She felt warmth rising to heat her cheeks. “I am not a fool. It was broad daylight. By a busy road.”
He leaned into her face, his voice sarcastic. “And what time of the day was Marti attacked? And by what busy road?”
Her face paled. He was right on that score. “Well, I was handling it just fine, about to leave when you stormed in like the Army.”
“He was probably planning on puncturing your tire. Geez, you don’t know what he might have done.”
“You’re only speculating it was Paul because you hate him. You don’t have proof, except for a similarity in his pendant and my scratch.”
Jesse sat down, breathless. “No, I don’t have proof. But it just so happens that Paul was off the afternoon Marti was killed.”
She dropped down on the couch a few feet away from him. “How do you know?”
“Because my friend Alan is dating the secretary at the insurance company. She checked the sign-in sheets; he left at noon for the day.”
CHAPTER 8
Marti was having trouble conjuring up the Christmas spirit, even though it was only a week away. It was even harder to drum up excitement for Harry’s holiday bar-b-que. She’d laid three different outfits on the bed trying to figure out what to wear, wondering why it even mattered. It was unbearably warm for December, not at all suitable for the season. At least it got cold in southern California, even if they didn’t have white Christmases.
Finally she chose a teal top that laced up the front and took advantage of her swelling chest. White, low-waisted jean shorts went well with that. She pulled her blond curls into a ponytail and tied a ribbon around it. No pearls, lace, or sequins for this party. An outside bar-b-que with a roasted hog and a bunch of burping, dirty-joke-telling, country-music-listening hicks. She stared grimly into the mirror and set her mouth in a straight line. Worst of all, she couldn’t even get drunk to numb the situation. The baby was more important than her temporary comfort. Besides, Jesse would never allow it, not even a sip.
Her bottom lip puckered at the thought of Jesse. He had forced her into this. This hadn’t been the first party they’d been invited to, and every time he brought one up, she told him to go without her. But he didn’t want to leave her alone, not with Bumpus’s barking fits in the middle of the night and no raccoons to be found as the cause. So he had declined them, never citing her as the reason. He wasn’t so obliging with Harry’s shindig. It was his boss, and the biggest event of the year, besides the one Harry gave after the Fourth of July parade. Jesse called her selfish, and for some reason it bothered her when he called her that more than when anyone else had. The selfless bastard.
When she opened her bedroom door, the country music seeping under her door in polite volumes now pounded against her. With her hands over her ears, she went in search of the stereo controls. Jesse found her first. He appeared out of nowhere, pulled her into his arms, and danced her across the living room.
“Yeah-eee!” he hollered with a twang.
“Jesse!” she exclaimed, but to no avail.
The room spun around her as his arms held her tight. She could only see Jesse’s face, lit with a two-thousand watt smile. On his head was a black cowboy hat tilting low over his forehead. When the heel-kicking song ended, he slowed his pace to match the slower melody. He also pulled her close against his body, and she could feel the heat of his heartbeat against her cheek.
“Jesse,” she murmured against the texture of his shirt.
“Shh, I like this song.”
A man’s voice sang out that he was born to love her, and the warmth froze over in her blood. Of course, Jesse didn’t mean anything by it, she told herself. Still, she moved out of his arms and turned down the stereo. His dismayed expression only held her attention for a minute before her gaze drifted down over his bolo tie, white shirt with cowboy stitching, black leather belt, and indigo jeans. And black leather cowboy boots.
“I’ve never seen you dressed like this before,” she said, a grin creeping over her face.
He tilted his head and smiled, those indents in his cheeks not quite full-fledged dimples. “I don’t put on the dog very often. Just when I’m in the mood.”
“Your cowboy mood, huh?”
He turned the stereo back up and pulled her close again. “Yep, my cowboy mood. Are you afraid to dance with me?”
She stiffened. “No. Why would I be?”
He started slowly moving her around, swaying to the music. “I don’t know. Why would you be?”
“I just don’t… like this kind of music.”
His hips pressed against hers. Suddenly he dipped her, poised above her.
“Say you like it, or I’ll drop you,” he taunted.
“Like what? Dancing with you or country music?”
He grinned. “Both.” He dropped her a little lower. “Say it.”
“Jesse....” His warm breath pulsed against her throat. “Okay, I like it. Now let me go.”
He yanked her up and twirled around the room. “Why would I do that? You just said you liked dancing with me.”
“Under duress!”
He was having too much fun at her expense. Even in his getup, he looked devastatingly sexy. But only in an objective sense since he wasn’t anywhere near her type. When he loosened his grip, she slipped out and sat down on the couch. He did a little wiggle of his derriere, ending with a slap to the bottom of his boot. Finally he turned down the stereo. With a flushed face, he leaned down over her and tucked her hair behind her ears.
“You gotta learn to loosen up and have some fun.”
She untucked her hair. “When I did that, I got into trouble. Besides, I don’t want to have fun.”
“Why not?”
“Because....” I’m leaving in six months. Because you’re making me feel very funny inside leaning so close to me like this.
“Well?”
She slid around him and walked to the other side of the room. “Don’t we have to go soon?”
He ran his fingers through his waves, shaking his head. “I thought you didn’t want to go. Now you can’t wait to get out of the house.” He rested his chin on the back of the couch facing her. “Why is that?”
“I just want to get it over with.” She reached for her new leather purse.
With a quick leap, he was over the couch and sauntering near her. “I know what it is,” he said in a teasing voice. His woodsy cologne wafted over before he got close. Too close.
She backed away, her eyes narrowed. “And what is it, mister know-it-all?”
He took a step closer. “I think you’ve always had a secret cowboy fetish. Oh, you never admitted it to anyone, but down deep inside....” He pressed a finger to the middle of her chest and traced a circle. “It’s there.”
She batted his finger away. “Don’t be silly. I’ve never had a thing for cowboys. I go for the slick California types, blondes with surfboards attached to the roofs of their cars. You’re too arrogant for your own good, Jesse James.”
His smile reeked of confidence. “Maybe. But you sure don’t trust yourself to get too close to me, now do you? You’ve moved away from me twenty times.”
“Your cologne’s too strong.”
“Come on, Mrs. Marti May West,” he said with a roll of his eyes, holding out his arm. “Be my wife for an afternoon.”
Bumpus crawled out of the bushes and followed them as soon as they walked toward the truck. When he opened the door for her, she saw the roll of paper towels on the seat.
“See, I didn’t forget about you. And you don’t have to ride in the back either.”
She slugged him in the arm and climbed up. Did he actually think she was attracted to him because he was wearing cowboy clothing? Or for any other reason? Maybe he was just flirting, part of his cowboy mood. That sounded better.
Bumpus settled in between them and seemed to give her an expectant look. Good dog, sitting between us.
He kept looking at her. Had he understood Jesse’s words about
starting with the dog. She reached over and pet the top of his head. He licked her, and she pulled back and wiped her hand on the seat. Yuck.
Harry’s place was farther west than Helen’s, down a long dirt road. Anxiety set in at the sight of the cars and trucks scattered along the side of the road and packed into the front driveway. All these people. She was going to have a miserable time.
The house was a new two-story with gray wood siding. The commotion was around the back beneath a strange structure with a roof made of dead palm fronds. Country music blared, people laughed, and Marti grimaced.
Jesse stopped before they reached the house. “Stay nearby so I can help you out with anyone you don’t know that you should.” He tilted his head, a gleam in his eyes. “That is, if you can handle being close to me.”
She slugged him in the arm again, ignoring the pain at contacting hard flesh.
All the hoopla Jesse received when they arrived at Harry’s proved that he really didn’t dress up like that very often. It sounded more like a construction site with all the wolf whistles and cowboy calls. He took it in stride, even bowing. She couldn’t help smiling.
Harry was in his forties with a bulbous nose and an even more bulbous belly. He teetered over to greet them, already intoxicated.
“Jesse, Marti! Glad you could come. Keg’s over there, sodas are in the big red cooler, and hog’s on the fire. He’ll be ready to come to supper about five. Help yourselves.”
Marti looked at a primitive brick structure with a whole pig on it: hooves, head, and tail. She wrinkled her nose, wondering if her appetite would ever forgive her for this one.
“What would you like to drink?” Jesse asked.
“A glass of Chardonnay? Martini? Guess I’ll have to settle for a Coke, and I’d pay you a hundred bucks if you’ll slip something in it.”
“Gotcha,” he said and walked toward the coolers.
Fat chance he’d bring her a rum and Coke. A girl could dream.
Most of the people sitting at picnic tables and playing horseshoes she’d seen at Bad Boys at one time or another. She saw Skip and Josh, but luckily Paul was nowhere in sight. While talking to some guy, Desiree gave Jesse a cutesy wave. Marti caught herself frowning and settled for rolling her eyes.
“Here you go,” Jesse said, handing her a cup with a peach hibiscus flower in it.
She frowned at the flower in it.
“Well, you said you wanted something in it. And you don’t even have to give me a hundred bucks. Maybe it’ll look better here.” He tucked her hair behind one ear and slipped the flower in, looking pleased with the result.
His fingers brushed her temple, and she got caught up in his eyes for a moment. He cleared his throat and dropped his hand. “Perfect.”
She gave him a weak smile and turned before she stared into his eyes too long.
Dean and Caty showed up a little later. Marti was glad to see a face she knew and liked, but Caty was busy telling everyone about the cow she’d calved and visited earlier.
Dean watched her flit from one group of people to another, longing clear in his eyes.
Hm, hadn’t you just looked like that?
No!
She moved up beside him. “She’s quite the social butterfly, isn’t she?”
“Hey,” he said, his smile almost too wide. “Where’s Jesse?”
“I released him, told him to wander around to his heart’s content. I’m not in a party mood.”
Dean glanced uneasily down at his beer. “Me neither. Hey, I like that flower. My Aunt Flo used to eat flowers. She’d dip them in batter and deep fry ‘em.”
Marti’s eyes widened. “You’re not talking about your… oh, you really have an Aunt Flo.” He was looking at her as strangely as she sometimes looked at him. “Never mind. Did fried hibiscus taste good?”
“They weren’t bad if you sprinkled on powdered sugar.” His gaze drifted beyond her. “That girl’s gonna wear herself out.” He wandered off to follow Caty around like a puppy.
Jesse took up a game of horseshoes, he and Billy creaming two other guys. Josh, wearing dingy overalls again but minus the dried grass, moseyed over and planted himself next to her on the bench. His red hair stuck out as though he’d just woken up.
“Like a beer?” He held up his half-empty cup as if to offer her the rest.
“No, thanks. I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, that’s right. You gonna dance later?” He pointed to a cleared area strung with lights.
“Not likely.”
Josh made her increasingly uncomfortable as he stayed too close for too long. The smell of his sweat was making her feel nauseated.
“Do you really think Paul was the one who attacked you?” he asked at last.
She eyed him. “Why, have someone else in mind?”
“Could be lots of guys.” His glassy eyes leered. “Could’ve even been me.”
She lifted her chin. “Was it?”
“It was if you enjoyed it. Did you?”
She stood up and made a beeline toward the house. Josh walked next to her, more like a bulldog than a puppy. He appeared to be casually walking her to the house, but his voice sounded sinister.
“You better tell your husband he’s asking for trouble if he keeps tryin’ to pin the attack on Paul. He didn’t do it, but people’re starting to wonder, the way Jesse keeps sniffing ‘round like a hound dog, checking the jewelry stores and Paul’s work records. He happens to be a good friend of mine, and it’s buggin’ him. You tell Jesse to lay off.”
She turned around before reaching the door. “Why don’t you tell him yourself? He’s right behind you.” When Josh looked to where she pointed, she ducked inside and hid in the bathroom for a while. She wished Jesse had been standing right behind him. Only when the third voice outside the door lamented at waiting to pee, did she finally flush the toilet and walk back outside.
Jesse was sitting where she had been earlier. “You all right? You were gone for a while.”
“I’m fine. I needed to get away from annoying company.” She decided not to get Jesse’s ire up over Josh’s warning.
“They’re about to serve dinner. Are you hungry? Boy, you’re gonna love roasted hog, smoking all day long in the pit.”
With great ceremony, four men pushed aside palm fronds from the pit. They lifted the black mass out and set it up to start slicing away at the carcass. Marti decided to wait at the table for Jesse and let the whole process remain a mystery.
After dinner, everyone sat around and talked about how wonderful the hog was. Burping was the next order of business, compliments to the chef all around. Thankfully, Jesse abstained from that, although he did laugh at some of the more creative efforts, like the guy who burped the alphabet. The next round of conversation was how many men had noticed that the ice cubes were in the shape of women’s boobs. She glanced at her glass, realizing she hadn’t noticed and not feeling all that amused.
Deep in her thoughts, she drifted off to one of Theresa’s parties in California. Her mother-in-law knew how to put on a shindig, waiters making the rounds with trays of champagne, bars scattered around the huge lawn behind the mansion. No boob cubes or burping. She pictured her old self, drinking too much champagne, dressed in black velvet and diamonds.
“Wheeehooo!” Billy hollered, bringing her back to the dreadful present. She turned to see someone’s white derriere glaring from atop one of the tables. She didn’t bother to see whose behind it was before looking back at Jesse. Her mood was deteriorating rapidly.
“Lighten up,” Jesse said goodheartedly. “It’s only fun and games. We gotta stay for some dancing, at least.”
“You can be so optimistic,” she said below her breath. “You’re half sloshed.”
His smile disappeared. “No, I’m not. Maybe a quarter sloshed, but not nearly half.” He reached over and tucked her hair behind the other ear. “Don’t be mad. Have fun.”
She forced a wide smile. “Oh, Jesse, I’m having a great time. The comp
any is terrific, the hog body gourmet, and the music enchanting. See, I’m getting into it.” Her good humor slipped away. With the twangiest voice she could muster, she started singing. “My wife left me for my best girlfriend, my hound dog died on the front porch, and the bank repo’d my land, so I can’t even bury him. Woe, woe, woe is me!”
Then she started laughing, howling even. Did she ever think she would be at a party where burping was considered good-hearted fun? Where they had boob-cubes, and you were a boob if you didn’t notice your cubes had titties?
Doubled over with tears streaming down her cheeks, her stomach hurt, she was laughing so hard. Have fun. Whoo boy, she was having fun now. She tumbled off the bench and onto the grass, and finally gained some control over herself after catching her breath. When she peered up over the edge of the table, everyone in the vicinity was watching her. And they weren’t laughing.
Even Jesse looked serious. “You have a strange way of having fun,” he stated flatly.
That started her giggling again. “I have a strange way. At least I’m not trying to top the biggest, most disgusting belch!”
The others’ attention faded away to their individual conversations, but Jesse’s gaze remained on her.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, getting to her feet.
“At least our way of having fun isn’t making fun of others’ ways. And others’ music.”
She sat down on the bench, taking a last deep breath. “So sue me. At least I can say I had a little fun.”
He pointed to her, his finger slipping between the lace of her top. “For that outburst, you owe me a dance tonight. A slow one.”
“I don’t want to. You know I don’t like this music.”
“If these people are going to think you were kidding, you’d better get that sweet little butt of yours out there with me. Then we can leave.”
She looked to the patch of ground reserved for dancing. The lights defined the square, and inside, several couples were dancing and moving in a circle as they did so. The people who weren’t under the tent mingled outside the dance area watching.
Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) Page 11