Sin

by Violetta Rand

  “Ma’am.”

  He called me ma’am. My skin tingles. “Cowboy.” I throw him my best flirty smile.

  He offers me the rose.

  I accept it, twirling it under my nose.

  “Did the waitress give you my message?” he asks.

  “Which one?”

  “The only one.”

  “Don’t think I can remember that far back.” I meet his stark blue gaze.

  He angles toward me. “I can’t keep my eyes off you.”

  His words practically liquefy me.

  “I want to touch you,” he says. “Right here.” His featherlight fingers skim across the exposed part of my stomach. “And here.” He tickles my arm.

  Total booty call. But I need the distraction.

  “Wanna dance?” he asks.

  Desire joins us. She gazes at me first, then the cowboy. “Don’t,” she says in my ear. “Find someone else to dance with.”

  “Why?” He’s hot and I’m game.

  “That’s Dale MacRae,” she explains. “Rodeo-star male whore.”

  “Perfect.” I grip his hand, dragging him to the dance floor.

  “Hold up, darlin’.” He takes control, gently pulling me aside. “What’s the rush?”

  “I like the song.”

  “Don’t I deserve the pleasure of knowing your name?”

  “Macey.”

  “You’re awful skittish, Macey.” He smiles. “I’m Dale MacRae.”

  We shake hands. When Blake Shelton comes on, he transforms from sexy cowboy to a two-stepping god. He twirls me around, our feet shuffling in perfect sync, then he spins me again and we take over the floor, couples moving aside. It lasts for three songs; then Garth Brooks comes on and Dale pulls me into his chest, both hands firmly planted on my ass. All cowboy. I close my eyes, breathing in his clean scent, losing myself in the music. One minute I’m enveloped by his hard body; the next, he’s gone.

  I open my eyes. Joshua.

  “Back off, asshole,” he fumes.

  “Macey?” Dale stares at me.

  I hold my hand up, hoping he’ll wait for an explanation. I gaze at my ex. “What are you doing here, Joshua?”

  “I’m wondering the same fucking thing. But since we’ve been serendipitously reunited, I suggest you ask your friend to leave. Now.”

  Total flashback to Wesley. “We’re finished, Joshua. Find someone else to harass.”

  “I don’t think so.” He captures my elbow. “Let’s go.”

  “You heard the lady…” Dale gives him a double-palmed shove.

  I cringe because I know what’s coming next. Joshua is three inches taller and probably outweighs him by thirty pounds. He draws back his fist, landing a crushing blow to Dale’s nose. Blood sprays everywhere.

  “Joshua!”

  He tackles Dale, squatting over him, landing punch after punch. I rush forward, grabbing two handfuls of his shirt from behind. “Stop, Joshua. You’ll kill him.”

  Seconds later, two bouncers swoop in and yank Joshua off him. I cover my face, suddenly sober and very pissed off. Dale is out cold.

  “Someone call 911!” I yell.

  “You…” A third bouncer takes me by the arm. “Time to go, darlin’.”

  “But—but what about Dale?”

  “MacRae?” The doorman glimpses over his shoulder. “That son of a bitch fights every night when he’s in town. He’s fine.”

  I’m dragged away from the dance floor. “Hey—what did I do?”

  “You’re Camden’s girl, right?”

  “No.”

  He laughs, manhandling me all the way to the front door. “Feisty little thing.” He opens it for me. “Outside.”

  “Why? I didn’t start that fight.”

  “Yes you did,” Joshua says.

  I look up. He’s leaning against his Porsche, looking arrogant as ever and holding my red purse. “Thanks, Chuck.”

  “Chuck?” I growl. “You’re on a first-name basis with the bouncers at Roper’s?”

  I watch in utter horror as my ex and Chuckie fist-bump. “Keep it real,” the bouncer says, walking inside.

  “Unbelievable.”

  “You set yourself up,” Joshua says.

  “How? I’m here with Desire, having a great time.”

  “You’re drunk and acting stupid.”

  “Dancing.”

  “Two fistfuls of ass isn’t dancing.”

  “Maybe I liked it.”

  “Shut up, Macey. Get in the car.”

  “No. I’ll freaking walk.” I spin on my heels and head into the dimly lit parking lot.

  I hear his car start, then he races past me, coming to a screeching halt a few feet in front of me. He jumps out. “Get. In. My. Car.”

  “Fuck off, Camden.”

  “Macey.”

  “You don’t get to make choices for me. Only I do. Even if they’re wrong.”

  “You’re not walking home in the dark.”

  “Fine.” I stomp my foot. “Give me my purse so I can call a cab.”

  He reaches inside his car, then tosses my purse to me. I dig out my phone and call Marty. “Happy?” I ask Joshua after I disconnect.

  “Did you honestly think I’d let you go by yourself?”

  “I don’t know what to think about you anymore. Going psycho on Dale. You broke his nose. What if he presses charges? Prepared to do some hard time in county for assault? And how do you know Chuckie?”

  “He’s not going to press charges. Fights break out all the time—part of the cowboy culture, baby. You know that. As for Chuck, we went to A&M together. He’s a frat brother.”

  I roll my eyes. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “There are people looking out for you.”

  “Spies?”

  “No. Friends.”

  “Why? You broke up with me. Just leave me alone.”

  “Can’t do it.”

  “You hate me.”

  He steps closer. “Hate you?” His husky voice slices through me. “Are you that drunk?”

  “Just buzzed.”

  “We may not be a couple anymore, Macey. But I’ll always look out for you.”

  “I don’t need a father. Had one of those already—hated the son of a bitch, remember?”

  The cab pulls up.

  Joshua opens the door for me, then rests his hands on the roof. “Nothing else to say?”

  “Sure.” I hop in, flip him off, then slam the door.

  —

  I watch the cab sail down Everhart Road. I haven’t seen her beautiful face in a week. And it’s not easy letting her drive off. Desire called me this afternoon and asked me to meet her at Roper’s. When I asked why, she said some of the girls wanted Macey and me to get back together. As laughable as the proposition was, I agreed to go. Big mistake. I arrived early, grabbing a seat at the bar. Once Macey showed up, I watched her, hoping she’d find me. When the cowboy started buying her drinks, I knew something bad was going to happen.

  I’ve always been protective, but Macey awakened feelings inside me I’ve never experienced before. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to accept her dating another guy. When I saw Dale with his hands all over her, I lost it, animal instinct taking over. I return to my car, wondering if I should go to work or home. Then my cell rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Camden, don’t hang up.”

  It’s Bishop. I didn’t recognize the number. “Make it quick.”

  “I think you’d better come home.”

  “Why?” I don’t trust the bastard.

  “It’s too complicated to discuss over the phone. Just get over here, please.”

  “Be there in ten minutes.”

  When I get there, Bishop’s front door is ajar. I knock and poke my head inside. “Bishop?”

  “In the kitchen,” he calls.

  I walk inside and shut the door. “This better be good,” I say, leaning against a counter. His briefcase is open, papers everywhere. And there are two
pill bottles open. “What’s the problem?”

  “How long have you known Julia?”

  I immediately square my shoulders. “That’s why you called me? You want to discuss my ex-girlfriend?”

  “From a medical perspective, yes.”

  “Since childhood.”

  “Has she ever suffered from mental illness?”

  “No,” I say, growing impatient. “She’s a licensed clinical psychologist, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I’m fully aware of her professional credentials, Camden. Remember, I helped her land her current position.”

  “Where’s this all going?”

  “I think she stole my sleeping pills and a prescription pad from my briefcase after you left on Valentine’s Day.”

  I won’t insult Julia’s intelligence by listening to any more of this shit. “She might be a bitch, Singletary, but she’s no thief.”

  “She’s self-medicating.”

  “What?”

  “She smokes pot.”

  I laugh. “So does half the country.”

  “Not for pleasure, Camden. She drinks excessively, smokes pot, and I’ve seen her pop pills occasionally.”

  “I think this is a conversation you should have with her. Not me.”

  “There’s more to it.”

  I sigh. “All right.”

  “My prescription for Ambien is six pills short. I refill it every month on the same date.”

  “Maybe the pharmacy screwed up.”

  “Nope,” he says. “Controlled substance, they do triple counts. I’ve puzzled over what happened on Valentine’s Day all week. And I keep drawing the same conclusion. But before I elaborate on that, there’s something else you need to know first.”

  I crack my knuckles, still high on adrenaline from the fight.

  “Macey Taylor loves you.”

  My hackles go up. I don’t like him talking about Macey. “None of your fucking business.”

  “It is,” he disagrees. “When I’m the one comforting her nearly every night.”

  I let out a frustrated growl, ready to pound him.

  “Chill,” he says. “Purely platonic. Believe me, I’ve tried everything to convince her otherwise. And when you hear the rest of what I have to say, I hope you’ll come to your senses and make amends with her. If you don’t, I’ll marry her myself.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m losing patience.”

  “Don’t think you ever had any, Camden. I believe Julia drugged Macey and me so she could stage us in a compromising position to break you and Macey up. All the symptoms Macey displayed the morning after are textbook. Confusion, delirium, palpitations, headache, shortness of breath, exhaustion…”

  “Delirium?”

  “She jumped the partition between our balconies and beat her fists bloody on your goddamned glass doors.”

  Fuck. I comb my fingers through my hair, anger and regret building. What if he’s right? I still have my suspicions about his theory. “What took you so goddamned long to call? Do you know what I’ve been through? What Macey is going through? And if this whole crazy theory of yours is true, how did Julia manage to get the two of you on the couch? Didn’t you suspect anything?”

  “The three of us split two more bottles of wine after you left and watched a movie together. Macey was sitting between us. Add some drugs to the mix, and we’d never know. After we woke up, I had my suspicions—I just needed time to prove it.”

  “Enough.” I don’t ever want to remember what I saw that night. “Where’s Julia now?”

  “In Kingsville.”

  “I’ll drive there tonight and bring her back tomorrow morning.”

  “Good,” he says. “You understand she’s clinically depressed. As a psychologist and because she’s self-medicating, there may be no visible expressions of her disease. If I file a complaint, she’s facing criminal charges and could lose her professional license. I’m offering an ultimatum. If she agrees to check herself into a long-term rehabilitation facility I won’t file charges or petition the medical board.”

  “There’s no way she’ll agree to come with me if she thinks we suspect her of anything.”

  “Just get her to my house, Camden.” He stresses his words. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

  I don’t know what to say. After years of fierce rivalry and hatred, I extend my hand. He may have just given me a second chance with the girl I love. We shake. I’m grateful, but it doesn’t erase our past. I’ll deal with Bishop after I get Julia. She’s the real danger here. If she’s high, God only knows what she’s capable of.

  “Want me to call Macey?” he asks.

  “No, that’s my responsibility.” I need time to think. Time to formulate how I’m going to apologize for accusing her of cheating and the way I treated her after. I never gave her a chance to explain. I saw what I wanted to see, too blinded by anger and jealousy. Julia—she always knew how to get inside my head and piss me off. I’m the asshole here, so there’s likely going to be some crawling and groveling involved to get Macey back. Why did I ever doubt her?

  Chapter 25

  After Marty dropped me off, I ran inside, desperate to put on my soft pajama pants and favorite T-shirt, and devour a pint of Häagen-Dazs Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. I’m lounging in the pool room, watching a rerun of a classic game between the Dallas Cowboys and Philadelphia Eagles. Rivalry. I love watching men tackle each other, run into the end zone, and smack each other’s asses—the form-fitting uniforms are my favorite part. Now I’m doing what Joshua and Dale did to me tonight, objectifying men for my own pleasure.

  I sigh, spooning another chunk of ice cream into my mouth. I know Joshua cares. But there’s no excuse for the way he’s treated me. Or for his violence. I keep picturing Dale’s handsome face. Not anymore—the narrow bridge of his nose will likely end up having a bump on it. And I never got to kiss my cowboy. I’m single. Entitled to hook up with someone if I want to. Entitled to get over Joshua.

  Scraping the bottom of the ice-cream container with my spoon, I lick it clean and an idea pops into my head: my caterer’s offer. Renee has been hounding me to invest in her company. Now that I’m in between jobs and there’s no way I’m going back to the Devil’s Den while Joshua and I are on bad terms, maybe it’s time to take a chance. I’ve studied Renee’s three-year-growth proposal, even consulted my personal broker. He thinks it’s a sound investment. Her client list is growing. Corpus is in the middle of an oil and gas boom. New houses and businesses are being built and opened every day. All the positive signs are there, and I’d retain full partnership rights, especially if I open a bridal or fashion consulting office.

  I pick up the house phone and dial Renee. She’s a night owl, too.

  “Macey?”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “N-no. Just watching a movie. No work tonight?”

  “I quit.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “For what? To partner up?” Her voice goes up an octave and I smile. “That’s wonderful news. You won’t regret it. Same terms we discussed six months ago,” she offers. “Shall we meet in my office on Monday? Noonish?”

  “Perfect,” I say. “Looking forward to it.” I hang up.

  I stare at the big screen again, only to see an Eagles wide receiver run into the end zone. “Shit, tackle him!” I scream at the television as if I can change history. “You guys suck.” I click the remote and the TV blacks out.

  I pad to the kitchen and sit down, ready to review more properties. I’m always concerned about long-term financial planning. After growing up with little to no security, never knowing when my father was going to pop in and pay the bills, I chose early on to never let that happen to me again. I believe in enjoying life, but if things are tight, you adapt and live within your means. Although I love this estate, it’s likely time to move on.

  My cell rings and I fish it out of my pocket. “How’s it going, Bishop?”

  “Did
you have fun at Roper’s?”

  “If you call Joshua kicking the crap out of a cowboy I was dancing with fun, yeah.”

  “He what?”

  “Broke Dale MacRae’s nose.”

  “The rodeo star?”

  I snicker. “You know who he is?”

  “Everyone does.”

  “Great,” I say. “I thought he was just another nameless cowboy.”

  “He’s a notorious womanizer—the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. Why’d Camden go rogue?”

  I don’t want to say.

  “Macey?”

  “Garth Brooks.”

  “You’re blaming Garth Brooks?” He laughs.

  “Remember that song from his debut album, ‘The Dance’?”

  “Beautiful song.”

  “Sure is. Inspired my cowboy to hold my ass.”

  “I’m siding with Joshua on this one,” he states. “I’d have broken the bastard’s hands.”

  Did the good doc just express displeasure? “I’m impressed, Doc.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I believe you just broke the mold—you got angry.”

  He chuckles. “Just wanted to make sure everything was okay before I went to bed. Listen, Macey, things are going to work out.”

  “Sure doesn’t feel that way.”

  “Have a little faith.”

  I click my tongue. “Coming from the atheist.”

  “All right,” he says. “Good night.”

  “Night,” I say, smiling.

  I return my attention to the real estate site, clicking on a few properties and gazing at some pictures. Then the perfect house pops up. Close to my current neighborhood, on Louisiana Avenue, it’s a charming bungalow built in the 1930s. I grab a pen and paper and jot down the details. It’s been completely upgraded and is priced to sell at $199,900. I slowly review the twenty-eight pictures, salivating over the hardwood floors, brand-new appliances, gorgeous bathrooms, and a fenced backyard that looks big enough to accommodate an in-ground pool. Wow. I’m in love. By the time I finish, it’s one in the morning and I’m freaking tired. I log off and head to the living room.

  I turn on the television, curl up on the couch, and fall asleep to a black-and-white film on AMC.

  —

  I pack an overnight bag and put Simon in his kennel. It didn’t take long for me to figure out Bishop was telling the truth. And now that I’ve had adequate time to reconsider what happened on Valentine’s Day, more specifically, what I saw, I know I made a monumental mistake. Goddamn, I’m an idiot. My strings are all tangled up. I’m a jealous fool. I let Julia’s sins cloud my vision. And now I’m separated from the woman I want. Like a blow to the head, clarity hits me in a split second.