Frisco Joe's Fiancee (14 page)

“It’s all right,” Kiki said. “We know you did your best, Delilah. We all did.”

Delilah nodded, taking a deep gulping breath. She put the papers all together in a pile she’d rather have burned than use for its intended purpose and covered it with her hands, prayer-like, with her eyes closed. “Ready?”

“As we’ll ever be,” Shasta said.

“All right.” Behind closed eyes, she held back tears. Her business, these women, were all she’d ever had in her life that gave her pleasure. These were her sisters the way Marvella never would be; these were the daughters she would never have; these were the friends who shared her happiness and tears.

These girls were pieces of her soul.

“Annabelle,” she said, reading the first piece of paper she pulled from underneath her other hand. The other girls gasped and some began to sob. Annabelle had a baby and a broken heart. It would kill her to tell her she had to go.

“Beatrice, Gretchen, Jessica, Lily, Marnie, Tisha, Velvet, Violet,” she read, pulling names as fast as she could to get it over with before she broke down and cried.

“Carly, Daisy, Dixie, Hannah, Julie, Katy, Kiki, Remy, and Shasta remain employed at the Lonely Hearts Salon. Now, if anything should change, anything at all, I—I—” She couldn’t hold back any longer. Putting her head down on the Formica table in the roadside restaurant, she cried as she’d never cried in her whole life.

Except maybe when Marvella had accused Delilah of stealing her husband. That had been the knife driven into her heart.

The wound had never healed, and today, it started bleeding all over again.

It was near evening when Frisco awakened—evening of the next night. “I think the winter weather is making you and Emmie hibernate,” she told him.

“Have you been in this bed?” he demanded.

“Yes, and Emmie’s been up for feeding and playtime. You never moved.”

“Jeez. I’m so sorry.” He sat up, running his hand through his hair so that it stood straight up.

“I think you were very tired,” she said with a smile.

“I was more tired than I’ve ever been in my life. Did I tell you about Helga, the hellish housekeeper Mimi hired?”

She shook her head, jealous already, especially if she was the cause of Frisco not getting any sleep. Although hellish didn’t sound like he was that crazy about her.

“She nearly drove me out of my skull. Imagine having someone staring at you twenty-four-seven,
waiting for you to move, trying to give you pills, cleaning your room—you’d think a seventy-year-old woman would want to sit down occasionally, wouldn’t you?”

“Seventy.” Annabelle nodded as if she’d automatically known that, but warmed to the core that Mimi hadn’t hired some sweet young thing. “Maybe she’s over-compensating. She could really need the job.”

“I don’t know. I just knew I had to get out of there or I was going to jump out my window. Hope you don’t mind me running to you. But this was the only place I knew where there’d be some serious sleeping going on. Emmie sure does like her snooze time. And so does her Uncle Frisco,” he said, looking down at the baby who was too asleep to care about Uncle Frisco at the moment.

“Jumping out your window would be bad with your busted leg,” Annabelle reminded him.

“Don’t I know it. Jerry is a man of principle, honor, duty and integrity, you know it. And any other complimentary word you can think of.”

“That about covered it,” she said. “Can I get you something to eat?”

“My treat. What’s in this town?”

“Whatever you want. Prepared questionably.”

“What’s the local specialty? That can be delivered? No cabbage, though.”

She shook her head. “I hate cabbage.”

“Wait a minute. I want to see what’s across the street.” He staggered to his feet, hopping over to the window. Staring out at the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls Salon, he whistled. “Bet I know what they cook over there. Look at those T-shirts walking in, would you?”

She went behind him and snapped the blinds down. “T-shirts are cheap.”

“Uh, yes. Yes, you’re right about that. A dime a dozen.” He gave her the most mischievous grin she’d ever seen on a man. “I just wanted you close to me, Annabelle. Gotcha.” He reached out and snaked an arm around her before she could protest, pulling her tight against him. “Now, that’s worth a two-hour drive and an Italian dinner, complete with candles. What do you think?”

“That I love spaghetti,” she said, loving the feel of him holding her in their first real embrace. “It might be akin to sauerkraut in visual effects, though.”

“No. Trust me, they are not even distant cousins. I missed your cooking, Annabelle.”

“You did not. I’m not a good cook.”

“But you tried hard. That matters.” He looked at her, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight streaming in from behind the blinds. “In fact, I’m beginning to think just about everything about you matters.”

She held her breath, surprised. So he kissed her, and she didn’t move anything except her lips, until
her body took over her fears and she slid her arms around his neck, pulling him close the way he’d done her.

This time, there was nothing about their kiss that was friendly. It was hot and hungry and passionate.

“This is just friends,” she gasped. “Right?”

He propped her against him so that he bore her weight as he leaned against the wall, and she leaned into him, willing to move with him.

“What else would it be?” he asked between searching kisses.

“Nothing that I can think of.” Her hands moved across his chest, back over his shoulders to slide under his Western shirt. “Except maybe best friends. You shouldn’t sleep in all your clothes.”

“The very best of best friends. I had to sleep in all my clothes. We’re alone together in this big salon. You might get wild ideas about my cowboy body.”

He nipped at her earlobe, and she tilted back her head, sighing. “I never had wild ideas before. I think I like it.”

A groan escaped him as her hands wandered. “I saw you going into the competition’s den over there.”

She leaned her head again to look at him. “You couldn’t have. You were asleep.”

“I have acute hearing. The sound of unfamiliar
doors opening and closing had me peg-legging to the window.”

She smiled at him, pulling his face down so that she could nuzzle his chin. “I’m sorry. If I’d known that, I would have told you.”

“Not that it really matters, because we’re just best friends, but—”

“The change in Tom was due to discovering that I had money of my own.”

“I should whip his hide.”

She shook her head and ran her hands around his waist. “Dina already did.”

“Dina? Good woman.”

“Probably not, but it was okay by me if she did the dirty work. So, you already knew who my family was?”

“A little birdie told me. But that’s not why I’m here.”

She laughed low and husky, moving her hands from his waist down inside the back of his jeans. “I didn’t think so.”

“I just think we should get that straight. I’d rather cut off one of my appendages than be a kept man, and even if we didn’t need to get that drastic, I’m not hurting financially.”

“I know.” She kissed his chin. “You wanted to shack up with me so you could sleep.”

“Yes, but I’m wild-eyed and bushy-tailed now.”

She slid her hands from the back of his jeans to the front. “Something like that.”

“Annabelle, honey, you’re heaping flames onto an already raging fire.”

Her gaze went to his eyes. “I want to be so sophisticated about this, Frisco, but it’s just not in me.”

“I know.” He kissed her forehead.

“Um, remember what you said about needing five minutes of squeaking my springs to give Tom the impression that we were making love properly?”

“Yes.” His eyes were patient, waiting.

“And you know what I told you about the sign painted on the wall across the street that said Save A Horse; Ride A Cowboy?”

“Yes, babe.”

“Cowboys try to stay on for eight seconds, right?”

“Mm. If they want to win.”

“My experience at the rodeo ended before the bell. Or the buzzer, or the gong, or whatever it is that—”

“Annabelle.” He pulled back to look into her eyes. “Honey, you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”

“It was my first and only time,” she said miserably.

“Whew.” He glanced from her to Emmie. “You must be one fertile lady. Holy Christmas, and we’ve
got three sets of twins amongst my siblings alone. You could be the gift that keeps on giving.”

She tried to smile.

“So…no sweethearts before Him-Who-Had-No-Staying-Power?”

“No. My father had Alzheimer’s for ten years. I was his sole caretaker because I wanted it that way. I don’t regret it for a minute. But it left me without a social life, the usual flings and break-ups and drama that are part of normal learning. And then, when my father passed away, I was shattered,” she said quietly. “I think I just wanted someone to care for me for a change. You can see why I don’t want any more children. At least not right now.”

He hugged her to him, close and sheltering. “I completely understand. I don’t want any except Emmie. I mean, you know what I mean. Best friends and all that. Uncle Frisco.”

Her blush felt like it was all over her body. “I was afraid you’d be disappointed.”

“Because you don’t want more children?” At her nod, he said, “Annabelle, you don’t even begin to know how relieved I am. Count the brothers around my house and tell me we need more bodies to fall over.”

She lowered her gaze. “And you’re not disappointed about…the other?”

“The other what?”

“My lack of experience in pleasing a man?”

He laughed out loud. “Annabelle, you please
this
man. As far as I can see, I’m getting the best of all worlds here. I get a sexy lady, a best friend and a virgin all wrapped up in one, plus a sweet baby to hold that’s mine in spirit. Where am I lacking?”

“Frisco, you see me in a light I’ve never seen myself,” she said shyly.

“Well, that’s because I can see in the dark,” he said confidently. “And right now I’m going to see you, and feel you, and hold you, and take you. And before the night is over, you’re going to know what it means to be really loved. I’ve got plenty of those things you found in my drawer—”

“I remember. Striped with fluorescent colors,” she said. “Stars and an interesting device on the tip for maximum pleasure.”

“And I can hang on well past the bell, Annabelle. I would never let you down.”

“Oh, my gosh,” she said on a moan, as he opened her shirt and suckled her breasts.

Then he kissed her lips before moving back to lick each nipple. “Tonight, we’re going to test just how sound Emmie can sleep. Because I won’t have done my job unless they hear you come across the street. Can you count to eight, Annabelle?” he murmured against her skin.

“Yes,” she whispered, her whole body beginning to tremble at the possessive, meaningful promise behind Frisco’s words.

“Then let’s see about saving some horses.”

He slid her blouse to the floor.

T
HE ONLY THING THAT
could move Annabelle to leave her bed the next morning was Emmie urgently requesting a feeding time.

“I’ll get her,” Frisco said, kissing Annabelle on the lips before he swung his bad leg to the side of the bed. “Come here, little princess. Let’s me and you go hunt big game bah-bah. Where’s the kitchen, pretty mama?”

Annabelle practically cackled into her pillow, loving Frisco’s ridiculous chit-chat with her daughter and his silliness in general. “At the end of the hall is a mini-fridge and microwave. Eight,” she said on a groan. “I stopped counting, but I’m pretty sure it was eight.” Frisco had loved her until she screamed, laughed, cried and sometimes was torn between which she should do. It was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to her.

And he still got up to feed her baby. “I don’t know, Frisco. If I’d met you first, I’m sure I would have fallen in love with you. I never would have even seen another man,” she muttered facedown in the pillow.

“What’s that?” he said, coming back into the room with a bottle and Emmie.

“Nothing. I was just saying how glad I am that we’re best friends.”

“What’d I tell you. There’s men who know how to be friends to a woman, and then there’s men who give other men a lazy reputation. The few of us who know what we’re about become legends.”

She rolled over, laughing at him. “It’s been a while for you, too, huh?”

“At least a year,” he replied, sheepish as he sat down. “But it wasn’t for lack of willing victims.”

“What was it then?” She sat up against the pillows, pulled the sheet up over her breasts and stared at him.

“I’m discriminating. Only the best.” He jerked the sheet to her waist with the hand that wasn’t holding Emmie’s bottle. “That’s what I like to see in the morning. Your navel,” he teased.

She blushed as her nipples tightened from the brisk temperature in the room—and his very interested perusal. He was no more looking at her navel than she was looking at his, though it was attractive as a man’s navel went. Trying to ease the sheet back up when he wasn’t looking was futile—he held it in a knot.

“Don’t deprive a man of one of the few joys in his life. Especially take pity on me because of my broken leg. I need a visual focus while I feed this child for you.”

“It’s hard,” she protested.

“It most definitely is.” He leered at her.

“I’ve never been a man’s visual focus. I’ve never
been this naked around a man.” He was practically eating her alive with his eyes. “I’ve got to take a shower.” She leapt out of bed before he could grab her ankle, though he tried. “Frisco, I couldn’t make love again even if I wanted to. Trust me.”

To her surprise, not three minutes later, he joined her in the shower, with Emmie, cast wrapped.

“I’m not going to make love to you in the shower—not today, anyway,” he teased. “But this is a moment I can’t pass up.” He held Emmie against his chest, and Annabelle against Emmie’s back and against his shoulder, and the three of them stood under the warm spray, enjoying the feel of each other. Not seductive. Just close.

Necessary.

It felt like a real family: a mother, a father, a baby. All happy. She loved it.

She was falling in love with Frisco Joe Jefferson.

In fact, she was long past falling.