The dream felt cold. Money floated like feathers through the sky, swirling tornado fashion into a container, a Genie’s bottle on ice. Cash…cold…cash.
D’Anne’s eyes popped open along with a light bulb in her brain. “The cooler!” She sat bolt upright before jumping off the bed and heading for the door, causing Dexter to whimper and leap after her. The old ice chest was packed outside in the storage space.
The door opened to a pitch-black humid night. She felt her hair go limp and frizz at the same time. The only light came from millions of stars and hundreds of fireflies. She stood for a moment and watched the flying beetles dance their magic like fairies on velvet and waited for her eyes to adjust. They never did.
She’d left the generator on to use the air conditioning inside and hadn’t realized how warm it still was at…what, two in the morning? She went back inside to fetch a flashlight. Dexter scurried past her legs and outside.
Surrounded by dead quiet, her feet crunched on the gravel as she illuminated a steady path. Was there an extra crunch? She stopped dead. Listened. Heard nothing but her pounding heart. D’Anne quickened her steps toward the back of the RV.
Dexter whined. When she was able to breathe normally she laughed at herself. Get a grip lady, you’re scaring the dog.
Feeling foolish and a bit gutsier, she headed for the storage bin on the far side of the rig. The key easily unlocked it and she lifted the panel without a sound, grateful she and Reese had opted for a slide out tray. She passed the flashlight across the large, dark compartment. Was that another crunch? She froze. D’Anne strained to listen, but heard nothing except a thick breeze rustling through the Sycamores. Dexter yipped. She twirled around and slung her light across the black night toward the camp road. The shadows consumed it, revealing next to nothing. Chill out. It’s okay. She gave Dexter a coast-is-clear look and returned to the task at hand. The travel-worn cooler sat way back in the corner. D’Anne climbed over the other boxes and bags to get to it. She heard Dexter exploring outside. Did he growl?
“You need some help?”
She screamed. Shot up. Bumped her head hard. Lights flashed in her eyes. Dexter barked. She shook her head, rubbed it and forced a look at the man behind her.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay, lady. I just thought you might need some help is all.”
A deep gravelly voice accompanied the stocky shadow standing behind her. She tried to recover her composure, but failed.
“You shouldn’t go sneaking up on people in the middle of the night.” She panned the light on him, illuminating his round, swarthy face. He blinked and reached for it. She jerked it back and held it behind her waist. “Who are you?”
“I’m Gerald, the campground security guard.”
D’Anne noticed a uniform-type shirt and some sort of a badge pinned to his pocket. She shined the light on it, studied it, then relaxed. “Well, you almost made me wet my pants, Gerald. Now, if you don’t mind…” As she turned to go back to work, her cell phone rang. “Oh.”
Gerald stayed put, watching her every move until she hung up.
“It’s time to get my boys.” “Your boys?”
“Yep. Four, full grown men.” She slammed the baggage door shut, clapped and wiped her hands, then turned to Gerald. “Gotta go.”
****
D’Anne made a wrong turn and wound up circling another block, wondering what happened to the Silver Spur Club. She called Tyler on his cell phone and got straightened out in no time. When she pulled up to the curb at 3:30 a.m., the guys were waiting in various stages of undress and intoxication.
Stripped down to a worn, yellow tee shirt, Bear demonstrated to no one in particular his hole-in-one golf swing, cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Fore!”
Ricky-Bob, nest of hair and all, hopped up from sitting on his bass amplifier. Shirt unbuttoned, vest still on, blue suede shoes in honor of the King. He waved D’Anne in like a flagman on a runway as he jumped in front of the RV. With a cigarette stuck to his lower lip, he used his hands to guide her forward—more, more, until he tripped on the curb and fell on his butt. Bear doubled over with laughter.
J.T., topless as usual, stood sequestered in the shadows of the adjacent storefront entrance. He leaned against the door with someone’s long, bare legs wrapped around him.
Tyler stood near the entrance to the club, cigarette in hand, looking as clean and crisp as when she’d dropped him off. Smoking? He knew the rule. So this is what it’s going to be like. She parked the mobile home and came out fighting.
Dexter ran to Tyler’s side. Tyler bent down to greet him.
“Rule number one: No smoking! Rule number five: No drunks allowed.” She clamped her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I don’t have a clue how you’re going to get back to the campground, because I am not stinking up my home with booze and smoke.”
Tyler dropped his cigarette butt on the sidewalk, crushed it with his boot and walked toward D’Anne with a lazy stride. “No one’s drunk. Just feeling good is all.”
She could smell scotch or whiskey or some such thing on his breath along with the tobacco. His eyes had lost the tense look from earlier. He seemed pleased with himself and dangerously appealing.
“Bear? Let’s get these amps loaded. Ricky-Bob? Put your cigarette out so Dee here won’t have a tizzy fit, and put the instruments inside. Hey.” He made a shrill tooth whistle. “J.T., say goodnight and load your drums in the car.” He looked at everyone but D’Anne. “Let’s go.”
Feeling dismissed and insulted, D’Anne folded her arms, stepped aside and stewed. She daydreamed about clanging pots and pans over his head once he fell asleep, or putting his hand in a pan of warm water. Maybe she’d charge him double for her chauffeur and cook services. She even considered asking him about the Viagra prescription in front of his band. She devised a dozen different get-even plans while waiting for the guys to load up until she heard Tyler.
“Come on. Get inside.” He shooed her up the steps right behind Dexter.
She jumped at his command without thinking.
“I told you, I won’t tolerate drunks in my RV,” she said.
“And I told you they’re not drunk…yet.”
“What about the cigarette smoke? You didn’t tell me you smoked, Tyler.”
“Sometimes I do, mostly I don’t.”
They stared each other down. She smelled spearmint on his breath.
“Ricky-Bob? Use some Binaca.” Tyler didn’t break from their standoff glare. “Take your shirts off, leave ’em in the car with the drums.”
“What?” They all protested.
Watching Tyler unbutton his shirt and strip it off, she felt a quick chill and tried not to look at his broad shoulders and chest.
“Put this in the car with the others.” He handed Bear his wadded up shirt, never losing eye contact with her.
Feeling titillated and sufficiently appeased, she turned and watched the band. The sight of Bear topless—man boobs, belly over pants—almost made her laugh. When Bear turned away she averted her eyes to avoid a major crack sighting from his low-slung pants.
She pivoted to enter the RV door. Tyler swatted her ass.
She gasped and shot him a deadly look.
“Satisfied?” Tyler winked and flashed the handsomest damned smile she had ever seen. It charmed and disarmed her, and left her thoroughly confused. “Now git.”
****
She drove to the campground without further protest, while they filled the cabin with bar fumes, yakking away. She eavesdropped when she could. Heard they had a great second set. Tight music. Hot sounds. Everyone in sync. She heard the owner changed his mind and signed them for a second night on Saturday, like the original plan. Maybe it would be more fun to go listen instead of wandering around in the dark waiting for the security guard to pop out from the bushes and scare her senseless again. Then she thought about second hand smoke and creepy drunks, and almost changed her mind.
She got them back without incident and parked in h
er spot. She put the over-sized window shade in place as the band filtered outside, heading for the camp bathroom about the same time a few fishermen were getting up.
She reached for the aerosol spray just before she heard Tyler at the RV entrance.
“Throw down the sleeping bags, will you, Dee?”
His figure covered the entire doorway. “Why?” She reached for the first one.
“The boys want to finish off a bottle, help ’em relax.” He studied her. “Rule number five, right Ms. City Slick?”
She glanced at him, still naked from the waist up, and suspected he was holding in his gut. She saw an exasperating look of self-satisfaction on his face. Damn, he’d caught her checking him out.
“That’s right, cowboy.” She threw the next sleeping bag as hard as she could.
He caught it like a pillow and tossed it out the door. “One more, please.”
D’Anne found another and tossed it to him. She counted up three in her head and wondered about a fourth.
He flipped the third one outside, but didn’t ask for another. Tyler stepped inside the RV, closed and latched the door.
“That just leaves you and me, Slick.”
Chapter Five
“You want to wash up first?” Tyler glanced toward the bathroom and beyond at D’Anne’s bedroom. The devil himself sparkled in his eyes. He stared her down like they were stranded on an island, the last two people in the world. What had gotten into him…booze? Was he coming on to her? Her knees threatened to buckle. She couldn’t remember the last time a strange man had looked her over so closely. If she didn’t know about the little blue pill, she might have been nervous. Maybe he was bluffing.
“Sure.” She played along. She went into her dresser drawer and picked out a flashy negligee, flung it over her shoulder so Tyler could see the ice-blue satin and lace, cast him a playful come-hither look and went inside. She usually slept in a baggy t-shirt and boxers. Two can play this game, cowboy.
She locked the door and blew out her breath. “Now what?” she whispered.
Tyler whistled a tune in the other room. She heard the bedsprings creak. He must have sat on the pullout bed. It sounded like he was yanking off his boots. The thought of him half naked, wearing a cowboy hat, and now barefoot, shot a thrill up her spine. She ran some cold water, splashed her face, and shivered.
“I’m old,” she whispered as she studied herself in the mirror. “He’s just playing with me.” Logic ruined the dizzy free-fall. It was fun while it lasted and D’Anne savored the last chill. She brushed her teeth, debated putting on night cream, then gathered up her belongings and peeked outside just as the lights went out.
****
Tyler pretended to be asleep when Dee stepped out from the bathroom. He knew he’d come on awfully strong, but he was teasing. Didn’t she know that? He saw her silhouette and a fine one it was—lush breasts and nice, straight shoulders. No extra baggage on the ribcage. He liked the size of Dee’s waist and womanly hips, liked the way she curved in and back out again. He hankered to trace it with his hands.
The bedroom light outlined her girlish legs through the delicate fabric. He wanted her to turn around so he could check out her ass. It felt good when he’d slapped it earlier.
She was a tad older than him. But hell, she still seemed full of life and had the face of a kid with sexy green eyes, pretty little mouth, and hair the color of mink. Sure, there were a few patches of gray, too, but he didn’t mind. It gave her character. And so did her laugh lines. He’d noticed she hadn’t done much laughing lately. Tyler wanted to make that change. He wanted to see her smiling and carrying on, just like one of the guys.
He’d always been a sucker for strays. Dogs. Women. Dee was lost and trying to find her way home. He knew he shouldn’t take advantage of her. Knew, in his heart, he wouldn’t.
Those romping-in-the-hay days seemed to be over for him, without planning ahead anyway. And even then, he could only get eight measly pills prescribed at a time. Shee-it. When was the last time he even used one? A month ago? Two…six?
Through the dark, Tyler saw Dee hesitate by her bedroom door. He thought about walking up behind her, cupping her breasts and kissing her neck. He took a deep breath, daydreamed about the way she’d feel and how she’d smell.
“You say something?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Huh?” He lifted his head. “Oh, no, Dee. Just yawning, ’bout ready to fall asleep.” He stretched the tension from his limbs and patted Dexter’s probing nose.
He watched one long, lovely arm reach up to rub her neck. Thought about how he’d like to put his hand on her nape, feel her soft skin, kiss her shoulders. Hell, he’d like to press himself flush against her. Squeeze her real close to his body. Feel her all over. Breathe in her special, sweet California girl scent.
His eyes widened. What was that, movement down below? Well, well. He broke into a grin.
“Good night, then,” she said.
He cleared his throat. “Sweet dreams, Slick.”
****
D’Anne had an awful time falling to sleep. The guys were just outside her bedroom wall passing a bottle and reminiscing about their lives, the gig and escapades with women. She heard them laugh, cuss, pass gas. She tried her best to hear what they were talking about in order to distract herself from thinking about Tyler in the next room, but failed. She also listened through the door for signs of life in the cabin.
He’d used the bathroom after her. Brushed his teeth and everything else men did before bed. She heard him plop onto the pullout mattress and wondered what it would be like to snuggle up to such a big man. An odd and surprising thought occurred to her—she envied Dexter on the sleeping arrangements.
How would Tyler’s large, rangy body feel next to hers? Okay, so he had a little pillow in the midsection, but it was barely noticeable. She didn’t exactly qualify for crunch queen either. Reese used to tell her there was just a little more of her to love after the kids.
Guilt crashed through her chest like a runaway train. What am I thinking? Only a widow for two months and I’m already fantasizing about another man. She rolled onto her side, facing away from the door, and prayed for morning.
****
“Dern it, Dee. What the hell time is it?” Tyler reached for his watch and squinted to read it. Dexter was curled up by his side in a tight prairie ball.
“Almost eleven. Hey, I’m just doing what I’m getting paid for.” She used a pan mitten to put blueberry muffins inside the oven. “If I waited any longer, we’d have to skip breakfast and move right on to lunch.” She sipped from her coffee mug and admitted to being glad she had someone to chat with other than a dog. Besides, Dexter lost interest and went back to bed when he’d discovered she wasn’t offering any snacks. “I bought all of this fruit and two dozen eggs…”
“Salsa?” He leaned back on his elbows, disheveled and sexy looking. Dexter sniffed his face. Tyler gently nudged him away.
“Salsa?”
He rubbed his face and yawned. “Yeah, salsa for the eggs.”
“Oh. Sure. But maybe you should go easy on the eggs.” She checked for a reaction out of the corner of her eye. He stared straight ahead, dazed. Irritated? “You know, cholesterol?”
He grunted, threw his legs over the side of the bed, away from her, and proceeded to scrub his face. She forced her eyes from his broad back and made up a reason to go outside. Dexter eagerly followed.
The band lay strewn across the campsite like dead Civil War soldiers on a re-enactment battlefield. D’Anne let the door slam behind her. No one moved. Dexter ran up to each one, probed and sniffed before heading for the nearest tree. Bear snored a deep inhalation and held it for eternity.
She wiped off the vinyl, red-checkered picnic tablecloth with a sponge, and set the covered fruit bowl down. Sticky and hot again, Memphis in late August felt even worse than Nashville.
She hoped Tyler had made his way to the bathroom or had at least dressed before she scrambled
the eggs. When she went back inside, she heard him washing up and felt relieved she didn’t have to see him half-naked again. D’Anne worked efficiently to whip things up before he came out. She decided to make a new pot of coffee, certain the strong aroma would lure the guys out of their comas. The eggs sizzled in the pan and the blueberry muffins smelled like heaven itself. Her mouth watered.
Tyler stepped out of the bathroom with a twinkle in his eye. “Mornin’, Dee.”
His smile, wide and handsome, once again took her by surprise. “Oh. Morning, Tyler.”
“Smells good.” He walked right up beside her in a black tee shirt and worn out jeans. His nearness made her nervous. He picked a clump of scrambled eggs from the pan and dropped it into his mouth. “That should about do it, right?” He talked around the hot mouthful and swallowed. “Do I get a muffin ration, or is it only fruit for me?”
She pouted at him and completed it by crossing her eyes, which made Tyler chuckle.
“Eat all you want, what do I care?” she said. “You’re the one making a comeback.”
He leaned against the counter and clicked his tongue. “You’re tough, lady.”
D’Anne removed the muffins from the oven and plopped them on a wire rack to cool. Tyler picked one up and played hot potato tossing it back and forth in his hands.
“Would you like some coffee?” She tried not to notice his bare feet, large and masculine like the rest of him.
“Please,” he said.
Sounds of life from outside filtered through the screen door.
“God almighty, did someone run over my head with a John Deere?” Bear’s distinctive voice broke up D’Anne and Tyler’s staring contest.
D’Anne smiled and reached for more mugs. “Where am I?” She heard J.T. ask in a raspy voice.
“Well, it sure ain’t Kansas, Tonto,” Bear said.
“That’s Toto, dipshit,” J.T. shot back.
From the door, D’Anne could see Bear sit up and scratch his ass…she quickly looked away.
Ricky-Bob’s head emerged from under his sleeping bag. “Weren’t yer name Little Wolf last night, J.T.?” He yawned. “Ain’t that what you told that gal? Hell, we should call you, Three Wolves.” He rubbed his face. “You get more ass than the rest of us combined.”
One for the Road Page 5