knew her best?
No, it wasn’t. She had issues. While she didn’t put them out there for all the world to see, like Lucy, she did keep them front and center in her mind. The opinions of people she loved and respected might help her put them to rest once and for all.
She forced a breath into her tight lungs and fixed her gaze on the flip menu on the table, showing a tall frozen margarita. One of those would help this go easier. Five would make it a breeze.
Swallowing hard to settle that sudden craving, she began haltingly, “I know every one of you loved your husbands dearly and you were devastated when they died. I loved Aaron, and
I was heartbroken, too, but…I wasn’t…I didn’t…” She took another breath to ease the raspiness in her voice, to blurt out the words in a rush she couldn’t stop. “I wasn’t as happy in my marriage as you guys were. In fact, I—I intended to file for divorce after Aaron came home.”
There. She’d said it. The churning gut calmed. The tremors stopped. Good or bad, she’d done it. Now she would find out if she deserved these friends, Dalton, love, marriage—anything at all—or if she truly was the huge self-centered disappointment her parents had believed.
After a moment of stunned stillness, Leah Black rose from her chair at the far end of the table, circled around one side, and bent to hug Jessy. “Thank you,” she said, her voice heavy with relief.
“For what?” Jessy asked.
“Making me feel not so alone.” Leah hugged her again before returning to her chair. “When I first started coming here, you guys gave me so much strength and encouragement. But the more I got to know you, the more I realized that you all adored your husbands. You had been so happy.”
She pressed her lips together, her eyes shadowed with sadness and shame. Jessy could recognize shame from a hundred yards away and blindfolded. “Marco and I—our marriage was so far from perfect. It barely even qualified as good on occasions. We fought a lot, and there were times, especially after the war started, that I thought about divorcing him. I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t want to live alone month after month. I wanted to have kids and have a husband here to help raise them every single day. Don’t get me wrong. I loved him. I’ll always love him. But…”
She shrugged as if she couldn’t find the right words, and Jessy filled them in. “It wasn’t the way he wanted and needed and deserved to be loved.”
Leah nodded. “I just feel so…unworthy of you guys. Of everything. Marco expected to come back to life as usual, and I wanted to shake up that life until he couldn’t even recognize it.”
A Love to Call Her Own Page 26