by Lori Leger
“It’s not going to happen, Drake.”
He leaned across the table and placed a light touch on the inside of her wrist. “It already has happened. I was there, remember? I know what you felt.”
She pulled her hand out of his reach, trying to ignore the tingling sensation his touch had caused all the way up her arm. “That was a combination of exhaustion and too much alcohol.”
“The queen of denial,” he drawled. “If only you’d let me kiss all that stubbornness from you pretty little mouth. One day you’ll see for yourself.”
Annie left the table in a huff. She walked into the powder room and flopped down on the couch situated against one wall.
Her sister in law, Julia, looked at her from the mirror. “What’s wrong with you?”
Julia’s daughter, Miranda grinned slyly. “I’d bet it has something to do with Drake.”
Annie groaned in frustration. “Having him around is going to ruin every family function for me for the rest of my life. He’s so arrogant.”
“Maybe you ought to just drop your defenses and see if there’s something worth looking into. Drake is an absolute doll!” Miranda told her aunt.
“He’s the spawn of Satan,” Annie spat.
Julia threw her compact and lipstick into her clutch purse and snapped it shut. “You’re upset because he makes you feel things you don’t want to. You have to admit he’s a nice guy, and he sure is easy on the eyes. With that sexy Texas drawl of his, those big brown eyes, cleft chin, and thick, wavy hair—all he needs is a Stetson and a pair of Tony Lamas to be my idea of the perfect cowboy.”
Miranda nodded. “That’s a good-looking man Aunt Annie. He runs a few times a week and I’d be willing to bet he visits a gym regularly. I saw him at Uncle Red’s a couple of days ago, and he was wearing a pair of faded jeans—you know, worn in all the right places, and just tight enough to make you wonder what’s hiding underneath. I could see some serious definition under that tee shirt he was wearing, too.”
“Oh God, I hope he doesn’t join my gym. I just signed a two year contract,” Annie groaned. “That’s all I need, is to have him ruin what little time I have set aside to exercise.”
“What gym do you go to?” Miranda asked.
“Billie’s on Ryan Street.”
“Nope, I didn’t hear him mention that particular one.” Miranda exchanged a look with her mother. “I’m going back out.”
Drake kept a close eye on the bathroom door watching for Annie. He smiled at Miranda as she sat beside him.
“Hey Drake,” she said, tapping his shoulder. “Have you had time to join a gym yet?”
Slightly surprised at the question, he shook his head. “Uh, no…and I believe my feelings are hurt. Does it look like I need to?”
“Absolutely not, but you might want to. Annie recently signed a two year contract with Billie’s Gym on Ryan Street.”
He raised one corner of his mouth in a lazy smile. “You know, I was thinking I needed to find one here in Lake Coburn. Thanks, hon. I believe I owe you one.”
Miranda nodded, as she reclaimed her seat at the table.
Julia returned to the table next, making a quick stop at Drake’s chair. “Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, from five to seven,” she said before reclaiming the seat next to her daughter.
“Excuse me?” Drake asked.
“That’s when Annie works out at Billie’s Gym.”
Drake beamed down at the two women. “God, I love this family.”
<>
By the time Annie left the powder room, Drake was out on the dance floor with Julia. She watched them doing a Texas two step and remembered how it felt to dance with him at Red’s other club. She could still see the way he’d smiled at her, and the way he looked down into her eyes. And that kiss…Oh God...that kiss.
If she could just go back and erase those fifteen minutes of her life, she would do it in a heartbeat. Those three dances had ruined everything. Annie shook her head in frustration. Damn it, why hadn’t she put it together sooner? How could she have missed the strong family resemblance? Why hadn’t she connected that slow Texas drawl with the fact that they were waiting on Tiffany and her brother from Houston to walk in the club any minute? If they’d given each other their real names, none of that would have happened. She watched him dancing and regretted that she’d never be able to experience that with him again. She couldn’t let him that close to her. He was too dangerous—just one of many pitfalls she’d so carefully avoided over the years. She’d only let herself care for someone once, a long time ago, and it had very nearly cost her everything.
The flash in front of her eyes was the first sign of the debilitating migraine, the dizziness was the second. She put one hand over her closed eyes and tried to breathe deeply, praying the pain wouldn’t come. Oh God, not now—I’ll never make it home. Knowing time was of the essence, she grabbed her purse and leaned over to tell Miranda she was leaving.
Miranda gave her aunt a look of concern. “Do you need me to drive you home?”
“No, I think I can make it. Tell everyone I said Happy New Year, and I’ll see them tomorrow at Red and Tiffany’s.” Annie stood up, gripping the table in an attempt to steady herself. She took a deep breath and began the walk to the exit. As soon as she reached the cool air outside, the pain hit her, along with the nausea. She leaned against the brick column to rest and heard the door open behind her.
“What do we have here? You okay, honey?”
Annie focused on the owner of the masculine voice, staring into the face of a stranger. He wasn’t quite six foot tall, but was built...seriously built…like steroids built. But he didn’t particularly look like a nice guy. Alarm bells went off in her head, but the pain caused her to make the first stupid mistake of the night.
“I...I’ve got to get to my car...I’m sick.”
“Why don’t you let me help you, sweetheart? Here, lean on me.”
The pain blinded her momentarily and she knew this was one of those rare migraines that wouldn’t let up easily. “Have a migraine...I can’t see,” she mumbled, making her second mistake.
The stranger chuckled deep in his chest. “Can’t see, huh? This night’s gettin’ better and better.”
A chill ran down Annie’s spine as she realized the implications of the man’s statement. Even in debilitating pain, she knew she was in trouble. “I think I better go back inside and get my brother, he owns this club.”
“Sure he does, baby—and I’m the Prince of Persia.”
“No, really. Red is my brother and...wh..wha…what are you doing?” Suddenly the breath left her in a whoosh as the man picked her up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Honey, you don’t weigh nothin’, do you? You’re as light as a bird. This won’t take long at all.”
Annie tried to scream, but the pain from the rush of blood to her head was unbearable. “Put me down,” she said, weakly.
“As soon as I get you where I want you, hon.”
Annie stiffened when his hand went up under her skirt. “Put me down! Somebody help me!” she screamed, even as her head throbbed with the effort.
“Ain’t nobody out here but you and me, hon. I do love a woman in leather and high heels, and you’re just the right size,” he drawled. “We don’t grow ‘em this pretty in Arkansas.”
Truly terrified now, Annie tried to scream again, but her abductor bounced her roughly on his shoulder, and it momentarily knocked the wind out of her. Pain sliced through her head, and she groaned loudly.
“Oh, yeah...I like the sound of that,” he said, as he reached a pickup truck behind the club. “I think this spot’ll do just fine. Ain’t nobody gonna find any evidence on my truck this time.” He lowered the tailgate and dropped her roughly on the truck bed, making her head bounce painfully on the surface.
“Stop it! Help me!” she screamed loudly, as she ignored the pain and scratched at his face and eyes.
“Shut the hell up, would y
ou honey? You know you want this, dressed like you are. Hell, you’re just asking for it.”
Annie grabbed both sides of her head in an attempt to stop the throbbing. She forced herself to open her eyes and look her attacker in the face, knowing she’d need to be able to pick him out of a line up if she ever got the chance. Once she opened her eyes, she thought for a second she was seeing double, because she saw two faces. One face moved and she realized it was Drake.
She clenched her eyes shut against the pain and moaned.
“Son of a bitch! What did you do to her?”
Annie heard the familiar voice then several thuds, like fists hitting flesh. She heard someone else groan, another series of thuds, then silence.
“Annie, are you alright? What did he do to you? Son of a bitch, I’ll kill him if he hurt you!”
“Drake?” she asked weakly.
“Yeah...where are you hurt?”
“My head...Migraine...Bad one. I’m going to be sick.” Drake helped her to sit up.
“Move,” she managed to say as she leaned over. He supported her weight as she became violently ill. Afterward, she clutched her head with both hands. “Oh God...Oh God...I need to get home. Just get me to my truck.”
“You’re shittin’ me, right? There’s no way you could drive home, besides, I need to go report this son of a bitch to someone. He was about to...he nearly...” Drake’s voice trailed off then he swore loudly, kicked the unconscious man in the side once more for good measure, and swore at him again. “You can’t drive. Wait here and I’ll get Red.”
“No!” she groaned, as another wave of nausea hit her. She leaned over to throw up again, and Drake caught her just before she fell forward.
“Hold on, Annie girl, I have you. It’s okay.” He held her hair away from her face with one hand as he supported her with another. “Damn, you really do have bad migraines, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” she said weakly. “Home...Medicine’s at home.”
“You don’t carry it with you?” he asked, incredulously.
“Forgot to pick it up...different purse.” She moaned and grabbed her head again. “Home...need to get home.”
“Okay, okay, Annie. I’ll get you home.” When she tried to walk, she stumbled, so Drake gently scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his Denali truck.
“Purse?” she asked, barely able to form the word.
“I have it. I found it on the ground just outside the door. That must have been where he got to you. I should have taken his I.D. from his wallet. I need to go back and get it, Annie.”
“No...please...home.”
“Okay—shhh—okay, I’m bringing you home. You live in Kenton, right? What’s your address?”
“One twenty-two, White Oak Drive,” she mumbled.
Once he got her buckled in he started the truck and spoke the address into his On Star navigation system. It began to give him directions to Annie’s house as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to call Red.
“Don’t tell Red, please.”
Drake looked over at her. Her head was turned in his direction, but her eyes were closed. He caught his breath when he saw a single tear run down her cheek. “Why not, Annie?”
“Don’t want anyone to know. Won’t let me be after this.”
“I need him to go see if that son of a bitch is still out there. He needs to be thrown in jail for what he tried to do.”
“Please...don’t talk...please.”
Another tear trailed down her cheek and he didn’t have the heart to deny her. He closed his phone and kept driving in silence. He had to stop once because she was sick and didn’t want to throw up in his truck. When they arrived at the destination thirty minutes later, Annie had fallen into a fitful sleep, sometimes moaning in pain as she grabbed her head.
“Annie, is this your place?” Drake asked, gently rousing her. She opened her eyes, looked around and nodded. Drake got her keys out of her purse and found the one marked ‘house-front door’. He stepped down from the truck then scooped her up into his arms. “Do you have a roommate?” he asked.
“Martin and Lewis...pets,” she answered.
“Martin and Lewis?” He stopped in front of her door. “Is either of those a bull mastiff, or pit bull, or something?”
“Harmless,” she murmured.
He nodded and unlocked her front door. She’d left the under cabinet lighting on in her kitchen, so there was enough dim light for him to see without turning on anything extra. He knew her eyes would be sensitive to light.
Drake jumped as a shrill voice yelled, “Hey lady! I’m home!” He turned to see a large grey bird in a huge cage.
“Aaannie...Aaannie...is that you? Hey la-dy!”
“Let me guess, that’s Lewis, right?” he commented. “Where’s Martin?”
“Probably in bed,” she murmured. “I can walk.”
“Hell no, where’s your bedroom?” She pointed and he started down the hallway. There was a nightlight on and Drake placed her gently on the side of the bed. “Where’s your medicine, Annie? I’ll get it for you.”
“Bathroom,” she said pointing to a door. “Medicine cabinet...injection.”
Drake walked through a door into a small, but immaculately clean bathroom. He strode to the medicine cabinet and opened it, scanning the contents. He picked up a case with a prescription tag on it, saw that it was for severe migraines and brought it quickly to her.
Drake watched as she opened the case and loaded a cartridge into the injector. Her hands shook as she tried to tear open a packet containing an alcohol pad. Drake took it from her, tore it open easily then asked where she wanted the injection. She pointed to her upper left arm and Drake swabbed it with the alcohol pad. “Do you want me to do that?” he asked. She looked up at him with eyes that didn’t seem to focus and Drake picked up the case and read the instructions quickly. “It says here I have to hold it against the skin for at least five seconds, right?” She nodded, and he took her small, but muscular arm in his large hand, and gave her the injection.
“Okay, lay down.” He pulled the sheets back on her bed, helped her get situated then covered her up. She looked miserable with her eyes closed, and hands clutched to both sides of her head. Drake leaned over to check on her. “Are you still nauseous?” When she nodded, he brought the empty trash can from the bathroom and set it on the floor directly in front of her. He leaned over, about to ask if she needed anything else, when something large and heavy jumped on his back. “What the...Ho..o..ly shit!” Drake jerked up and turned in one quick movement so that the ‘thing’ fell onto the floor with a heavy thump. “A cat? You have an attack cat? Son of a bitch!”
“Martin,” she murmured.
Drake stared at the huge yellow cat, its amber eyes glowing in the near darkness of the room. The cat stared back at him, emitting a strange growl from its throat.
“De-clawed...harmless,” Annie whispered.
“Hmph...he might be de-clawed, but I’d be willing to bet he isn’t de-toothed, and that makes him far from harmless. That’s the biggest friggin domestic cat I’ve ever seen in my life. That thing could get you sued, Annie.”
“Never happened before...must not like you.”
“Well, hell—what’d I do to him?” Drake asked, as he backed slowly toward the door, away from the growling cat.
“He’s old—protective.”
“And territorial as hell, obviously.” He leaned against the door jamb, relaxing a little once the cat jumped up on the bed with Annie. Drake watched, in amazement, as the huge animal walked softly to her and stretched out a paw to touch her gently on the head, almost as if checking her for a temperature. He nuzzled her hair then settled right up against her shoulders and head, and immediately began to purr loudly.
“Annie,” he said, unsure of what he was seeing.
“Shhh…he knows it helps me,” she whispered.
Drake stood for several minutes watching the scene before him, listening, as Annie’s brea
thing evened out and she fell into a deep, hopefully painless sleep. The cat’s purring lowered in volume as well, and Drake pulled the door closed except for a small crack.
He walked into the living room then reached over to turn on a lamp, perusing the tidy room and its contents. One word…cozy…came to mind. Although the well worn leather sofa and loveseat were both beginning to show their age, they were high quality, the end tables, solid wood and holding weighty brass lamps with bell-shaped shades. The walls and trim work of the room had been painted in shades that brought to mind scenes of Tuscany—in deep gold, muted green, and terra cotta. A built in bookcase was lined with leather bound books, all well-worn and looking as if they’d been handled repeatedly over the years. He surveyed the room, checked out the various family portraits and framed pictures of Annie as an adorable child, posing for the camera with big cheesy grins.
