Blame It on Texas

by Christie Craig

  Then again, Noel would give her hell no matter what job she took. And she was tired of making life choices just to avoid pissing him off. However, the price of pissing him off could be too great.

  She glanced at Britney. While her daughter looked more like her, she could see Noel in her, too. The dimple in her chin, the way her smile was a bit crooked. Funny how the biggest mistake in her life had given her the best thing in the world.

  “I thought we were going to see Nikki,” Britney said as they got into their car.

  “I said we might. She must still be helping Mr. O’Connor pack up his things. But we’ll see her later.” Ellen started the car.

  “Can I have my book now? Pleeeasssse.”

  “Sure.” Ellen looked in the backseat.

  “You put the bag in the trunk.” Britney made a pleading face.

  A sucker for her daughter’s “pleases,” Ellen cut the engine off, then popped the trunk. Moving to the back of the Honda, she reached for the bag that had slid deep into the trunk. Leaning her knee on the back of the car, she half-crawled into the trunk.

  “Can I help you?” a deep voice asked.

  Ellen shot up so fast she banged her head on the trunk lid. “Ouch!”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” A deep chuckle followed the words.

  Looking over her shoulder, she saw Rick Clark, the man whom supposedly she’d begged to have sex with her. Ellen blamed it on the morphine, but even now she felt herself being lured by his sexy laugh. She also felt his gaze on her extending ass.

  “Just getting Britney’s book.” Snatching the bag, she crawled out and smiled cautiously. LeAnn, whose husband was Rick’s partner, had warned Ellen that Rick was a bit of a player. Not that Ellen would have been tempted to carry through with her proposition.

  Meeting the man’s soft green eyes, she amended her last thought. She might have been tempted, but she wouldn’t go there. She’d been played by a player once. Never again.

  When she closed the trunk, the bag holding the books split in two, and the contents hit the pavement by her sandals.

  Rick knelt down and picked up Britney’s books. “Is she reading already? How old is she?”

  “She’s six and already a bit of a bookworm.”

  “Like her mom?” he asked, eyeing the books.

  “Guilty.” She shot up.

  He stood up, too. “What age do kids start reading?”

  For a second she believed he was interested, but wasn’t that what players did? Pretend to be interested in something you liked? Get you thinking they were a nice guy so they could sleep with you, get you pregnant, and then tell you they were married? Or was that just Noel’s mode of operation?

  “Six. I should… go.”

  “Did you encourage her to read?” He thumbed through the book and then smiled up at her.

  She had to reach deep to remember not to be fooled by smiling sexy eyes. “I read to her.” She motioned to the books he held, hoping she didn’t come off rude, but she didn’t want to encourage him.

  “Later.” He handed her the books.

  She turned away, applauding herself for escaping before he did something like…

  “Would you like to do dinner sometime?” he asked before she got the door open.

  She looked back. “Uh… I kind of got a lot on my plate right now.”

  “Seeing someone else, huh?”

  “Sorry.” It was easier to lie. Or to let him assume.

  “He’s a lucky guy.” He didn’t seem offended. She gave him credit for making it easy.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Take care.” He started backing away.

  “You, too.” Oddly enough she wondered about LeAnn’s assessment of him. Not that it mattered. Romance was out of the question right now.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TYLER WOKE UP at his usual six a.m. time for Sunday morning and debated pulling the covers back over his head. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, trying to remember how he knew the redhead. Not that it hadn’t been fun at times. He’d played mental paper dolls, where he stripped the redhead naked and dressed her in different uniforms, hoping it would help him remember where he’d met her. He’d tried a nurse’s uniform, a sexy cocktail waitress getup, and a prim and proper librarian outfit.

  Though his mental exercises hadn’t solved the puzzle of the redhead’s identity, it might have answered part of his relationship problems.

  As Dallas had pointed out yesterday, Austin liked his women cheap and probably not college educated.

  Of all the outfits Tyler had mentally dressed the redhead in, the one that landed him in the shower at one this morning had been the librarian. He obviously had a thing for women with IQs larger than their breast size.

  He was smart enough to know that when a person repeated a mistake, it meant they were following a pattern. And since he’d found himself with someone who wanted more than he did and things had ended badly a few times now, he had to accept that his pattern must be falling for the wrong kind of woman. Apparently, exceptionally smart women were less likely to participate in casual affairs.

  So all he had to do was change the type of woman he asked out. And perhaps, he’d already gotten a head start. The redhead hadn’t made a lick of sense, and he’d certainly appreciated her other assets.

  Five minutes later, Tyler walked to the kitchen of his two-bedroom apartment and poured himself a cup of coffee. After a couple of sips, he looked at the clock. He’d told Dallas he would meet him at his dad’s house around ten thirty to help move his dad’s things into his new place. Dallas’s dad had finally decided that remaining in his old home was making it hard to move past the loss of his wife. So he was moving into the adult retirement community where Nikki’s grandmother lived, and Dallas and Nikki were going to move into Dallas’s dad’s house. Which meant the apartment at the office was going to be empty. And since Tyler practically lived there already, moving in just made sense.

  Looking at the empty boxes he’d gathered a week ago, he wondered why he kept postponing the packing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to move.

  Hell… maybe the move would shake him out of his rut. A new place to live. A new type of woman to fall for—one that just wanted to have some fun. A better attitude so his family would stop thinking he was depressed.

  Taking another sip of coffee, Tyler opened the refrigerator as if food might magically appear there. It didn’t.

  What he wouldn’t give for a plate of huevos rancheros—the kind being served in about thirty minutes at his sister’s place. But when Sam wouldn’t take his calls last night, he’d left a message and said he was skipping breakfast. If Sam was mad, and she obviously was, he knew she wouldn’t go if she thought he was going. With a new baby and an asshole of a husband, she needed the family more than he did. So he’d give her a week to get over being pissed.

  Shutting the fridge, Tyler tried to recall if he’d ever seen huevos rancheros on the menu at Cookie’s Café. But instead of envisioning the menu, his mind produced an image of the pretty waitress who…

  “That’s it!” He abandoned his coffee and grabbed his keys, remembering how it pissed him off that the waitress would never make direct eye contact. Not that she lacked service skills, but because she was pretty enough that a man wanted her full attention.

  The thrill of seeing her again, and making direct eye contact this time, surged through his blood. He told himself the thrill was all about solving the puzzle of her identity, and not about the instant lust she’d brought out in him, but when he almost left the apartment without his shoes on, he called himself a liar. Only lust made him forget clothing items.

  When Tyler spotted the silver Cobalt with Alabama tags parked around the back of the diner, the thrill shot through him again. Pulling out his phone, he typed in her license plate number and then e-mailed it to his cousin who was a Texas Highway Patrol officer.

  After parking, Tyler took a minute to figure out how best to approac
h her. Finally, he decided to play it by ear. Inside, he immediately spotted her waiting on an elderly couple. As he took his first step inside, his phone rang.

  He checked the number. Ramon, his oldest brother—no doubt calling to give him an ass-chewing for not showing up for breakfast. And it wasn’t as if Tyler could explain. If Ramon knew Leo had hit Sam, shit would hit the fan.

  “Hi, brother,” Tyler said.

  “Hey,” Ramon said. “You wanna explain why you aren’t here? You and Sam are both missing. We made a pact, brother. You don’t miss our family breakfasts.”

  “Sam’s not there?” Tyler asked. “Have you called her?”

  “She says the baby’s running a little fever. Lola went over to check on him. What’s your excuse?”

  “It’s work.” He watched Red taking an elderly couple’s order. She laughed at something the old man said.

  “Work comes before family? That’s bullshit.”

  Ramon was a hardass about keeping the family together, but Tyler couldn’t blame him. Ten years Tyler’s senior, Ramon had quit college and gone to work in construction to keep the family together after their father had died. In so many ways, Ramon had taken over as head of the household.

  “We all got together yesterday at Anna’s birthday.”

  “You left early and didn’t even say good-bye. What the hell was up with that?”

  “You know me, I had something on my mind and was halfway down the road before I realized I hadn’t said good-bye. Besides, I’m doing what I can,” Tyler said.

  “Well, do more.” Ramon hung up.

  Tyler looked up at the redheaded waitress. Her hair was up in a tight bun, which explained why he hadn’t recognized her. Her dark auburn hair was her best feature, but pulled up in that tight bun, her hair almost appeared brown.

  His gaze did a quick up and down of her shapely body. She filled out the white skirt and top to perfection, and he almost conceded that her hair came in second. Not that her face was bad. He watched her smile and make direct eye contact with the couple. So she didn’t avoid eye contact with everyone. Maybe it was just men she deprived of her attention.

  “Have a seat anywhere,” the elderly waitress said as she passed with a tray of food balanced on one hand.

  He nodded, then, after studying the table setup, he surmised which tables would be Red’s. When she moved to a dirty table, pocketed the tip, and started stacking dishes, he moved forward.

  “Mind if I sit here?” He waited for her to look at him, anticipating her reaction.

  “No problem.” She barely glanced at him as she cleaned the table. “I’ll have it cleaned in a sec.” Her soft southern drawl came through.

  He remembered he’d been wearing the clown costume the previous afternoon and had to bite back a smile. When she leaned over to clean the far end of the table, his gaze shifted to her ass and he recalled watching her crawl across his office floor.

  “Coffee?” She gave the table two more swipes, her hips moving with the circular motion.

  “That would be fine.” When she straightened from wiping the table, he sat down. “Thanks.”

  He waited to see if she’d meet his gaze. Clown costume or not, he hoped for a flash of recognition, but like in the past, she didn’t look at him directly. He watched her step away. She snagged a cup and filled it with coffee. As she started away from the counter, a bell rang. She turned back and placed the coffee on a tray loaded down with three plates of food.

  She moved toward him and set the coffee on his table while balancing the tray with her other hand.

  “Got some cream?” He continued to stare at her.

  “Yup.” She dug into her apron and pulled out a few creamers.

  As she set the creamer down, he asked, “So you found your contact lens?”

  Her gaze shot to his face, and her blue eyes finally widened with recognition.

  He grinned and winked, enjoying it a tad too much.

  She didn’t move, but one of the plates on her tray did. She adjusted the hand holding the tray as if trying to prevent the disaster, but it was too late. Tyler saw it happening, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The white plate flew off the tray, heading right at his head. He dodged the plate, but the warm grits and scrambled eggs made a direct hit with his face.

  “Shit,” she muttered as the plate crashed to the floor.

  He knocked a blob of butter from his cheek and looked at her. She jumped back as if afraid he might hit her. Her quick retreat sent the second and third plate racing across the tray, and, once again, he was the finish line. The next plate to hit had a couple of sunny-side-up eggs, wheat toast with extra butter, and what he thought was hash browns. The food came so fast he wasn’t completely sure. Well, not sure until several forkfuls of shredded potatoes, accompanied by the half-cooked eggs, plopped right in his lap.

  Somehow, he’d managed to catch one plate before it hit the floor, but the other plate bounced off the table, hit the linoleum, and shattered. As a thick glob of grits fell from the end of his nose, laughter exploded from the other diner patrons.

  “I…” She stared at him.

  He scooted his chair back from the table and stared down at himself. She dropped the tray on the edge of his table, grabbed his napkin, and started wiping globs of still warm grits off his chest. She kept wiping, following the trail of food down to his lap. She attempted to flop one half-cooked egg from his crotch. But the yoke burst and he watched it run between his legs.

  Finally, she raised her head, met his gaze, and froze. He stared into her beautiful blue eyes and the sweetest mouth he could ever remember seeing. Appearing almost as mesmerized by his gaze as he was by hers, her hand with the napkin slipped deeper between his legs. Her gentle touch came in direct contact with sensitive body parts and felt pretty damn good, too. She jumped back as if suddenly realizing where her hand was.

  A smile pulled at his mouth, but, seeing panic in her eyes, he bit it back. “It’s okay.”

  She continued to stare. “Sorry. Really sorry.”

  She stepped back and must have stepped on a part of the broken plate, because her right foot slipped out from under her and she plopped down on her ass. The chorus of laughter filling the diner grew louder. For the first time, he frowned at the crowd.

  “You okay?” He jumped up and reached out his hand—a hand partially covered in scrambled eggs.

  She didn’t take his hand. “I’m fine.” She eked out the words.

  Then her wide blue eyes blinked, and she covered her mouth with her palm. He didn’t know if she was crying or laughing, but then humor shone through her eyes. And damn if she wasn’t pretty with her eyes lit up like that, too.

  “You’re a mess,” she said.

  He glanced down at the front of his shirt, where he wore an array of breakfast foods. Chuckling, he removed a piece of buttered toast glued to his chest and other remnants of scrambled eggs from his shoulder. Then he wiped what he thought was a pat of butter from the side of his ear.

  “Here.” The older waitress showed up and pushed a damp towel into his hands. When she looked at him, she cracked a smile, too.

  He used the towel to remove what he suspected was congealed hash browns from the side of his face and watched as Red got to her feet. She pushed herself up, and he checked out her calves to make sure she hadn’t been cut by the shattered plates. No blood, but really nice legs.

  When he raised his eyes to her face, a frown replaced her smile. She went to the counter and started calling out orders to the cooks. Not that they were listening. They were too busy laughing and peering out the open service window at him.

  He sat down on the other side of the table and tried to get most of the grits off his chest with the towel, but he didn’t take his eyes off the redhead. Just in case she tried to run. Though, why she would duck out was beyond him. He still didn’t have a clue why she’d been rummaging around his desk the previous day.

  The older waitress followed Red behind the coun
ter, and they whispered back and forth. Once Red looked back and met his eyes again. But she quickly turned away.

  Was she going to run again? He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t about to let her get away this time. He pushed back his chair, just in case he had to dart after her.

  Recalling what Rick said about Red being an Anna Nicole wannabe, he frowned. Then his eyes went to her curvy backside, and he had to admit she probably had what it took to follow in the late woman’s footsteps. But for some reason, he didn’t believe it.

  He reached for his coffee but saw it had eggs in it, and he pushed it away. Suddenly, another cup was set in front of him. Looking up, he stared at the older waitress.

  “Breakfast’s on me this morning,” she said.

  He arched a brow at her and smiled. “I could swear it was on me.” He glanced down at his chest, still speckled with grits and eggs.

  She grinned. Suddenly realizing that she blocked his view, and afraid she was a decoy, he rose from his seat to make sure Red was still at the counter. She was.

  As if she knew what he’d been checking on, the older waitress’s grin faded. “You eat and then you leave.”

  He remembered hearing someone calling the woman by her name. “Dixie, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, Dixie, I have a little problem. I need to speak to… Red before I go.”

  She set one hand on her hip, and he could see attitude all over her. “Red’s busy working.”

  “It’s okay.” Red appeared beside Dixie. She dropped a couple of creams beside his coffee. “I’ll take care of this, Dixie. Thanks.”

  Dixie looked at Red and then back at him. “You see that barrel-chested man behind the counter, there?”

  Tyler nodded, and she continued, “That’s my Fred. He packs heat and he’s not scared to use it.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “IDON’T THINK HE’LL NEED TO.” Tyler chose not to tell her that he packed heat as well. Hell, if she wanted to check with Internal Affairs of the Glencoe police, located just down the road, they’d tell her that he wasn’t afraid to use it, either. Three times he’d had to use his weapon. Three times he’d been investigated, and three times it had been judged a good shoot. He didn’t take shooting someone lightly, but he didn’t dillydally when someone was about to shoot him, either.