by Tina Leonard
Cody closed his eyes as she patted his hair down, her fingernails crisply pecking at his skin. What in the heck was he going to do with this woman? He had never gotten over her.
“Where’s your mother?” Stormy asked. “I thought she’d meet us at the door.”
“Ma moved out.” The spell broken for him, Cody moved away. Without meeting Stormy’s eyes, he sat down and reached to pull a boot off.
“Moved out? Can I ask why?”
“You can. I doubt I have a good answer.” He doubted he had a good answer to anything. Stormy was wearing the snake teeth she’d stolen from him, in a gaudy, earth-mother kind of necklace that suited her. Why? It didn’t imply any kind of commitment, or longing, for him, not if she was wearing an engagement ring. “She felt like she was keeping me from settling down.” He glanced up at her. “Why don’t you have Mary grab you something of Ma’s to wear so you can dry out?”
“Okay.”
She moved past him, her white legs slick with dampness. Cody pulled his gaze away and tossed his boots onto the fireplace ledge to dry. Thunder boomed, rattling the windows of the house, and lightning cracked so near that the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He couldn’t see his truck from the window for the water blowing sideways against the house. There was a big storm churning his stomach, too.
Going into the kitchen, he filled a pot with water. “Want some tea?” he yelled.
“Yes, please.” Stormy joined him in the kitchen, looking much more relaxed and less sinful in a flowered housecoat of his mother’s. Cody felt himself relaxing just a bit. Her stomach was less visible under a flowing robe. Now maybe he could get through this storm without staring at her body every second.
“Cody,” she said softly, putting her hand on his forearm. He stiffened, instantly attentive to the texture and feel of her skin. “I think you and I should talk.”
Why did women always want to talk when there was nothing to say? He sure as hell didn’t want to hear anything that might make him feel worse than he did. They were stuck here in this house for the afternoon, and he had a feeling the less he heard, the happier he’d be. Lord, he did not want to hear about how it had been love at first sight between her and her intended.
“I’ve never had a whole lot to say.” He moved away from her hand and leaned against the wall while he waited for the water to heat. She fixed him with a wary look.
“That might be true in most cases, but where I was concerned, you always seemed to have plenty to say.”
“Maybe. But you want to talk, and you want me to listen. And I guess what I’m trying to get across is that I’m not in a listening mood.” He crossed his wet-sleeved arms and set a stubborn expression on his face.
She looked down at her bare feet for an instant before meeting his gaze again. “Just listen for a minute, okay?”
“All right.” He didn’t want to, and he had a feeling it would be more than a minute. But maybe she had something good to tell him, something he wanted to hear.
Like, I couldn’t get you out of my mind.
“I’m getting married,” she told him softly.
Okay. Good. All she wants is congratulations and chat time can be over. “So I noticed. I know you’re happy.”
She glanced away for a second. “I think it will all work out for the best.”
“Good. Mary! You want some tea?”
“No, thanks, Uncle Cody. I’m going to take a nap,” she hollered back up the hall.
“Teenagers. They can sleep through anything.” He got up and paced the kitchen, glancing out the front windows. “I heard on the radio a couple of tornadoes had been sighted east of here. Hope they stay east of here.”
“Do you have tornadoes often?” Stormy came to stand at his side.
“Not much. We’ve been way too dry this summer and I guess all hell’s going to break loose today. Unfortunately, we’ll get the water so fast it’ll all run off. I’d have preferred a gentle, soaking rain.” He glanced down at her, trying to think of anything to discuss that would keep them off the painful subject of her marriage. “How’d you get the name Stormy?”
“My parents named me Virginia Caroline, to counter the counterculture movement they were involved in.” Stormy’s lips turned up in a rueful smile. “They were going to give me the commune name of Star, but the night I was born was the stormiest, coldest night of the year, and it wasn’t a far leap for them to call me Stormy.”
“Virginia?” Cody couldn’t reconcile the prim name to the woman who had a temper on her that could match his.
“You can stick with my nickname,” she said, smiling up at him. “I’m not the Virginia type.”
His gaze swooped to her midsection. Her stomach pushed slightly against the belted area of the robe. Swallowing tightly, he shook his head and looked away. “Don’t know what type you are, Stormy.” Not my type, which I knew in the beginning.
“Well, better Stormy than Star, too,” she said with airy cheerfulness. “Wouldn’t want folks to think I was the type who always dreamed of being a star.”
“What do you dream of?” He slowly turned his head to look into her eyes.
“Oh…the same thing every other woman dreams of. A house. A good husband. Security. Babies to spoil.”
He grunted. “Looks like you’re batting a thousand. Everything you ever wished for seems to be coming true. I’m happy for you.”
“Are you?” She cocked her head and held his gaze.
“Yeah.” He sighed heavily. “I won’t say that seeing you again doesn’t stir up feelings. I remember how good making love to you felt. But we knew what we were doing. We knew there wasn’t a future for us.” Unable to meet her eyes, he stared at the rain-stricken landscape outside. “I guess everything works out as it’s meant to.” Part of him felt sorry for himself, lonely. He was alone. She was going to have a family.
Damn it. “Stormy, I don’t want you to think that what we did together didn’t mean anything to me. It did. You’re special to me in a way I haven’t let anybody else be.” The memory of it made him suck in a tight breath that never got past his rib cage. How much longer could he keep up this pretense of not wanting her? “You deserve someone who can give you all the things you want. Me, I don’t want kids. I’ve raised Mary as best as I can, and sometimes, I think I’m winning that battle, but most of the time, I’m sure I’m losing it. I’m real sorry to see you go, and to know that we—”
“Shut up, Cody,” Stormy said suddenly, pulling his lips down to hers. “Just shut up and kiss me.”
If she had to listen to him saying how happy he was for her any longer, she’d probably beat him over the head with a pan. She didn’t want him to be happy for her. She wanted him to want her and love her and need her, and if he was going to stand there and congratulate her, then he was wasting breath when he could be kissing her.
His lips came down readily against hers, touching and tasting and probing. Winding her arms around his neck, she leaned into him, cherishing the feel of his hard, soaked body against hers. “You should change your clothes,” she murmured, knowing even as she said it that she wanted to take them off for him.
A groan escaped him, and he reached inside the robe to hold her at the waist. His fingers slipped over her stomach, feeling his way along. Fearful that he would be repulsed and stop kissing her, Stormy twined her fingers at the nape of his neck and prepared to refuse to let go if he tried to escape. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured against his mouth.
“Coulda fooled me. I heard you made a separate trip to town and didn’t so much as pick up the phone to call.” He pulled back for a second to stare into her eyes, but made no move to draw away.
“I was afraid to.”
“Why?” Dark eyes searched hers.
She thought about where his hands were placed on her waistline and encouraged herself to tell him. Just tell him. He would probably offer to marry her. Responsibility was his strong suit. It had been that way for his mother. For Annie. For Mary. It
could be that way for her. It would be that way for her.
That was not the way she wanted Cody Aguillar.
“I…don’t know why I was afraid. It was hard to convince myself that you wanted to hear from me.” Her eyes lowered for just a second. “I worried that you might say you were glad I called, but that you were too busy, or something.”
“No.” He shook his head ever so slightly, but didn’t release her gaze. “I would never be too busy for you,” he said huskily. Then his mouth slashed down against hers, again and again, and it was all Stormy could do to hang on and not beg him to take her to his bed.
“Cody?”
“Hmm?” He broke away and looked down at her. “What’s wrong? Have I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “What’s that smell?”
He looked around. “Oh, shit!” He jumped over to the stove and switched the stove burner off.
Stormy stared into the pan. All the water had boiled out, leaving a filmy, smoky residue. “Oops.”
Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. “Still want tea?”
“No, thanks.” She had lost her thirst for tea. The coziness of the kitchen haunted her How she wished she could be here with Cody, just the two of them, making a home—
The kitchen phone rang suddenly. Cody snatched it from the wall. “Hello?” After a second, he said, “Yeah, she’s here.”
He handed the phone to her. She took it in surprise. “Hello?”
“Stormy, we’ve got a flight to catch, dear,” Jonathan said.
“How’d you know where I was?”
“Believe me, it wasn’t that hard to figure out.” He chuckled. “But since the storm’s passed, I think I’ll point the limo that way, if the timing’s convenient.”
“The storm has passed?” She glanced out the window. While it was still raining, the worst seemed to have passed.
“We only had one trailer blow over. No one was hurt, which was lucky.”
“It was,” Stormy murmured, feeling Cody’s eyes on her. He must be wondering what man was calling her at his house. “Yes. Do come on up here and get me. I’ll be ready.”
“Fine.”
He hung up and Stormy glanced at Cody. “I’ve got a flight to catch.”
“And he’s on the way to pick you up?” Cody watched her intently.
“Yes.” She slipped past him into the hall and hurried into the bedroom to pull her clothes on. Fortunately, the dress had mostly dried out. Quickly, she fluffed her hair.
“You’ll need these,” Cody said, walking into the bedroom with the sandals that had been in his truck.
“Oh. Thank you.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. They had needed to talk, but they hadn’t gotten nearly enough talked about.
“Was that the man you’re marrying?”
Stormy nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “Yes. Jonathan.”
“He knew you were here?”
“I imagine someone on the set probably saw us leave and told him.” She went to move past him, but he caught her as she tried to squeeze past.
“He doesn’t mind you being here?”
“No,” she said breathlessly. “Jonathan and I have an understanding.”
Cody stared at her for a minute. “That’s big in California, isn’t it? Understandings?”
She shook her head at him. “I don’t know what you mean.” She did know what he meant, and it stung. He was drawing a reference to an understanding that wasn’t a committed marriage. A Hollywood relationship. Not the kind of monogamous relationship he would expect. Demand.
“It wouldn’t have worked between us,” he murmured. “We’re too different.”
“You’re probably right.” She couldn’t help the tears that sprang into her eyes, and tried to get past him again so that he wouldn’t see them, but he wouldn’t release her.
With one finger, he touched her necklace. “You took something from me.”
Her lips parted. If you only knew…
“I’ve got the other end of that rattler if you’re partial to snakes,” he said. “The tail makes a pretty rattle.”
She shook her head. Outside, a horn honked. “Maybe I’ll get it another time,” she gasped, taking his hands from her arms and hurrying down the hall. She wanted to say goodbye to Mary but the teenager had said she was going to nap. If she took a second longer, she wasn’t going to be able to keep her secret. The truth was pressing against her conscience, threatening to burst from her lips.
I took a lot more from you. With one last desperate glance over her shoulder, she said, “Goodbye, Cody.” And then she hurried out the door.
Jonathan took a long look at Cody before tossing his hand in a casual wave. Patting Stormy’s leg, he asked, “Have a nice visit?”
“Oh, Jonathan,” Stormy snapped. “Don’t pick at me.”
“I don’t mean to.” He glanced out the window as the limo slid past the grim rancher still standing, legs braced, on the porch. “He looks a lot like that Native American in The Last of the Mohicans. The one who ended up getting stabbed and falling over the cliff.”
“Jonathan, I’m not in the mood to discuss storylines or actors, or anything to do with Hollywood right now.” She burst into tears.
“There, there,” Jonathan said, pulling her close to him. “If it’s any consolation, he didn’t look very happy that you were leaving.”
“He didn’t?”
“No.” Jonathan pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her. “Did you tell him?”
“No. It… I couldn’t.”
“Well, that’s good. I was afraid you were upset because you’d told him and then he refused to marry you. And then I’d have to beat him up for being so insensitive to my favorite girl.”
That made her smile just for a second. Poor Jonathan was at least twenty years older than Cody, and in nowhere the same shape. “I love you, Jonathan.”
“I know. I love you, too.” He squeezed her close.
“I’ll tell him after the wedding,” Stormy said suddenly. “That way he’ll know he has a child, and he won’t feel obligated to marry me.”
“I’m going to be a dead man,” Jonathan groaned. “Can you tell him after I’ve gone to Cannes next year?”
Stormy sniffled. “He doesn’t want children, Jonathan. He’s not going to want the child. You’re safe.”
“Hm.” Jonathan sighed and settled back in the seat. Stormy stared out the window, watching the road go past, taking her away from the only man she’d ever wanted.
Cody folded his arms, staring after the limo. That woman was a lunatic. She kissed him like there was no tomorrow and then went off like Cinderella in a coach. It was a backwards fairy tale. He was the villain, the troll. A past-his-prime prince had just rescued her from him. Cody sighed, digging his fingers into the back of his neck. There was nothing he could do about it. She was engaged; she was having a baby. She was happy.
He was a bachelor; there was no one to bother him. He’d always been a loner, and he’d been a fool to try to fit a loony purple-haired woman into his life. It was that simple. Everything had worked out just the way it should have. They’d both gotten what they wanted. The End.
It was just a damn good thing he’d been extracareful about birth control or he might have wound up playing the prince role in happily-ever-after land.
“Uncle Cody,” said Mary, as she came out onto the porch, “where’s Stormy?”
“Gone back where she belongs.” He swiped at her hair playfully to take the harsh edge off his words.
“Oh. What did the two of you decide?”
An uncomfortable grumble worked through his stomach. “About what?”
“About me going to California to try out for some auditions? Stormy said she was going to talk to Mom and Zach and you about it.”
He ground his teeth so hard they hurt. “She did not mention that,” he gritted out, feeling the blessedly cussed, stubborn anger that he always felt about Stormy rising to the surface. It ran off all the other
pitiful feelings he’d been suffering. “Maybe she called your mother. But don’t drag me into that one, because I vote no.”
Absolutely not. Uh-uh. No way did he think his ladybug was old enough to go out to California with a woman who was pregnant and not married. Cody stomped inside the house, glad for the newfound fury. Annie was a sensible woman. She would refuse this latest ludicrous idea of Stormy’s.
But if he ever got his hands on Stormy’s phone number, he was going to give that woman a piece of his mind.
Chapter Sixteen
Life as Cody had known it was over. Everyone around him had gone insane. The storm had left the movie people in a bit of an uproar, but he didn’t really care about that. Mary had finished most of her part, but she still hung around the set after school, star gazing. She’d been real quiet with him, and he suspected he’d been too hard on her about going to California. The codgers still weren’t speaking with each other. It was as if the storm had blown their wooden kegs farther apart. And he hadn’t seen Sloan in an age, which worried him. Late autumn in Desperado was turning into a strange season of confusion and restlessness. He could feel it in his steers. He could feel it in himself.
“Sloan!” he called as he walked inside the sheriff’s office. The sheriff was nowhere to be seen, which was irritating because they’d specifically planned to meet this morning at this time to discuss hauling livestock over from a ranch that was selling off. Frowning, he threw himself into a chair to wait.
Suddenly, he recognized the smell of liquor. Something pungent, obviously a strong brew. Leaning up, Cody sniffed the air again. “Whew!” he exhaled on a short breath. He got up to look at Sloan’s desk, since that was the direction the smell was strongest. His eye was caught by the liquor bottle tucked in the bottom drawer, sticking out, uncapped.
“Uh-oh,” he said, striding from the room. Sloan wasn’t in the men’s room, nor was he loitering in the hall. Growing more worried by the second, Cody went through the hall to lockup.
Sure enough, Sloan lay on a cell bed, snoring comfortably. Alcohol reeked to the rafters. In his hand, a picture frame was tucked up against his chest. “Jeez,” Cody muttered, pulling the frame from Sloan’s unresponsive hand. The wedding picture brought a grimace to his face. Woman trouble. He might have known.