“Not having the bar would give me some flexibility,” she went on. And it’d stop the stupid pranks and calls from the cops.
“What’s this really about?” Judd finally said.
Cleo took a few seconds to try to boil it down. “I’ve always fixed things for myself. Well, except for Simon Peterson,” she added when the image of him popped into her head. “You did me a huge favor and took care of that for me in high school by kicking his butt.”
“That wasn’t a favor. More like a civic duty.” He paused. “Is that why you asked me to have sex with you, because I stood up for you?”
“No. I asked because you were hot and I was in love with you. Not actually in-love love,” she quickly added when she saw his face go blank. “Teenage-girl love.” Which, of course, he wasn’t going to get since he’d been a teenage boy. “Think of it like the smallest frog on Rosy’s stuffed lily pad,” she explained.
Okay, he really wasn’t going to get it now.
“Rosy is doing her taxidermist thing on a passel of frogs,” Cleo said. “One is clearly the alpha frog, and that’s the adult version of being in love. He has layers, warts and stuff, and he’s about to win the poker hand and catch a fly at the same time. A layered multitasker. But the little frog is just sitting there, taking it all in, and that’s teen love.”
He stared at her, smiled just for a moment and pushed a strand of hair off her cheek. It was a simple but intimate gesture. Not quite a little frog but close, and it was something that could lead to bigger frogs. And sex. That’s why Cleo looked away and stood.
“I’d better watch for Beckham,” she said. “If he comes back upset, I want to talk to him right away.”
She’d also probably stay the night in the ranch house. It wasn’t something the social worker would approve of, but Cleo wanted to be near the boys after the emotional day they’d had.
Judd didn’t go with her to the window. He stayed there, sitting on the floor and looking like the very hot alpha cowboy that he was.
“So, before we got on the subject of frogs, teen love and Simon Peterson, you were talking about always fixing things yourself,” he reminded her.
Yes, and she’d been trying to make a point. A serious one. It was hard to believe she’d gotten so far off track.
“I was leading up to where I went wrong,” she explained. “I didn’t do right by Miranda. I haven’t fulfilled her dying wish.” And if that wasn’t a kick in the teeth, Cleo didn’t know what was.
Judd made a sound of disagreement. “I don’t see how you had a way around this. You couldn’t get custody of the boys on your own.”
“No, but I should have fixed it before it became a problem. If I’d thought to push Miranda sooner to do those custody papers, then maybe no one would have challenged that.”
“True, but you said there wasn’t time, that she died only a couple of weeks after she got sick.”
“Yes, but I still should have thought of it, and because I didn’t, I’m a step behind,” Cleo added.
And because she’d gotten behind, her suitcase was next to Judd’s sofa, Harmon was trying to blackmail her and she had to worry about where Lavinia would pop up next.
Judd’s phone rang, and Cleo immediately looked in his direction to see if it was bad news. For a person who normally had a sunny disposition, she hated that “bad news” was her go-to response.
Since Judd didn’t put the call on speaker, she stayed put and tried not to listen. After all, it could be Audrey with more nookie pie offers. Cleo suddenly felt as green as the stuffed frog she’d used in her teen-love metaphor.
Judd didn’t say anything, but he did grunt twice, and that could have been in response to whatever the caller said. He finished the conversation with a “yeah.”
“That was Kace,” Judd told her when he ended the call. “Mrs. Gateman called him.” His gaze locked with hers. “She’ll be making another visit to the ranch, but she wanted him to know that things aren’t looking good.”
That took most of the air out of the room. “What does that mean?”
A muscle flickered in Judd’s jaw. “Mrs. Gateman’s going to recommend that the boys go to a different foster home.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JUDD LOOKED AROUND his cabin and cursed. He didn’t aim his profanity at anything in particular, but he should have directed it at himself. There was nothing wrong with his cabin. It was just as it’d always been.
He was as he’d always been.
So, why did the place feel empty? And why did he feel so restless?
He cursed the answers that came to mind. Well, one answer, anyway. Cleo. She wasn’t there, wasn’t in his bed, and while that was probably a good thing, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it at the moment.
She’d stayed the night at Buck’s. Again, that was a good thing. Beckham had been shaken up, and Cleo had needed to be close, to be there if the boy wanted to talk. In other words, she wasn’t being as selfish as he was by wanting her in his bed.
While he was at it, he doled out some more profanity for the social worker and the system that was threatening to suck up the boys. Those kids didn’t need the system, not when they had Cleo and everyone else who’d stepped up to help. Yet, the boys might lose Cleo because of an old police record and her less-than-savory occupation.
He finished his coffee when he heard the sound of the approaching school bus. It was right on time at seven forty-five. Judd went to the window and spotted not only the bus, but also Lissy, who was already there, waiting in her car for Beckham. Judd had glanced at the spreadsheet schedule and knew that she was on duty to drive Beckham to the high school.
Judd watched as Leo and Isaac came out of the house. Leo was running and carrying a backpack that seemed nearly as big as he was. There was a big grin on his face, but Isaac was less than enthusiastic and trailed along behind him. “Monday mornings suck” was written all over Isaac’s mopey, tired face.
Cleo came out onto the porch, waving at them as they filed onto the bus, and as soon as it’d lumbered away, Beckham came out of the house. His expression mirrored Isaac’s, and he didn’t even look up from the ground as he made his way to Lissy’s car. Once the sitter drove away, Cleo turned in Judd’s direction, and as if she’d known all along that he was there watching, their gazes met through the window.
She was barefoot, a pair of sandals dangling from her left hand, and she was wearing a dress the color of ripe peaches. It skimmed along her body, reminding Judd that his hands itched to do some skimming. The other time they’d had sex, he hadn’t gotten to do enough of that. Of course, hours might not be enough.
Her hair was loose today, those dark brown curls falling on her shoulders and haloing around her face. If she’d had a rough night with the boys, it certainly didn’t show.
Man, she looked good.
Of course, she always did, and he suspected she looked even better today because of his whole “getting her in his bed” thing. He either needed to go ahead and have sex with her, or spell out the ground rules of why that couldn’t happen and then stick to them. Judd suspected he knew how this would go.
Smiling at him, Cleo put on her shoes and started across the yard toward him. Judd dragged in a long breath that he was sure he would need and met her at the door. Yeah, he needed that breath all right because Cleo looked even better up close than she had from a distance.
“You look...” She stopped, chuckled. “I’m not sure I should finish that.”
Wise woman, because Judd was certain he wasn’t doing a good job of hiding his itching hands or the sudden urge he had to haul her into his arms. Since that wasn’t a smart choice right now, Judd made sure there was at least a couple of inches between them. Still, he caught her scent. Peaches, like the dress.
“How’s Beckham this morning?” he asked. It wasn’t just a “making conversation” question to
get his mind off Cleo and her fruity scent. He was worried about the kid.
“Okay, I guess. He showed me the letter from his mom.”
Judd nearly asked if Beckham had cried again, but that might not be something the boy would want Judd to know.
“Anyway, I think he’s as fine as he can be, considering.” She pushed her hair from her face, her fingers brushing against the earrings that dangled from her ears.
He frowned when he saw they were armadillos. Not ones etched in precious or shiny metals. These were gray and bumpy like a real armadillo’s hide. He hoped to hell that hide wasn’t real.
“Oh,” Cleo said when she’d noticed what he was staring at. “They were a gift from Rosy. They’re replicas of Billy.”
Judd would never understand Rosy’s fascination with the critter, but they still managed to look as good as they possibly could on Cleo. He was pretty sure that was dick talk, though. Not an exaggeration like dick inches, but he figured the lust was playing into everything he saw and felt about her right now.
“Kace said you didn’t have to be at work until eleven,” she continued. “I’m on for a full shift at the bar starting at one and until closing at midnight so I’ll be staying in San Antonio tonight. But for now, I was hoping you’d run an errand with me. It won’t take long.”
Judd tried not to react to the punch of disappointment that she wasn’t there to hop into his bed and likely wouldn’t be coming back to Coldwater tonight.
“What errand?” he asked.
Smiling, she caught onto his hand. “I need to see Audrey’s mother.”
Judd didn’t have to give this any thought—he definitely didn’t want to go there, and he couldn’t imagine why Cleo would, either. “Uh, I was hoping to discourage more nookie pie.” Along with coming up with a different name for it. There was no way to say it without feeling stupid.
“Come on.” She pulled him out onto the porch. “This isn’t about pie.”
Yeah, but it’d be “pie once removed” since Audrey and her mom were close. Definitely not how he wanted to spend his morning off, but Cleo seemed set on this. Whatever this was.
“Why are we going to Mrs. Holcomb’s?” He heard his grouchy tone but got in the car with Cleo, anyway.
“Lissy said Audrey’s mom had a puppy. A golden-Lab mix. It’s the last of a litter that she rescued, and she hasn’t managed to find a home for it yet.” Her smile was a little tentative now as she drove away from Buck’s. “I want to get the puppy for Beckham.”
It took Judd a moment to connect the dots, to remember that Beckham’s mother had drawn the picture of the dog on his letter and hoped that he would get one soon. A dog was good for a kid to have, to teach responsibility and such, but Judd immediately saw one big flaw with this plan.
“You think this is a good idea, what with custody being so unsettled?” he asked. “What if the boys can’t stay here?”
Her smile wasn’t just tentative now. It was downright shaky. “That could be a problem,” Cleo admitted. “But I think it’ll give Beckham something to latch onto. Something that can give him hope and connect him with the good memories of his mother and his childhood. There were good memories,” she insisted. “Unlike our childhoods.”
Yeah, that was indeed something Cleo and he had in common. Instant empathy. That’s why Judd felt so bad for the boys, but he still wasn’t sure that getting a dog was the way to go.
“What if Beckham gets attached to the dog and then has to leave it?” Judd persisted, though it was making him feel crappy to play out these worst-case scenarios.
“I spoke to Buck, and he agreed he could fill in as dog sitter if it comes down to that.” She paused, drew in a breath that was as thin and shaky as what was left of her smile. “Maybe it won’t come down to that.”
Yeah, maybe. But Judd was more comfortable with considering fixes if the worst case happened than he was trying to glitter this up with denial. Still, he didn’t try to talk Cleo out of doing this. He’d just wait and see how this played out, and if necessary he could do a spreadsheet for taking care of the dog.
“Because of Popsicle, the puppy won’t have free rein of the house,” Cleo went on. “Not at first, anyway, but Rosy said if the two get along, she’s okay with it. For the first night or two, though, he’ll be in a crate. Maybe even the barn. That shouldn’t be a problem, though, because Mrs. Holcomb has been keeping him in her barn.”
So, Cleo had it all worked out. Judd still wasn’t convinced, but he tamped down his doubts as Cleo pulled in front of the little house that sat just on the edge of town.
Despite the big barn in the back, he’d always thought the place looked frilly with its pale blue paint, ornate white shutters, and lattices threaded with roses and vines. Surprising since Mrs. Blanche Holcomb wasn’t the frilly sort. Until recently, she’d worked at the Gray Mare Saloon that her brother owned, and in her younger days she had done bouncing duties herself whenever it’d been required.
Judd knew that firsthand.
And her bouncing technique wasn’t exactly the standard.
When he’d been twenty-one and stupid, Judd had gone to the Gray Mare and gotten drunk enough and mean enough to get into a fight with Arnie Smelton. One that Blanche had promptly broken up and then shoved them out the door. Then, she’d flung a bottle of Pretty Polly perfume on Judd. It was a cheap, highly saturated sugary scent meant for eight-year-old girls that Blanche apparently bought in bulk and used for her bouncer duties.
It was hard to stay drunk and mean when you smelled like strawberry shortcake.
“Uh, there’s not bad blood between you and Mrs. Holcomb, is there?” Cleo asked.
“No.” But there was a history between them. Some good, some bad. She’d cleared the path for him to come back to Coldwater and become a deputy. That was the good. The bar incident wasn’t. He was going to keep his eyes open for a Pretty Polly bottle. It’d taken him days to get that scent off him the last time, and he didn’t want any repeats.
Before Cleo and Judd were even out of the car, Blanche came walking around the house from the backyard, and she peered at them from under the brim of a massive straw sun hat. The wriggling puppy she carried like a football was anything but puppy size. He was already a good thirty pounds, and judging from the size of his feet, he was going to get a whole lot bigger.
“Judd,” Blanche greeted, but she didn’t exactly have a friendly tone. Her eyes went from Cleo to him and kept on shifting until she reached them. “I didn’t know you’d be coming.”
That didn’t sound friendly, either. More like some kind of unspoken judgment call. Why are you here with another woman and not my daughter? Judd would have preferred the nookie pie to this. But not the Pretty Polly.
“Judd came as a favor to me,” Cleo said. “Thank you so much for this. Beckham’s going to be over the moon.” Her attention wasn’t on the cool-eyed Blanche but rather the puppy. It zipped toward Cleo the moment Blanche put him on the ground.
While Cleo dropped to her knees, giggled and wrestled with the giant bundle of fur, Judd kept his attention on Blanche. Even though he still thought this puppy for Beckham was a bad idea, he didn’t want Blanche reneging on it because she didn’t approve of him being with Cleo.
“Audrey said you’d been busy,” Blanche remarked.
Most people would have just nodded, especially since it was the truth, but Judd knew there was more judgment that went along with that comment, and he just shrugged. “No busier than usual. So, you’re giving away the puppy?” he asked to change the subject.
Blanche hesitated a moment. “Yes, he’s the last of a litter that got dumped at the gas station by some asshole. He’s in good shape, but he’s got a vet appointment this morning. Just a checkup and his final round of shots. I was about to leave for that now, but I can drop him off at Buck’s afterward if that’s okay.”
“That�
�s fine,” Cleo said. She was sitting on the ground now with the puppy jumping up in her lap and trying to lick her face. “You can just have the vet send the bill to me.”
“At Judd’s,” Blanche concluded. It wasn’t a question.
Obviously, Blanche and he had some air-clearing to do. “Cleo, would you excuse us a second?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, and using two fingers, he motioned for Blanche to follow him to the porch.
“Don’t get your balls in a twist,” Blanche muttered to him. “You think I’m being bitch-faced because of Audrey. Well, I’m not. Audrey can catch a man just fine without her mama running interference for her.”
“Then why the attitude?” Judd asked.
Blanche managed to give him an amused look that he doubted had an ounce of genuine amusement in it. “Because of you, knot-head. There’s a lot of pressure that comes with raising three kids, and yes, I know you’re not actually ‘raising them.’”
Judd huffed, put his hands on his hips. Hell. He hadn’t wanted gossip about there being anything hinky going on with the foster stuff. “Is there some point you’re trying to make?”
She stared him down while she continued. “The point is I like you, Judd. Always have, and I don’t want to see you go under again because that would be a damn shame. I sure as heck don’t want you showing up drunk again at the Gray Mare, or anywhere else for that matter.”
Obviously, she knew about his drinking problem. Maybe because Audrey had told her, or perhaps she’d just figured it out herself. He wanted to fling off her attempt at sympathy, if that’s what it was, but he really didn’t want bad blood between him and an unpredictable, perfume-tossing woman who might indeed have his best interest at heart.
“You like me?” he challenged, but Judd kept it as light as he could manage.
“Hey, that bottle of Pretty Polly cost me ten bucks. You think I’d throw that on just anybody? FYI, I didn’t get a drop of it on Arnie Smelton.” She gave him a “playful” punch on the arm that packed a bit of a wallop. “Don’t take off your floaties and get yourself in a fix again.”
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