by Mindy Neff
Donetta bit her bottom lip. “Can we hold off for a little while on telling your mom? Or anyone else, for that matter. I want to talk to Grammy before the gossips get ahold of the news, and she won’t be home for another two weeks. Lord, I don’t want to disappoint her. I was her second chance to get it right after Mom turned out the way she did. Now here I am, pregnant and ripe for another scandal in Grammy’s life.”
“Betty can handle anything those old gossips and busybodies dish out,” Tracy Lynn said. “There’s no shame in raising a child as a single mom if that’s what it comes to, though I hope you and Storm can work something out.”
“Regardless,” Becca said, “we’re behind you. If anyone so much as looks at you cross-eyed, they’ll have us to deal with.”
“Absolutely,” Sunny agreed. “Becca Sue will hold ’em, I’ll punch ’em out and Tracy Lynn will tell them exactly how the cow eats the cabbage.”
Donetta laughed. “Well, we’re a regular force to be reckoned with, aren’t we?”
“I hope to shout.” Tracy Lynn fluffed her blond hair, and the gold bracelets on her wrist jingled. “However, you don’t get off this easy, Donetta Dawn. Getting pregnant by accident is a definite panties-on-Bertha offense.”
Donetta’s jaw dropped. Her friends were all grinning and nodding. “Not so fast. We can’t make any decisions without Tori’s vote. What a shame that she’s still in school.”
“As her mother,” Sunny said, “I have her proxy. Panties on Bertha, Donetta.”
She remembered Storm’s claim of buying the Anderleys’ place because of the panty tree. The view from his kitchen window was going to have some color added. She looked at Tracy Lynn.
“Well then, I vote that intent to get pregnant out of wedlock constitutes a trip to Bertha, as well. All in favor?” Becca’s and Sunny’s hands shot up.
“Closing the store during business hours,” Sunny said to Becca. Tracy, Donetta and Sunny raised their hands.
“Stuffing Dru Taggat’s poodle in a cage and leaving her alone with worms in her butt,” Becca fired back. Donetta, Becca and Tracy Lynn’s hands went up.
The tea was stone-cold, but the laughter warmed Donetta. “Since Storm shanghaied me to his guest room after padlocking my house, I don’t have very far to go to reach Bertha.”
“Don’t gloat.” Sunny dipped the edge of a scone in her tea. “You’re handicapped, so we would have had to pick you up anyway. Now that I’m a married woman, though, I don’t think I should be flashing my behind in broad daylight, so I’m voting for midnight tomorrow—”
“Wait a minute,” Tracy said. “You mean we’re not going to just bring an extra pair in our pocket?”
“Did you ever cheat and do that?” Donetta asked.
“No. But we were girls then.”
“Oh, and I suppose we’re ready for walkers and hearing aids now?” Sunny batted her lashes at Tracy Lynn. “I say midnight tomorrow. How about the rest of you? Anybody too old to stay up that late?”
Tracy Lynn crossed her arms and leaned back with a smirk on her face. “Look at your own self when you say that, Mrs. Slade. You and Donetta are the mothers in the group now—and have already hit the big three-O, I might add. Becca Sue and I are still spring chickens.”
“Midnight it is,” Donetta said, before anyone’s claws came out. A mother. This was the first time she’d truly thought about herself as someone’s mother. It was amazing. And scary as all get out.
DONETTA WAS BACK AT Storm’s house before noon. With men crawling all over her salon, toting power tools, she’d decided they could do without her input today.
Juggling two grocery sacks, she let herself into the house through the kitchen door—and stopped dead in her tracks.
“Good night!” If Dixie hadn’t trotted forward to meet her, she might have jumped to the same conclusion Storm had last night at her apartment—that someone had broken in and tossed the place. She set the bags on the counter and headed toward the living room, half afraid of what she would find.
It was worse. The bags of clothes she hadn’t yet unpacked were strewn from the bedroom to the kitchen and all parts in between. Pandora streaked past her and leaped onto the back of the sofa.
“How did you get out of the bathroom?” Pandora ignored her, the tip of her tail swishing along the back of the couch.
Wonderful. She hadn’t even been here twenty-four hours and his place was wrecked. She suspected this was Sneak’s and Pandora’s work.
Dixie leaned against her leg as though expecting she might need a little help standing. She glanced down at the shepherd, whose eyebrows shifted over velvety brown eyes as she divided her attention between Donetta and the two menaces in the living room.
“Don’t look so upset, Dixie. I know you’re not involved, and I don’t hold you responsible. It would take a bigger woman than either one of us to sit on those two maniacs. I’m sure you did your best, girl.” She patted Dixie and scowled at Sneak and Pandora. Without an ounce of apology, Sneak panted happily, her ears flopping as she whipped around to see what Pandora was doing. The spoiled cat was daintily grooming herself, causing the bell on her collar to jingle.
“As if you’re too good to get down here and clean up your mess?” she said to the cat. “Storm is going to have a hissy fit if he sees this.”
Sneak barked and snagged a pink tennis shoe with angora laces. Dixie shot forward, showing that she hadn’t forgotten her assertiveness training, after all. Sneak wisely dropped the shoe and ran.
“I’m really not in the mood to clean up this mess, you guys.” She stuffed clothes back into bags that weren’t ruined by teeth or claw marks, noticing that the heavy-duty trash bags were the only things that had sustained any real damage. The clothes, shoes and hair accessories she picked up were wrinkled but unharmed. She dragged several bags to her bedroom, came back, frowned over a sack of old cosmetology books and supplies, and decided to shove those into the coat closet.
It hardly looked as if she’d made a dent in the mess, when she remembered the groceries and had to stop to put them away. She managed to stow the perishables, but when she unwrapped the butcher paper on the filet mignons, the aroma did something horrible to her system. She barely got the steak shoved in the fridge before afternoon sickness sent her racing for the bathroom.
THE SUN HAD ALREADY SET by the time Donetta climbed out of bed, feeling halfway human again. She splashed cool water on her face, ran a brush through her hair and slicked on nude lip gloss, then headed toward the kitchen to brew some tea. The house was dark, but the hallway was an unobstructed trek from end to end, so she didn’t bother with the lights until she got to the dining room.
She groaned, remembered the mess and shifted her body into high gear. She had no idea what time it was, but she didn’t want Storm coming home to this chaos—especially since he knew she’d been here most of the day.
Rushing into the kitchen, she hit the light switch just as the back door opened. Too late.
Storm stopped in his tracks—as she’d done earlier. His hat shot up a good inch as his hairline shifted. He looked around the room. His gaze finally came to rest on Donetta. “Was anybody hurt?”
She nearly laughed, but her heart was racing and she was half sick worrying about his reaction to the condition of his house.
“Not yet.” She snatched up a black silk top and a purple sandal. “A certain little dog and sulky cat are dancing with the devil’s girlfriend, though.” She retrieved her contour eye shadow brush from beneath the chair and set it on the table. “My afternoon nap ran a little longer than scheduled. I haven’t had a chance to get everything picked up.”
He nodded and stepped right over a pile of shoes. He didn’t kick them out of the way or get all torque-jawed. “You needed the rest. I’m going to grab a quick shower.”
He seemed in an awful hurry to get away from her. And the kitchen and dining room were only a teaser compared with the rest of the house—unless she’d managed to gather up more t
han she’d realized.
He passed by her, and she fell into step two paces behind him, carefully moving with him, timing her footsteps with his. She peered around his wide shoulders when he flipped on the hall and living room lights. Yes, the front room still looked pretty bad. Her feet were already in forward motion, when he stopped abruptly and turned around.
“I forgot to—” His words slammed to a halt at the same time her lip gloss wiped itself on the collar band of his T-shirt. His hands shot out to steady her.
And didn’t she feel like the biggest fool? “Um…what did you forget?” She cleared her throat and nonchalantly tugged at the hem of her scoop-neck tank top as though she hadn’t just stealthily crept behind him like Lucy Ricardo trailing Ricky. Storm followed the movement, his gaze settling on her breasts for longer than was strictly polite.
“Is there a reason I’m wearing your lipstick on my shirt—when I’d much rather have it on my mouth?”
“Can’t think of one offhand.” She looked away, partly because she was fibbing and partly because now he’d made her think about kissing.
“So, why are you nearly riding piggyback?”
“I was probably getting a peek at the living room…to see if it was as bad as I thought. I promise, I really did haul three or four bags out of here.”
“Oh, I believe you. Especially since I don’t see a single one of the animals.”
“You’re right. I didn’t even realize. Where are those stinkers?”
“Probably hiding under the billiard table, thinking we won’t see them even though they’re in plain sight. Do me a favor? Next time you’re clinging to the back of my shirt and there’s a chance for one of these close encounters, could you aim a little higher with your mouth?” He winked, then headed down the hall toward his bedroom.
Her heart beat double time—and not because of worry over a messy house. She wanted to follow him right into his bedroom and give his suggestion a try. She figured he could take it from there.
And she was an idiot. That was how they’d gotten into this mess in the first place. A kiss. A really, really fabulous kiss. If she’d kept her lips to herself to begin with, they could have had a very nice friendship and she wouldn’t be worrying about what might jerk his trigger finger, or which disagreement would be the breaking point that sent out wider shock waves, far past the two of them, and forced loved ones to take sides.
AFTER HIS SHOWER, Storm came out of his room carrying a pink bra, a silk pouch filled with makeup brushes and one black sandal with a five-inch stiletto heel.
“This could end up as an ongoing Easter egg hunt,” he muttered, stepping into Donetta’s room and distributing the items where he guessed they belonged—drawer, closet and bathroom. Some of her things had been put away and some were draped halfway over a hanger or drawer, as if she’d had to abandon the task in a hurry. Man alive, he didn’t know how the woman was still standing. It was as though she had the walking flu.
He knew she’d had a rough day, and he didn’t care if she left every article of clothing she owned hanging from the ceiling fans, but he couldn’t help thinking she was testing him. Her comment about aligning the silverware with a ruler kept coming back to him.
He wanted to know more about that. Maybe his curiosity was morbid, but the sooner he had all the blanks filled in, the sooner he could figure out what the heck he was doing wrong with Donetta. Because right now he felt that he was missing the target completely, and he hadn’t even gotten to the firing range.
As he walked down the hallway, he smelled food. The cat, he noted, was perched on his stereo in the living room—she must have felt safe enough to come out of hiding.
In the kitchen, Dixie was sprawled on the cool tiles, politely staying out of the way. Sneak dogged Donetta’s every step, making herself a four-legged tripping hazard.
She scooped up the little dog and rained kisses on Sneak’s head.
“Now, I don’t go that far in spoiling her,” Storm said.
She jumped and whirled around. “You scared the daylights out of me!”
“Sorry. You think that mutt deserves all that affection after what she did to your clothes and my house?”
“I don’t hold a grudge. Besides, who could resist this face?”
“My face isn’t so bad.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes at him. “Are you cooking?”
“Not exactly. I’m warming a can of soup. There’s salad and sliced fruit in the fridge, and if you’ll take this menace, I’ll get the bread out of the oven.” She passed Sneak to him, her hands tangling with his as the dog wiggled in excitement.
“I had better intentions for feeding you after you worked at my salon all day, but me and that raw steak couldn’t seem to get along. So you get soup.”
“I didn’t know we had steak.”
“I stopped at the market on my way home. It looked innocent enough in the store. The trouble started when I unwrapped it. The smell laid me out flat for hours—and it was fresh.” She donned oven mitts and removed a small loaf of steaming bread, then transferred it to the top of the stove.
Storm wondered if she realized she’d called this “home.” He opened the door to the service porch and set Sneak down, snapping his fingers for Dixie, as well. “Look-a-here. Someone’s already filled your supper bowls. You girls go eat, and then play outside for a while.”
He shut the door, then went over and reached for bowls in the cupboard above Donetta. His body practically caged her against the stove. A scant inch and the sweet curve of her behind would be snuggled into his groin. That was one of the things he loved about Donetta’s height. She fitted him perfectly.
She went absolutely still for a moment, then surprised him with a sharp elbow to his gut.
“Oof. All you had to do was say ‘excuse me’ and I would have moved,” he complained, and backed away to set the bowls on the counter.
“Did I ask you to come messing in my kitchen?”
“Actually, darlin’, I believe it’s my kitchen.”
“Not when I’m cooking in it. That falls under squatter’s rights or something. So sit down while I’m in upright mode. You never know when that’ll change.”
“I have a better idea.” He took the bread knife out of her hand and turned her toward the table. “Why don’t I take back the ownership deed and you sit.” He guided her to a chair and sat her down without giving her a chance to argue.
He dished up the salad and fruit, then stowed the leftovers back in the refrigerator before he ladled soup. Once he’d put the food on the table, he joined her.
“How’d it go at the salon this afternoon?” She started on her salad and fruit, waiting for the soup to cool.
“It went good. The extra help made a big difference. All the demolition work is finished.”
“Demolition? You make it sound like they knocked down the building. Please tell me I’m not going to go in tomorrow and find the place gutted.”
He grinned. “It’s not gutted, Slim. But the floors and walls are opened up so the work can begin now.” He pointed his fork at her bowl. “You’re just playing with that. At least drink the broth.”
She took a sip. “So, what do you think it’ll take? A couple more days?”
He almost choked on a swallow of soup. “Uh, no. We’re still looking at a couple of weeks.”
Her stomach knotted, and she decided she’d had enough to eat. She pushed her plate away, sipped at her glass of water and watched as Storm finished the rest of his meal.
“I told you this wasn’t going to be a quick process,” he said softly.
“I know. I’m just impatient. When I see that many men working on a construction project…” She shrugged. “I’m building it much faster in my mind.”
He scooted his chair back from the table. “Come on, let’s go sit someplace where it’s more comfortable.”
She stood and picked up her plate. He whisked it out of her hands. “You cooked. I’ll clean. Later.”
He’d alre
ady put away the perishable food. “That’s a deal. I won’t refuse,” she said.
“Thanks for making dinner. You didn’t have to.”
She shrugged. “I like to cook. Even if I didn’t, you can’t do too much harm to a can of soup.”
“Oh, I’ve managed a time or two. When I went back to Houston to tie up loose ends, I sat down and started reading the paper, and burned the canned stew so bad I had to throw out the pan.”
“You threw away the whole pan?” She picked up the rest of the clothes and shoes decorating the living room floor and stacked them in a pile. “You should have called your mom. She’d have told you to fill the pan with hot water, toss in a used fabric softener sheet and let it soak overnight. Works like a charm.”
“It was a cheap pan. No big loss.”
But what he’d been through in Houston could have been a very big loss. To all of them. She sat on the couch, studied him as he prowled the room.
“Are you ever bothered by…” She shook her head. “Never mind. That’s not a good subject.”
“The shooting? I don’t talk about it a lot, but I’m okay with it. I wouldn’t be eager to go deep undercover again.” He moved to the large picture window that overlooked the backyard and the lake beyond. “When you’re pretending to be one of the scumbags, you don’t get to bring the Kevlar with you.”
“What possessed you to go in before your backup got there?” The image of a bullet ripping through his flesh actually caused her a physical pain. “Do you always take risks like that?”
He glanced over his shoulder, brows raised. “Which one of those questions do you want me to address?”
Her eyes snapped to his. She couldn’t judge his mood or his tone. It was almost as if he was upset with her because she didn’t know these details. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.”
He turned back to the window and was quiet for so long she thought he’d decided the subject was off limits. Then he began to speak.