Daisy's Back in Town

by Rachel Gibson

  She burst into tears.

  Chapter 10

  No one had ever cried on Jack before. Not after sex, anyway. Hell, Daisy hadn’t even cried the night he’d taken her virginity.

  He tossed his T-shirt on the kitchen counter and glanced over at Daisy who stood across the room from him, her arms folded beneath her breasts, staring at her toes. He was reminded of the first night he’d seen her since she’d been back. She’d been wearing a yellow rain slicker then. Now she had on that stupid Winnie the Pooh dress, the one he’d helped her get back into a few moments ago.

  She’d thrown him a curve that was for sure. One second she’d been having a good time, moaning and scratching, and telling him she wanted more. In the next she’d burst into tears. What the hell had happened?

  He’d excused himself to get rid of the condom in the employee’s bathroom, and when he’d returned she’d been fighting to get her dress over her head. He was halfway convinced that if she’d been able to get her clothes on faster, she would have been long gone by now. Which might have been for the best.

  She’d been so agitated he had to help her with her dress when what he’d really wanted was to toss it in the garbage. He’d put her purse on her shoulder, and instead of sending her on her way, like he would have any other hysterical woman who’d burst into tears on him, he’d brought her into his house. Why, he did not know. Except maybe because he’d told her he’d let her talk after they’d had sex.

  Yeah, that was it, but now that his head was clear, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear anything she had to say. Unless it had something to do with her getting naked and climbing on top of him.

  He’d thought once they’d had sex, his desire for her would be sated. He’d be over it. He’d been wrong, and that bothered him because he didn’t want to think about what that might mean. He didn’t want to feel anything for her now. Not even lust.

  He reached inside the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk. Before his mind traveled any further in the direction of the bedroom, he stopped and reminded himself that she was upset and crying and that she was Daisy Monroe. Three very good reasons why he had to stand across the room from her and keep his hands to himself.

  “Before I apologize,” he said as he shut the door with his foot, “I need to know what I’m apologizing for.”

  She looked up at him. She had black smudges beneath her red eyes and her face was all splotchy. “You didn’t do anything, Jack.”

  He didn’t think he had either, but with women, you just never knew. If there wasn’t a problem, they’d invent one. “Do you want something to drink?” She shook her head and he raised the milk to his mouth and watched her over the bottom of the quart container. He lowered the milk and licked his top lip. Maybe he’d been too rough with her. He’d forgotten that she hadn’t had sex in awhile. “Did I hurt you?”

  She wiped her cheeks with her fingers. “No.”

  He set the milk on the counter and opened a cabinet. He filled a glass with ice and water then moved across the kitchen and handed it to her. His fingers brushed hers and he asked, “Why are you crying, Daisy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you do.” She looked like crap. Kind of scary, but for some reason, the only thing that scared him was how much he still wanted her. “Tell me, Daisy.”

  She took a long drink of her water then pressed the cool glass against her cheek. “It’s embarrassing.” As if to prove her point, her face turned red and kind of connected the splotchy parts.

  “Why don’t you just tell me anyway?” Instead of putting distance between her body and his like he should, he leaned a hip into the counter next to her and folded his arms over his bare chest.

  She glanced up at him out of the corners of her eyes then cut her gaze to the Elmo cookie jar on the counter. “Elmo?”

  “Billy’s girls gave it to me last Christmas, along with a bag of Oreos. Don’t change the subject.”

  Her gaze remained on the bright orange cookie jar and she took a deep breath. “I just forgot about sex for a while.” She shrugged. “And you reminded me.”

  “That’s it?” There had to be more.

  “Well, it was good sex.”

  “Daisy, it was better than good.” They’d gone at it like two starving people at an all-you-can-eat. All hands and mouths and insatiable hunger. Racing for satisfaction. She’d come harder than anyone he’d ever been with, squeezing an orgasm from him that he felt clear to the soles of his feet.

  It was a good thing she was leaving tomorrow. Because he could tell himself that he wouldn’t go after her again, but he’d probably be lying about that. “Saying it was good is like saying the Rio Grande is just a river. It’s a hell of an understatement.” He put his fingers to her jaw and lightly brought her gaze back to his. Her eyelashes were stuck together over her shiny brown eyes. He brushed his fingertips across her soft skin then dropped his hand. “Why has it been so long since you’ve had sex?”

  If it was possible, she turned even redder. “That’s really not your business.”

  “You haven’t had sex in two years, but you have it with me. I think that makes it my business.”

  She frowned and set her glass on the counter. Just when he thought she wasn’t going to answer, she said, “For about the last year and a half of his life, Steven couldn’t.”

  That surprised him. “And you didn’t go elsewhere?”

  “Of course not. What a horrible question.”

  He didn’t think he was out of line. Fifteen years ago, she’d been having sex with him but had married Steven. “Some women might have.”

  “Not me. I was always faithful to Steven.”

  “He’s been gone seven months.”

  “Almost eight now.”

  “Eight months is a long time to go without getting laid.”

  Her gaze slid from his to his mouth, down his throat and stopped on his chest. “Maybe for some people.”

  “No, most people.”

  She looked away. “You know that old saying, ‘If you don’t use it, you lose it.’ It’s true.”

  “You obviously haven’t lost it.”

  She grabbed her glass and he watched her move to the kitchen sink. She looked out the window into the backyard and took a long drink. She set the water back down and her hands grasped the counter. “I did for a while. When you live with someone who is dying, sex is not a high priority. Believe me. Your life becomes consumed with doctor’s appointments and trying new therapies. Figuring out the right medication to combat strokes and seizures and pain management.”

  He turned to gaze at her profile. He didn’t want to know any of this. He didn’t want to feel sorry for Steven, but he couldn’t seem to help but ask, “Was Steven in a lot of pain?”

  She shrugged. “He never liked to admit it, but I know that he was. I’d ask him and he’d just grab my hand and tell me not to worry about him.” She laughed without humor. “I pretended not to worry, and he pretended everything was okay. He was better at his part than I was.”

  “Steven was always better at pretending than either you or me.” For years he and Steven had pretended that Daisy was just a friend. A girl who was a buddy. Steven had been so much better at it than Jack.

  She nodded. “He pretended right up until the last day. The night he died, he slipped into a coma, at home.” She looked across her shoulder and her eyes met his across the distance. “Nathan and I watched him take his last breath. If you’ve ever seen something like that, it changes you. You get real clear about what’s important.” She swallowed hard and added, “About things you have to make right.”

  He stood very still as his stomach twisted into a knot. Daisy’s words affected him more than he would have thought. He hadn’t watched either of his parents die, and for that he was grateful. He had dark enough memories.

  “Did you know that coffins have springs in them?”

  “Yeah.” He and Billy had had to pick out two. At that time, he hadn’t
had enough money to afford much of anything. His parents had been buried without springs and fancy satin pillows. “I knew that.”

  “Oh. That’s right.” She looked back out the window. “I remember your parents’ funeral. You were so young to have such a horrible thing happen to you. I didn’t appreciate how horrible then. Not really. I do now.”

  Jack moved to stand behind her and he raised his hands to grasp her arms. But before he touched her, he thought better of it and dropped them to his sides.

  She took an envelope from a pocket in her ugly dress and set it next to the sink. “This is the letter from Steven. The one I told you about.”

  He really didn’t want to read it, and knew that made him all kinds of a bastard. But he really didn’t want to be reminded of the black hole of his past.

  “Steven and I never meant to hurt you, Jack. We were all such good friends, and it never should have ended between us the way it did. We were so young and stupid. The night we came to you was one of the worst nights of my life.” She paused a moment and said just above a whisper, “You were wearing a white T-shirt that night too.”

  Yes, they’d been standing in the moonlight. He’d been pleading with her not to leave him. He’d beaten the hell out of his best buddy, and now his best buddy was dead. Something in Jack had died that night too. For some reason, hearing about it this morning, made it more real then it had been in years. Brought it all back to life. Made the places in his soul burn. “Stop it, Daisy.” He grabbed her arms below the sleeves of her T-shirt. “Don’t say any more.”

  “I have to, Jack.” She looked up over her shoulder into his face. “When you told me that we needed time away from each other, I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. You have to understand how scared and—” He lifted her chin as his mouth swooped down on hers, silencing her with a hard kiss. He pulled her back against his bare chest and wrapped his arm around her stomach. He did not want to hear anything; he just wanted to feel. Feel her pressed against the length of him. Naked. He wanted more mind-numbing sex again and again until he finally got her out of his system. Out of his head.

  At first she stood stiff in his arms, her lips pressed together but when he softened the kiss, her lips parted. A silent invitation to take what he wanted.

  The telephone rang and he let it. It rang as his tongue entered her mouth, and she tasted as she had before, on the trunk of the Custom Lancer. Warm and sweet like Daisy. She tasted of things long forgotten. Of soft skin and need and lust and a love that had ripped his heart out.

  He pushed the memories from his head as he slid one hand to her right breast. The phone continued to ring as he cupped between her legs through the heavy denim. “Daisy,” he spoke to the side of her head and breathed deep the scent of her hair. “Come to my bed and let me remind you about sex again.”

  The ringing stopped but instantly started again. Daisy slid out of his grasp and moved across the kitchen. “That might be important,” she said.

  He had a pretty good idea who it was. Buddy Calhoun was supposed to come by and pick up a Corvair Monza sitting in the shop and take it to his garage in Lubbock. Buddy was the best body man in the state, and one of the few restorers Jack trusted to take a vehicle out of his shop. But his timing sucked. Instead of pursuing Daisy, he walked to the telephone, his boot heels an angry thud against the old linoleum floor. “This better be good,” he said into the receiver.

  “Hello,” a female voice spoke, “this is Louella Brooks. Is Daisy there?”

  He glanced back at Daisy. “Oh, hello Mrs. Brooks. Yeah, she’s right here.”

  Daisy walked across the kitchen and took the phone from him. “Hello?” She looked up at him and frowned. “What? What happened? Is she okay?” Her brows lifted almost to her hairline. “Good. Where’s Pippen?” Daisy covered the side of her face with her hand. “Thank God.” There was a pause and then she said, “Okay. I’m on my way.” She hung up the telephone and turned to Jack.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “My sister has officially lost her mind. That’s what’s the matter,” she said as she moved to the counter and picked up her purse.

  He ignored the ache between his legs as he reached for his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. “Is Lily okay?”

  “No, she’s a nut. What did she and mother do before I came to visit?” she asked, distracted as she shoved her hand inside her purse and pulled out a set of keys. “Run around acting weird and delusional? What are they going to do once I go back home?” She walked from the kitchen and through the living room. “Good gravy, I have my act together more than either of those women. Now, how darn scary is that?”

  He didn’t answer because he pretty much figured it was a rhetorical question and he didn’t want to upset her more.

  Through the screen door, he watched her jump in her mother’s car and drive away. A glimpse of the Caddy’s taillights and whine of the steering linkage as she pulled around to the street, was the last he expected to see or hear of Daisy Monroe.

  Jack walked back through the empty house to the kitchen. He returned the milk to the refrigerator, and his gaze fell on the white envelope she’d left behind. Steven’s letter. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. His name was written in all capital letters in blue ink on the front.

  He opened a cupboard door and stuck the envelope between two coffee mugs. He’d read it someday. But not now. Not when the memory of Daisy, naked on the back of the Custom Lancer was still so fresh in his head. Not when the taste of Steven’s wife was still in his mouth.

  Since she’d been back, he’d wondered if being with Daisy would be as good as he remembered. The answer was that it was better. Better in some way he didn’t even try to define. He just knew that being with her was different. It was more than just sex. More than the pleasure he usually found being with a woman. More than a quickie on the trunk of a car.

  It wasn’t love. He knew for a fact that he wasn’t in love with Daisy Lee. He might talk slow, but he wasn’t stupid. And loving Daisy was just plain stupid. He didn’t know why being with her felt different, but he didn’t want to know either. He wasn’t the kind of guy who dissected his life and looked for hidden meaning. No, he was the kind of guy who pushed it down deep until it went away. All he knew for certain was that sex with her was better than any he’d had in a long time, and it was a good thing that she was leaving so he could return to his life. His life before she’d blown into town and reminded him of things that were better left forgotten.

  She was gone now, and there was no reason why he should think of her again.

  No reason at all.

  A black-and-white tow truck pulled up to Ronnie’s house as Daisy and Louella drove past on their way to the hospital. It was only a few blocks out of their way on Locust Grove, and they had to see the destruction for themselves.

  Ronnie’s little house was beige stucco and someone had nailed a longhorn skull over the front door. His yard consisted of stubby brown weeds, and it would have been a drab scene if not for Lily’s Red Ford Taurus sticking half out the front room.

  “Was Ronnie home?” Daisy asked as she floored the Caddy and sped on. She figured all the cops standing around were too busy gawking at Lily’s Taurus to take notice of a speeder.

  “I don’t think so, but we won’t know for sure until we get to the hospital.”

  Daisy hated hospitals. No matter the city or state, they all smelled and felt the same. Sterile and cold. She’d spent enough time in them with Steven to know that they dispensed a lot of medication and advice, but rarely good news.

  She and her mother walked through the small hospital’s emergency room doors and, after a few moments, were taken to Lily. Pippen was at home with Louella’s next-door neighbor, and it was a good thing he wasn’t with them. The second the nurse pushed back the green-and-blue striped curtain separating the beds, Louella burst into tears.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” Daisy said, suddenly feeling like the only sane person in a family t
hat had lost its collective mind. She took her mother’s hand and held tight. “Lily’s going to be okay.”

  But Lily didn’t look okay. The left side of her face was swelling and there was a gash on her forehead. Blood caked her blond hair and the corners of her closed eyes. Some sort of bandaging immobilized her left arm, thick and very white, except where bright red blood seeped through. There was an IV in her right forearm, which wasn’t bandaged, and her clothes had been cut off. A young male doctor in green scrubs lifted the sheet to listen to her heart and lungs. He looked up at them through wire-framed glasses.

  Louella moved to the head of the bed and Daisy went with her. “Lily Belle. Momma’s here. Daisy too.”

  Lily didn’t respond and Daisy reached out to touch the side of her face that wasn’t swollen. Her sister looked deadly pale, and if it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of her chest, Daisy would have thought she really was dead. It was too much in an already emotionally charged day, and like the flip of a switch, Daisy’s autopilot kicked in, and she felt herself go numb inside.

  “What’s the matter with her?” Louella asked.

  “All we know so far,” the young doctor answered, “is she has lacerations to her left arm and forehead and her ankle looks to be fractured. We won’t know anything more until we get her CT scans.”

  “Why isn’t she awake?”

  “She took a pretty nasty hit to her forehead. I don’t believe her skull is fractured and her pupils are responsive. We’ll know more after we get a look at her X-rays.”

  “Was there anyone else hurt in the accident?” Daisy asked, praying Lily hadn’t mowed down Ronnie and Kelly.

  “She was the only one transported from the scene.”

  Which told Daisy nothing. Ronnie and Kelly could have been treated at the scene or, God forbid, dead. She hadn’t seen Ronnie, but she hadn’t been looking.