by Brenda Novak
She propped her chin on her fist and gazed at him. “It’s got to sell, Booker. My whole plan hinges on that money.”
“It’ll sell,” he promised.
But two more weeks passed without a single nibble, and she began to ask about it less and less. He knew it was because she couldn’t bear the answer.
After four weeks of watching Katie wring her hands, Booker had had enough. When she called him at the shop under the pretext of asking if he wanted chicken and broccoli casserole for dinner—when she knew he’d eat anything she made—he told her the Cadillac had sold. Then he had Chase follow him out to his place, where he hid the old car beneath some scrub brush in a gully about a half mile from the house, and went to the bank.
“YOU MEAN THEY paid full price?” Katie’s expression was one of stunned disbelief as she fanned out the stack of one-hundred-dollar bills Booker had just handed her.
The door slammed, and Delbert and Bruiser came in from playing in the soft swirls of snow that had started to fall earlier in the afternoon.
“Isn’t that how much you need?” Booker asked.
“It is,” she said. “I just can’t believe we got the whole three thousand. I was getting so scared.”
Delbert frowned as he glanced over Booker’s shoulder. “You sold the Cadillac?”
Booker cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
“When?”
“Today.”
Delbert scratched his head in confusion. “Was I there?”
Booker stretched his neck. “You were busy.”
“Oh.” His frown lingered as he tried to puzzle it out, but he didn’t question Booker. After a moment, he shrugged, led Bruiser over to his bowl and sat on the floor next to him while he ate. “Gee, you’re hungry, Bruiser, aren’t you, boy?”
Katie twirled around, oblivious to everything except the money. “And they paid you in cash,” she said. “After all this waiting, it happened just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Thank you, God!”
Not exactly God, Booker thought wryly. Most people pictured Booker T. Robinson with a pitchfork and tail. But he couldn’t help feeling pleased by her excitement. She’d studied so hard. Every night she rambled on about all sorts of Web-related things—whether she should actually get Dreamweaver software from MacroMedia or GoLive from Adobe, the beauty of flash graphics, which allowed such complex animations, writing HTML code. He didn’t understand half of what she said, but he liked seeing how animated she became when she talked about her business.
“Are you going to get your computer tomorrow?” he asked, crossing to the fridge.
“I’m not sure.” She counted out six hundred dollars and handed it to him. “This is yours for the repairs.”
Booker hesitated. He didn’t care about the money, knew she needed it more than he did. But she seemed so proud that she could pay him.
Taking the money, he shoved it in his pocket while she gathered the rest of the bills into a neat stack and put them safely in her purse.
“Boise is probably where I can get the best deal on a computer, at least around here,” she said. “But I don’t have a car anymore. I need someone to give me a ride.”
Someone? He heard the hint and glanced over his shoulder to find her smiling coyly at him. “Oh no,” he said. “Not me. I have to work. You can take the truck or Hatty’s car, if you want.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It isn’t any fun to go alone. I mean, this is sort of a celebration. And I might want another opinion.”
“I don’t know anything about computers.” He got out a glass and poured himself some milk.
“You can still help me.”
He scowled. “I have a business to run.”
“Can’t Chase take over for one day?”
Booker didn’t answer right away because letting Chase take over for such a short time was entirely feasible. She must have sensed this, since she immediately began to press him even harder.
“If I have any money left, I’ll buy you dinner.”
Shopping bored Booker to tears. He’d sooner stab a knife in his foot. But a night out could be fun. For some reason, the Honky Tonk and forward little Ashleigh didn’t hold the same appeal as they used to, which wasn’t a whole lot to begin with.
“It’s my turn to make a deal with you,” he said.
“What kind of deal?” She sounded justifiably leery.
“You forget about going to Hatcher. Start seeing a doctor who really knows what he’s doing when it comes to all the things that can go wrong in a pregnancy, and tomorrow I’ll drive you to as many stores as you want.”
“But Hatcher’s the only doctor close by. Boise’s too far for regular trips, don’t you think? And Boise doctors will probably be more expensive.”
“We’ll work it out.”
She sank her teeth into the soft flesh of her bottom lip. “I don’t know, Booker. I’ll feel too dependent….”
He leaned against the counter. “If you want me to go tomorrow, you’re going to have to trust me on this.”
“Why should I?”
“Because we’re friends, remember?”
“Friends?”
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Like me and Rebecca?”
She hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t sure their “friendship” was like his and Rebecca’s at all, but she supposed he was right about Hatcher. “Okay, we’ve got ourselves another deal.”
STEAM ROLLED OUT OF THE bathroom as Booker opened the door the following morning, his dark hair so wet it gleamed.
“What are you doing up so early?” Katie asked, surprised to bump into him at five-thirty.
“I’ve got to go in to work and get things ready for Chase,” he said. “I’ll take my bike. You can pick me up in the truck when you’re ready to go.”
She tried not to let her eyes drift lower than his freshly shaved chin. With only a towel wrapped around his lean hips and that scar on his face, not to mention the tattoos on his muscular arms, he looked like some kind of story-book pirate. A pirate with nice teeth. And one who smelled pretty good, too.
But Katie knew better than to let herself gawk. They seemed to have reached neutral ground. She wasn’t going to let her thoughts, or her eyes, drift in any direction that might jeopardize their tentative peace.
Think of him as no different from one of your girlfriends, she told herself. But he was simply too male to be anything like a girlfriend.
“I think it snowed all night,” she said. “Are you sure it’s safe to take the motorcycle? Why don’t you drive the truck, and I’ll bring Hatty’s car?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Stubborn and reckless. Just as she’d thought—too male. “Do you want me to bring Delbert into town with me?” she asked.
“Yeah, there’s no need to wake him this early.”
“He’ll probably be heartbroken that you left him. You’re his idol.”
“It doesn’t take much to be his idol,” he said, but he was smiling affectionately when he said it, which surprised Katie. Booker wasn’t really the type to care about someone like Delbert Dibbs, was he? He wasn’t the type to care about anybody.
Or maybe he just wasn’t the type to show it….
Now that she’d been away for a while, and grown up some, Katie felt she could read Booker a little better, although it was entirely possible that he was the one who’d changed.
“I gather his father wasn’t very good to him,” she said.
He grimaced. “Bernie Dibbs was a bastard, just like my old man.”
Booker had never talked much about his parents, but from the bits and pieces he’d said and town gossip, Katie knew they’d drunk to excess and fought something terrible while he was growing up. They’d separated and reunited so many times, he’d never known from one day to the next whether their marriage was going to last or whether he’d have a home with either one of them. Only Hatty had stood by him.
“Is your father still alive?” she asked.
&nbs
p; “Last I heard.” Turning back, he gathered the boxers he’d left on the bathroom floor, and Katie realized that if she’d been fifteen minutes earlier, she would’ve run into him in his underwear.
“Is he still with your mother?”
“No. They finally split last year.”
“Where do they each live?”
“I don’t care, so long as it’s not here.”
She wanted to ask more about his parents, but it seemed odd to be carrying on this conversation while he was standing in front of her almost naked. He didn’t seem to notice his state of undress, or feel concerned about it if he did, but Katie was having difficulty ignoring it.
“I’ll see you in a while, then,” she said and turned sideways to squeeze past him without touching, which wasn’t easy now that her stomach had grown. She wasn’t this careful to avoid inadvertent physical contact with her other friends. But none of her other friends looked quite so good in a towel.
“WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?” Katie asked as Booker pulled into the parking lot of a large shopping mall.
“We’re getting you some maternity clothes.” He glanced pointedly at her booted feet. “And maybe another pair of shoes.”
Katie was already exhausted. They’d spent the whole day visiting electronics stores, where she’d bought the software she’d decided on. When she’d educated herself on what kind of computer she might be able to buy new, she’d had Booker stop and purchase a local newspaper. Then they’d scoured the used market, trying to get more for her money. Driving house to house had taken time, but they’d come away with a fairly good computer, monitor, printer and scanner for only eleven hundred dollars.
Overall, Katie was incredibly pleased with her purchases, but satellite Internet service didn’t come cheap and, after purchasing the software as well as the computer and everything else, she had only three hundred dollars left, which she thought she should probably save for baby items.
“It’s almost April, so it’s going to warm up soon,” she told him. “I’ll buy some clothes when I get paid for my first Web site.”
“You can’t be comfortable in those tight jeans,” he said.
She wasn’t. Which was why she unbuttoned them every time she got into the truck. Evidently, he’d noticed. “I don’t have to button them. This sweater you lent me hangs low enough to cover the top of my pants, see?”
She regretted drawing his attention when his gaze ranged over her as though he was seeing her for the first time in a long while. She’d gone to Hair and Now and traded haircuts and manicures not four days earlier. But her hair and nails were definitely her only high points. She was bursting out of her clothes, including her bra, and her boots didn’t match what she was wearing. She’d been so attuned to fashion, it hurt to realize how far she’d fallen.
“You can only get by without new clothes for what, maybe another couple weeks?” he said. “You think you’ll be making money by then?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “It all depends on how much business I can drum up.”
“Well, I don’t see the point in waiting. I’ll lend you some money, if you need it.” He got out and waited for her to open her door before hitting the “lock” button on his key ring.
She stuck her head out so he’d be sure to hear her. “Do we really have to do this today?”
His expression conveyed his feelings on the matter.
“All right,” she grumbled, “but if I don’t have the money to buy you that dinner I promised, don’t blame me.”
The mall was crowded. Long lines of people waited to get in to the cinemas at one end, reminding Katie that it was Friday night—and that she hadn’t done anything fun in a really long time.
Booker stopped to check the store directory near the entrance. “See anything?” he asked as she peered at it with him.
“Anna James Designer Maternity looks like the only specialty store they have. But it sounds pricey. Maybe we should check the larger department stores.”
“Let’s see what Anna James has.”
They took the escalator to the second floor and walked the length of one wing until they found a narrow boutique filled with expensive but stylish maternity clothes. Katie riffled through the racks, looking for something she could afford, and found an attractive black wrap shirt with stretch bengaline pants. She held them up for Booker to consider. “What about this outfit?”
“Try it on,” he said.
While she was changing, she could hear Booker and the saleswoman talking as they found more clothes, which Booker kept delivering to her. Surprisingly enough, for a guy who wore mostly jeans and leather, he had better taste in women’s fashions than she ever would’ve guessed.
When she finished tying the wrap shirt over the bengaline pants, she examined her reflection in the mirror and decided they were quite flattering. Stepping out of the dressing room, she waved Booker over. “What do you think?”
The face she thought she was beginning to read quite easily suddenly became shuttered as he looked at her.
“You don’t like it,” she said.
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and leaned against the wall, chewing on his damn toothpick. “It’s nice,” he said indifferently.
Her ego could’ve used something better than nice. Or maybe “nice” with a little more enthusiasm would’ve worked. As it was, he made her feel like a woman who’d lost whatever looks she’d once possessed.
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she swallowed a sigh. “I’ll manage with what I have.”
She started back into the dressing room, but he caught her by the arm. “Buy it,” he said, and this time his voice, if not his words, held some kind of meaning. Their eyes met, and warmth spread through Katie, starting at the point where he held her arm.
“Your wife might like this.” The saleswoman came around the corner, holding an A-line skirt with a matching gray jacket, and Booker immediately let Katie go. Katie expected him to set the woman straight on the nature of their relationship, but he didn’t. Silently taking the clothes, he handed them to her, then went out to wait, sitting on one of the benches in front of the store.
KATIE GAZED AT THE BAGS of clothes and shoes piled in the chairs on either side of her at the food court. She’d tried to hold back, to save some of her money for later, but Booker had insisted she needed this and had better get that. Now she was the proud owner of two pairs of maternity pants, two blouses, a dress, a sweater, a pair of loafers, some maternity underwear, two giant-size bras—and only enough money to buy pizza.
A purple lingerie sack sat closest to her. She chuckled as she fingered the delicate ribbon handle, remembering Booker’s reaction to what was inside. He hadn’t been very impressed with her new underwear, which were plain white panties and looked as though a regular woman could pull them over her head. But he’d grinned in appreciation at the bras. Holding one up, he’d lazily slid the toothpick in his mouth over to one side, gazed directly at her chest, and said, “Are you sure this can handle the job?”
She’d slugged him in the arm so he wouldn’t know that his sultry look had made her heart race, and pretended to buy bras that were as utilitarian as her underwear. But when he wasn’t watching, she’d purchased the lacy ones he preferred, and thanked whatever kind soul had found it in her heart to design something in a large size that was actually a little flattering. Katie was finding it increasingly important to feel pretty once in a while.
Like now, she thought dully, frowning as a curvy blonde hopped into line behind Booker. Shapely and attractive, she had ankles that wouldn’t be swelling with water retention in the near future, and she was looking Booker over as though she might have him for dinner.
Of course she’d like what she saw. There wasn’t much about Booker not to like, at least physically.
Folding her arms on her stomach, Katie took a deep breath and willed away the sudden tension knotting her muscles. What was wrong with her? Booker was only a…a friend, for lack of
a better title. He had every right to flirt with or date whomever he pleased. But the thought of Booker making love to this Daisy Duke lookalike in the room next to hers stole Katie’s appetite. She hoped she wouldn’t be around if and when it came to that—
“Are you okay?”
Katie glanced up to see an old woman sitting at a nearby table, wearing an expression of concern.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“For a moment there, you looked so unhappy.”
Katie consciously replaced the glower on her face with her best stab at a smile. “It—it was just something I was thinking. I’m actually doing great. Better than great.” Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Daisy Duke open her purse and write down something that was apparently being dictated to her by Booker, and Katie felt her smile wilt. Getting up, she asked the kind lady sitting next to her to watch her packages, and marched over to them.
Booker raised his eyebrows when he saw her bearing down on them, and motioned to the left. “The rest rooms are that way, remember?”
She knew exactly where the rest rooms were. Much to his irritation, she’d been there several times already. “I don’t need to go right now,” she said. “I just…I came over to tell you that…” Her eyes slid to the blonde and she tried to ascertain whether Daisy was as pretty up close as she seemed from far away.
Katie was minimally relieved to discover that the woman had a rather big nose and slightly crooked teeth, but her hair was a beautiful honey color and her figure was quite stunning. Even up close.
“What?” Booker prompted, drawing Katie’s attention back to him.
“I’d like a salad with my pizza.”
“You just told me you didn’t want a salad.”
“That’s why I came over. I changed my mind.”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Is—is this your wife?” Daisy asked, glancing from one to the other.
Booker removed his toothpick. “I don’t have a wife. This is my…roommate.”
“And his good friend,” Katie added.
“I see. So you two aren’t…I mean you don’t—”
“No,” Booker said.