Only in Texas

by Christie Craig

  “I didn’t—”

  “I told him. I told that O’Connor cop everything. I told him how you tried to get my boy to pay you alimony.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I told him how I’d reminded my son that he needed to change his will. I’ll die before I let you get one cent.” She started sobbing. “He was my son. My only son.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Nikki said.

  “Sorry that you killed him?”

  “I didn’t—” Her breath caught in her chest, followed by a big ache.

  “You stay away from us!” Mrs. Leon snapped. “I told my boy you were nothing but white trash.”

  The phone went dead. Nikki sat in the middle of the floor and stared at her phone. The sobs came slowly at first and then began to gush out of her.

  Tony spotted LeAnn right off—sitting at a lunch table by herself, picking at a bag of potato chips. His gaze shot to the table where an empty saucer sat. No doubt it had held her dessert. Which, more times than not, she ate first.

  He recalled how hard it had been for her to eat healthy during her pregnancy. But she’d done it. If eating green crap is what I have to do, I’ll do it. And she had. He remembered the night she’d held her nose and ate broccoli because she’d read it was good for the baby. He’d told LeAnn she didn’t have to do everything the books said, but she wasn’t taking chances. He felt so sorry for her that every time she’d looked away, he’d snag a bite of broccoli and eat it himself. He hated the shit, but would have eaten every bite for her.

  Lunchroom noises brought him back to the moment. He watched LeAnn eat another chip. She hadn’t had a mom to push the five food groups on her. To LeAnn, cake and a bag of potato chips were the perfect meal.

  Walking over to the table, he longed to lean over and kiss her, to taste her lips. But instead, he pulled out a chair and snagged one of her chips. Shock filled her green eyes. She looked as tired as he felt.

  He forced a smile. “Hmm, chocolate and potato chips, you’ve covered both your essential food groups.”

  “Yeah.” She looked back at chips as if trying to collect her thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had to talk to a witness,” he said.

  She nodded, but didn’t look up.

  “I was thinking maybe we could go out on Sunday. A nice dinner.”

  “I…” She looked back at him. “I was going to give you this on Sunday, but since you’re here.” She pulled a white envelope from her purse and pushed it to him.

  His gut knotted with fear because he instinctually knew what it was. The knot rose to his throat when he saw the lawyer’s name typed across the front.

  “No.” He pushed it back over to her. “I love you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “You married me because I was pregnant, Tony. And now…”

  Shock ripped through his chest. Was that what this was about? Holy hell, he’d counted his lucky stars, considered himself the luckiest man in the world when she came to him with that little stick with a pink line on it. He leaned in. “I married you because you totally rocked my world. You stole my heart. I would have asked you to marry me a month earlier if I thought there was a chance in hell that you’d say yes.”

  She sat there as if she didn’t hear a word he said. “You did the right thing. You always do the right thing. So do it this time, too. Sign it, Tony. Let’s move on.” She got up and walked away.

  His world, his touchstone just walked out. He swallowed the emotion down his throat.

  “I don’t want to move on,” he said under his breath. And that’s when he knew what he had to do. And while it involved moving, it wasn’t on or away from LeAnn. It was back. He was moving back home.

  Snatching up the envelope, he left. He was almost out of the hospital when he remembered he had gone there to interview someone. Folding the damn divorce papers, he stuffed them into his pocket, and went back to do his job.

  Dallas let Bud out, started coffee, and then stood staring at his refrigerator trying to figure out what he could offer Nikki to eat. No eggs. Some bacon that had expired a month ago. He tossed that in the garbage.

  Feeling anxious, he went back to the fridge and stared at the empty shelves. In the back of his mind he heard his mom’s voice. You know, staring in there won’t make anything magically appear.

  I know, he would tell her. This is where I do my best thinking.

  What on your mind, son? She would always come hug him from behind. Whatever dilemma he’d had, one trip to the fridge always led to problem solving with his mom. God, how he missed her.

  And if she were here right now, he’d probably be telling her about his yin and yang feeling about the woman in his bathroom.

  Shutting the fridge door, trying to shut off his thoughts, he moved his attention to the pantry. Those shelves were even emptier than the fridge.

  Well, in addition to going out and buying a sofa that didn’t give him a neck ache when he slept on it, he was going to buy some groceries. Feeling inadequate for not having a damn thing to offer Nikki, he slammed the pantry door.

  Tyler’s question popped in his head: What is it about the blonde in Dallas’s bedroom that has him so damn nervous?

  Why was he feeling like this? He hadn’t bought groceries in over two months. Suzan had been over numerous times, and he hadn’t once worried about offering her anything but a good time in the sack.

  Bud scratched at the door. Dallas let him in, but eyed the dog in warning. “You fart again and I swear I’ll look for a cork.”

  The dog turned his head as if to listen to something. Then he bolted out of the kitchen.

  “Leave her alone.” Dallas took after the dog before he started scratching at the bathroom door.

  But Bud didn’t stop at the bathroom—he rammed the half-closed bedroom door with his nose, and ran right in.

  Dallas spotted Nikki on the bedroom floor, her face buried in her hands, crying. No, not crying. Sobbing. Deep heartfelt sobs.

  Damn.

  His first instinct—and Dallas generally followed his first instinct—was to run like hell. He could handle a few tears, was good at asking, “You okay?” and sounding sincere. And it wasn’t even an act. He wasn’t a jerk. He cared about people. But when it came to dealing with emotionally distraught women, well, Bud was probably a better man—better canine—for the job.

  He turned around and had his foot in midstep when he heard another gasp and a hiccup. How that little sound could cause such an impact on his conscience he didn’t know. But, accepting defeat, he took one deep breath, swung back around and walked right into the middle of an emotional storm.

  “Hey.” He knelt behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  She shook her head no, but didn’t attempt to answer. She didn’t even remove her hands from her face. Another sob sounded behind her fingers. Bud walked circles around her and, looking at Dallas, he whined as if to say: Do something.

  But what?

  Dallas sat beside her and cautiously put his arm around her shoulders. He wasn’t sure his help would be welcome. She twisted suddenly, and he thought she wanted him to let her go, so he pulled his arm up. But instead of yanking away, she pillowed her head against him.

  Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this after all. He lowered his arm again. “I know it’s tough.” And boy howdy, did he know.

  He saw her phone on the floor and wondered if a call had upset her. “What happened? Is Ellen okay? Is that what’s wrong?”

  He heard her inhale. “No.” She hiccupped and eased away. “It’s my in-laws. Ex-in-laws. I forgot to call them yesterday. I can’t believe I forgot to call them. That was so insensitive of me.”

  He studied her tear-streaked face. “You had a bad day yourself. Poisoned, found a body, had a friend of yours almost die, and then had your place broken into.” Bud tried to lick Nikki’s face. Dallas gave the dog a slight nudge.

  “I still should have called them.” She dropped her hands in her lap, and
they landed on the hem of her shirt. The scooped neckline of her tank top scooped a little lower and Dallas had to work to keep his eyes from soaking up the view of her cleavage.

  “You really are hard on yourself.” He brushed her hair from her cheek. As emotionally hard as she was on herself, she was just as physically soft. And being this close to all that smooth feminine skin was wreaking havoc on his insides. He wanted to touch, to taste, to bring all that softness closer.

  “They… they think I killed Jack.” Pain thickened her voice and resounded in his gut.

  Guilt for the direction of his thoughts pinched at Dallas’s chest, and he mentally shot down his libido. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know your brother thinks I did, too. But he doesn’t know me. I don’t care what he thinks.”

  He almost told her she should care. Because Tony was the police and what he thought mattered a hell of lot more than what her ex-in-laws thought. But then he remembered how it felt to realize that people you thought believed in you, really didn’t. People like Serena.

  “They know me. I was… was part of their family for over three years. How can they think… I used to love him.”

  The “used to” in her sentence stuck in Dallas’s head. He brushed a tear from her cheek and offered her the only words he could. “Your in-laws are hurting right now. They’ll come to their senses.” Most of them who’d doubted him eventually had come around. Serena had. What he didn’t tell Nikki was that it didn’t matter, because even if they decided they were on her side, she wouldn’t be able to forget or forgive their betrayal. At least he hadn’t.

  She hiccupped. Dallas looked down at her bundled on his chest. He tightened his arm around her shoulders. She buried her face deeper into his shoulder and just cried. And he let her. Bud dropped down beside her and pressed his nose against her bare leg and occasionally gave the soft appendage a concerned lick of his tongue.

  After a few minutes, she stopped crying. He felt her coming to her senses. Felt her start to pull away. Oddly, enough, he wasn’t relieved. Holding her had been… nice. And that’s when the smell hit again. No, not her fruity sweet scent, but Bud’s…

  “Damn.” He went to get up. With one knee still on the floor and one foot in the process of pushing up, he was off balance when Nikki bolted upward. She knocked him back then went to grab him and, instead of helping, she tumbled down on top of him. Right on top of him. Not that he was complaining.

  Another sob left her throat. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

  She raised her face and rested her chin on his chest, and that’s when he realized her last little noise wasn’t a sob. “What did he eat?” The laughter in her voice sounded so sweet. If that’s what it took to make her laugh, Bud might just be getting more people food after all.

  Something about seeing humor in her eyes, her baby blues still moist with tears, made his chest feel tight. “I don’t know.” All he could think about was how perfect she fit on top of him. How happy he was that he hadn’t followed his first instinct and run off instead of being here. Because being here felt… right.

  She shifted as if to move off him, and he wasn’t sure what provoked him to do it, but he raised his head an inch off the floor and pressed his lips against hers. It was just a kiss, he told himself. Probably wasn’t the wisest move, especially considering her knee had optimum placement and could achieve a direct hit. And yeah, stealing a kiss had actually gotten him kneed in his youth. A guy didn’t forget that.

  But a little voice in his head said he probably should be more worried about the direct hit to his heart. The second he tasted her mouth, he told the little voice to take a walk. Whatever happened, he wouldn’t regret this.

  Especially when her tongue slipped into his mouth and stroked his, proving that he wasn’t the only one wanting here. Wanting to delve deeper into that sweet mouth of hers, he rolled her over without interrupting the kiss.

  Not wanting to end it, he cupped the back of her head in his palm and leaned in to get closer.

  Closer.

  His mouth completely covering hers.

  His chest against hers.

  His thigh now tucked between her legs.

  He was already hard—obviously his body hadn’t gotten his “just-a-kiss” memo. Then her hand moved to his waist and slipped under his T-shirt and traveled up his side. Soft fingers, gliding over his bare skin making him harder.

  Obviously, she hadn’t gotten the memo, either.

  Not that he was complaining. He’d never been fond of memos.

  His breath caught at the feel of her touch sliding up to his chest. All he could think about was feeling her hand other places. And getting his hands on places—on her.

  Getting his mouth on places—all over her.

  He started lowering his kiss to her neck, nipping at the tender skin. Anticipation, eagerness, and need all came together in a big ball of hot want in his chest. He hadn’t felt this much need, this much want, in ages.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THIS ISN’T GOOD. Gotta stop it.

  Those words repeated in Nikki’s head. But they just weren’t getting through. Or maybe they did get through and she just didn’t agree with them. This is good. It felt so… right. And so… delicious.

  How long had it been since she’d had delicious? Too long.

  So she went with it. Let it happen. And when just letting it happen wasn’t enough, she encouraged it. She deepened the kiss and savored the texture of his masculine abs. The desire to move her touch downward brushed across her mind. But lower seemed hasty, a bit bold. She wasn’t bold. So she let her fingers sweep all the way up to his chest. Over the hard, sculptured ribs to the tight little nubs of his nipples. She could feel his heart pumping and her own matched his.

  The taste of his mouth still lingered in hers as his lips glided down, down her neck. Then he came back up to her lips. His mouth melted against hers, going from soft to firm, and then from slow to passionately fast. It was so… seductive.

  She hadn’t been kissed like this in a long time. Jack had stopped kissing her like this shortly after they’d been married. Stopped kissing her like he wanted to kiss her, and started kissing as it were just a chore he had to do before he got her naked.

  Who wanted to be a chore? She wanted to be… savored. She wanted to be desired. And that’s what she felt right now. Desired. Oh, yes, Dallas knew what he was doing, but there was just a little something that said he really wanted to do this right. As if he waited for her to give him the slightest sign that it was okay to move onward.

  And then he did it. His kisses moved downward again, past her neck to the top of her breasts. Pure delight.

  That’s when her sense of reason first hit. She had to stop this! She didn’t need…

  “Cupcakes!” Temptation. She couldn’t give in.

  He muttered something, but the words were lost to her. His lips continued moving lower. His hand moved up under her shirt, a slow sweep upward of his palm on her bare stomach. A sweep that brought her shirt up with it.

  She had to stop him. Didn’t she?

  The brush of soft cotton against her ribs tickled. Her nipples ached with anticipation. His hand found her breast, gently passing his fingers over tight nubs. He took her shirt up over her breasts and rose up on his elbow to see what he’d uncovered.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered. Then his lips melted back against her neck and continued downward.

  She waited. Waited to feel his lips where his hands now explored. His pelvis lowered ever so slightly against hers. She felt the hard bulge behind the zipper of his jeans. The sweet ache tightened between her thighs. It was that deep, hot sweep of desire that jolted her into rethinking the wisdom of letting this happen.

  “No cupcakes.” She caught his face in her hand right before he took a nipple into his mouth.

  The heat of desire brightened his eyes. He blinked. Swallowed—his Adam’s apple shifted up and then down.

  “I can’t… We shouldn�
��t,” she said. Releasing his face, she yanked her shirt down. He rolled off her and lay back on the floor. She sank back onto the floor herself, wishing she could slip between the cracks of wood and disappear. “Sorry,” she said. “I just… can’t.”

  “Okay.” His one word came out sounding deep and rusty. He was still so close. His shoulder touched hers. The heat of his body oozed into her arm. Neither of them spoke. The silence grew louder.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… done that,” she said.

  “You didn’t do it. I did.”

  “But I didn’t stop you.”

  “True,” he said. And they both turned their heads at the same time to look at each other.

  Their gazes met—held. Neither of them spoke for long seconds. Then she said, “I… need to get to the hospital.”

  He nodded and his brow crinkled. “No cupcakes? What did you mean?”

  “I said that?” Her chest instantly tightened with embarrassment.

  He nodded.

  She blinked. Her face grew hot.

  “What did you—”

  “Nothing. I just like cupcakes.”

  Confusion tightened his eyes. His gaze shifted to her chest. “So do I.”

  Did he think…“No. I wasn’t calling…” She grabbed her boobs. “I didn’t mean…”

  His gaze shot to her hands that were giving her boobs a Wonderbra lift.

  Now on complete overload of embarrassment, she let go of her girls and sat up. Her skin prickled from his continued stare. “I… I must be hungry,” she lied, because she didn’t want to talk about temptation.

  Bud came over and butted her arm with his nose. She petted him, avoided looking at Dallas, and tried to find the right words to say. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked at Dallas. And boy howdy, did he look good. “I don’t think it would be good if we complicate things by… doing that.” Once again she envied Nana’s say-it-like-it-is approach. Being diplomatic was hard.

  “It didn’t feel complicated to me.” He ran a palm over his face.

  “I’ve got too much on my plate right now.”

  He sat up and tugged at the legs of his jeans as if they were uncomfortable. She had to fight the urge to look and see how uncomfortable.