Ritt was instantly on his feet. Without even at glance at her, he made his way to the dining room. It seemed her husband was no more excited at having dinner with her than she was with him.
Craig was a surprisingly fine cook. Arugula salad with raspberry vinaigrette, veal parmesan, tender pasta, and sweet tiramisu for dessert. But as enjoyable as the meal was, Shelby couldn’t get over the fact that she was once again seated across from her husband, his gaze focusing on everything but her.
Shelby took another long drink of the sweet red wine. Somehow she’d lost count of how many glasses she’d had. But was she honestly expected to remember something so trivial when faced with the roguishly handsome visage of her husband?
“Let’s take our coffee into the living room.”
Ritt patted his stomach and to her dismay shook his head. “I should be getting home.”
No, wait. That’s what she wanted. Ritt could go home, and she could stay and visit. “I don’t know about coffee, but I could use a refill.” She held up her empty wine glass as evidence.
A look passed between Delilah and Craig.
“What?”
“You’ve had enough wine, Shelby.” Ritt’s words were quiet and kind. Exactly what she did not need from him.
“What are you now, my mother?” She instantly regretted her words.
“You didn’t eat much,” Delilah pointed out.
Okay, so she hadn’t eaten that much, and she had downed her fair share of the wine…maybe a little more than. She felt warm and cozy, but she certainly wasn’t drunk.
“Fine,” she said, proud that her words were strong and true and not as blurry as her mind felt at that moment. “Coffee in the living room it is.” What did it matter if she drank caffeine this late? With Ritt so close, she’d be up all night anyway.
She pushed herself up from the table, grabbing the edge as the room gave a quick lurch.
“Whoa.” Craig reached out a steadying hand, and Shelby resisted the urge to swat it away.
“I’m fine.” She smiled.
Delilah turned to Ritt.
He gave a grim nod.
“What?” Shelby asked.
Craig gave her a smile, the kind a person bestowed on drunks and children. “Ritt’s going to drive you home.”
“What? No. That is so not necessary.”
“But it is,” Delilah chimed in.
“Not.” Shelby crossed her arms in front of her, hoping that she wasn’t swaying as much as she felt she was. So she’d had too much to drink. She’d call a cab and…
Randall didn’t have a cab company. She couldn’t drive, that much she could accept, but that didn’t mean she had to go home with Ritt. Maybe she could stay here.
She turned to Delilah intent on doing just that but realized before she asked how crazy the request would sound. She was staying at Ritt’s house—a plan that should have resulted in him signing the divorce papers had he not been so stubborn—it was only natural that he be the one to take her home.
“Fine,” she grumbled, wishing she could start the evening over again. Stupid hindsight.
She gathered her purse, and she and Ritt said their goodbyes to Delilah and Craig.
Ritt opened the passenger-side door, and Shelby slid inside. The truck smelled as it always had, like old motor oil and Armor All.
Her heart beat with anticipation as he made his way to the other side and climbed in next to her. Back in the day she would have scooted across the bench seat to snuggle up under his right arm. The townspeople had joked that it had taken two to drive the old Ford. She and Ritt had laughed and gone about their business of being in love.
But that was a long time ago.
Without a word, Ritt cranked the engine, locked it in gear and turned the grill toward home.
Shelby kept her eyes straight ahead as they drove, concentrating on fighting off the memories that zoomed around inside her head.
She had never had a doubt back then. Ritt loved her and she loved him. That was all they needed to know. Everything else would fall into place. Ah, the arrogance of young love. Or was it innocence? She wasn’t sure anymore.
Twenty minutes and not one word later, Ritt pulled up in front of the little white house.
Shelby opened the door before he killed the engine and was waiting on the porch when he slid from the cab. So much for distancing herself. She’d forgotten the key she had taken from under the mat and now she had to wait for Ritt to unlock the door.
She didn’t move fast enough. He reached around her and shoved the key into the lock, giving it a vicious twist.
Why was he so angry?
She cut her gaze to his darkened features. His jaw was set, a little muscle jerking next to his ear. Without thinking, she lifted her hand and ran her fingers down the twitch. It was only natural from there to push her fingers into the hair at the side of his face and bring his mouth to hers.
His kiss was like coming home. His taste as familiar as her own. The shoulder strap on her handbag slipped and her purse landed with a thump. She raised her other arm to slide it around his neck as his snaked around her waist and hauled her close.
His mouth ravaged hers. It had always been this way between them. Hot, volatile, borderline insane. That was how he made her feel, crazy with wanting him.
She was about to tell him so when he wrenched himself away. Shelby pressed the back of a hand to her mouth, wondering how things had gotten out of hand so quickly. It was unnerving. Thankfully, her relationship with him was over. She couldn’t go through her life out of control.
“Ritt?” She didn’t know what she was going to say, but it seemed something needed to be said.
“Go sleep it off, Shelby.”
She was about to protest when he turned on his heel and stalked back to his truck. She didn’t know how long he stayed gone, but he still wasn’t home when she finally drifted off to sleep hours later.
Ritt stared at the back door of the house and twisted another cap off yet another beer. He pushed the hammock into motion and wondered if it was safe to go back in. How asinine was that? He couldn’t go into his own house because his wife was inside. Slightly drunk, incredibly desirable. And driving him completely out of his mind.
If he had any brains left at all, he’d sign her blessed papers and send her packing, but some demon inside him couldn’t let her off without a fight. He couldn’t let her walk away a second time without paying a few dues.
That was all it was. He wanted her to sweat it out, wonder, pay the piper so to speak before she could have her freedom. He’d let her go, eventually. He had to, but that didn’t mean he had to make it easy for her. No sir, he’d let her go all right, but this time when she walked away, she would know exactly what she was giving up.
Chapter Four
Bright morning sunlight cut through Shelby’s sleep like a white-hot knife. She groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow to cover her face and block out the brutal sun.
Two heartbeats later she remembered why her head hurt so bad and why her stomach pitched. She would like to blame all her problems on the wine she’d drunk the night before. More than half had to do with Ritt.
Why had she thought it a good idea to kiss him? Well, she hadn’t really thought, she’d just done. Now she regretted throwing herself at his feet. It might not have hurt so much if he hadn’t turned her down.
But even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it was for the best.
With another groan, she rose from the bed. No time like now to face the music and find Ritt. She pulled on her Kmart robe and padded into the kitchen.
She was spared having to come up with a logical explanation for her amorous intent last night because Ritt was gone. In his place was a quickly scribbled note.
Gone fishing.
Naturally.
There was nothing more important right now than sitting on the lakeshore with a pole in the water. Certainly not signing divorce papers so she could get on with her life.
Shelby growled and crumpled the paper into a tight ball. She pitched it in the trash and grabbed a granola bar from the cookie jar.
She should have expected as much, she thought as she ate. Classic Ritt. Not one care about anything other than fishing and baseball. How did he support himself? Certainly not with a part-time job at the bait shop. He still lived with his parents for pity’s sake!
And speaking of parents, she should call her mother right now. The earlier the better. Maybe today Shelby could catch her before she left the house.
She dug her cell phone out of her purse. Dead, of course. “Grrr…” She’d have to go into town and get a new charger today. Damn Ritt’s stubborn streak. It was costing her a fortune. She tossed her phone back into her purse with a frustrated sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
At the sound of his voice, Shelby nearly jumped out of her skin. She pressed a hand to her heart and turned to face him. “Ritt! You scared me half to death.”
He raised one dark brow. “Obviously.”
“I thought you were fishing.”
“It’s nearly ten. They stop biting when the sun gets up.”
If there was one thing she knew, it was that Ritt could stay at the lake all day without any problems. “You don’t trust me in your house.”
He shrugged. “Can you blame me?”
She supposed not. After all, she had set fire to his kitchen yesterday.
“Having a good morning?” Why was he standing so close to her? She moved a step back and shrugged. “I was going to try calling Mom again.”
“This is really bothering you, huh?”
Shelby tossed back her hair. “Naturally. You are accusing my mother of…of…” What exactly was he accusing Stormy of? “I’d like to call her and get this straightened out as soon as possible. Where’s the phone?”
She tried to escape him again, those magnetic eyes and alluring…everything else.
The phone base was on the desk right inside the living room, but the receiver was not on it. She looked around, moving a packet of papers and a newspaper clipping in her search.
Then Ritt was there, edging her away and finding the phone among the mess. Like there was something on the desk he didn’t want her to see.
Phone in hand, she glanced down at the stacks of papers. Electric bill, junk mail, bank statements.
Ritt grasped her arm and pulled her back into the kitchen.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Why, Ritt…are you hiding something from me?”
For the merest moment he looked…guilty, then his expression reverted back to his usual devil-may-care. “My life is an open book.”
“A very short book.” Shelby immediately wished she could call back the snarky remark. What did it matter to her if Ritt wanted to waste his life lounging at the lake and working part-time at the bait shop? It was no skin from her schnozz if he had no ambition beyond the city limits of the tiny Texas town. He might not be the biggest go-getter around, but that was no reason to be mean.
He cocked his head to one side then released her. “You wound me, Shel. We’re married. We’re supposed to be on the same team.”
“We wouldn’t be married if someone would sign the papers.”
Ritt shrugged then opened the refrigerator and studied the contents. “Of course, it would be easier if you would stop hiding stuff from me.”
“I have nothing to hide.”
“Oh yeah, Miss Finalist for a James Beard Award two years running?”
Shelby didn’t know what to say. “How did you know about that?”
“I Googled you.” He emerged from the fridge with a bottle of water in hand.
“Google?”
Ritt nodded and unscrewed the cap. He took a drink then pointed the bottle mouth toward her. “You really should get out more.”
“I should get out more?” She wasn’t the one living…no, existing in Nowhere, Texas.
Ritt nodded, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
Suddenly all she could think about was the night before, pressing her mouth to Ritt’s, him kissing her back, at first reluctantly, then with the same passion they had shared so many years ago. Except it was different now, with a more controlled urgency. Or maybe that was the wine.
The heat that filled her left no room for argument. She shrugged it off. She wasn’t about to get into another battle with him. He was pushing her buttons on purpose. For sport. This time she wouldn’t be a part of his game.
“You gonna call her?”
“Mom? Right. Of course.” Calling her mother again wouldn’t do any good. When Stormy Patterson didn’t want to be found, it was useless to go looking. Still, it beat the hell out of reliving last night over and over in her head.
Shelby dialed the number and not surprisingly got her mother’s voicemail. Even less of a surprise, it was full so she couldn’t leave a message. With a sigh, she hung up.
“She not answer?”
Shelby shook her head. “You know Mom.”
Ritt nodded in reply, and Shelby was proud of him for not commenting further. There had been no love lost between her mother and her husband.
The clock ticked off seconds between them. Shelby wondered if he was as caught up in yesteryear as much as she. She wanted to ask but was unable to form the words.
“Why did you come back here, Shel?”
The question was so quietly spoken that at first she thought she had imagined it. “It’s time, don’t you think?” She didn’t add what it was time for—he knew.
Ritt shrugged but didn’t meet her gaze. “I s’pose.” Then he grabbed his shirttail pulled the garment over his head.
Anything else she had thought to say vanished in an instant. She could only stare at the mouthwatering planes and rippling muscles of his chest. As if last night’s kiss hadn’t been enough.
Her husband seemed oblivious to her drooling as he wiped his forehead on the shirt. He wadded it in one hand and propped his fist on his hip.
“What?” he asked innocently as she continued to stare.
“I…I mean…” Before she could form a coherent thought, the shrill ring of the phone cut between them.
Shelby’s heart gave a painful thump. Ritt’s gaze locked with hers as he answered. “Hello? Slow down, Delilah. Okay.” He handed her the phone. “It’s for you.”
She pressed the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”
“Oh my gawd, Shelby! I’m so glad I caught you. I need a cake.”
“What?” Her brain was still a little fuzzy from the wine, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with Ritt’s little striptease or his thigh brushing against hers as he reached into the cabinet above her head. It was almost as if he was trying to distract her.
“The baker called. She fell waterskiing this weekend and broke her wrist. She’s in a cast up past her elbow and won’t be able to work for at least four weeks. I need a cake!”
“For the wedding?”
“Of course, for the wedding. Can you do it?”
Ritt picked that moment to move away. Shelby gulped in a big breath of Ritt-free air, clearing her head of his intoxicating presence.
“I would love to, Dee, but I don’t have any of my stuff here and—”
“I’ll buy whatever you need.” Desperation dominated her tone.
“I don’t have an oven big enough or a freezer.”
“We can use the fellowship hall at the church. Isaac won’t care.”
“Isaac?”
“You remember Isaac Yancy. He’s the pastor there now.”
Shelby didn’t have time to contemplate the fact that the wildest boy in their class was now the leader of biggest church in town.
“I’ll pay you double,” Delilah continued, “and buy all the ingredients. Please, Shel. I don’t know what I’ll do without your help.”
Of course she couldn’t leave her friend in the lurch. “I can’t promise you anything elaborate.”
“Anything is fine.” Delilah’s voice l
ost its desperate edge. Shelby heard her heave a big sigh of relief. “Thanks, Shel. You’re the best.”
Shelby spent the rest of the afternoon in Amarillo gathering supplies. Cake pans, flour, eggs, milk, sugar and so forth. Her plan was simple, make a test cake of her favorite recipes and have Delilah and Craig decide on which one they liked the best. Once the recipe was firm, she’d move the operation to the church kitchen and start baking and freezing.
Luckily, the guest list for the wedding was smaller than she would have thought. Cake for two hundred was a snap compared to the six or seven hundred that she had first envisioned.
Ritt was nowhere to be found when she pulled her rental into his driveway that afternoon. Lord only knew where he was. Fishing…drinking…both.
He seemed to have no ambitions, loafing about with no direction. She refused to believe that she was responsible. He had made his own choices, and she hers. She had opted to get on with her life, start a bakery, and make something of herself while Ritt…hadn’t. So he’d given up his baseball scholarship. They had all made sacrifices. Yet she didn’t understand why he seemed to not care about anything these days.
She hauled the last of the bags into the house and started putting away the perishables. The fridge was almost empty, home to a container of ketchup and a few bottles of beer.
By the time she finished unpacking the dry goods, she heard the crunch of gravel from the driveway. Ritt was home.
She was plugging her cell phone into the brand new charger when he sauntered into the kitchen.
How a man could make a ratty T-shirt and even rattier jeans look so yummy was mindboggling. Shelby swallowed hard and went back to her task.
“You get everything you needed from town?”
She nodded, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll bake tomorrow.”
“Good, then come on.”
She looked up and met his steady gaze. “Where are we going?”
“To the movies.”
“I don’t think—”
“Come on, Shelby. There’s nothing to read into this. It’s mindless entertainment. Now let’s go.”
Blame it on Texas Page 4
