THE BEST MAN IN TEXAS

by Kristine Rolofson

Joe told himself he only came back to town to check on his mother, but since he talked to her every day he knew damn well she was doing fine. Never better and, yes, she was taking her medication and watching her diet. According to Mom, Julie was now Mother of the Year and Martin the Mayor had been very helpful with Hank. He has two sons of his own, his mother had told Joe as if that meant that Drummond was automatically going to offer his services as stepfather and husband.

  He'd arrived at Pecan Hollow in time to see Julie and Hank leave for the fireworks and his mother setting the table for a card party with some of the neighbors.

  "We're too old for fireworks," she'd said. "Libby's asleep and I'm feeling fine. You go have a good time."

  Delia's trailer was dark, her driveway empty. She was somewhere having a good time of her own, though Joe didn't want to think too much about that. She'd turned him down and she'd had her reasons, whatever they were. He had his pride and his own life to get on with.

  Trouble was, he'd kept thinking about Delia. Wondering if she ever thought of him. Wondering what she'd think of his place, if she'd ever knock on his door and ask for a tour. If anyone in July was making moves on her. If she was staying away from strawberry daiquiris and the Cottonwood Bar.

  The crowd at the annual Fourth of July gathering was partying pretty hard when he arrived. The annual celebration took place behind the high school, so those who wanted to watch fireworks were settled in the bleachers with their families, while local bands took turns entertaining the dancers in the football field. Booths selling all sorts of food, bars selling drinks and stands with American flags and this year's "July's Fourth of July" T-shirt ringed the field. The outdoor lights were on and the crowd waited for it to be dark enough to start the fireworks.

  Joe looked around for Julie and Hank, but it was too dark to spot them. He bought a beer and stood at the edge of the makeshift dance floor and wondered why the hell he'd bothered to come to town at all.

  "Hey, J.C.," someone said. "How ya doin'?"

  "Fine. You?"

  "Not bad." The man—someone Joe vaguely remembered from high school—disappeared into the crowd and Joe looked around for the woman he wanted to see. He'd only come for one reason and that reason was dancing with another guy, a young kid in his twenties who looked as if he'd won the lottery. He also looked pretty drunk. He swung Delia around, then tucked her against him in a sloppy two-step that concluded with an obscene motion of the kid's hips.

  Guess Saint Delia was having a good time at the party. Joe frowned and told himself he was better off going back to Austin and letting Delia enjoy being a single woman. He watched her laugh and back away, but the young cowboy didn't listen. His hands slid down Delia's back and cupped her buttocks so that she couldn't get away from him. Joe edged closer, his view blocked by a large man wearing a Stetson and twirling his granddaughter. By the time Joe avoided three young women, their jean shorts well below their contoured abdomens, and a fat kid carrying a cardboard tray piled high with tacos, he'd lost sight of Delia and her horny dancing partner.

  The woman needed a bodyguard. And the worst part of it was that she didn't know it. She thought she could dance around in a short denim skirt and a little white T-shirt and not have guys falling all over her. He'd never met a woman who had less of a clue as to how damned attractive she was.

  Of course it was none of his business if she wanted to be groped on a plywood dance floor by a guy ten years younger. He caught sight of her again, only this time she was grappling with the cowboy, who must have thought that a woman fighting him was a turn-on, because he didn't seem at all upset. He even looked like he was having fun.

  Delia smiled, but it was her polite smile, and she was trying to move out of the guy's embrace. The stupid kid looked surprised and confused all of a sudden when Joe's hand clapped him on the shoulder.

  "The lady's tired of you groping her," Joe growled. "Take your hands off her. Now."

  "Hey, man, we're havin' fun here—" He shut up, getting the message in Joe's expression. "Yeah, okay." He tipped his hat in an exaggerated gesture of courtesy toward Delia, then staggered into the crowd.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I was going to ask you the same thing." He took her into his arms as naturally as if they'd been dancing for hours. The band began an old George Jones tune, slow and sad, with just the right beat for dancing close.

  "I'm here with friends."

  "Friends? Like rodeo boy there?"

  "Female friends," she informed his shoulder. As if to prove it, she waved at a stunning redhead holding hands with a stocky rancher next to the cotton candy machine. "We're having a nice time, enjoying the party."

  "Yeah. You were having one hell of a good time. I could see that from the way that kid was grabbing you and you were trying to get away."

  "He'd had too much to drink." She sighed and glanced up at him. "He didn't mean anything."

  "I figured you needed some help." She felt good in his arms, all warm and soft and sweet. Her hair brushed his lips and he fought the desire to carry her off and make love to her under the bleachers.

  "You figured wrong. I had just kicked him when you came over." She stopped dancing and showed him the pointed toe of her cowboy boots. "See? That's a lethal weapon."

  "That wouldn't stop most guys intent on getting what they want." Hell, that kid could have manhandled her across the field and to the parking lot without her having a chance to defend herself. Folks would have assumed it was some kind of lovers' quarrel and Delia would have been at that guy's mercy. He eased her back into his arms. "Sweetheart, a beautiful woman can't be too careful."

  "Hey, man, it's my turn." A hand clamped on Delia's shoulder and Joe saw that the kid was back, this time looking ugly and determined. He'd had time for another shot of liquor to boost his courage, Joe supposed. And he'd brought a friend along for support. Joe braced himself for a couple of ugly minutes.

  "Get lost," Joe said. "And take your hand off the lady."

  "I saw her first," the kid drawled. "You—you gotta go get your own woman."

  "Go away," Delia said, but she looked scared now and shrugged off the hand that held her. That was all Joe needed to see. No one was going to put that look in her eyes and get away with it. Joe thrust her behind his back and hoped she'd have the sense to stay put.

  "I don't want trouble," Joe told them, meeting each man's inebriated gaze. He said the only thing that would make this end without having to hit anyone. "The lady is my wife."

  The kid held up his hands. "Whoa, man, I didn't know. I thought—well, hell, it's a party and—" He looked confused, having forgotten what he was going to say. "No hard feelin's."

  "No problem." Joe watched them stagger to the edge of the dance floor before he turned to Delia and took her into his arms again. They danced in silence until the song came to an end and she withdrew from his embrace.

  "Thanks." She looked up at him with those big hazel eyes guaranteed to make him wish they were alone. "You were right—I needed help." She didn't look too pleased to admit it.

  "What are you doing, Delia? Showing Martin you don't care?"

  She shook her head. "I get tired of people feeling sorry for me. You should hear them when they think I can't hear. Poor Delia, they say. Such a nice girl and such a shame what happened to her." Delia shrugged. "I know, I shouldn't care, but—"

  "What people say hurts," he finished for her.

  "Yes."

  "Come on," Joe said, taking her hand in his. He was suddenly tired of the noise, the people, the band's loud rendition of the "Yellow Rose of Texas." He didn't want to spend the rest of the night without her. She couldn't hold her liquor and she had something to prove, a bad combination and a recipe for trouble.

  "Where?"

  "Home. If you're so determined to have sex with a stranger, you might as well do it with me."

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  «^»

  "Sex with a stranger? A few minutes ago we were ma
rried." She didn't mind leaving the dance floor. And her heart had been pounding faster ever since Joe walked up to her and banished her dance partner. He'd returned to July—maybe to check on Julie, probably to see how his mother was feeling, but whatever his reason, she was glad he'd come along when he had and rescued her from the drunk. The second time the young man had appeared had been frightening until Joe started in with the "wife" explanation. No one had referred to her as a wife for a long time, thank goodness, but at least it had worked to stop a fight. Now Joe was talking about having sex instead of being arrested by one of July's deputies.

  "You're going to drive me crazy," she heard him mutter. Delia managed to wave goodbye to Kelly, who gave her a thumbs-up and a big grin. "Which car, yours or mine?"

  "Where are we going?" She started to wonder if he was serious. And her first thought was oh, please. And then, oh, no.

  "Your place or mine. Doesn't matter to me as long as we're out of here. And out of here now."

  "Yours as in Austin?"

  "If we have to, but I'd rather not waste two hours driving."

  "Mine, then, but I haven't agreed to the sex. And you're not exactly a stranger."

  He ignored her comments and kept walking through the dark, his hand tight around hers. "Where's your car?"

  "Far away. We're going to miss the fireworks." She hurried to keep up with him, despite the fact that she could hardly see anything now that they were leaving the football field.

  "Please tell me you're not drunk," he muttered. "I still have some standards, even in July."

  "I am not drunk," she retorted. "I'm stumbling because I can't see. And I had one rum and Coke, that's it. I'm perfectly aware that you're dragging me across a field with the intention of seducing me and I'm also quite capable of telling you 'no."'

  He stopped in the grassy parking area west of the football field and kissed her like a man starving for the taste of her lips. His hands slid down her back and lower, to cup her bottom and pull her against his arousal. And an impressive arousal it was, Delia realized, as her body reacted by melting into him.

  He'd meant it about the sex, then.

  His tongue delved into her mouth, touched, stroked, burned with a need so hot that it was all Delia could do to stay on her feet. Her boots kept her grounded and her hands clutched his shoulders or her body would have collapsed to the dirt. And still Joe held her, his large hands holding her to him as if he wanted her to know what he was feeling.

  She knew, all right.

  Joe finally lifted his mouth and drew a ragged breath. "Couldn't wait."

  "No."

  "Delia, the car?"

  She closed her eyes and tried to remember something as mundane as where she'd left the Cadillac. "It's in the teachers' parking lot."

  "Where's that?"

  Delia pointed toward the new addition to the school. "Over there."

  Somehow they managed to weave through parked cars and tailgate parties, past groups of teenagers and excited families, to the paved parking lot. The first burst of fireworks lit up the sky behind them just as they reached the car, but neither one paid the least bit of attention.

  "The keys are inside," she said, when he opened the passenger door for her.

  "You left the key—never mind. I forget what it's like to live in a small town." He shut the door and went around to the driver's side. Delia plucked the keys from under the floor mat and handed them to him when he slid behind the wheel.

  "I'd kiss you now," he said, looking more like the devilish J.C. Brown she remembered. "But I'm not sure we wouldn't end up in the back seat. And I'm too old for back seats."

  "It might be fun." It was certainly something she'd never done before.

  He shook his head and turned the key in the ignition. "I have visions of your mother knocking on the car window and telling me she's going to have me arrested."

  "You don't have anything to worry about. She's manning one of the chili dog booths with her church group."

  "Then we need to be miles away." Joe put the Cadillac in reverse and within minutes they were on their way out of town, fireworks bursting in the night sky behind them. Delia turned to look.

  "What about your truck?"

  "I'll get it in the morning." He rolled down the window and let the cool air rush into the car. "Pecan Hollow?"

  "Yes," Delia said, feeling like a teenager about to do something wonderful and illicit. "This is a one-night stand, isn't it?"

  He glanced toward her and frowned. "Why would you say that?"

  "I've always wanted to have one." She ignored his soft curse. "But I have to warn you."

  "About what?"

  "I'm really out of practice." There. She'd admitted it. "And I don't go to a gym. And—"

  "Stop," he interrupted. "Please."

  "I thought you should know."

  "Maybe we should have stayed in the parking lot," he muttered. "We'd be naked by now and you wouldn't be obsessing over your body. I'd be obsessing over your body, which is the way it should be, sweetheart."

  "You could always pull over," she said sweetly.

  He stepped on the gas instead. "We're six minutes away. Could you talk about something else other than sex?"

  She laughed and rolled down her window. "Seen any good movies lately?"

  "Witch." But he smiled when he said it and his right hand reached over and took hers. "I missed you."

  She'd missed him, too, but for the life of her she didn't know why she felt as if her world righted itself every time she saw him. There was something about the man that made her want to hold him close and inhale his scent and wait for his slow smile to brighten those stark features and make his green eyes turn up at the outside corners.

  "Three minutes to go," he announced and winked at her. "If you want to take your underwear off now we could save some time when we get to the trailer."

  "Seduction at its finest," Delia murmured, trying not to laugh out loud again. "No wonder you were so popular in high school."

  "One mile and you're mine."

  "Sounds like one of Uncle Gin's song titles."

  "One mile and you're mine. Just past the neon sign," he said. "I'll find you with your clothes off and that's when I'll make you pine."

  "That was really, really awful."

  "One of my college roommates was a poet. I made him crazy." He squeezed her hand and released it in order to turn the car into Pecan Hollow.

  He was making her a little crazy, too. Her stomach did nervous flips as the headlights flashed on the silver trailer before Joe parked the car and turned off the lights. Behind them Betty's double-wide was lit up like it was Christmas and down the street someone was having a party. She stepped out of the car at the same time Joe did; their doors slammed in unison.

  "You can change your mind," he said, his face unreadable in the darkness. "But I hope you don't."

  "Me, too."

  They walked toward the steps, illuminated by a small light above the door. Delia reached down and took the key from under the new welcome mat and unlocked the door. Inside the trailer the air was cool and dry, but a faint chili aroma still lingered.

  "The ghost of Uncle Gin," Delia said, wondering if she should turn on the lights or offer Joe a drink or drag him into the bedroom. "No matter how much air freshener I use I can't—"

  His hands closed on her shoulders and his warm breath tickled the back of her neck before he smoothed her hair and kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear. She forgot what she was going to say.

  Joe turned her around to face him. "It's hopeless."

  "What is?"

  "You and me trying to stay away from each other." He gazed down at her and smiled. "I'm not sure what's going on," he said, "but I like it."

  "Lust," she whispered. "I think that's what it's called."

  "Hmm." He brushed his lips across hers in a slow, teasing motion. "You could be right."

  "Like I'm such an expert."

  "Yeah." He cradled her face with his han
ds. "And so beautiful."

  "Don't." She didn't want extravagant compliments. Not from Joe.

  "Don't tell you that you're beautiful and that I want to make love to you for hours, until we're too tired to move when the sun comes up?"

  "Hours?"

  "Hours, days, weeks, months. Take your pick."

  "Well, okay." She was still smiling when he kissed her again, though this time was no gentle brushing of lips, but a blissful invasion of her mouth that reminded her of what lay ahead. His tongue explored and teased, while she matched him with her own need to taste and savor the flavor of him.

  Somehow they managed to walk down the thankfully short distance to the bedroom. Joe eased her onto the bed and followed her down until he lay beside her in a tangle of arms and legs and need on the wide mattress.

  "I feel as if we're getting away with something," she whispered after he'd tugged her cowboy boots off.

  "Is that good or bad?" He pulled her shirt from the waistband of her skirt and slid his hands under the cotton to touch the lace that covered her breasts.

  "I don't know, but I like—oh!" He'd unclasped the front hook of her bra and his fingers swept over her skin, freeing her breasts from the confining material. He helped tug her T-shirt over her head and tossed it aside, while she reached for his shirt and started in on the buttons. Two popped off the fabric near the bottom of the shirt, when she'd lost patience and only wanted to feel his skin under her fingertips. The shirt flew to the floor.

  His mouth was on her breast, teasing the nipple into an aching hardness that intensified the ache between her thighs. His hands bunched her skirt to her waist and then touched her underwear.

  And stopped.

  "My God," he breathed, his fingers tracing the line of the panties over her hip to her exposed buttock. "Delia Drummond is wearing a thong?"

  "It was a divorce present." She'd finally decided to wear it tonight, an act of courage made possible by going out under the cover of darkness. "Don't laugh."

  "Laugh?" He lowered his head to her hip and kissed the bare skin below the lace trim. "Never."

  It was the feel of his mouth along her upper thigh that ended any rational thought Delia might have had. She was lost when he unzipped her skirt, thrilled when the fancy white thong joined her clothes on the floor and completely ecstatic when Joe removed his jeans and joined her in bed.