Morning Man

by Barbara Kellyn

  He lifted his head, his face hot and his breathing heavy. “Abe Lincoln?”

  “Jeez, give me a break. I can’t think straight when you’re doing that.”

  “That’s the whole point,” he said, lowering his mouth to her dampened shirt again. His hand slid between them, opening her jeans just enough to wedge inside. Snaking his fingers under the zipper, he cupped and massaged her intimately, sending her into a frenzy of need until the torment was too much to bear.

  “Tack…no, we can’t.” She sucked in a breath of air, feeding her oxygen-deprived brain. “We have to stop before we can’t stop.”

  Reluctantly, he pulled out his hand and she immediately lamented her stupid decision.

  “I wish I didn’t want you so damn bad, sugar, but I can’t help myself.”

  “I want you too, but we can’t just throw away twelve–” She stopped, interrupted by the thunderous growling of her empty stomach. Her eyes widened on his as it gurgled a second time. “Sorry. I’m famished.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Then we’d better get something in ya real soon,” he said, rolling his hips in a forward thrust.

  She shuddered under him. “I thought you were making me something to eat.”

  “You are something to eat.” He licked his lips, curling up into a devilish grin.

  “Get off me!” She hoisted him up with a forceful push and he tumbled into a cackling heap beside her on the bed. When their laughter subsided, she turned to face him, sharing his pillow as they gazed soulfully into each other’s eyes.

  He reached over and brushed a wisp of hair from her flushed cheek. “You are so beautiful,” he said with a sigh. “I would love to wake up next to this face every morning.”

  She swallowed, feeling a deep pang that was definitely not hunger. “You really ought to be more careful saying sweet things like that, cowboy. Girls like me tend to believe them.”

  “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never said them to anyone before,” he said tenderly. “No one’s ever made me feel the way you do.”

  If that was a lie, it was one of the best she’d ever heard. She put her hand on his face and stroked over his bristled jaw as she kissed him softly. Emotion welled within her and as she trembled, a tear spilled over and rolled down. “Please don’t say another word,” she whispered against his lips. “My heart just can’t take being broken again.” She kissed him once more before edging away, sitting up to fasten her jeans with her back turned so that Tack wouldn’t see her dampened cheeks. Sniffing back her unfallen tears, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “So, what happened to this great meal you promised me, huh? My stomach’s rumbling louder than a frickin’ NASCAR rally here.”

  “Right,” he said, rolling to the other side of the mattress. “Before we got sidetracked, I came to say lunch was nearly ready.”

  “Well, good,” she said, standing up and straightening her shirt. “Lead the way.”

  * * * *

  Dayna propped her arm up on the window frame, watching the scenery go by on their way to the station. “You know what we should do with a portion of the money we get from Bonnie?”

  “You thinkin’ about Abel?”

  She nodded. “I mean, what do I really need a whole six grand for, anyway? A couple, three thousand tops is the most I’ll need to put down first and last month’s rent and a security deposit somewhere.”

  He glanced across the cab and held her gaze. “You’d really consider that?”

  “Of course I would,” she said. “Nothing would feel more right than to be able to help his family out.”

  Tack checked the side mirror and changed lanes, smiling as he thought about how amazing she was. “Would you like to meet Abel?”

  “Are you serious?” She sat up straighter as her voice pitched with excitement. “You know I would.”

  “Okay, well, um…I’m never quite sure when he’s going to be out there in the morning. Sometimes I miss him, sometimes he’s waiting for me. But maybe we can plan a day where I can introduce you to him.”

  She nodded. “That would be great.”

  “But you don’t go looking for him without me, all right? I’m not worried about Abel, I just don’t know what else or who else might be back there at four in the morning and I don’t want you ever finding out alone.”

  “Okay,” she agreed. “If I haven’t said it lately, I like the way you look out for me,” she said, reaching out to lace her fingers between his. “And you make one hell of a Monte Cristo. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

  He chuckled. “The secret is the Emmental cheese.”

  “And here I thought it was that nice blackish-burnt crust on the outside.”

  “Hey, they weren’t burnt, they were just crispy. I thought you might like it with a little extra crunch.”

  “You’re right, I did and it was delicious washed down with that second Bloody Mary, too. Thanks again.”

  “Anytime, sugar,” he said, pulling into the station lot. Most of the parking stalls were taken by the sales and admin staff, so he just rolled up behind Dayna’s red Beetle. “Now bring those sweet lips over here and plant a good one on me before you go.”

  She looked around to make sure the coast was clear, then leaned in and gave him a sweet, delicate kiss that lingered on their lips for several seconds. “Mmm…Rush Limbaugh,” she purred softly, her eyes still closed as she moved away.

  She climbed out, waved goodbye, and walked around the front end of the truck when he suddenly heard her blood-curdling screech.

  He leaned halfway out his open window. “Jesus, what’s the matter?”

  She pointed to her car. “Somebody slashed my tires!”

  * * * *

  Tack crouched down for a closer look as Dayna inspected for damage around the car’s exterior. “Fuck,” she grumbled, counting three flats with visible puncture wounds.

  He stood up and checked the vehicles parked on either side, then those within a close vicinity of her car. “Everyone else’s tires appear to be okay,” he said, returning to the spot where she stood.

  “So it’s just me. Great.” A rush of panic pumped through her veins. “Now what am I supposed to do? I only have one spare in the trunk.”

  He put his arm around her. “Okay, let’s just calm down. I’ll go get you three new tires and put them on for you.”

  “But I can’t afford three new tires. They must be close to a hundred bucks each.”

  He continued to stare at the deflated rubber on the pavement. “Then again, if you’re going to buy three, we might as well get four.”

  Dayna scowled, balling her hands into tight fists of fury at her side. “Do the fucking math, Tack. I can’t afford to get three tires, let alone four.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she released her whitened knuckles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know you’re only trying to help.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “We should probably call the police and report this in case it isn’t some random act.”

  “We both know this isn’t some random act. This was definitely an on-purpose act deliberately targeting me,” she said. “I’m the slut from the billboard, remember?”

  “Come here,” he said, gathering her close in his arms. “This has nothing to do with that. Chances are, it was some bored, punk-ass kid who did this.”

  She shook her head as she nestled against his chest, trying not to cry. “I wish I could believe that. But I just know someone’s out to get me.”

  “Look, let’s go inside and then figure out what to do,” he said, rubbing her back. “We were only gone a couple of hours, so it’s likely someone may have seen something.”

  Dayna called the police from the phone in the jocks’ office, relaying her information to a desk sergeant as he filled out a report over the phone. He said they hadn’t had any other reports of vandalism in the neighborhood that day, but assured that the district patrol would keep an eye on things. As she hung up, Tack ambled in wearing an oddly
disturbed expression. “Well? Did you find anything out?”

  “I’ve got some good news and some not-so-great news,” he said, plunking down in the chair on the other side of the desk. “The good news is I just talked to Barry in sales. One of his accounts is a Volkswagen dealer, so he’s on the phone making a contra deal to get you four new tires pronto. No charge.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she said, keeping a smile in reserve. “Now what about the not-so-great news?”

  He sighed, pinching the pressure point on the bridge of his nose. “I also asked around to see if anyone noticed any strange activity in the parking lot today.”

  “What did you find out? Tell me.”

  “Dub said that when he ducked out for a smoke break, he saw a black guy in a shabby army jacket wandering around. Lisa from the creative department confirmed seeing the same person earlier.”

  “Abel?” She sat stunned. “No. You don’t think?”

  “There’s no way. He wouldn’t do something vicious like this.”

  “From everything you’ve told me, Abel wouldn’t hurt a fly. And besides, he doesn’t even know who I am.” She slumped forward, resting her head down on the desk. “I hate knowing that somebody has it in for me.”

  “There’s no reason to be paranoid,” he reminded her. “Even if by some far-out fluke it happened to be the same person who sent you that mail, they may not have it in for you, they may only be trying to send you a message.”

  “Like what? ‘Die, you evil slut bitch?’”

  “No, but say it’s someone who might be jealous.”

  Dayna raised her head. “You think it’s CJ, don’t you?”

  “For one, he has the motive.” He lifted one finger before counting on a second digit. “Two, he has the opportunity, doesn’t he?”

  She blinked. “Well, yeah, I guess. He’s not on the air for another hour.”

  Tack held out a trio of fingers. “And three, he has the means. Not only does he know where and when you work, he knows you well enough to realize how much this would hurt you.”

  She buried her face in her hands and grimaced. “Oh my God, Tack. You’re right, it’s got to be CJ. He’s been acting so crazy since he came home and found us together. He even called me a whore.”

  “What?” He growled, lunging from the chair.

  “Yeah. He said our billboard makes me look like your whore.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” His temper flared as he pounded his fist loud on the desk. “I’m gonna go over there and kill that bastard.”

  She shielded her eyes from his display of bravado. “You can’t do that. It will only make things worse.”

  “You are moving out of that house,” he said, jabbing his finger in the air.

  “And go where? I have nothing to my name but last week’s paycheck and a car with one tire.”

  He rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in a wild, what-the-hell gesture. “Move in with me.”

  She laughed, knowing there was no way he could be serious. “Now you’re the one who’s gone off the deep end. I’m not moving in with you.”

  “I’m giving you a place to stay where you can get away from that lunatic. Plus, I can keep an eye on you there.”

  “Oh yeah, I’ll just bet you will.”

  “Forget sex. I’ll sleep on the damn couch.”

  “Absolutely not.” She shook her head adamantly. “Besides, we don’t even have solid proof that this is even CJ’s doing.”

  “You have your gut instinct telling you it is. That should be enough for now.”

  “I’m not moving out, Tack,” she said angrily. “Nor am I taking your money, sleeping in your bed or riding your coattails. I told you I can take care of myself. I don’t need you.”

  He stepped back and tilted his head, looking both startled and hurt. “Oh really?”

  Her steely demeanor suddenly softened along with her voice. “I mean, I don’t need you to do everything for me. I’m not a little girl.”

  “I’m perfectly aware of how capable you are. So sue me for caring about you.”

  She exhaled, knowing that she was feeling too much for him too fast. “I care about you too. I just can’t get overly dependent on you or on anybody else.”

  “Okay,” he said quietly, shoving both hands in his pockets. “I’ll back off if that’s what you really want. I just–”

  Myrna, the front-desk receptionist, knocked on the doorjamb. “Uh, Dayna? Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a service guy here from Gold Key Volkswagen to fix your car? He wants to know what to do with the old tires once they take them off.”

  “Thanks, Mern. I’ll be right there.” Dayna got up to leave but stopped in front of Tack, looping her hand around his arm and leaning her head against his shoulder. “I get afraid when I let myself think about how much you mean to me, cowboy,” she said on the light gust of a sigh.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I know,” he whispered. “You scare the daylights out of me, too.”

  Chapter 11

  Tack tapped the aluminum bat against the plate, then brought it back to settle on his shoulder. He shifted from side to side and sunk down lower in his stance. “You know how I like it, El. Nice ‘n’ easy, now. Nice ‘n’ easy.”

  “That’s the only way I throw ’em, Tackman,” Elliott called out from the mound, winding up for the pitch.

  He leaned in, his sights trained on the ball. He swung hard as it smoked right past him and into Jared’s catcher’s mitt. “What the hell? I said nice ‘n’ easy. That was high and wide.”

  “You’re nuts. That was beautiful,” Elliott said with a chortle as he caught the ball coming back to him.

  “You need bifocals?” Dayna hollered from third base. “Hey gang, maybe we should move in closer while the old lady’s at bat.”

  Tack smirked along with the chorus of laughs. “I think the ball would fit nicely in that big pie hole of yours, Miss Cook, so shut it before you eat my line drive.” He tugged up the pant legs of his sweats and took his stance once again, determined to smack it hard and high above everyone’s heads. It was only team practice, but jeez, he had a reputation as a heavy hitter to uphold.

  Elliott wound up for the pitch.

  “Sa-wingggbattabattabatta-sa-winggg!” Dayna razzed.

  Tack tightened his grip and swung with all his might. The ball made a sliver of contact, the sudden change in trajectory sending it zooming straight into the air before hurtling down into Jared’s glove. It bounced and the kid dropped it. “Tipped ball.”

  “Shit!” He smacked the bat against the ground, sending a cloud of dust in the air. Wiping the sweat forming on his brow with his forearm, he threw a dirty look at Dayna bent over with laughter. Lucky for her she looked so damn juicy in her knotted 103 Wranglers shirt and cut-off shorts, otherwise heckling a man at bat would be tough to forgive.

  “Ha! I’ve seen better swings on a ghetto playground,” she jeered.

  Tack ignored her taunts, pulling his cap down low over his eyes in concentration. He stared intently at Elliott, holding his pre-throw stance on the mound. Come on, baby. Let’s do this, he silently coached himself. Game seven, bottom of the ninth, bases loaded.

  Elliott wound up for the pitch and threw a slider. Tack gritted his teeth and put everything he had into his final swing, the ball finally connecting with the barrel of the bat. Ping! He dropped it behind him and with a satisfied grin, watched the ball sail far out and finally sink deep in the outfield. Stepping on the canvas bag at first base, he gave Barry a high five in passing before jogging to second.

  Dayna spread her arms to barricade him from third. “No way, Jose,” she warned as he came running down the baseline.

  “Not a problem,” he said, ducking down low.

  She let out a loud shriek of laughter as he barreled into her, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder. “Put me down, you big hairy ape!” she squealed, earning a good hard smack on her bottom as they both crossed home plat
e to bring in the run. They were still laughing when her feet touched dirt again.

  He pounded his fists on his chest. “That’s what you get for throwing me off my game.”

  “Speaking of throwing, not only do you bat like an old lady, you throw a ball like one too.” She stuck out her tongue.

  “Is that so?” He lifted her off the ground and tossed her back over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, playfully swatting her butt several times despite her mock protests. “All right, who’s coming out for a beer?” he asked as the team came in from the field.

  “I guess I am,” Dayna said, hanging limply down his back like a rag doll.

  Tack pushed his sunglasses up on the brim of his cap. “Well, of course you are. I’m talking to everyone else.”

  “Count me in,” Dub said. “The Roadhouse?”

  Barry nodded. “Sure.”

  “Last one buys first round,” Elliott said, followed by quick agreement from the rest of the team.

  Tack picked up an equipment bag in one hand, still gripping Dayna with the other. He proudly carried his woman caveman-style down a gully and across the next diamond as they approached the parking lot. “How’s it going back there, slugger?”

  “Actually, it’s not bad,” she said. “I’ve got a great view of the full moon.”

  He looked into the evening sky. “Where? I don’t see it.”

  “Right here.” With one quick movement, she shoved down the back of his sweats and gave him a stinging spank, sending everyone behind them into hysterics.

  “Fuck!” He scrambled to cover his bare ass as the gang howled with catcalls.

  “Ooh, baby, that’s one Grade-A piece of tail.” She giggled. “Mama like.”

  With one hand, he snapped his sweats and underwear back into place before picking up the equipment bag and moving on. “Do that again and Mama will be real sorry when I carry her through the bar with her shorts around her ankles,” he said, laughing along.

  * * * *

  Liz got her crew to push together several tables to make one long enough to accommodate all fourteen players on the Wranglers team. Wednesday was a low-key night of the week at the Roadhouse, so they made their money enticing local ball clubs to come by for cheap pitchers of beer and two-for-one pizzas.