by CP Smith
My experience with men should have taught me better than to think someone like me would be woman enough for someone like him. No, that’s not exactly true, based on what his ex-wife had said no woman was enough for Dallas, no one but her.
“Oh, God, after he fucked me senseless he couldn’t wait ten minutes before he threw on his jeans to go to her. Was I really that bad in bed?”
A fresh wave of tears streamed from my eyes and I buried my head in my hands.
“Meow,” Simi called out from her kennel, letting me know that she felt my pain.
“I’ll be fine guys, just give me a minute,” I sniffed.
Reaching into my purse, I grabbed a tissue and blotted my eyes. Pulling down the visor to inspect the damage, I groaned when two red eyes stared back at me. Taking a deep breath to steady my frazzled nerves, I jumped when my phone started ringing. I pulled it out and saw that Dallas was calling and immediately turned off my phone. He’d probably talked with his ex by now and knew the jig was up. I didn’t want to hear about how he had a weakness for her. I didn’t want to think about all the lies he’d told. I wanted to crawl into a bed and pull the covers over my head until it sunk in that there were no real men anymore.
A loud rap on my window made me jump. My mother was standing at my door, peering down at me with concern in her eyes. I should have known she’d see me out the window and come out to check on me. Pasting on a bright smile, I opened my door and got out.
“What’s wrong?” my mother asked.
“Nothing. Why would you ask?” I lied.
“You’re sitting in your car and your eyes are red. Oh, God, did you have a fight with Dallas?” she blurted out, her eyes wide with worry that I let another man get away.
My fake smile faltered just a little when it hit me that my mother expected me to do something that would send Dallas running for the hills. She was wrong, of course, he sent me running for the hills instead, but it added an additional crack to my already broken heart. Was there something about me that screamed, “She can’t keep a man?”
“I haven’t seen Dallas since last night, mother, he was called away on a case. I’m here because my editor called and I have to fly to Chicago unexpectedly. I need you to watch the cats,” I explained. “Sorry about the barbecue, can we reschedule for another time?”
“Why are your eyes red?” she inquired ignoring my explanation as if she knew I was lying.
“Allergies. I woke up this morning with my eyes swollen shut,” I lied rather convincingly, considering I was making it up as I went.
“Oh, well, hand me one of the carriers and I’ll help you in with it. Do you need me to drive you to the airport?”
“No. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. It’ll be easier to have my car waiting for me, rather than bother you when I return.” I had to admit, I was making this stuff up while we spoke. She seemed to believe me so I wondered why I got into so much trouble in my youth. It must be all those years writing. Maybe my ability to piece together stories quickly meant I programmed my brain to come up with a plausible answer on the fly.
I said goodbye to my two feline children, stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle, then headed downtown to the Mayo Hotel and booked myself a room. I spent the day watching movies, ordering room service, and taking shots to ease my pain. By eight o’clock I was foxed (that’s drunk in regency speak), lying on my bed flipping channels looking for something to watch that wasn’t about cops or love. The former reminded me of Dallas and the latter reminded me that I sucked at finding a man to love. Settling on a rerun of Jerry Springer, I waited anxiously to find out if Daisy’s baby was indeed fathered by Duke.
“Daisy and Duke,” I snorted. “Daisy Duke. I wonder if they have an old Charger. What did the Duke Brothers call that car?” I wondered out loud. Grabbing my purse, I fished out my phone and turned it on. While looking for the google app so I could research the name of the Dukes of Hazard’s car, I glanced at my text message icon and noted I had fifteen new texts. Under the influence is my only excuse for opening my messages to see who was looking for me. Though reading them easily was questionable. Blinking several times to see who had texted, I saw Angela, my mother, Dallas, and Bo. Grabbing my half-empty bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold, I took a swig for courage before swiping to see Dallas’ text.
“We need to talk, call me.”
“Um, no, we don’t,” I slurred at the phone.
“Babe, call me.”
“In your dreams pal and don’t call me babe,” I shouted at the phone.
“Where the fuck are you?”
“Having an illicit affair with a bottle,” I giggled.
I went back to the home screen, swiped Angela’s text, and tried to focus on her words.
“Dallas called me looking for you, WTF is going on? Call me ASAP.”
“I’m having an illicit affair with a bottle,” I repeated to my phone, “It’s very rude of people to bother me.”
I went to tell her just that, but my hands didn’t cooperate and I dropped my phone. Reaching down to pick it up I hit the back function by accident and had to go back to my messages. I swiped Angela’s message again, or so I thought, and used the voice function to type for me since I couldn’t read the keys, “I’m having an illicit affair. I won’t be home for several days ‘cause I’m getting foxed with a handsome golden Latino named Jose. Yours respectively, Nicola Grace Royse.”
It took all of thirty seconds for my phone to start ringing so I answered it without looking to see who was calling since I knew it would be Angela.
“It’s very rude of you to call me while I’m entertaining a gentleman,” I slurred.
Dead silence, yet heavy breathing, could be heard down the line.
“Angela?”
“You wanna repeat that?” Dallas growled in my ear.
I didn’t repeat what I said I didn’t want to talk to him at all. I swiped end call immediately when the knot in my chest started aching again. All those hours of drinking to help ease the pain were shot the minute I heard his voice. The tears started streaming, followed by big gulping sobs. Jesus, I hadn’t snot sobbed like this in years. Probably since I was a little girl. Leave it to Dallas to reduce me to a big puddle of mucus in one short week.
When my phone started ringing again, I turned it off and burrowed under the covers. Exhausted from crying and coupled with the alcohol clouding my head, my lids became heavy as I watched the fading light of the burnished sun slowly setting through my window.
That’s the last thing I remembered, until I heard pounding on the door. Covering my head with a pillow, I tried to ignore the pounding in my head as well as the pounding on the door. The sound of my door opening scared the bejeezus out of me, so I sat up and tried to get out of the bed as a deep rumbling voice bellowed, “Where the fuck is Jose?”
Turning around at the sound of Dallas’ voice I watched in shock as he opened the door to the bathroom and searched it for the imaginary Jose. When he stormed back in, I almost laughed when he bent at the waist and looked under the bed. Furthermore, I did crack a grin when he opened a closet that no man I knew could fit in. When he turned around and glared at me as if I had done something wrong, it sunk in that he was pissed and he absolutely had no right to be.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped.
“Where the fuck is Jose?” he roared.
He didn’t deserve an explanation, but I gave him one anyway. I picked up the half-full bottle of Jose Cuervo and handed it to him. When he read the label, recognition of what I’d meant in the text dawned on him, and his tight mouth and angry eyes softened. Not that I cared, he was still a cad, a scoundrel and a rake of the highest order.
“We need to talk about Brynne,” he started cautiously as he placed the bottle on the nightstand.
“I think everything that needs to be said she explained quite elegantly, if not visually, to me yesterday morning.”
“She lied,” was his pitiful excuse.
“Oh,
well, that makes this awkward. You see I came by yesterday morning to tell you that you were right, that I did need a man who could buy me my heart’s desire. When she told me that you two were still sleeping together, I was quite relieved,” I lied. If he was going to string me along, I could too. The only problem was, the more I spoke the more he smiled.
“Do you always hide in a hotel and refuse to return phone calls when you break it off with someone?” he questioned with a grin.
“Um.”
He had me there dammit.
“Babe, she lied. She’s got a wild hair up her ass that she wants me back, so when you showed up yesterday morning, she got rid of the competition.”
“Why was she in your house?”
“She used the spare key. I suspect she thought if she climbed in bed with me, I’d overlook the fact that she cheated.”
“But you have nearly nude pictures of her on your phone,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, pictures she sent me all on the same day, which I didn’t get because I left my phone at home.”
“But she told me you have a code for when you’re supposed to hook up. She said you refer to it as “duty calls.”
“Jesus, that bitch. Nic baby, I’ve said “duty calls” since I was a kid and she’s heard me use it a million times. I watched some cop show when I was a kid and one of the detectives said it. Since all I ever wanted to be was a cop, it stuck, and I’ve used it ever since.”
“Are you telling me she lied about all of it?” I asked incredulously.
“Babe, honestly, do I seem like the type of man that would share a woman?”
I studied him for a moment and thought about how he’d been with me the last week, how easily he was jealous of other men and it hit me like a bolt of lightning; he wasn’t the type of man who shared. In fact, if I’d thought about that trait yesterday morning instead of automatically believing what she’d said, I would have known she was lying.
“No, you aren’t,” I finally answered as the hole in my chest started to close. “She lied and I’m an idiot for believing her.”
“Then get over here,” he growled.
I’d stood while we were talking and the bed separated us. When he issued the order for me to come to him, I put a foot to the bed and launched myself at him. He caught me as I wrapped my legs around his waist and buried my head in his neck. Overcome with relief, tears flowed once again, but for the right reasons this time. He’d cared enough to hunt me down and win me back. God, I’m an idiot. I should have answered the phone when he called and listened to what he had to say. With deep regret at how I handled this situation, I whispered, “I’m sorry.” What else could I say? I’d put us both through the wringer because of my foolish pride.
“Don’t,” he murmured in my ear. “She’s a good liar and I have no doubt she was convincing.”
“I should have talked to you,” I cried.
“Yeah, you should have, but considering I thought you were with another man from a fuckin’ text, I can understand why you’d believe her considering the pictures.”
“And the fact she was in your shirt.”
“That too,” he agreed with a sigh.
“With sex hair and sleepy eyes,” I continued as I pulled back and locked eyes with him.
“Jesus, she’s a piece of work,” he bit out before wiping a tear from my cheek.
“She said you were addicted to each other and that she was “duty” and she would always call.”
“That should have clued you into the fact she was lying,” he replied with a smile. “The only thing I’m addicted to is your lips and heart-shaped ass.”
“You’re addicted to me?” I asked breathlessly.
Without warning, Dallas dropped to the bed, still holding me close. When he let go, he yanked the shirt from my body before he leaned down and placed a kiss where my heart lay.
“I’m addicted to your heart,” he answered against my chest, his tongue darting out to taste the skin. “To your ass,” he ran his hand down my side, watching it go until he reached my knee and pulled it up so he could cup the cheek of my butt. “To your big eyes,” he explained, leaning down to kiss my lids, “and this sassy mouth,” he finished, biting my bottom lip.
I guess you could say that in that moment I knew without a doubt that I’d spend the rest of my life with this man. That I fell in love with him on the spot for giving me tender words that I knew he meant, but didn’t give often. He was a man’s man for God’s sake; they don’t easily spill forth words of love or hearts and flowers. So I tucked them away in my heart and the hole sealed over for good.
“Dallas?” I whispered against his lips.
“Yeah?” he whispered back before he kissed his way across my jaw and up my neck.
“I think I’m falling in . . . like with you.”
Dallas stiffened for a moment only to relax further into my body. He pulled back and looked at me, his eyes like molten gold as he scanned my face, looking for the truth of my statement. Our eyes locked and held for a moment, an electric tension seemed to bounce between us and we both held our breath waiting for what I wasn’t sure. When I was about to laugh and say I was joking, since he silence was more than I could bear, he leaned down suddenly, ran his nose up my neck, and exhaled on a shudder before whispering, “Good, I like you a fuck of a lot too.”
Seventeen
“You need to call your mother and let her know you’re all right,” Dallas mumbled as he ran whisper-soft touches down my back.
“She thinks I’m in Chicago,” I explained running my own fingers through the hair on his chest.
“Babe, she didn’t buy that excuse for a minute. When I called looking for you, she laid into me.”
“What?”
I sat up and looked down at Dallas, momentarily caught off guard by this announcement. “What did you tell her?” I fairly shouted. Rolling from the bed, I grabbed my phone and turned it on.
Dallas had found me at seven a.m. with the help of Agent Parker, who’d illegally searched and found that I’d checked into the Mayo Hotel. Dallas had then flashed his badge to the manager, who’d reluctantly admitted him into my room, under threat of jail time if he didn’t, with a passkey. It was now ten a.m. and the thought that my mother and father had been worried about me for almost twenty-four hours made me ill.
Dammit, I should have kept my phone on and answered my messages and none of this would have happened.
I’m sure the twins were in an uproar by now as well. I loved my family, but they all perceived me as being unable to take care of myself, which meant they overreacted about every little upset in my life.
“I told her the truth as I knew it.”
“I bet that went over well,” I grumbled as I checked my messages.
“Actually, she offered to beat the shit out of Brynne for me, since a man can’t lay a hand on a woman,” he chuckled.
I paused and looked back at him, my eyes wide at the thought of my tiny mother raising a fist toward anyone.
“You’re joking.”
“God’s truth,” he smiled.
Shaking my head, I typed out a message stating all was well and that she should stand down the Royse men. I figured other texts were in order so I responded to Bo and Finn’s messages. They’d been blunt, as always, they wanted to know if they needed to teach Dallas a lesson, which made me laugh. It’s truly scary they hadn’t realized yet that Dallas would always be the one doing the ass kicking and not them.
Just as I was about to toss the phone on the bed, it rang. Expecting it to be my mother, I was surprised when instead it was Janeane’s mother, Mrs. Dee. Puzzled that she was calling since I hadn’t talked to her since she’d moved to Arizona, I swiped answer and put the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Nicola? It’s Mrs. Dee, dear. Have you heard from Janeane? I’ve been trying to reach her since Thursday night, but she isn’t returning my calls. I thought maybe she’d gone out of town with you, or one of the girls, a
nd was hoping she was with you.”
Don’t ask me how I knew, but I did, the instant that she said Thursday night, it all clicked into place with the force of a speeding train. Melissa was killed after meeting us at Gypsy’s, Toni was killed after meeting us at Gypsy’s, and now Janeane hadn’t been heard from since we’d seen her at Gypsy’s and when I checked my messages everyone had texted me about my location but Janeane.
“I need to call you back, Mrs. Dee,” I mumbled before I ended the call, her soft voice asking, “Please have her call me,” as I blindly swiped the phone off.
“Babe?” Dallas asked, concern etched in his voice as I began to shake.
“Janeane hasn’t . . . Oh, God, Dallas,” I wailed as I turned my eyes to him for help.
“Nicola, talk to me,” Dallas insisted as he threw on his jeans and made his way over to me. He crouched down in front of me, took my lowered face in his hands, and prompted me to look at him. “Talk to me,” he ordered again.
Like a child who thought if she covered her eyes then no one else could see her, I didn’t want to say the words out loud because I knew if I did, they would become true.
“Nicola,” Dallas barked out while giving me a tiny shake.
I looked up and grabbed his arms, willing myself to speak. “Janeane hasn’t . . . Janeane hasn’t been heard from since Thursday night,” I cried out finally.
Dallas hissed, “Fuck,” standing immediately, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I need her address, babe.”
“Dallas, they all died after meeting us at the coffee shop, didn’t they?” I asked, looking up at him.
“Don’t go there, she could be out of town,” he replied as he dialed 911.
“She wasn’t going out of town she told us she was watching movies and paying bills this weekend.”
Dallas didn’t answer me because he was barking orders into the phone. I repeated Janeane’s address twice as he asked for officer assistance. After that, he called Bill instructing him to wait until he got to the station. I rushed around and put on my clothes while Dallas finished his call and put on the rest of his clothes. When my bags were packed, he took my hand, led me to the elevator and down to my car.