Shut Up and Kiss Me

by Christie Craig

  “I care!”

  “Until that plays its course,” she muttered. “Until the newness wears off the sex.” She closed her eyes and felt used. Everything they had shared now looked different. Tainted. She breathed around the huge empty hole in her chest. “Well, it’s played its course.”

  “No, it hasn’t. Damn it! I didn’t mean…I don’t…”

  Sitting straighter, she faced him. She was done arguing. She was done, period. They were done. “Take me to my car. Wait—just take me back to Lucas’s house, and he can take me.” She bit down on her lip and refused to cry. “I need to get my things.”

  “It’s late. You can’t drive back to Hous—”

  “I’m not. I’ll rent a room at the hotel.”

  He stared out the windshield. “The hotel is still closed because of Jessie.”

  Her mind raced. “Then I’ll drive to the closest town and—”

  “Damn it, stay at Lucas’s tonight. I’ll get your car in the morning and…” He stared at her. “If you don’t want me sleeping with you, I won’t.”

  Logic said he was right about driving tonight, and no matter how hurt she was, she needed to keep her head. Logic was the key to survival, and she would survive this gaping pain. Look what she’d survived before. Sky Gomez was nothing compared to her past losses. Besides, she didn’t even love him, not really. Not yet.

  So explain why it hurt so much.

  She looked away and felt her first tear—one of many, she was afraid—slip down her cheek. “Fine, I’ll leave in the morning. But you’re right, I don’t want you sleeping with me.”

  Jose stared at the computer screen, at the “buy now” button that would give him his ticket back to New York.

  He’d never planned to stay this long. He’d had three weeks of vacation and called after that first day and put in for it. Never mind that he’d worked these last few days. Hell, he enjoyed his work. He enjoyed living in New York, so why the heck was he hanging out here? He’d accepted that he and Maria were over. He hated admitting it, but what she’d said about their relationship was true. She’d been the one thing in Precious that he felt connected to.

  The thought that she had carried his child—lost his child—stuck to his heart like gum to a shoe on a hot day. He tried not to think about it, but it wouldn’t go away. While he couldn’t exactly name the emotion running through him, it felt a lot like grief, the same pain he’d felt when his mom died.

  Thinking about his mom made him realize how little time he might have left with his dad. Which brought him back to why he hadn’t left yet. Jose couldn’t see moving back to Precious, but he suspected the physical distance wasn’t truly what bothered him about their relationship.

  Closing the screen without buying the ticket, he walked into the living room. Redfoot wasn’t there. His dad was sitting at the dining-room table, the same place Jose had left him over an hour ago, and so Jose walked into the dining room and sat down across from him, unsure what to say but knowing they had to talk.

  Redfoot cleared his throat. “You are so much like your mom.”

  “Am I?” Jose asked. “I always thought she was prettier.”

  His old man ignored his attempt at humor. “She had big dreams. More dreams than could fill one life.” Redfoot paused, and his voice shook a little. “I was damn lucky she decided that I was part of her dream. I sometimes wonder if she regretted it. She could have been so much more if she’d left Precious.”

  Jose’s heart clutched. “Mom loved you and this town.”

  “I hope so,” Redfoot replied. “But you do not?”

  Jose considered. “I don’t hate it—not always,” he confessed. “I love the people here. I love the memories. But I’ve never felt as if I fit.”

  Redfoot nodded. “Maria reminded me last night of the story your mother used to tell. Of how our parents were totally against our getting married.”

  “I remember,” Jose said. “Mom said you guys met by the creek and eloped.”

  “Your mother, she was my destiny then. We were right to rebel against our parents.” Redfoot paused. “And you are right to make your dreams come true. I’m sorry that I have made you feel as if they are not important. Your destiny is your own, Jose. I can only ask that you come back often and share your dreams with me as your mom did.”

  Emotion tightened Jose’s chest. “I will. And you’ll visit me in New York, too.”

  “Yes,” his father agreed, “I will visit often.”

  Both men stood. “Son,” Redfoot said. “Your mom would be so proud of you. As am I.”

  Air froze in Jose’s lungs. “Thank you,” he finally said. Turning to walk away, at the last minute he changed his mind. “I feel as if I should hug you.”

  “We are not huggers,” Redfoot said, laughing.

  “Maybe I am.” Returning, Jose embraced him. “I love you, Dad.”

  Redfoot hugged him back. “I love you, too, son. I love you, too.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Sky sat on Lucas’s porch—the same spot he’d sat all night before Shala found him and doused him with milk—hoping like hell he could find the words to stop her from leaving. To stop her from being so damn angry. After several hours, he still hadn’t found them.

  He stared at her car. It was parked out front; Lucas had gotten up at the crack of dawn and driven Sky to the hotel to pick it up. All Sky could think about was being forced to watch Shala leave.

  The door opened. Sky’s heart jumped into his throat. He shot to his feet, thinking it was her. Lucas stepped outside and handed him a cup of coffee.

  “Thanks,” Sky said. When Lucas didn’t look away, he shrugged. “Go ahead and say it.”

  “Say what?” Lucas asked.

  “Whatever is on your mind. You’re gritting your teeth to keep it in.”

  Lucas nodded. “You’re an idiot if you let her leave.”

  “Fine. Now all you have to do is tell me how to stop her.”

  Lucas sighed. “If you don’t know, you’re more of an idiot than I suspected.” He walked back inside.

  Thirty minutes later, Shala came out. She didn’t meet his gaze, but that didn’t stop him from noticing the dark circles under her eyes.

  “Are you sure you’re up to driving?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” She stepped off the porch.

  He followed. “Your camera and things from the hotel are in the car.”

  “Thanks.” She didn’t sound very grateful.

  “I’ll call you,” he said, having no other words.

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”

  She got into her car and drove off. He held his breath, praying she’d stop, turn around, and come running back into his arms. He remembered the line of a country-western song that said, “I’d have been happy for a slowdown.” He’d never realized how powerful that line was. When Shala left, she hadn’t slowed down. She hadn’t glanced back. She’d simply driven away as if leaving didn’t hurt at all.

  Three days after leaving Precious, Shala sat at her brother’s kitchen table. Beth, her sister-in-law, was pouring a round of decaf coffee. Shala had arrived that afternoon, calling from LAX to tell them she’d arrived. They’d been a little surprised. She’d spent four glorious hours playing board games and computer games with her nephew and niece, and she’d had a blast. Five minutes after the children were down for the night, she booked the six A.M. flight back to Texas. She suspected explaining her unexpected and very short trip might be difficult.

  Beth set the cups down and dropped into a chair. Cory said, “Okay, sis, don’t you think it’s time you come clean?”

  “Clean?” she echoed.

  “What’s up? If it’s money, I can help out some.”

  “No.” Shala shook her head. “I don’t need—”

  “You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asked.

  “No!”

  “Oh, shit, you didn’t kill your ex-husband like you threatened, did you?” Beth asked.

&nb
sp; “No!” And just like that, the tears started flowing. “I just needed to see you guys, to have family around me.” She’d spent the last three days crying about Sky and his family and feeling sorry for herself because she had no one. Then it hit her that the reason she didn’t have anyone was because she’d put up barriers. Her family’s standoffishness was a status quo that Shala herself had mandated.

  She wiped her cheeks, and her breaths were short. “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s wrong, sis?” Cory leaned in, concern etching his brow. That only made her sobs come faster, harder, and deeper.

  “Don’t,” she managed to say. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “How am I looking at you?”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It’s been a rough few weeks.”

  Beth got up and passed Shala a box of tissues. “What happened?”

  “I went to Precious and…some people didn’t want me there.”

  “Precious?” her brother asked.

  “Precious, Texas.” She hiccupped, and it all came pouring out. Even though she knew she was jabbering, just like Sky accused her of, she couldn’t stop. “I picked up a stalker, and then Sky thought I took his picture and he stole my camera.”

  “Who did what?” her brother asked, but Shala couldn’t stop to explain.

  “Then I went to the Funky Chicken to find out—”

  “You went where?”

  “I had to find out where he lives, but first I had to dance disco with this other guy. I finally found where Sky lives and I went there. I called the police, but he is the police. Then a stalker showed up and I grabbed a knife and cut myself.” She held out her palm. Cory looked at it and frowned.

  “Then Sky forced me to go the hospital”—her tears were rolling faster down her face—“and you two know that I can’t stand hospitals. But it was almost okay because he was so nice. Then the stalker tried to run me over, and Sky saved me, but then a friend of his got shot. The Texas Rangers showed up. Then things really got crazy, and we had curl-your-toes-up sex on top of his desk and…”

  “You had sex with the Texas Rangers?” Beth asked, clearly shocked.

  “No.” Shala blew her nose. “With Sky. And then they found the dead man and I found out that Sky’s foster father thought I was Sky’s soul mate, and Sky accused me of jabbering, but the worst part is that he doesn’t believe in love.” She dried her eyes. “And I think I’m this close to being in love with him.” She looked up at the befuddled expressions on Beth’s and Cory’s faces. “I know—I do jabber, don’t I?”

  They didn’t say anything, but their heads bobbed up and down in unison.

  “I’m sorry. It’s a lot to digest, isn’t it?”

  Their heads bobbed again. Shala’s sister-in-law held up a finger. “Someone tried to run you over?”

  Her brother followed with, “You had sex on a desk?”

  Beth elbowed him. “Please, someone is trying to kill your sister and you’re worried about her having sex?”

  He shook his head. “It’s the top-of-the-desk part that disturbs me.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “We had sex on your desk.”

  “You wouldn’t have if I’d stolen your camera,” he insisted.

  Suddenly, Shala started laughing and Beth and Cory joined in. They laughed for a good five minutes. Afterward, she answered a few questions. Okay, a lot of questions—she’d obviously done a terrible job explaining.

  They were still at the kitchen table when Shala’s phone rang. She reached for her purse, looked inside at the number, and tossed it back.

  “Don’t tell me,” her brother said. “That was the camera-thief, sex-on-the-desk guy?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re not taking his calls?” Beth asked.

  “No.”

  Beth grinned. “The sex must not have been that curl-your-toes-up good.”

  Shala sighed. “I can’t chance getting my heart broken again.”

  “I think it’s too late for that. If this isn’t you suffering from heartbreak, I’d hate to see you when it happens.”

  Shala ignored that. “I should tell you, I’m leaving in the morning.”

  “You just got here,” Cory and Beth said at the same time.

  “I know, but I’m miserable.”

  “I thought misery loves company,” her brother replied.

  She shook her head. “I promise to come back soon. When I’m not miserable.”

  Her brother called her the next day as she stood in the crowd, waiting for her luggage at Bush Intercontinental Airport. She’d checked the screen to be sure it was him. “Hello.”

  “You make it to Texas?”

  “Lovely flight,” she muttered.

  “You still sound miserable.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “Yeah. Well, I don’t know if you want to hear this but…we’ve gotten two messages on the home phone this morning from a Sky Gomez.”

  “Sorry,” she replied.

  “That’s the camera-thief sex-on-the-desk guy, right?”

  “Right.” She heaved a sigh of dejection.

  “Well, I’m not going to get into your business, but he sounded worried about you.”

  “He doesn’t have a right to worry,” Shala snapped. “I’m not his soul mate.”

  They talked a few more minutes and hung up. She was still holding her phone when it rang again. She checked the screen. It wasn’t Sky, but did she want to talk to Maria? No. Yes. No—

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “I’m so glad you picked up,” Maria said. “Sky’s so worried.”

  “I’ve been in California, visiting my brother and his family.”

  “Sky drove to Houston yesterday, and if one of your neighbors hadn’t said she saw you leaving with your bags, I think there’d be a missing-persons report on you right now.”

  “Is he still in Houston?” Shala asked, and actually looked around.

  “No, he came home last night. But…I know it’s none of my business, but it’s so hard to see him hurting like this. All he does is go around growling. He’s miserable, Shala.”

  “You’re right. It’s none of your business.” Shala tempered her words with a soft tone. “I’ve got to take care of myself right now.”

  “It’s just—”

  “Maria, I didn’t interfere with you and Matt.”

  “You’re right. I’ll shut up.” There came a pause. “How was your brother’s family?”

  “Good, thanks.”

  They talked a few minutes before Maria asked, “Can I at least tell Sky that I spoke to you and that you’re okay?”

  “Sure,” Shala said.

  “One more thing.” Maria paused. “You’re not going stop working with the Chamber because of this, are you?”

  Shala had spent the entire flight contemplating that very question. In the end she’d decided that she wasn’t going to let Sky stop her from doing her job. She would just have to pull up her big-girl panties—which would not be a thong—and avoid him at every turn, crosswalk, and stop sign.

  “No, I’m not quitting.” Saying it made it official. Mentally, she reached down and yanked up her big-girl panties.

  Damn it, it felt like a huge string had crawled right up into her mental crack.

  “She’ll take Maria’s calls but not mine,” Sky muttered, sitting on his front porch and staring out into the darkness. “What the fuck is up with that?” When he dropped his cell phone beside his leg, Butch and Sundance looked up at him and whined. “You miss her, too, don’t you?” he asked them.

  Sky closed his eyes. Misery, his constant companion, bumped around his chest. Everywhere he looked, he saw Shala: on his desk at work, at Lucas’s place. Yesterday, when he drove by the hospital, he’d visualized Shala standing out there, teasing him about not being a Hollywood cop. Hell, right now she was standing on the porch demanding he return her camera.

  The visual got interrupted as Redfoot’s truck pulled into his drivewa
y. Sky watched him and…was that Matt? Each man carried a six-pack. When they got to the porch, Redfoot chose the swing and Matt dropped down on the planks beside Sky.

  “Did I send out BYOB invitations and forget?” He was definitely not in the mood for company.

  Redfoot opened a beer and started drinking. Matt handed Sky a beer and—oh, what the hell—Sky took it.

  “So we’re all gonna get drunk and pout, huh?” he asked.

  “No,” Redfoot said. “We’re gonna get drunk and come up with a plan.”

  “A plan to do what?” Sky took a sip of cold beer.

  “To get your women back,” Redfoot said.

  “What about your woman?” Sky asked. Not since Estella passed away had his foster father been this depressed.

  Redfoot glanced into the night sky. “My case is hopeless. I think I pissed off the spirits.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  That night, Shala lay in bed pretending to watch television but mostly watching her phone. He’d called again this afternoon. This time, he’d left a message. She wasn’t going to listen to it, though. Why hadn’t she deleted it?

  “Oh, screw it.”

  She picked up the phone to get rid of the message, but her hand didn’t obey her command. Instead, it hit the message button. She needed a good cry anyway, since it had been a whole ten minutes since her last. She put the phone to her ear.

  Her heart lurched at his voice. “Hi, Blue Eyes. I know you’re not answering my calls, and I didn’t even expect you to this time. Thing is, something happened today. Something good, and I wanted to tell someone, and it occurred to me that the person I wanted to tell was you. Because…I don’t know, I think you’d understand.” He paused, and Shala’s grip on the phone tightened.

  “Candy Peterson—the woman whose husband beat her—she came in today and signed the papers to press charges. She’d just come from a divorce lawyer, too. She said that something I told her had finally sunk in, that she didn’t want her little girl to grow up and let some man hit her.” He cleared his throat. “I know she could change her mind, but I think…I think I made a difference. It felt good, you know? Anyway, I wanted to tell someone who—”