Venus in Blue Jeans

by Meg Benjamin

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Docia slept late the next morning, which, given her usual early morning habits, meant she slept until after eight. Cal didn’t mind. He liked to watch her sleep, and he hadn’t been able to for the last couple of days.

  Nico was usually their alarm clock, given his need for perpetual breakfast. But Nico was at the shop under Janie’s watchful eye, and Pep was with Docia’s mother.

  And Cal, lucky man, was back with Docia again, alone in an oversized bed. Somewhere the gods were smiling.

  They hadn’t exactly worked out all their problems the night before, mainly because Docia had fallen asleep in the truck before they got to the barn. Cal had carried her inside, even though she’d warned him, drowsily, that he’d get a hernia if he did it.

  If he worked on it, Cal could still feel a vague remnant of the hurt and disappointment from two days ago. It hadn’t gone away. But he was willing not to think about it for now.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, just a moment, cool from the air conditioning, warm from the sun and Docia’s closeness. Pushing all his other feelings to the side, he was totally content for the first time since Docia had hopped out of his truck and into the back door of the shop to have her “alone time”.

  Several seconds later, moist breath blew against his ear and soft fingers feathered down his chest. His body immediately came to full attention.

  “Are you really asleep or are you playing possum?” Docia’s voice hummed while she licked the outline of his ear.

  “I would never play possum with you,” Cal murmured, keeping his eyes closed tight. Could he possibly become any harder than he already was?

  Docia’s lips moved to his chest. He felt the faint rasp of her tongue around his nipple, then the tip traced a warm, wet line across his pecs.

  He sucked in a breath, his muscles rigid. Yep, harder was definitely possible.

  Light butterfly kisses traveled down the length of his abdomen toward his groin. His hands wound themselves into the sheet at his sides as Docia’s fingers slipped along his thighs.

  If this was a wet dream, he’d definitely gotten a lot better at them than he’d been as a teenager.

  Docia’s fingers wrapped around his erect shaft. Docia’s lips closed around the head.

  Cal’s eyes snapped open.

  Docia raised her gaze to his, smiling. Then she leaned down again. She took him into the warmth and wetness of her mouth, then ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft. Her lips caressed the head of his cock, sucking him deeper. He felt the light graze of teeth along the edge.

  “Jesus.” The word came out on a gasp.

  He tried to think of something besides the warm lips that pulled him down and nibbled at the last crumbs of his control. Reaching into the dim memories of anatomy class, he ran through the muscles of the back. Trapezius. Deltoid. Teres minor. Teres major. Infraspinatus.

  Holy God in heaven!

  “Docia,” he choked out. “Let me…”

  “No,” she murmured around his cock.

  Cal slid his hands to her shoulders, pushing her up and over. He had her on her back in a split second. “Sorry,” he gasped. “No time to discuss it. Need to be inside.”

  Docia spread her legs beneath him, and then he thrust himself into her depths, into heat, her muscles sheathing him tight. His hips moved convulsively as he fought to keep some remnant of his brain functioning.

  Muscles of the back. Rhomboideus. Latissimus dorsi. External oblique. Gluteus…

  Heat moved up his spine to explode through his chest, his abdomen, his cock. “Oh, sweet Lord!”

  The muscles of the back vaporized.

  Cal wasn’t sure how long it took for him to get enough breath in his lungs to talk. Maybe a couple of hours. Even then, all he could do was croak. “Docia?”

  Docia turned her head to gaze at him, eyes languid. “Hmmm?”

  “Was that my prize?”

  She grinned and shook her head. “No, sweetheart, that was mine.”

  —

  Docia fixed them breakfast. Cal was having trouble finding his way around the room, although she wasn’t sure why.

  Well, actually she had a pretty good idea why. Docia grinned to herself as she located cinnamon to make some of Lourdes’ special toast. Driving Cal to distraction could become one of her favorite pastimes.

  Assuming they could get over her two massive mistakes—number one, doubting him and number two, telling him about it. They still had some patching up to do, but at least Docia was more optimistic today than she had been yesterday.

  Cal’s cell rang after they’d finished off the first two plates of toast. Wonder, calling from town. Docia remembered suddenly that she hadn’t checked in with Mama and Daddy yet. Lord only knew what had happened to the map!

  “Yeah.” Cal’s voice sounded gloomy. “Thanks.” He tucked the cell back into his pocket.

  Docia raised an eyebrow. “Trouble?”

  He shrugged. “Not exactly. Margaret’s back.”

  “Here?” Docia put her coffee cup down. “Back at home, you mean?”

  He shook his head. “Konigsburg hospital. But Wonder thinks they’re going to release her soon. I guess the injuries weren’t as bad as they thought at first.”

  “Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” Docia hadn’t thought about Margaret since the night she’d found Clete in her shop. Now she tried to figure out if she was supposed to be worried about something she’d forgotten.

  Cal still looked glum. “I need to talk her into letting me keep Pep.”

  Oh.

  Yes, definitely something to be worried about. “Do we have to?” Docia mused. “I mean, couldn’t we just say he went missing?”

  One corner of Cal’s mouth edged up. “And then tell her this identical brown Chihuahua just happened to jump into my pocket one day?”

  Docia sighed. “I see the problem.”

  “I’ll just tell her we’ve gotten used to each other and I don’t want to give him up.” Cal got to his feet. “I don’t think she was all that attached to him anyway.”

  “No!” Docia leaned forward, holding out a hand to stop him. “If you tell her that, she’ll never let you have him.”

  Cal frowned. “Docia…”

  “No.” Docia took a breath. “Look, I’m sorry she got hurt, but that probably won’t change her basic personality. She was mad at you because of me, because we’re together and she hates my guts for some reason. If she thinks you want Pep, she might decide to keep him out of spite! Tell her you’ll take him off her hands to make it up to her for getting hurt or something. Tell her Pep’s too high maintenance for her now since she needs to take care of herself, and you don’t want her to worry about anything. And for God’s sake, don’t mention me.”

  “I’ll just…” Cal rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Well, I’ll think of something.”

  “You do that. I’ll go get him from Mama.” Docia began to gather dishes from the table. “But I swear I’ll turn him loose out here in the hills before I let her take him back.”

  Cal gave her a slightly sour grin. “Good idea. I’ll go talk to Margaret. You see if you can find a roving pack of feral Chihuahuas that’s looking for a new member.”

  —

  Margaret was bored to tears. She had been almost from the moment she’d concluded she wouldn’t die. Hospital food tasted ghastly. The reading matter was grim. The TV sets didn’t get premium cable, and she had been reduced to watching a series of increasingly depressing reality shows.

  She gazed around the room—pale green walls, beige linoleum, white sheets. Was color supposed to be unsanitary? At least she had a room by herself. She didn’t think she could have stood being around somebody who was really sick. She still had two or three bouquets left over from the Austin hospital—carnations, mostly, but they were better than nothing.

  She wanted out of the hospital so badly she was willing to forego the sympathy calls from Konigsburgers. Besides
, people could always visit her at home. She would have demanded that they let her go home as soon as she got back to Konigsburg if it hadn’t been for the other thing.

  She was still scared.

  It didn’t make any sense, of course. Brody was long gone, and anyway, there wasn’t any reason for him to attack Margaret. She couldn’t possibly be regarded as a threat to him, and she had Ham volunteering to protect her.

  It didn’t matter. Every night she felt the same slight thrill of terror as she was falling asleep, and sometimes she woke up knowing her dreams had been bad even though she couldn’t remember them exactly. At least she’d managed to start sleeping again, without having to resort to the pills the doctor in Austin had prescribed. He’d also suggested she might benefit from seeing a psychiatrist to “work out her anxieties”. Margaret had filed that suggestion away under ideas that didn’t rate thinking about.

  But she hated the feeling, all the same. Being frightened made her angry, made her impatient, made her resent losing her old life, her old self. All she really wanted to do was go back to being Margaret Hastings again, with her old position as the Acknowledged Social Ruler of Konigsburg. Was that too much to ask?

  When her door opened around eleven, she expected the nurse with her lunch. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but at least it would give her something to do. She’d already made a mental list of changes that should be made immediately in the menu, categorized in terms of items to be thrown out and items to be prepared differently. She also had a few suitable remarks for the lame-brained chef who’d dared to send her vinyl-based Jell-o.

  She looked up, arranging her best don’t-mess-with-me smile, to see Cal Toleffson filling her doorway.

  Margaret goggled. She couldn’t help it. He was perhaps the last person she’d expected to have visit her in the hospital. Well, the third last, after Docia Kent and Chief Brody.

  It took her a moment to adjust her face back to her Innocent Victim expression. Her mind raced. Was he still with Docia? She hadn’t thought to ask anybody, but maybe she should have. Maybe they’d broken up. Thank heaven she had on the silky blue nightgown with the pink rosebuds.

  “Why hello, Cal. How good of you to come and see me.” Margaret figured that sounded nauseatingly humble enough. She stretched her lips in a trembling smile that implied patient suffering.

  He moved tentatively toward the chair next to her bed. “Hi, Margaret, how are you feeling?”

  Okay, this one was a slam dunk—she had the answer down pat. “Oh, you know, some days are better than others.” She turned up Patient Suffering a notch to Long Suffering.

  “Oh.” He turned away toward the begonia on her bedside table. “Pretty flowers.”

  “Yes, Ham brought them in. He’s here almost every day.” There, let him stew about that. She had other irons in the fire, although, granted, they didn’t burn all that brightly.

  “Nice of him.” Cal turned back to her again. He didn’t look sympathetic. If anything, he looked mildly anxious to be gone.

  Margaret frowned. That wouldn’t do at all. “The Konigsburg Merchants Association sent that one.” She gestured to a large bunch of varicolored daisies in a red plastic vase near the window. They’d already lost some of their freshness. Trust Arthur to go for the less expensive bouquet.

  “Good. That’s good.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and huffed a sigh. “The thing is, Margaret, I’ve got Pep.”

  Margaret frowned. Was he talking about his stamina? Was this an overture to something sexual? “You’ve got pep?” she echoed.

  “Yeah, I mean Pepe. Señor Pepe, that is.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Your dog.”

  “I know who Señor Pepe is,” she snapped. She’d managed not to think about the little weasel during the time she’d been in the hospital, although she’d been vaguely curious about what had become of him. He sure hadn’t done much to protect her from Brody. She wasn’t even sure where he’d been when Brody came out of the store. “Where did you find him?”

  “In the alley behind Docia’s store. He must have run away after you were…attacked.” Cal’s lips narrowed.

  Of course he ran out into the alley. Clearly, he hadn’t made any effort to save his mistress, not like a truly loyal pet would have done. While he might not have been able to drive Brody off, Margaret would have appreciated a few warning yips at least.

  “Well, thank you for keeping him.” She sighed. “I can’t take him back now, obviously. Maybe after I’ve been home for a few weeks.” Maybe she could palm the mutt off on someone if she told them she wasn’t up to taking care of him.

  “That’s okay.” He smiled. “I’m pretty used to him now. In fact, I thought maybe we could work out a deal. I’d be glad to buy him from you.”

  “Buy him?” Margaret stared at him. She’d considered asking him to find someone who’d take the dog off her hands, but money hadn’t occurred to her.

  He nodded. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Pep’s a hero now. He helped me find Docia after Brody dumped her at the ranch. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

  A faint ringing sounded in Margaret’s ears that had nothing to do with her head injury. The stupid little mutt hadn’t seen fit to help his own mistress, but he’d saved Docia Kent! She’d sell him down the river to a puppy mill before she’d see him in Cal Toleffson’s hands. Long Suffering morphed immediately into Don’t Mess With Me.

  “Oh, Cal, I’m sorry,” she said through gritted teeth, “but I couldn’t possibly part with my Precious.”

  —

  Mama arrived at the barn around eleven, shortly after Cal had left for the hospital. She had Pep tucked under her arm, but he soon scrambled loose to sniff around the house, looking for Cal.

  Mama smiled after him. “What a sweetie.”

  “I may send him home with you if Margaret Hastings won’t let Cal have him.” Docia filled Pep’s water bowl and set it on the floor. “That or maybe place him in the Chihuahua Protection Program.”

  “Oh, well, we can always send your father over to talk to her. Nothing he can’t sell to the young and gullible. Janie filled me in on the library fund, by the way.” Her mother shook her head. “Noble, honey, but a little expensive.”

  Docia’s lips thinned. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “No you won’t.” Her mother dug through the upscale duffle bag that doubled as her purse, handing her a receipt. “Your father and I paid the bill.”

  Docia inhaled quickly, but her mother put her hand on her arm. “Let us do it, honey. Your daddy and I need to pay for you now and then. It doesn’t mean you aren’t your own woman. But you’re also our little girl.”

  Docia blinked at her. Mama went back to her purse, pulling out a stack of papers. “Here’s the stuff on the map. The Rangers took it into protective custody, more or less.”

  Docia frowned. “Is it real?”

  “Nobody knows yet. And since they also don’t know where Dub got it, chances are there’ll be questions no matter what the experts decide.” Mama shrugged. “Not your problem, baby.”

  “Nope. I’m concentrating on Pep right now.”

  “Don’t worry, Billy will think of something if we need to.” Mama reached into her purse again and pulled out a box of dog treats. “He bought these last night when we brought Pepe back to the room at the Woodrose. Your father let him sleep at the foot of the bed.”

  Docia worked to keep her jaw from dropping. “You and Daddy shared a room?” And a bed?

  “Well, we are married, darlin’. It’s perfectly legal.” Her mother gave her a rather smug smile.

  Docia sat in the nearest kitchen chair. “But you’re separated.”

  “Yes we are, and we’ll probably stay that way, at least for the time being.” Mama shrugged. “We never stopped loving each other, darlin’. We just stopped living together. And actually, it works out better for us if we don’t.”

  “But if you love each other…” Docia felt as if her mental wheels were spinning.


  Mama’s lips thinned. “Not every marriage works the same way, Docia Mae. And not all of them work at all. But what happened to you shook your father up good. Me too. We both decided life is way too short for us to stay snotty with each other.”

  Her mother extended her arms and once again Docia moved into them. Mama smoothed a hand over her hair as if she were still five years old. “Now, look here, darlin’, if you’re holding off on that yummy doc because of Daddy and me, you can just stop it. Billy and I were always like oil and water. From what I can tell, you and Cal are like…Mazola and Wesson, or something. For heaven’s sake, go for it!”

  Docia took a deep breath and stared up into her mother’s cornflower gaze. “It wasn’t so much you and Daddy as me and Donnie. I was being sort of an idiot.”

  “I’d say so.” Her mother nodded quickly. “Letting Donnie Branscombe run your life even after you got rid of him doesn’t strike me as very smart.”

  Docia sighed, chewing on her lip. “It wasn’t. The real question is whether Cal can trust me again after I screwed up so badly.”

  Mama’s lips moved into a slow smile. “Aw, darlin’, I wouldn’t worry about that. He may not be from around here, but he doesn’t strike me as an idiot.”

  —

  Idiot! Why the hell did you tell her Pep rescued Docia? Cal stared into Margaret’s large, brown, furious eyes. “Did I mention I’d be willing to pay?”

  “You think I’d take money for my Precious?” Her chin rose to a dangerous angle. “What kind of woman do you think I am, Cal?”

  Cal ran through a lot of appropriate words for the kind of woman she was, but it didn’t seem like the type of thing to share. “Maybe Horace and I could find you another dog.” He tried to keep his voice level. “We get lots of notices about puppies at the clinic. I know Pep caused some problems for you. Maybe a less high-maintenance breed.” One made out of stuffed plush, for example.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my dog, Doctor. High maintenance or not. We always got along fine.”

  Cal restrained himself from pointing out that she’d said the opposite less than five minutes before. “I’m sure you can when you’re back on your feet, Margaret,” he soothed. “Pep was in excellent physical condition.” Mentally a mess, but physically good.