by Dylann Crush
“Unbelievable. I’ve got to shut down the stage first. Give me twenty minutes.”
“Thank you so much. We’ll see you then.” Dixie shoved her phone back into her purse as she turned to Chandler. “Presley will be here in just a bit.”
“That’s great. Sorry again about the tire. I never thought to check the spare.”
“Oh, it’s fine. Good thing you didn’t break down on your way to Holiday though.” Maybe if he had she wouldn’t have gotten her hopes up that her knight in shining armor—or her knight in a powder-blue Caddy with horns—had finally arrived to sweep her off her feet. From what she could tell, Presley was definitely onto something. Chandler hadn’t come right out and admitted anything directly, but the questions he’d been asking and the comments he’d made left no doubt his interest in Holiday went well beyond the chili.
Sage had locked up and retired an hour ago. She’d offered to drive them into town, but Chandler had balked at the sight of her rickety truck. She’d been driving it for years, and Dixie figured by now it had to be held together with duct tape and string.
“I’m sorry the evening turned into a bit of a bust.” Chandler sat in the driver’s seat. When they figured they’d be waiting a while, he’d mentioned he’d feel safer in the car. Dixie didn’t blame him. After walking through Sage’s place, she felt like creepy-crawly things were lurking around and under everything.
“Oh, it’s okay.” She tried to keep her tone light. Inside, her anxiety threatened to boil over. She couldn’t wait to fill Presley in on everything.
Chandler turned toward her and put his arm on the seat behind her. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me another chance?”
“Another chance at what?” As far as she was concerned, she didn’t need to spend any more time with him. Over the course of the evening, it had become clear his interest lay in the town, not the people in it. And, unfortunately for her romantic heart, that meant her too.
His fingers played with the hair at the nape of her neck. She wrapped her arms across her middle.
“Are you cold?” He dropped his arm to her shoulders and gently pulled her close.
Cold? It had to still be eighty-five degrees out. Of course she wasn’t cold. But what had Presley advised? To use her feminine wiles?
“So what do you say? Another chance at sharing a nice evening together?” His eyes peered out at her, his skin bathed in a silver haze from the light of the full moon.
A thousand reasons to say no ran through her mind. She didn’t want to be anyone’s patsy. But what if…what if she could get to the bottom of what might be going on with the potential investors? “I think that would be nice.”
“Good. Are we still on for dinner Monday night? I thought it might be fun to try out the Farley Inn.” With one arm wrapped around her, he scooted closer and ran his fingers up and down her arm.
“Um, I don’t know about that, Chandler.” She’d be busy making sure things were good to go for the continuation of the Chili Festival next weekend. Plus she had commitments. She’d been telling the truth earlier about her promise to take Gram and Mrs. Mitchell to bingo, and she wasn’t sure whether she could trust Presley to come through for her instead.
“So I ate all those peppers for nothing?” He leaned close, his breath brushing against her cheek.
He had to play the pepper card. Guilt bloomed in her stomach. Technically she did owe him a date, even though she no longer had much hope that he’d be the perfect distraction to end her late-night dreams about Presley Walker.
“I suppose I do owe you a dinner.” Her toes curled in her sandals. If she was reading the signals right, it seemed like Chandler was about to kiss her.
“Good. Monday night then.” He moved even closer. “I figured with Presley coming to the rescue, I won’t get an opportunity to walk you to the door tonight.”
Dixie let out a breath and tried to gulp in some air. With her back pressed against the car door, she didn’t have anywhere to go. She didn’t want Chandler to kiss her. Her next kiss should be with someone she really liked. Someone who could set her soul on fire and make her wish for things she never thought possible. Someone like Presley. Before she could stop herself from thinking it, her brain conjured up memories of her and Presley locking lips.
Lights swept over them, illuminating the front seat of the Caddy. Presley. Her heart surged in her chest, and relief flooded her system.
“Damn.” Chandler pressed a quick kiss to her temple. “Looks like our ride is here.”
She’d never been so grateful to see Presley Walker in her life.
Presley laid on the horn, causing Chandler to jerk away and her to jump several inches off the leather seat. “I don’t have all night.” He leaned out the window.
Chandler hopped out of the car and walked around to open her door. Dixie smoothed her skirt as she climbed out. “I’m going to put the top up and make sure I get it locked. I’ll just be a minute if you want to go ahead and wait in the car.”
“Do you need help?” Dixie asked.
“No. I’ll be right behind you.” Chandler offered a reassuring grin as he began to pull the convertible top up.
Dixie nodded and picked her way across the gravel parking lot to Presley. She opened the passenger door to find him messing around on his phone.
“Thanks for the ride,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, you’re welcome. How’d the big date go? Get any intel?” He twisted to face her as she climbed into the backseat.
She settled in as best she could. “We need to talk. He didn’t come right out and say anything, but he sure did ask a lot of questions.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like what there is to do for fun around here, what kind of restaurants we have, that kind of thing.”
“Hmm”—Presley’s brows lifted—“what did he say about the Garcia acreage?”
“We didn’t make it that far.”
“Damn, Fireball. I told you to take him out that way. That would have been the perfect spot to stop and see what gives.”
“Look, I’m a waitress. I make jewelry on the side. Nowhere in either of those professions does it say anything about spying.” She clenched her jaw. “If you want to find out what he’s up to, why not just ask him?”
Presley lifted his eyes heavenward like she was the most naive person on the face of God’s green earth. “I can’t ask him. Then he’d be onto us.”
“Shh, here he comes.” Dixie pulled the seat belt across her midsection as Chandler opened the door to the Jeep.
“Thanks for coming to get us.” He offered a hand to Presley, who gave it a firm shake.
Without even waiting for Chandler to shut the door behind him, Presley gunned the gas and spun the tires on the gravel. “My pleasure. Now let’s get you both back to town before Dixie Mae turns into a pumpkin.”
Chandler glanced back toward Dixie and let out an unsure laugh. “I, uh, hear you have someone in town who can take a look at the tires tomorrow?”
Dixie leaned forward. “I’ll give you Dwight’s number. He can tow it in to his shop and get you patched up in no time.”
His pearly white smile twinkled at her in the darkness. “Thank you.”
Presley jerked the wheel, and the Jeep bounced over a deep pothole, sending Dixie flying backward.
“Sorry, didn’t see that one until it was too late.” His gaze met Dixie’s in the rearview mirror.
As she sat and stewed in the backseat, he had the audacity to give her a wink. That man might be the death of her. Summoning every iota of self-control, she returned his gaze and stuck out her tongue.
His lips quirked up in a lopsided grin. Even at his worst, he still did something to her insides. Something that made her feel like she’d never been so out of her element.
* * *
“Enjoy the rest
of your night now.” Presley drummed his fingers against the steering wheel while Chandler scrambled out of the Jeep.
“Thanks again for the ride.” SoCal held the seat so Dixie could climb out behind him.
They stood face-to-face on the sidewalk of the B and B. What kind of move would Chandler try to make? Presley ran through some potential options in his head. Based on the way the poor guy made moony eyes over Dixie, he was probably hoping for a goodnight kiss.
“You gonna walk your date to the door, Dix?” He smirked at the look on her face—a mixture of horror and panic.
“That’s not necessary.” Chandler pulled her in for a hug and muttered something against her ear.
Presley strained to catch a hint of the conversation. Dixie said something back, then they broke apart. She climbed into the front seat of the Jeep, and Chandler shut the door behind her.
“We’ll talk soon.” He patted the doorframe.
She nodded.
“That’s it?” Presley asked.
Dixie whispered through the smile pasted on her lips. “Can you please drive away now?”
“You got it.” Presley raised his hand in a wave and pulled away from the curb. “What the hell was that all about?”
Dixie turned on him. “I’m about ready to kill you, Presley. Do you have any idea what you got me into?”
“I take it Prince Charming ain’t as charming as you’d hoped?” He watched her out of the corner of his eye, ready to defend himself if necessary. At this point Dixie could go one of two ways. She’d either get pissed and start swatting at him or get emotional and be reduced to a puddle of tears.
In an unexpected turn, she did neither.
A burst of laughter bubbled up, and she began to laugh. “I’m sorry.”
Concern creased his brow. What was this? Had she completely lost her marbles?
“It’s just—just—” She doubled over in laughter, arms wrapped around her middle.
“What’s going on?” He hadn’t been prepared for this.
“I can’t help it. When I get overwhelmed, I laugh.” She sat up again then erupted into another fit of giggles.
“Do I need to be worried here? Should I drop you off at urgent care? Maybe for a psych eval?”
Dixie drew herself up against the seat back. “No.” Her chest heaved as she took deep breaths in and out.
“You want to tell me what just happened there?” He eased the Jeep to a stop on the side of the road. His nana talked about people being overcome by the spirit. Maybe Dixie had been momentarily possessed.
“I’m okay.” She put her hands on the dash. “It’s been a weird night. I just needed to let some steam out.”
“You sure about that?” He eyed her with a degree of skepticism her outburst deserved. “You’re not going to bust out speaking in tongues?”
Dixie shook her head.
“Head’s not going to spin around before you puke pea-green soup on me, is it?”
“No.” She turned to face him, fully composed. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Now, if we could just head to the Rose, I think we need to talk.”
“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” Doubt lingered. What if she had a relapse?
“Was Doc still there when you left?”
“Yeah. He was spinning tall tales at the bar.”
Dixie nodded. “Then we need to get to the Rose. I want to ask him myself about what those boys up from San Antonio said to him.”
“All right then. To the Rose we go.” Presley pulled back onto the road, eager to get his unpredictable passenger delivered to their destination before something else happened.
Fifteen minutes later they entered the Rose. Cash had left long ago, before Presley had a chance to ask him about the chicken in the fiddle case. It had to be him. Despite their attempt to call a truce on the Walker brothers pranks, the hijinks were still happening—some of them more dangerous than others. Cash was still trying to get even for the rubber snake Presley had put in his Christmas tree last year. If it had been him who put the chicken in the fiddle case—and it had to be, Presley just knew it—then he’d upped the ante. Cash was the only one who had an inkling about Presley’s dreams. He’d caught Presley in their granddad’s old woodshop one afternoon. After Presley and Dixie found Doc and figured out what to do about the SoCal threat, he’d have to spend some serious time mulling over options for retaliation.
“You want to go see if Doc’s out back?” Dixie grabbed onto his arm to rise up on her tiptoes. She craned her neck and scoped out the crowd. How cute. Even raised above her full height, she still didn’t reach his eye level.
“Is it safe to leave you alone?”
“Of course.” She put her hands on his shoulders and tried to turn him around. “You check out back, and I’ll make sure he’s not in here.”
He didn’t budge. “When I left, he was sitting on Dwight’s stool at the bar.” Presley nodded toward where Dwight held an audience of cook-off competitors captive. No telling what kind of nonsense he was spouting.
“Well, then I’ll just ask Dwight where he went.” Dixie nodded then took off toward the bar. She bent close to Dwight, who wrapped an arm around her backside. Presley tensed. The sight of Dwight’s grease-stained hand pressing against Dixie’s shirt didn’t sit well with him. Before he had a chance to decide what, if anything, he wanted to do about it, she was back. “Dwight says Doc went home about a half hour ago. Darn it.”
Presley bit his lip.
“What now?” Her hands went to her hips.
“Darn it?” The smile escaped. “Hell, Fireball, have you ever said a four-letter word in your life?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What in the world does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. It’s just—sometimes it feels good to let one loose.”
“Sure, as long as it feels good, that’s your MO, right?” Green eyes blazed. “Some of us choose to alleviate our frustration in other ways.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, I do my alleviating in plenty of other ways too.”
Her gaze shot toward the sky. “Can we talk about the Rose so I can get home before it’s light outside?”
He gestured toward the hall. “After you. You’ve already ruined all my other plans tonight.”
She stepped ahead of him, making her way to the office. “What other plans? Don’t tell me you’d almost charmed some poor girl out of her knickers and that’s why you were so mad when I called.”
“What?” He feigned mock innocence. “Just trying to work on my alleviating.” She didn’t need to know about his foiled attempt to get an opinion on his fiddle. The idea of him wanting something beyond a one-night stand and a lifetime supply of free Lone Star would probably be as foreign to her as him suddenly starting to speak Greek.
Dixie groaned. “Can you be serious for five minutes?” She held up her hand, fingers splayed, as if he needed a visual on what the number five might look like.
“Five minutes.” Presley slumped into the chair behind Charlie’s desk. “Go. Why don’t you tell me all about your date with the hotshot from California?”
She perched on the edge of the chair in front of the desk. “Well, he said a few things that made me a little suspicious.”
“Such as?”
Her brow furrowed, creating a wrinkle on her forehead. “Nothing specific. It was just a feeling I got. The questions he asked about other entertainment venues and dining options made me wonder.”
Presley clucked his tongue. “Told ya so.”
She slumped back against the chair. “I don’t know. Maybe I was reading too much into it. You made me overanalyze everything he said.”
“Overanalyzing isn’t something I’ve had much practice at. You did that all to yourself. The question now is”—he paused for dramatic effect—“what are you going to do a
bout it?”
“Me?” The chair skittered backward as she launched herself out of it. “What do you mean ‘me’?” Her face flushed, making her green eyes burn even brighter.
Presley leaned forward. “I mean, he seems to like you. So how are you going to play it?”
Her arms cinched around her waist. “I told you, I’m not playing anything. I’m no good at these kind of games.”
He stood, meeting her eye to eye on his way out of the chair. “Lucky for you, I am. Now that we’ve got enough info to be suspicious, I think we need to launch a full-blown investigation.”
Dixie huffed out a breath. “And what might a full-blown investigation entail?”
“Well, first I think you need to get him drunk. Yeah.” Presley rounded the desk. “Then steer the conversation toward his business. See if he lets anything slip.”
“And when is this supposed to happen?”
“You’ve got a date Monday night, right? He’s obviously into you.”
“How do you know that?”
The smug grin he always seemed to wear around Dixie made another appearance. “Body language, Fireball. That poor sucker has it bad for you.”
“Why?” She looked like she’d just swallowed a jar full of pickle juice.
“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you’ve been getting your self-esteem, but you, darlin’, are what a guy like me would call the full package.”
“Oh my gosh, stop. It’s obviously way past my bedtime, and I must be hearing things. Can you please take me home?” Her spine ramrod straight, she smoothed out her skirt and shifted from foot to foot.
“You bet. Just answer me this.”
“What?”
“Your place or mine?”
* * *
Dixie rode the entire way back to Gram’s in silence, mulling over everything Presley had said. If Chandler was up to something, like it or not, she did seem like the most obvious person to try to weasel it out of him. But how? She couldn’t get him drunk. That didn’t feel right. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to spend another evening together. There didn’t appear to be much of a chance of a future with him, so what was the point?
