One for the Road

by Lynne Marshall

  Tyler looked serious as a storm. Clouds gathered behind his blue eyes and turned them gray. His face was stern and cold. It sent a chill through her, and her breathing went still.

  “Honestly, Tyler.” She palmed his chest, changing from angry to uneasy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He took her by the arm and yanked her away from a couple standing a few feet across the yard. He stared so hard into her face when they walked she thought he might burn holes into her eyes, yet she didn’t feel threatened or afraid, just perplexed.

  “You know damn well you’re sittin’ on a whole lot of money,” he said in a strangled whisper. “So quit trying to scam me with innocence, Dee.”

  She dug her heels into the grass. “Whoa, whoa, back up.” Prickly chills fanned across her back. Cold cash. Fine hair stood at end on her neck. “Are you making this up? Is there something I should know?”

  D’Anne watched Tyler study her, searching for a telling sign. No way could she fake the confusion. He must have seen it. His grip loosened on her arm. He backed up the slightest bit, sucked a tooth and rubbed his jaw in contemplation.

  “So you’re telling me you honestly don’t know?” he said.

  “Honestly. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. And frankly, you’re beginning to scare me.”

  “Well, shee-it.”

  “Tyler, tell me.”

  “Better still, I’ll show you,” he said.

  Tyler took D’Anne by the hand and rushed her across half an acre of grass toward the 40-foot deluxe RV. From a distance she saw the ’83 Mustang that had dropped J.T. off earlier in Dallas. Tyler’s steps slowed down when he noticed it.

  A few feet closer, they both heard a sexy, moaning duet from inside. The concert was close to the finale from the sounds of it, and the female lead was about to hit her high note when D’Anne exploded with rage, broke free, and ran ahead. She banged the flat of her hand on the side of the RV.

  “Get the hell out of there!” she yelled.

  “Now, hold on, Dee.” Tyler ran up behind her. “You’ll make them madder than a peeled rattler.”

  “Bullshit!” She glared at him. “This is my home.” She honed her attention back onto the bus. “J.T. get your naked butt out of there!” She banged again and jiggled the handle on the door. “I told you guys to do that stuff someplace else!”

  A wild ruckus took place inside. A few seconds later, the back door flew open and J.T. let go a string of foul and angry words. His eyes were black as a tornado. “You’re crazy, lady, you know that!” He spit the words her way when he escorted the barely clad female from Dallas outside. The waitress fumbled to replace a tight tank top, as though it might cover her larger than life bust, and make her respectable again.

  J.T. was no match for D’Anne. Feeling like a mother lioness protecting her cub—namely the RV— she stood her ground, took an oath, and mumbled one, too. If he made one move toward her, she’d scratch out his eyes.

  Then, she zeroed in on the girl.

  “And I’ve got some advice for you! Quit lettin’ men take advantage. Now take your big hair, and your egotistical boyfriend, and get the hell out of here!”

  Even Dexter whimpered and ran for a secluded corner in the camper.

  At the bottom of the stairs, J.T. made his final statement to Tyler. “She’s nuts. And if you think I’m traveling with her, you’re crazy, too.”

  “Go find a cheap motel somewhere.” D’Anne would have thrown something at them if she could just get her eyes to focus enough to look for a shoe or, better yet, a rolling pin. “Stay out of my home!”

  Tyler skipped the steps and lunged toward her. “Calm down.”

  “This is my home.” She backed up against the kitchen counter feeling the urge to cry. “He knows the rules.”

  “You keep carrying on like this, and you’re gonna need one of my blood pressure pills. Now calm down.”

  “The nerve of him. They even used my bed!” She flailed her arm in the direction of the rustled bed sheets and made a disgusted noise.

  Tyler’s eyes followed briefly then focused back on her. “Hush up.” He moved closer.

  “How can I share my home with someone who doesn’t even respect me? I gave you guys the rules, no smoking, no whoring, and you all agreed to live by them.”

  “And you’ve been a controlling, spoiled brat, making sure we all remembered, too.” He inched forward.

  “So that’s what you think of me? I’m just this annoying, over-the-hill, California hen?” she raised her chin, aimed an angry look and pinned him between the eyes.

  “Now, I didn’t say you were over-the-hill.” Tyler moved close enough for D’Anne to feel his breath.

  “I meddle and bitch and I’m just a pain in the ass, isn’t that what you just said?” She crossed her arms and chanced a glance at his mouth. “You may not say it, but that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Are you gonna hush?” He stepped closer.

  D’Anne felt on the verge of crying and couldn’t get her mouth to quit yakking. “I can’t go on like this, surrounded by m—”

  Tyler swooped down and clamped his lips onto hers, pressing tightly. Determined, moist warmth stunned her into compliance. Her arms uncrossed by reflex. He pulled her close and massaged them, worked around to her shoulders and, finally her back, lighting a fire on her skin at every point. Instead of resisting, like she thought she should, tension retreated from her body. Better than Valium. The ringing in her ears got replaced with mild dizziness.

  His tongue, soft and silky, probed the crease of her lips. She tasted a hint of spearmint as the tip of her own met his. D’Anne found her arms encircling his neck before she could think about it. His moustache tickled her upper lip and she liked it, nuzzling his face to feel it more. The velvet kiss surprised her, made her heart speed up, and almost made her knees buckle. He held her in place by cupping her rump with a firm yet tender grip. She moaned, heard herself, and sprang back to consciousness.

  Jolted into reality, her hands pushed him away. Their lips parted. She started breathing again, passed Tyler a shocked look, and finished her sentence. “Musicians,” she said. “Men,” she added. D’Anne patted her hair, felt blood rise to her face, and gathered the nerve to meet Tyler’s eyes, again. A look she hadn’t seen in decades stirred her. Was it passion?

  “What was that for?”

  “You wouldn’t shut up,” he said, sounding as flummoxed as she felt.

  He stared at her for what seemed like eternity, though only a few seconds passed. She watched him attempt to recover, and saw his nostrils flare. Could he have been as moved by the kiss as she’d been? Her pulse beating hard and steady in her neck. Blood retreated from her head, she thought she might faint and fought it.

  “You brought me here for a reason,” she said, leaning hard against the counter.

  The decidedly flustered cowboy forced his hands back into his pockets, nodded his head, and agreed with her. “So you don’t know about the money?”

  D’Anne banged her hand on the counter, frightening Dexter into a whine. She immediately regretted it. “I told you I don’t know where any money is. Why doesn’t anything make sense?”

  Tyler’s eyes made a slow journey to the ceiling, stopping on the air conditioning vent. Hers followed. Adrenaline burst like fireworks in D’Anne’s chest. Cold cash. She lost her breath and covered her mouth to keep her heart from jumping out.

  “It’s up there,” he said.

  What in tarnation had just happened? Tyler swore he hadn’t followed Dee inside to kiss her. It was the last thing on his mind. He’d dragged her up here to force the truth out of her. So why’d he plant one on her like she was a virgin on prom night? He cocked a hip, planted a hand on it, scraped at his jaw with the other, and tried his best to figure things out.

  “Aren’t you going to show me?” She broke into his thoughts.

  “Right.” He snapped to attention. “Get the screwdriver. I’ll get the
foot stool.”

  They scrambled to their jobs and met back under the vent. Tyler came to an abrupt stop. “Now, I don’t want you thinking I was snooping or anything. I couldn’t take the noise, is all.”

  For someone who needed to be kissed to shut her up a few moments before, Dee, didn’t utter a sound.

  “Do you believe me?” She nodded.

  He set to unscrewing and removing the panel as quickly as possible, then handed it to Dee. She placed it on the counter while he dug inside the A/C recess for the shoebox. There it was, back in the corner, just where he’d left it. He edged it to the rim and slid it out.

  “Here,” he said, handing it off to Dee.

  She grabbed the box and removed the thick rubber bands and lid. Dee gasped. When she saw what was inside, she dropped it.

  “Where’d he get this?” She glanced to her husband’s urn. “Reese, what is this?”

  “If it were me, I wouldn’t ask questions, I’d just keep it.” Tyler bent down to collect the carefully divided bills and hand them back to her. He walked to the RV door and latched it, looked at Dee, and saw a woman confused and frightened.

  “I need to call my son.” She started for her cell phone.

  Tyler grabbed her wrist. “You might want to think this through before telling the family.”

  “I don’t even know how much there is,” she said.

  “Then let’s count it,” he said. Her arm relaxed under his grasp.

  “How long have you known about this?” She arched an attractive brown eyebrow and glared at him with deep, sea green eyes.

  “Just a couple days.”

  They stood staring at each other, joined at the hand. Tyler could see Dee’s mind sifting through her thoughts. Could she trust him? Was she afraid of him? Did she want to run? He imagined a dozen more. Their hands slipped apart.

  He had a few thoughts of his own. Was she on the run? How much did she really know? Could he believe her innocence? Could he trust her not to get him and his band killed for money? And where did Mutt and Jeff fit in? Who sent them?

  She tossed him a bundle. “You count that, I’ll count this.”

  Several minutes passed in silence as they sorted the cash into piles, fifty of them. Then they started on the cashier’s checks. The final tally, one hundred thousand dollars cash, four hundred thousand dollars in checks.

  “Oh, my, God,” she whispered.

  Tyler noticed her hands trembling. He took them into his own and massaged them. “Hey. You’re rich, lady.” He smiled at her. “You should be happy.”

  She broke into tears.

  “Ah, gee,” he said feeling aggravated and tender all at once. “Come here.” He pulled her to his chest and held her while she melted down. She fit right under his chin. He hadn’t felt this protective since he’d found Dexter, skinny and frightened, on the streets of Nashville. Tyler felt Dee tremble and shake when she cried. He patted her hair, intrigued by its short length and silky feel. He snuck a sniff of clean-smelling shampoo and pressed his lips to the dome of her head. “There, there,” he heard himself say while he swayed and rocked her.

  The embrace couldn’t go on, it felt too good. D’Anne removed herself from Tyler. The only thing someone like him would find attractive about a woman her age was the money, which was neatly stacked and counted on the breadboard. No, Tyler was not to be trusted. Even though he didn’t have to tell her about it. So what was his angle? And what if he’d already dipped into the funds? But there was a nice even number, five hundred thousand dollars.

  As unsettling and alluring as his embrace had been, not to mention the kiss, she began to build a wall between them. It wasn’t safe in Tyler’s arms. It wasn’t safe anywhere.

  “I guess you’re right. I better stay with the RV tomorrow.” She tossed him a small, conciliatory smile. “We should get this put away before Bear and Ricky-Bob come around.”

  Tyler replaced everything just like they’d found it, keeping his distance. She hated the tension that stood in the way of their growing friendship, but reality was always a bummer. How foolish she felt thinking Tyler might have been interested in her, in the first place. All she had to look forward to was more wrinkles and night sweats. Life sucked big time and she was a rich widow driving a bunch of crazy musicians around the country in an RV with a big secret. If only she could click her Nikes and go home.

  D’Anne made a mental note to sneak off that night and call Dean. She didn’t get a chance to finish her thought before the mobile phone chirped on the counter.

  “What are you going to do about J.T.?” she asked Tyler when she reached for the phone.

  “I’ll leave his tent and sleeping bag outside tonight. If he wants to get paid, he’ll come around tomorrow,” he said, then whistled for Dexter and mumbled something about wishing he had a smoke and stepped out into the yard.

  “Hello?” She forced a smile. “I was just thinking about you, Dean…”

  By the end of the conversation, D’Anne sat on the stoop of the RV and her troubles had multiplied.

  “What do you mean the insurance company needs another blood sample to double check on toxic chemicals? Your father is ashes! They assured me their man had all the lab samples he needed before Reese was cremated.”

  “Well, Mother, they said they wouldn’t release the policy unless this got straightened out.” She heard regret in her son’s voice.

  “Well, they can kiss my ass and I’ll just kiss the insurance money goodbye.”

  “I know it bites, but we’ll fight this, Mom.”

  “No point, Dean. Chalk one more up for the big guy.” She stomped her foot. “Son of a bitch!”

  After she hung up, the only thing remotely comforting was the knowledge of half a million dollars of questionable origin sitting in the ceiling, and a tingling on her lips that still lingered from Tyler White’s sweet kiss.

  Chapter Nine

  D’Anne’s mind kept wandering to the kiss and Tyler, which amazed her since they’d just found five hundred thousand dollars in cash and cashier’s checks made out to her. Shouldn’t she be thinking about that? She didn’t have a chance to ponder the meaning of the kiss or the money for long. Her cell phone rang almost immediately after hanging up with Dean. This time, it was Theresa.

  “Where are you?” Theresa said. “You sound down.”

  “Oh, I’m down all right. Reese’s life insurance is a no go.”

  “What? That’s terrible.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “Make due, I guess.”

  “You know, if I could I’d help you out.”

  “I know.”

  The line went quiet for a second or two. “So, where did you say you guys were?”

  “You ever hear of the world famous Chili Super Bowl?”

  Theresa sputtered a laugh followed by a snort. “And where might that be?”

  “Abilene…women there don’t treat you mean…”

  “Prettiest town, I’ve ever seen…okay. So what’re ya doin’ ?”

  “Just ate some Texas barbeque and I’m currently fighting off a good case of gastric reflux.” Cooked onion and meat still permeated the air.

  “Whew, it doesn’t get much better than that,” Theresa said.

  “For sure.”

  D’Anne’s eyes drifted up to the wide-open, pristine blue evening sky, then ahead. She saw Ricky-Bob and Bear walking together. Bear made that special face and bleated like a Wookie over and over and got a laugh from his partner every single time. His plastic beer cup runneth over, along with affection in her heart.

  “Where’re you off to after Abilene?” Theresa asked.

  Seeing Bear and Ricky-Bob brightened her outlook. “Lubbock.”

  “Now that’s a place I’ve always wanted to visit.” Theresa’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Beat you to it!”

  ****

  J.T. showed up at the RV drunk and disorderly sometime after mi
dnight. D’Anne had sequestered herself in the bedroom the rest of the night to avoid Tyler, but couldn’t miss the racket. She heard Tyler stop strumming in the other room, put his guitar down and step outside to meet his drummer.

  “You look like you been rode hard and hung up wet.”

  J.T. grunted.

  “I already set up the tent and cot for you. Talked to Dee about letting you follow behind in the Rabbit. She only agreed because Ricky-Bob promised to do all the driving. Okay with you?”

  J.T. grunted again and must have fallen into the tent. D’Anne heard curses and tent poles clanking. She peeked out the window in time to see the young man fight to stand back up and mutter something starting with the F word and ending with “swallowing a horny toad backwards.” She closed the curtain before he could see her, or worse yet, hear her laugh.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and thought about the life she’d lost. Grief made a stealthy attack. As sudden as her thoughts, it pulled her down into its familiar depths of sorrow, never giving her a fighting chance. She succumbed. Mournfully paralyzed, her heart ached for things lost: a twenty-five year marriage, family life…routine. Her eyes filled up and spilled over. She sighed and rubbed her temples, willing herself to be practical.

  There had to be a reason Reese had all that money stashed away. And it had to have something to do with why he wasn’t around to explain it to her. She clicked into the easiest emotion of her repertoire, anger. What the frickin’ hell is going on?

  She stretched out on the bed to banish memories, tried her damnedest not to feel. Several minutes passed in silence and fresh tears. Slowly, she emerged from the dark and dreary to thoughts about her new life and all the possibilities that lie ahead. She found herself smiling.

  Visions of Tyler and his big body…warm chest…strong arms…and sweet singing voice dogged her. Then guilt. No. Not for one minute would she allow herself to think about him. But she heard Tyler come back inside the RV and her mind disobeyed.

  A few minutes later, she opened the bedroom door just enough to make sure the coast was clear for the bathroom. Tyler stretched out in the captain’s chair. A dim light shone in the cockpit where he lounged, reading a book. He wore a T-shirt and paisley-patterned boxers. He had endearing, skinny legs dusted in light blond curls. His feet were bare. She tried to focus on them instead of his face.