by Mindy Neff
“Might as well. I’ve settled from a boil to a simmer, so if you’re going to make me mad again, I guess this would be as good a time as any.”
He smiled at her. “Did you and Tim fight? Have screaming-and-yelling kind of arguments?”
“Of course not. A bank manager is too civilized for that.”
“That’s what I figured. Keep that in mind, okay? His meanness, his need to control, was his own sickness. He looked for reasons to hurt you—you didn’t provoke him. And just because you and I butt heads, that doesn’t mean we’re going to ruin our relationship—as friends or as lovers. You don’t hold back with me, Netta. You say what’s on your mind and get it out in the open. So there’s nothing to build up into the kind of resentment you’re so worried will tear us apart.”
“Can you show me that in your crystal ball?” She saw the frustration and the sadness in his eyes. Bittersweet sentiments that she shared. Sentiments that made her want to keen like a wounded animal. “I didn’t think so.”
STORM WAS LYING WIDE-AWAKE in bed when he heard the back door open and close. He reached for his gun and his flashlight, not bothering to pull on pajama bottoms over his boxers. Nor did he turn on the flashlight. He had to get to Donetta.
The clock on the nightstand read 11:55 p.m. He scanned the hallway, his eyes already adjusted to the dark, and noted that her bedroom door was shut and the bathroom door was open. His adrenaline spiked, tightening his muscles even as his insides shook. Where was Dixie? If he’d heard the door so clearly, why wasn’t either dog barking?”
He slipped across the hall into the bathroom, listened, then carefully, quietly, slid back the pocket door that led to the guest room where Donetta slept.
The wood slider was suddenly wrenched from his fingers and flew open. For an instant sound roared in his ears. His surroundings became surreal—a flash of white, the smell of hot asphalt. Then his mind and vision cleared in a blink.
Sneak jumped into his arms just as Storm thumbed the switch on the flashlight. He should have remembered that Sneak knew how to open the pocket door.
Donetta’s bed was empty. His heart knocked against his ribs like the rapid-fire kick of an AK-47 assault rifle. Sneak’s soft ears brushed against his chin and his neck as the terrier sniffed and licked and welcomed, vibrating happily in his arms as though nothing was amiss.
“Where’re Dixie and Donetta?” he whispered. The little dog’s head cocked, ears standing straight up, then flopping again as she wiggled to get down. He let her go, and Sneak bounded across the room to scramble up on the upholstered wing chair by the window, front paws on the windowsill.
That was when Storm heard a female giggle. More than one—an adult and a child. He shut off the flashlight, lowered his gun and moved to the slightly ajar window, absently scratching Sneak’s velvety ears and soft head.
Donetta and Sunny, holding Tori by the hand as she walked between them, were heading down the gentle incline of the backyard toward the lake. Donetta wore a bulky sweater over a pale, ankle-length nightgown that glowed like neon in the moonlight. Sunny was dressed similarly, except she had on a man’s hunting jacket over her granny gown. He had no idea what they were doing outside at midnight in their pajamas, but he was at least glad to see Dixie trotting along beside them.
Headlights arced toward his side yard. Nearly pressing his forehead against the windowpane, he strained to see. His jaw dropped. Tracy Lynn’s convertible Mustang streaked across his grass as though it was burning rocket fuel. By damn, he was going to turn his deputies loose on her—regardless that her daddy was the mayor. The woman was a menace behind the wheel. She should at least have a care for the under-carriage and suspension of the car. He was surprised the stereo wasn’t blaring. Then he remembered that Donetta was the one who didn’t know how to turn a volume knob counterclockwise.
“What the heck is going on?” The flashy red car disappeared behind his barn and the headlights went out. More feminine giggling floated on the night air. “Stay here, Sneak.”
He jogged down the hall and through the service porch, grabbed a pair of night-vision binoculars from the hook over the washing machine. Leaving his revolver on a high shelf above the dryer, he quietly stepped outside onto the porch that wrapped around three-quarters of the white farmhouse.
Chills pebbled his skin as he sat down in the wicker chair. Man, it was cold. And he was still wearing only his boxers. He wasn’t going inside to put on clothes until he knew what those four women and his niece were doing. Through the binoculars, he saw that Tracy Lynn and Becca had teamed up.
Laughter carried on the night air. The full moon lit the yard, turning the bark on the naked cottonwood tree almost white. Their voices echoed off the water, but their words were unintelligible. The four women appeared to disagree about something.
Then, stunned, he watched as Donetta hiked her gown up to her waist, hooked her thumbs in the elastic sides of her panties, skimmed them down her legs and whipped them off.
“Well, I’ll be go to hell.” He snatched the night glasses down and stared with his vision unaided, as though that would allow him to see better. Realizing his mistake, he nearly blacked his eyes in a rush to get the binoculars back in place. The confounded woman had that heart-stopping scrap of fabric around one finger and was twirling it over her head like a rodeo cow-girl fixing to rope a calf.
Heat blasted his system as his body went steel hard. How much torture was a man supposed to endure in his own house? His body was telling him that striptease ought to have been a private dance for him.
Once before he’d watched Donetta Presley strip off her underwear out in the open beneath that old cottonwood tree—the day before her high-school graduation. Like now, she hadn’t known he’d been there.
Man alive, that had been twelve years ago, but the image in his mind was still clear. It had been broad daylight, and she hadn’t been wearing a granny gown. That day she’d worn denim shorts and a little shirt that left at least five inches of her belly exposed. And she’d had to take the shorts all the way off in order to remove the panties.
“Whoa.” He quickly lowered the binoculars when he realized his sister and Tracy Lynn were about to lift their gowns. His initial astonishment turned to amusement and he found himself grinning like a fool. Leave it to Donetta to be the daredevil and lead the disrobing. And what he wanted to know, could they have done that would require the entire group to atone?
On second thought, he was probably better off not knowing that answer.
Although he was no longer cold—was pretty hot, to be honest—he went inside, stowed the binoculars, retrieved his gun and went back to his bedroom to listen for her return.
One way or another, he was going to prove to Donetta that love didn’t need a crystal ball.
Love. His heart raced wildly, and he sat right down on the bed.
By God, the chances of getting any sleep were zip to none. And the blame rested squarely with the tall, stubborn, redheaded woman who was turning his life upside down piece by nerve-racking piece.
Chapter Thirteen
By Friday, the wristbands were working like a charm. Now that she felt human again, Donetta wanted to eat everything in the house. And evidently she had, because the refrigerator was looking pretty bare. A carton of eggs, milk, a couple of apples, beer and cheese. Not exactly dinner fare.
She smelled Storm’s masculine, fresh-from-the-shower scent an instant before a bouquet of flowers appeared in front of her. Pink carnations, white mums and red roses. Next to shoes, flowers were her favorite thing.
“What’s this for?” She plucked the fragrant blooms from his hand, buried her nose in them and turned. He hadn’t been holding this showy burst of color when he’d passed through the kitchen door a while ago.
He reached around her and shut the refrigerator door. “In honor of your first visit with the baby doctor.”
She shifted a few feet away from him and leaned against the counter. She’d waited for him to ask when
he’d come home from working on the salon, assumed it would be the first question out of his mouth. She thought he’d forgotten, and it had bothered her. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Want me to take the flowers back?”
“Touch them and I’ll break your fingers.” She grinned and retrieved a vase from the top cupboard. It dawned on her that she was as familiar with his kitchen as she was with her own. “How did you sneak these past me?”
“I left them in the truck when I saw the car in the driveway, figuring you still had a client. I didn’t realize Trudy Fay was already on her way out. So, how’d it go at the doctor’s office?”
“Good. We’re healthy.” She filled a cobalt-glass vase and arranged the flowers. “Lily gave me a bagful of prenatal vitamins and said I’m due around the fourth of May. I already took one of the vitamins and all I’ve wanted to do is eat. Before I know it I’ll be big enough to shade an elephant.”
“You’ll be beautiful.” He brushed his fingers over her neck, shifting her hair. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” She stepped away from him and snatched her sweater from the back of the chair. He was in an odd mood…more hands-on touchy than usual. As though he’d suddenly taken lessons from his mother. “This kitchen is a bit of a challenge to cook in, anyway.”
“What kitchen? It’s a beauty shop.”
“You’re the one who locked me out of my salon. Don’t start complaining now. So, where are we going? Friday night at Anna’s?”
“I thought maybe someplace different—Angus Twins.”
“Steak sounds good to me. Let’s go before I starve to death.”
“Can’t have that.” He held the door open as she gathered her purse and shrugged into her sweater.
Dusk brought the melody of tree frogs, crickets and the two-note chorus of cicadas. The air was chilly, carrying the scent of the lake. She glanced out at the water, which had turned gun-metal gray as the sun traded places with the moon, watched as a night bird took flight over the lake.
And there was Bertha, still decorated with four pairs of panties. Well, one of them was boxer shorts with red hearts on it—Sunny’s contribution.
“I’m surprised to see the cottonwood still flying its colors,” she said. “When the Anderleys lived here they used to take them down right away.”
“The present owner likes the view.” He grinned and opened the truck door.
When she looked back at him, his gaze was on her behind instead of the tree. His eyes lifted slowly, and Donetta nearly forgot to breathe. Heat shimmered across her skin, swam in her blood. It wasn’t often that she had to look up at a man. The urge to stand on tiptoe and press her mouth to his was a fire in her veins that threatened to flash out of control.
“You keep looking at me like that, darlin’, and we’ll never make it out of the driveway.”
She blinked. For one crazy instant, she thought about taking him up on the sensual threat. Thankfully, she regained her senses and climbed into the truck. “You promised to feed me.”
He sighed, his mouth kicking up at the corner. “What could I have been thinking?”
ANGUS TWINS WAS A DIMLY LIT steakhouse a few miles outside of town that did a brisk business on Friday nights. A favorite of the locals, it was the place for dancing and socializing, and the food was legendary. Even though they’d arrived earlier than the party crowd, the only seating left was in the bar, and the hostess showed them to a corner booth close to the stage, where a three-piece band was setting up for entertainment.
Storm ordered two nonalcoholic beers, and by the time the waitress delivered the bottles, Donetta was already tearing off a slice of warm bread from the basket on the table.
“They make the best bread here. I’m in heaven.”
After they ordered, Storm held up his bottle for a toast. “Do you realize we’ve never been on a real date?”
Her heart jumped into her throat, and she nearly spilled her beer. “Is that what this is?”
“I’d like it to be.”
“Storm—”
He touched the neck of his bottle to hers. “How are the bracelets working?” He nodded at the elastic bands on her wrists.
Donetta sighed. Dates, in her opinion, involved a certain intimacy, and she was trying hard to avoid that, so she didn’t further the debate.
She lifted her hands. “Amazingly well. The only drawback so far is getting the fabric wet when I shampoo a client.”
“That was Marnie’s complaint—getting the bands wet.”
She remembered that Marnie had given up the wristbands when Storm had hypnotized her. Donetta felt bad that she couldn’t let go with him enough for the hypnotism to work on her. After all, she’d given her body freely enough. Why hadn’t she been able to give her mind, as well? “Dr. O’Rourke was interested in the bands. She’s all for using natural products.”
“It seems funny to call Lily ‘Dr. O’Rourke.’ I remember when she got stage fright in the high school play and ran off in tears. It was the Wizard of Oz—and she was Dorothy.”
“I hope she had an understudy.”
“She did.” He took a sip of beer. “Are you feeling better about the baby?”
The switch in subject caught her off guard. Again. Nerves made her heart pound. The conversation was awkward. “I never felt bad about it. I was just…surprised. I needed time to adjust.”
“And have you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you hoping for a girl or a boy?”
“Either one. As long as it’s healthy.” She bypassed the faux beer and took a sip of water, surprised that her hands weren’t shaking.
He leaned forward, ran a finger over the back of her hand. “Are we going to ask about the sex when you have the ultrasound?”
“Do you want to know?”
“Yeah. I think I do. It’ll give us longer to fight over a name.”
She smiled to cover her unease. She expected him to be involved with their child, but at some point they would need to ease off. Once her salon was up to code, they wouldn’t be living in each other’s back pockets. Maybe she was making too much of this. Friends could certainly discuss baby names and such.
“You think we’ll fight? How about Storm Jr. if it’s a boy?”
“Forget it. We’re not naming the kids according to the weather.”
“That’s ‘kid.’ Singular. I never knew your mom named you according to the weather.”
“That was my dad’s doing. I should be thankful it was storming that night. I’d have hated being named Sunshine or Spring or something.”
She laughed. “That probably would have gotten you in a few fights.”
The waitress brought their salads, interrupting their discussion. Donetta told herself that the constant swarm of butterflies in her stomach was only because they were temporarily thrown together. Once she was back to life as usual, the relationship would sort itself out.
She dug into the salad. “Is Judd still working out all right?” she asked when she’d scraped the last bit of lettuce from her plate.
“He’s getting the job done. Had to hire a couple more guys. Jack and Linc put in as many hours as they could spare, but they both have their own business to tend to. Same with Colby and Gavin.”
“I guess you were worried about Judd planning nefarious deeds for nothing, huh?”
“I never worry for nothing, Slim. I still don’t trust him. Can’t put my finger on anything specific, but the back of my neck is still itching.”
“You’re a cynic.”
“Comes with the job.” He leaned back as the waitress placed steaming plates of steak and potatoes in front of them.
Donetta slathered butter and sour cream on her potato, and as they ate, the conversation lulled. It was an easy silence, and that surprised her. Silence with Tim had set her nerves on edge, given her reason to angst.
“Does that ever bother you?” she asked, picking up their conversati
on. “Being so suspicious of everyone?” They were alike in that respect, she realized. Even though she was comfortable enough to be herself, neither of them trusted easily.
“No.” He seemed bewildered by the question. “You get conditioned to people lying to you every day. If a cop’s not suspicious, it puts him in danger. The crime and ugliness did get old, though,” he admitted. “Coming back to Hope Valley, I’ve realized there’s more good than bad in the world. I’d begun to forget that.”
“But you’re still cautious about Judd.”
“He’s given me reason to be. The scam he pulled with you shows his true character. Only a fool would trust twice.”
Exactly. She met his gaze, certain her thought was blatantly clear, then laid her fork and knife across her plate to signal the waiter that she was finished with her meal.
“Don’t be drawing the wrong conclusion, or making comparisons—between us,” he said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. Your tone and your eyes said it for you.” He pushed his plate away and sipped his water. “God knows you’ve got plenty of reason not to trust, but I intend to change that.”
Before she could comment, he stood and held out his hand. “Dance with me?”
Her heart lurched. She hadn’t even realized the music had started. Now she heard the sensual notes of a ballad—one meant for holding a partner close. “That might not be such a good idea.”
“Afraid you’ll want to jump my bones?”
Her eyes went wide. It was a dare, pure and simple. He knew she wouldn’t—couldn’t—resist. Especially when he wore that sexy, devilish smile.
“Come on, Slim. Have a heart. Don’t leave me standing here looking rejected.”
She put her hand in his, followed him onto the small square of wood flooring, where several other couples were swaying together or doing a slow two-step.
“I shouldn’t let you have your way,” she said against his neck as he drew her in. Her insides were jumping like frog legs in a skillet.