Blame It On Texas

by Kristine Rolofson

  Dustin choked on his English muffin egg sandwich, so Kate handed him a napkin and waited for him to catch his breath. “For cripe’s sake, Kate,” was all he could say, “what made you bring that up?”

  “We’re sitting here at the scene of the crime, so to speak. It’s nine years later, and I want to know.”

  “I would have married you, of course, if your parents didn’t kill me first.”

  “Really?”

  He frowned at her. “Well, of course. What kind of a question is that?”

  She shrugged and took a sip of the coffee, which was pretty terrible stuff. “I’ve always wondered.”

  “Yeah? What else have you wondered?”

  “Why you had sex with her at the same time you were having sex with me.” There. She leaned back against the car door and watched him, wondering if he would give her the answer to the question that had bothered her for years. “I know that was a long time ago,” she added, not wanting him to think this was something she dwelt upon on a regular basis. “But this seems a good time and place to ask.”

  “Yeah?” He set his coffee cup on the dashboard. “Nine years later seems like a good time to ask? Did you ever think of asking me any of this before you kicked me out of your life?”

  She remembered that night all too well. She’d been hurt and embarrassed and miserable because she had fallen in love with him. He’d warned her beforehand. He’d said, “No strings, sweetheart.” And she’d foolishly believed she could make love to him without her heart getting broken. “No. I was too angry.”

  “You were angry?” He stared at her, his gaze intense upon her face. She wanted to look away, but she didn’t. “Look, Kate, you asked me a question. I answered it. I didn’t grow up rich and pampered in a big house on Apple Street facing the park. I had a pretty crappy home life, Katie, but if you were the one who’d gotten pregnant that summer I would have married you and done whatever I could to make you happy. Does that answer your question?”

  “I guess it does.” She wished she could see Dustin’s face, but the interior of the car was fairly dark except for the dim glow of the construction site spotlights coming in through the back window. She reached her hand out to touch his arm.

  He tugged her toward him. “There’s something about sitting in a car with you—”

  “Do you think it’s an automobile fetish?”

  “Definitely,” Dustin whispered. Their lips were almost touching, and then came the kind of kiss she remembered—and had tried to forget. Her arms looped around his neck and the half-eaten breakfast sandwich slid off Kate’s lap and onto the seat. He tasted of coffee when her tongue touched his when her lips parted to allow him entrance. She moved closer, not noticing that her knee squished an uneaten square of fried potatoes or her coffee was perilously close to tipping out of the cup holder. All Kate knew was she was kissing Dustin again, at the Good Night Drive-In, and all was right with her world.

  His hands held her waist, then inched up under her blouse to smooth her skin. Oh, yes, Kate thought, murmuring a little sound of approval as his fingers touched her. He was still the best kisser she’d ever known, with the most tantalizing long fingers and a way of moving his tongue that made her want to wrap her arms around his neck and hang on. And she did.

  Kate didn’t know if she was eighteen or twenty-seven, if it was sunrise or sunset, if she was in Manhattan or Beauville. None of that mattered anyway. His hand was on her breast and his tongue tangled with hers and everything was as it should be. Familiar and yet so amazing and different, kissing Dustin brought back memories of hot sex and even hotter Texas nights.

  “Damn bucket seats,” he muttered, after easing his mouth from hers.

  “I should have rented a van.”

  They tried to catch their breath, but it wasn’t easy. Kate could feel the heat emanating from his body and knew her own was equally warm, willing and able. Her brain and common sense disappeared when he lifted her and easily positioned himself in the passenger seat, with Kate on his lap.

  Straddling him was a heavenly position, Kate decided. Not ladylike or remotely subtle, but an easy angle from which to lower her head and kiss him. She felt his arousal through layers of cotton and resisted wriggling against him. Kissing was enough for now, and his fingers fumbling with the buttons of her blouse more than enough stimulation to make brain activity impossible.

  Leaning into his body would guarantee that she was lost, so Kate held herself back. But clearly Dustin had other ideas. Once her blouse opened, he moved his hands to her waist and tugged, bringing the heat of her against the hardness of him and setting them both on fire. Clearly, Kate thought in a haze, there would be no turning back. And, with the delicious sensations radiating from her body, why would she want to?

  Dustin’s hands moved to the waistband of her shorts and found her zipper as Kate attempted to unbutton his shirt. She used to be better at this, she remembered, but—

  “You’re trespassing,” came a loud male voice, and a beam of light shone on Kate’s face, making her open her eyes and then close them again before she went blind. Dustin released her, then turned toward the intruder. The windows were open, so the flashlight came closer. “This is the deputy sheriff. You two, break it up. You’re under arrest.”

  “THEN WHAT HAPPENED?” Emily tucked her baby against her breast and rearranged the blankets so that nothing was exposed. She was due to leave the hospital this afternoon, but had convinced the nurses she needed a few more hours rest before going home to care for four children. “Was it Carter? He picks up all the extra hours he can since he got engaged. I think he’s saving up for a house.”

  “Yes. And Dustin knew him. He went to school with Dustin’s older brother.”

  Emily chuckled. “It’s still a small town. Lucky for you.”

  “Not exactly. I guess Darrell, the brother, had—has—quite a reputation in the county. It took a while to convince the man that we weren’t there to steal construction supplies or deal drugs. He finally caught on that we were two stupid adults making out in a rental car, but it took forever before he let us go.”

  “And then what?” Emily leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “Tell me you had sex with him.”

  “I did not have sex with him.” But she certainly would have, if the Beauville sheriff’s deputy hadn’t interrupted. “I’m not sure things would have gone that far.”

  “Hah,” her friend said. “Your face gets red every time you talk about him.”

  “It’s because of our past together.”

  “It’s because you’re on vacation and he’s around and you’re around and—” she waved her free hand to indicate the cheery hospital room—“one thing leads to another and then you’re in here having your fourth baby.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Kate said, but her gaze was on the little girl who was intent on nursing. “She really is beautiful.”

  “Then have a few of your own,” Emily said. “Grab that cowboy and take him back to the drive-in tonight. Or here’s a novel idea—why don’t you ask him out?”

  “On a date?”

  “Don’t they do that in New York?”

  “They do, but—”

  “No ‘buts,”’ Emily insisted. “I want you to stay here in Beauville with me and Elizabeth and Lorna. Our kids can grow up together and raise hell while we complain and drink frozen margaritas and give birthday parties.”

  “I’d need a husband first.”

  Emily grinned. “Now why do I think that wouldn’t be any trouble?”

  “He was never in love with me,” Kate said, knowing Emily would know who she was referring to. “So there’s no reason to think he’d fall in love with me now.”

  “No?”

  “No,” Kate declared. This was the problem with being a romantic. She was a writer with a wild imagination, and he was a rancher trying to relive the good old days. These kinds of sexual journeys into the past never worked.

  And she’d better keep reminding herself that if
she got hurt again, she had only herself to blame.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SHE’D HOPED TO keep the drive-in incident quiet, but Kate realized she should have known that her mother would hear of it.

  “I knew he’d get you in trouble,” Martha declared, shaking her head outside of Emily’s hospital room. It hadn’t taken her mother long to track her down this morning. Martha was on her way out the door of the ranch when Kate finally woke up. It had been a long, sleepless night. “Those Jones boys are no good. He almost got you put in jail for trespassing!”

  “It wasn’t exactly—” Kate tried, moving her mother toward the nursery window so the sight of the babies might distract her.

  “Carl thought it was somewhat humorous,” her mother continued, having declined Kate’s offer of a ride to Marysville this morning because the real estate mogul had offered first. “The sheriff’s office called him at two this morning to check out your story. It’s a good thing Carl knew who you are.”

  “I’m sorry they had to wake him,” Kate said, taking her mother’s elbow and moving her toward the babies in the window. “Have you seen Elizabeth? Doesn’t she look wonderful?”

  “Yes, of course she does, but Kate, how on earth could you start up a relationship with that man?”

  “It’s not a relationship. It was just…” Kate hesitated. “I don’t know what it was,” she fibbed, knowing it was lust, pure and simple. On both sides. And it had felt great, before the deputy sheriff’s intrusion.

  “It’s embarrassing, that’s what it is,” her mother informed her. “I know those kind of men, and they’re no good.”

  “Mom, what on earth are you talking about? Dustin’s a perfectly nice man, who happens to work for Gran. I’ve known him for years. Oh, look, here we are in front of the babies. Aren’t they sweet?”

  “You won’t find little Nancy in there,” Martha said, barely glancing toward the infants. “Your grandmother is still holding her in Elizabeth’s room. Did you get pictures?”

  “I sure did. Where’s Carl? I’ll apologize to him in person.”

  “He’s visiting a friend of his father’s who had surgery. I’m going to meet him at noon and we’re going to have lunch on the way back to town. How is Emily?”

  “Fine, of course. She’s going home later.”

  “I’ll stop in and say hello. Oh, is that the Bennett baby?” She pointed to the glass, where George was bundling up an infant to cradle in his arms. “Such a good father, that man,” Martha said. “You should be so lucky to find a man like that, instead of fooling around with actors and cowboys.”

  “You know, Emily and George did their share of making out at the Good Night Drive-In, too,” Kate pointed out. “Jennie may even have been conceived there, Mother.”

  “Oh, stop your teasing,” Martha said, waving to George, who grinned at them and held up his new daughter.

  “Teasing? I’m serious. And there’s nothing wrong with cowboys,” Kate replied, remembering Dustin’s hands on her skin. Those very skillful hands had been heading toward her breasts when James Carter decided to earn his moonlighting money.

  “Are we going out to dinner tonight?” Kate added.

  “Oh. Yes.” Her mother didn’t look as excited as Kate thought she’d be about filet mignon and peach shortcake with freshly whipped cream tinged with cinnamon, a tradition when Kate was home on vacation. “I almost forgot that was tonight.”

  Her mother was more interested in what Carl Jackson was doing tonight, Kate supposed. This behavior wasn’t typical of her pleasant, overprotective, domestic and contented mother. For a split second Kate wondered if Carl had shown Martha his construction site one late night, but then she thought better of it. Martha McIntosh, age sixty-four, would never be caught dead in a compromising position.

  For the thousandth time, Kate thought about kissing Dustin last night. Her mother was missing a lot of fun.

  THERE WERE SOME things a man wanted to dwell upon and some things that didn’t bear thinking about twice, Dustin decided. He’d spent the morning riding fence, checking water supplies and listening to Danny chatter on and on about Grandma Gert and Aunt Martha. Since when had the boy made Kate’s cranky mother an honorary relative? No, he didn’t want to think about the disapproving glances Kate’s mother gave him whenever he walked into a room. And that he wished he could stop thinking about the way Kate felt in his arms last night, all trembling and warm and very, very willing.

  Like the past nine years had never happened. Put the two of them together and it was just so damn hard to remember that they hadn’t seen each other since they were teenagers.

  Kate wasn’t at the ranch now. He’d seen her take Gert in her car, most likely heading to the hospital to see that baby, and he’d seen Martha leave with Jackson, who was sure to tell about last night.

  This would be a good day to lie low, Dustin figured. He’d work on remembering that he was a father now, with a ranch to run and money to make. He shouldn’t be lusting after an ex-girlfriend as if he had no more sense than a longhorn bull.

  “Daddy?” Danny’s voice broke into his thoughts, and Dustin glanced toward the boy who was hanging on to the door of the pickup as if he was afraid of being tossed out the window.

  “What?”

  “Where’s my mom?”

  “I don’t know,” which was the honest truth, but Dustin didn’t add “and I don’t give a damn,” which also was the truth.

  “Am I gonna live here with you all the time?”

  “Yeah,” Dustin promised. “Remember how I told you we have to talk to the judge and make everything legal? Well, we’re set to do that in a few weeks.”

  “Lee-gal,” the boy repeated, liking the sound of the word. “Everything legal.”

  “Yeah. That’s right.” And Lisa would never be able to get her hands on the boy again. Lisa Gallagher Jones sure as hell didn’t deserve any rights to her son.

  “Are you gonna get a wife?”

  Dustin chuckled and stopped the truck at a metal gate. He hopped out and pushed the gate open before returning to the truck. The boy was too small to open and close gates, but one of these days he’d be big enough to help out.

  “Why do you think I need a wife?” he couldn’t help asking as he drove through the gate and parked again.

  The boy shrugged. “To make dinner and cake and stuff like that.”

  “We have Grandma Gert for that.” God, it was hot today. He wiped his forehead and thought once again about Kate and last night. He’d have given a lot to take her home to bed, to have spent the night making love to a warm and willing woman who had the sweetest way of parting her lips—

  “Daddy,” Danny said. “What about the gate?”

  “Yeah,” he said, realizing he almost forgot to close the damn thing. He climbed out of the truck and pushed the heavy metal gate shut, making sure it was latched securely, before striding back to the Ford. If she was any other woman he’d take her out for dinner or into Marysville to see a movie, then for drinks and some snuggle-up dancing at the Last Chance. But she wasn’t just any woman. Now she was Kate, big city lady, with fancy clothes and an even fancier attitude.

  Dustin stopped short of the truck and looked at what he had to offer a woman like that: a dusty three-year-old truck, some shares in a struggling cattle venture, a bed in the bunkhouse and a little boy recovering from a broken heart. It wasn’t much, he knew. And no amount of great sex would convince Kate McIntosh even to consider staying in Beauville past next week.

  “WELL, THAT’S A REAL nice picture,” Gert said, admiring herself on the front page of the “What’s Happening” section of the Beauville Times. “That Danny’s such a cute little fella.”

  Martha muttered something Gert couldn’t hear, then raised her voice. “He looks as if he’s one of the family, for heaven’s sakes. And look, there’s Kate standing there like she’s his mother.”

  “I told you they were perfect for each other.” Gert didn’t mind needling her daugh
ter now and then, just to hear her squawk.

  “He’s a nice enough child,” Martha admitted, having spent Monday evening teaching him card games and feeding him cake. Gert had seen her make sure the boy was comfortably settled on the couch, with a light on so he wouldn’t wake up in a strange place and be afraid.

  “You need grandchildren,” Gert declared.

  “Shh,” Martha warned, settling herself onto the couch. “She’s coming down the stairs now.”

  “Kate?” Gert peered over her pile of scrap-books to see if Kate had found the photo albums. Sure enough, her granddaughter had an armload of them. “I’m glad I thought of putting pictures in my book,” she said.

  “Yeah, I think the pictures will really—”

  “Are we going over to see Jake’s baby again tomorrow?” Gert interrupted. She liked babies, and she figured Kate’s exposure to the little sweethearts might just keep her in Texas.

  “Sure. They’ll be home from the hospital.” Kate set the photo albums on the floor at Gert’s feet. “We’ll bring them some casseroles.”

  “About this book,” Martha began, frowning before she sneezed. “Who have you told about this, Mother?”

  “Just the family. And that man friend of yours.” Gert reached for the top album. What she wanted was a picture of herself with her horse. For the cover.

  “Did you by any chance tell Doris Hansen?”

  “The librarian? Why yes, when I did my research a few weeks ago. She seemed interested.”

  “Well, it’s all over town that you’re writing a book and several people came up to me at bridge this afternoon and asked me about it.”

  “What’d they want to know?” She was up to the 1940s now and still going strong. Kate had only been home a few days and already she’d taught her grandmother how to run that mysterious computer. It wasn’t so hard after all, Gert decided, as long as you didn’t hit too many keys at once and didn’t spill anything on it. Once you got the thing turned on it pretty much told you what to do, though she forgot how to turn it off and had to follow Kate’s written directions each time.