Don't Mess With Texas (21 page)

Nikki froze. He… licked her? What kind of a pervert was he? Sure, she was in his bed, but hadn’t she argued to take the couch? Had he come in here with hopes of… Men! Dogs every one of them!

“You’d better retract that tongue, buster, before you lose it,” she said in a justifiably bitchy whisper, and waited for his reply.

A
DEEP, HALF SIGH
, half moan was the only answer Nikki received. Was he not awake? Suddenly an obnoxious odor filled her nasal cavity. She covered her nose. Men were such uncultured beasts. She went to ease out of the bed when she heard a loud snore. Make that a snort.

“So you’re not going to explain it, huh?” she asked.

“Explain what?” a deep voice replied. Only it didn’t come from…

She raised her head off the pillow. Dallas O’Connor stood at the door. If he was… Who was…? She rolled over and stared at the dog.

“You mean Bud,” Dallas said. “Sorry. He snuck in when I came to check on you,”

The canine opened his eyes, and proceeded to pass gas again. She actually heard it this time. Slow… and deadly.

The smell intensified. She pressed her hand over her nose and rolled out of bed.

The stench must have reached the doorway, because Dallas slapped his hand over his nose and looked mortified. “I’m sorry,” he said, his hand still held over his nose
as he walked into the room and pointed to the dog. “Bud, get out of here.” Dallas’s gaze shifted back to her. “I’ll bet Tyler fed him people food last night. He can’t do people food. But does Tyler listen? Hell, no!”

Nikki, still half-asleep, wasn’t quite over the fact that she’d thought it was Dallas in bed with her, licking her neck and emitting the disgusting odors. A giggle started building in her chest. She shifted her hand over her mouth, but when the smell filled her nose again, she moved her hand back up.

“Out, Bud. Good Lord, what did Tyler feed you—dead skunk?” His gaze met hers again. “I’m sorry.”

The giggle escaped. Dallas studied her and his eyes crinkled with grin lines. Even with half his face covered with his hand, he looked really good in grin lines. And the tight T-shirt and fitted jeans didn’t look bad on him, either. She thought about cupcakes again and hard-to-resist temptations.

“Why don’t we leave the room before that smell attaches itself to us?” He turned and walked out, Bud at his heels.

Nikki followed. “But aren’t we bringing the source of the smell with us?”

He bolted out a laugh. It was deep and rich, and reached deep into Nikki’s chest and made her want to hear it again.

It wasn’t until they stood in the living room facing each other, that some of the awkwardness from the night before returned.

“You want some coffee?” he asked, still looking cupcake-good.

“That would be great. Thank you.” Realizing her
hair was probably all over the place, that her breath was stale and her eyes were still morning puffy, she motioned toward the hall. “I’m… restroom.”

“Yeah.”

She felt him watching her as she moved down the hall. Awkwardness intensified with each step. The cloud of morning haze lifted and reality rained down on her like thumbtacks. She had to call and make sure Ellen was okay. She had to call Nana and see if she could borrow her car so she could visit Ellen. She had to get to the art gallery and see how badly ransacked it was. Oh, and she needed to clean up her place.

Instead of going into the bathroom, she darted into the bedroom, where she’d left her overnight bag, which had her purse and her cell phone. The smell still thrived in the room, but she ignored it. She found the cell phone then searched through her purse for the receipt where she’d written Ellen’s mom’s number.

It wasn’t in the side pocket. It wasn’t in the middle pocket.

What the hell had she done with it?

Suddenly realizing how bright the sun was streaming through the open blinds, she grabbed the phone and hit time. Twelve o’clock.

Oh shit
. Her panic grew. She dropped on the floor and feverishly searched. Finally, she found it. She dialed the number.

It rang once. Twice. The image of Ellen’s hand hanging from the gurney flashed in Nikki’s head. Fear filled her chest. “Answer. Please answer.”

“Hello, Nikki.”

“Mrs. Wise.” No time for pleasantries, she blurted out, “Is Ellen okay?” Nikki’s voice shook, but she couldn’t
stop it. Her friend had almost died and she’d stayed in bed until noon without a care in the world. She couldn’t believe she’d done this.

“She’s fine.”

“Thank God.” Nikki pulled her knees up to her chest.

“I just talked to Milton and he said she was more alert than ever. I’m about to go to the hospital now.”

“I’ll see you there soon,” Nikki said, her voice still shaky.

“You okay?” Mrs. Wise asked.

“I’m fine.” Nikki batted back tears she hadn’t known she’d released.

“I know you had a terrible day yesterday yourself. I’m sure you have to deal with… your ex-in-laws and their loss.”

Nikki realized how totally, unforgivably neglectful she’d been. She hadn’t called Jack’s parents. How could she not have called them? Did they know? Surely, someone had called them, right?

Emotion swelled in her chest. “I… need to go,” she managed to say.

“Take care of yourself.”

Nikki stared at the phone. Jack’s parents had never been fond of her. They’d wanted Jack to marry well. In their opinion, a girl raised in a small house on the wrong side of the tracks by her grandmother—because her parents had abandoned their bastard child—didn’t exactly meet their expectations. And those had been Jack’s words, not Jack’s parents’ or her own. Of course, he’d laughed afterward and told her he’d been joking. When she didn’t seem to think it was funny, he’d told her he didn’t care what his parents thought of her. He’d married her, hadn’t he? It still had hurt. Maybe in part because she’d begun to
question if their dislike of her wasn’t part of Jack’s attraction to her. A rich kid, rebelling against Mom and Dad.

But their lack of affection, even Jack’s lack of tact, didn’t excuse Nikki’s behavior now. How in God’s name had she forgotten to contact them? Had Dallas’s brother been in touch with them? Surely, he’d contacted the next of kin, right? Or had he expected Nikki to do that?

At the very least it was unforgivable for her not to offer her condolences. She’d been Jack’s wife, their daughter-in-law. She’d gone out to eat with them once a week on the mandatory parents’ night and she’d sat at their dining room table over three years of holiday dinners. She’d owed them the courtesy of a phone call and had fallen short.

Knowing their number by heart, she dialed, and prayed the right words would come to her.

“You!” A feminine shriek shook the line. “How dare you call!”

“Mrs. Leon,” Nikki managed to say. “I’m sorry. I should have been the one to… tell you.”

“Tell me what? That you murdered my boy? I hope that cop arrests you and you spend the rest of your life in prison!”

“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.