Hill Country Hero (13 page)

CiCi’s face was on fire. She didn’t blush very often, but if there was ever an appropriate time, this was it. What was wrong with her? They were in the middle of the camp and she was letting Jake have his way with her. They’d crossed the line from friendly hug to full-on making out when camp rules strictly prohibited staff from all public displays of affection—and she hadn’t been turned on like that in ages…maybe ever.

She wondered if he felt the same way, or if this was strictly a one-way street. If they hadn’t been interrupted, heaven only knows what would have happened. With that thought in mind, CiCi fanned herself.

“I have a ton to do, so I’d better get hopping.” Great, now she sounded like a British spinster. “I’m sorry about your cousin, and if it’s any comfort I think you did the right thing.”

“I do, too.” Jake smiled and then sauntered off.

Crumb! CiCi was horny as all hell. Celibacy—what had she been thinking? Long before she and Tank split, their love life hadn’t exactly been earth-shattering. Scrub that—it had been the pits. Probably because he’d been too busy practicing Kama Sutra positions with his librarian friend.

God, she’d love a glass of wine, but coffee, and lots of it,
would have to do. If it hadn’t been fifty miles to the nearest Starbucks, she’d be in her car and on her way.

She’d acted like a virgin bride when Jake had done nothing more than kiss her—Oh, right, there was that little bit of petting. So why not ask him to go to lunch and get this relationship, or whatever it was, back on a professional basis. Plus there was an espresso stand in town and what she wouldn’t give for a cappuccino.

Jake was coaching softball when she finally found him. He bent over to pick up a ball, allowing her an amazing view of his buns of steel. Whew! That was certainly enough to get her all hot and bothered.

Lunch. All she wanted to do was have lunch with the guy—not ravish him.

“Hey, Jake,” she called, motioning him over. “Do you have time to go for lunch?”

“Sure. Once I’m done this session, I’ve got a free afternoon. When do you want to go?”

“How about an hour?”

“I’m all yours.”

CiCi only wished—or did she?

T
HE RIDE INTO
Kerrville was fairly quiet. CiCi wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say, and ended up making trivial small talk.

“Have you ever been to the Cedar?” she asked.

“Can’t say that I have. What is it?”

“It’s a dive but it’s been around for at least a century so it’s a historical landmark. Bank robbers from the thirties used it as their watering hole.”

“Am I going to have to fight my way out of the place?”

“I don’t think so,” CiCi said, and then muttered, “I hope not.”

C
I
C
I WASN’T EXAGGERATING
about the Cedar. It was so old Davy Crockett had probably been a regular. And the line of Harleys out front was only one clue that this wasn’t a ladies’ lunch venue. Jake had been to more than his share of places like this but he was surprised CiCi even knew they existed.

The inside was even worse than the exterior. It was dark and smelled like decades of stale beer. The dented picnic tables and mismatched benches looked like a throwback to the cattle drives of the nineteenth century. Except now the cowboys had been replaced with Born to Raise Hell bikers.

The minute they walked in, at least a dozen pair of eyes latched on to CiCi’s backside. Jake might have to fight their way out of here, after all. He led the way to a table at the rear of the tavern. Their best bet was to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Thanks to his trailer-park background, Jake’s taste ran more to bar food than to five-star restaurants, but even for him this was iffy. He wiped ketchup off the plastic menu.

“What do you recommend?” he asked, wondering if CiCi had been here before.

“Burgers, definitely the burgers. See the ‘Blow the Top off Your Head’ burger?” She pointed to an item toward the bottom of the page. “Daddy loves that one. They load on the jalapeños. It’s a bit hot for me but you might like it.”

“Texas Bob comes here?”

“It’s one of his favorite places. They have homemade French fries, and the onion rings are to die for.”

The potbellied bartender strolled over. “What can I do for you folks?” he asked, then squinted at CiCi. “Miz Hurst, it’s sure good to see you. How’s your daddy?”

“He’s fine. I’ll tell him you asked. How’s the chili to day?”

“I’d stick with the burgers if I was you.”

“Okay, I’ll take my regular with an order of fries and onion rings on the side.”

The man turned to Jake and did the squinty thing again. “Aren’t you Jake Culpepper?” “Yep.”

“Hot damn! Hey, boys, this here is Jake Culpepper.”

So much for anonymity.

A
FTER
J
AKE SIGNED
a variety of T-shirts, ball caps and coasters the crowd finally dispersed.

“Don’t you get tired of that?” CiCi asked.

“Sometimes. If we have a losing season I’m almost afraid to go to the post office. But I’m sure you know all about that from being married to Tank.” Jake shrugged. “Sometimes it’s a pain, but we’re in the entertainment business, so it’s part and parcel of the game.”

CiCi hadn’t quite thought of it that way. “What about the women?”

“What women?”

“The ones who want you to autograph their…their ta-tas.”

Jake laughed so hard she was afraid he was going to fall off his chair. “I can honestly say I’ve never been asked to sign anyone’s ta-tas.” When CiCi didn’t join in, he got serious. “That really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

She sighed. “It does. Tank always had women coming on to him. At first I thought it was funny, but after he started taking them up on it, it stopped being humorous.”

Jake rubbed his chin. “I have to confess something.”

That sounded ominous.

“When I first met you I assumed you were a stuck-up debutante, but given what I know of you now—including this place—I was wrong. So I guess we both have our share of hang-ups.”

“Why would you think I was a snob?”

“Because you have money.”

“So do you.” She was about to get irritated.

“And you made fun of my truck.”

“What?”

“That day I came by your house, you thought I was the gardener.”

“I don’t even remember that!”

Jake took her hand. “Let me tell you a sad story.” His grin didn’t match his words.

“I’ve been dirt poor all my life, and when I went to A&M on a football scholarship I thought I had it made. I still didn’t have any money, but I was on my way up. And then I met this girl—a Dallas deb.” Jake sighed. “To make a long story short the minute she met Dwayne she dropped me. I’d already put a diamond on layaway, just waiting for the perfect moment.” He took a big swallow of beer. “That’s my sad story.”

“So I guess I have to come up with something, too?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

CiCi grimaced. “I will confess that I wanted to pull Brenda’s bleached blond hair out by the roots.”

Jake responded with a belly laugh. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

“I’m serious. She was so, beautiful, and I’m not.”

Jake looked up with a start. “What did you say?” “About what?”

“About your looks?”

“I’m not blond and busty and…” CiCi shrugged. “And I don’t have big hair.”

Jake whooped. “You’re hilarious. You could shave your head and I wouldn’t care. I’d still think you’re beautiful.” He waggled an eyebrow. “In fact, you’d look damned sexy that way.”

Jake scooted over next to her on the bench. “I didn’t invite
Dwayne and Brenda to the camp. I dated her for about a month a little while ago and she became obsessed. It was kind of freaky, and she didn’t take the breakup well. Nevertheless, I’m sorry.”

Jake ran his fingers through her hair. The next she knew she was in his arms and he was making a thorough exploration of her mouth. That was more like it.

“I love you just the way you are,” he murmured between kisses.

Holy tamale! Had he honest-to-goodness used the L word? Did he mean it or was it just a figure of speech? And should she ask him?

That question was forestalled by the arrival of their food. Nothing like rescue by French fry.

CiCi had assumed she’d see Jake at breakfast but he was a no-show—nor was there any sign of him for the rest of the morning.

“Do you think he’s avoiding me?” she asked Sugar Plum. The dog answered by plastering herself against CiCi’s leg.

“Oh, well, when in doubt do paperwork.” But first things first—she needed a fresh cup of coffee. With a mug in one hand and a doughnut in the other, CiCi marched to her office, intent on getting some work done, or at least on putting Jake Culpepper out of her mind.

Two hours later she was ready for a break so she grabbed a Coke and went out to the porch. She had closed her eyes and was meditating when Jake came up and rocked her world with a kiss.

“You look so comfortable I thought I’d join you.” He sat down in the adjacent twig rocker. “What are you thinking about?”

“That you might be avoiding me.”

“No way. I’ve been up to my eyebrows in kid problems this morning. This camping experience was supposed to be about schmaltzy songs and swimming parties, not bailing kids out of the clink.”

“What do you think we should—” CiCi didn’t have a chance to finish before Angel ran up, obviously upset.

“Ms. Hurst, I’ve…I’ve got a problem.” The fifteen-year-old managed to get that much out before she burst into tears.

“Oh, honey.” CiCi pulled her into a hug, looking over the teen’s head, seeking Jake’s guidance. There was never a dull moment at Camp Touchdown.

“What happened?” he asked.

It took a while before Angel’s tears subsided into a few sniffles and a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry, Coach.” She tried to giggle but the attempt fell short. “I know guys hate it when girls cry.”

Jake ruffled her hair. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on, and start at the beginning.”

Angel took a deep breath. “The last time I talked to my mom was after that river…thingy. Normally she’s pretty good about calling my cell, but I haven’t heard from her in a couple of days.” The teen sniffled. “I just got a call from our neighbor. She said that my mom and her boyfriend have been busted on meth charges. I don’t know what to do.”

CiCi didn’t have a clue what to think or say.

“Is that all she said?” Jake asked.

Angel nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Does your dad live in Houston?”

“I…uh…don’t know who he is.”

CiCi’s heart broke for her. This wonderful young lady had a druggie mother and an unidentified father. She had to wonder whether kids like Angel had any chance at a productive life.

“CiCi, why don’t you take Angel to find a cold drink? I have some calls to make.” Jake winked at them both. “Angel, I know some folks who may be able to help.”

D
AMN IT TO HELL
! Jake thought as he punched in the number of a friend who specialized in family law. Why did irresponsible people have kids? He’d seen this situation way too
often—a nice child saddled with crappy parents, or in this case, a single mom.

Angel’s mother had a live-in, meth-cooking boyfriend. People who cleaned up meth labs worked in Hazmat suits, but druggies didn’t seem to care what kind of nasty environment they subjected their kids to.

The question was whether Angel would be better off with her mother or in the foster care system. If Jake could answer that, he’d be on his way to sainthood.

“Hey, I have a big favor to ask,” he said when his friend Josh answered.

“Are you going to pay me, or is this a freebie?” Josh responded.

“Since when have you ever done anything for free?”

“Not often. So, what’s up?”

Jake filled him in on the details. “I need you to go to the jail and talk to the mother. If you think she’s retrievable, see what you can do to get her bailed out. Let her know that your representation is contingent on ditching the boyfriend. If she agrees, and you think she’s serious, I’d like you to represent her.”

“I’ll do what I can. Keep in mind that I’m going to charge you my overtime rates,” Josh said with a laugh.

“Whatever. I don’t want this kid to be foisted off on the state. Camp is over in a week and she needs someplace to live.”

“Right on. I’ll call you when I have some answers.”

Jake disconnected. He hoped his friend was a miracle worker because that’s what this one was going to need.

It was Saturday before Angel’s mom was bailed out. They were in the last week of camp but that didn’t mean that everything had calmed down. All Jake wanted was some downtime from the brouhaha, and that came when he managed to sneak away for a picnic with CiCi.

“Did you know that you can get into some itchy stuff sitting on the ground?” he asked as he spread out their blanket.

“Yep, I learned that one the hard way,” CiCi said with a laugh. “That’s why I’ve slathered on enough insect repellent to discourage an army of insects. They don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll see.” Jake didn’t bother to stifle his grin.

Lunch consisted of chicken-salad sandwiches, peach cobbler and iced tea. It was perfect cuisine for a lazy summer day.

Life was good—especially since he had a beautiful woman by his side—but there was a lingering sense of unfinished business. Where was this relationship going? Was it possible to get past the obvious differences in their background? There was only one way to tell, and that was for Jake to introduce CiCi to his childhood.

“Can you take a day off for a road trip?” He kissed the back of her neck.

“Of course, everyone deserves a day off. But it depends on
what you’re thinking. If it has anything to do with food, I’m your girl.”

Jake shrugged in the way that meant he wasn’t completely comfortable with the situation. “We can eat, sure.”

“I love your enthusiasm.” CiCi tempered her sarcasm with a smile.

“I want to take you to San Antonio. There’s, uh, there’s something I want to show you. But afterward we can go to any restaurant that suits your fancy. How about it?”

“You make it hard to resist.” She suspected this trip was about much more than finding the perfect taco. “When?”

He gave her the sheepish grin she’d grown to love. “I thought we’d leave in the morning and come back Monday. Can Greg handle everything for a day?”

“I’m sure he can.” That was the least of her worries. Right now, spending the night with Jake was at the top of her list.

T
HE TRIP
into San Antonio took almost an hour and a half. On the way they bypassed the ritzy malls and ignored a veritable United Nations of restaurants without so much as slowing down.

CiCi managed to curb her curiosity until Jake took an exit into a part of town that had seen better days—or perhaps not. It wasn’t exactly the barrio, but it was darned close.

It did, however, possess a certain charm featuring street vendors hawking tacos, storefronts displaying religious icons and a bustling mercado where menudo was probably more common than prime rib.

“Where are we going?” She turned in her seat to look at him, hoping his expression would give her a clue about what he was thinking.

“You’ll see.” Jake was clenching his jaw so tightly she was afraid he’d crack a molar. He also had a strangle-hold on the
steering wheel. He hadn’t exactly been chatty until now, but if he was going for the strong, mysterious type, she would, too.

CiCi’s silent treatment lasted until Jake turned down a gravel lane. An industrial-size mailbox stood on one side of the road and a rusted sign reading Happy Trails was on the other. “Happy Trails?”

He shot her an indecipherable look. “It’s a trailer park.”

“Okay.” What was she supposed to say? Lots of people lived in manufactured homes.

“Here we are.” Jake pulled up in front of a row of run-down single-wide trailers. This place had likely had its heyday in the fifties, but considering the cars on blocks, listing lean-to additions, gang-sign graffiti and lawns burned brown by the relentless sun that might be an overly generous assessment.

Happy Trails was light years away from CiCi’s West Houston neighborhood, where lawns were manicured like putting greens and windows gleamed.

Jake pointed at a trailer that had likely once been a garish turquoise but was now badly faded. The front steps tilted precariously to one side and the entire structure looked ready to fall over.

“That’s where I grew up.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it took CiCi a few seconds to get a handle on what he said. And another moment to realize he was testing her.

He grew up here—so what? As far as she was concerned he could have been raised by wolves and it wouldn’t matter. “And?”

He seemed at a loss for words. “
That
was my home.” He stabbed his finger toward the trailer. “There!”

“Yeah. I get it.” If he wanted a pity party, he was on his own.

“I—” Jake was interrupted by furious knocking on the driver’s side window.

Their visitor was a tiny gnome of a woman, so short she could barely reach the glass.

Without saying a word, Jake jumped out of the SUV and grabbed her in a bear hug. “How’s the prettiest girl in south San?”

“You silly boy.” The gnome whacked him on the arm. “I was wondering if you were gonna to sit out here all day. Get your butt on inside, ya hear.” She peeked around Jake. “Brush off you manners, boy. Introduce me to your pretty young lady.”

“Aunt Pallie, this is CiCi. CiCi, Aunt Pallie practically raised me.” He gave the tiny woman a kiss on her wrinkled cheek.

“Come inside, gal. It’s hot as blue blazes out here,” Aunt Pallie demanded. It wasn’t the most affable invitation CiCi had ever received, but she wouldn’t miss this for the world.

“Yes, ma’am,” she answered, with a grin at Jake.

“Young man, don’t you do any lollygagging.” Aunt Pallie cackled. She reached down to pick up a microscopic Chihuahua CiCi hadn’t even noticed. “I’ll go pour us some iced tea.”

CiCi climbed out of the truck before Jake could come around to her door. His old-fashioned manners didn’t seem to match his appearance and profession, but she thought they were charming.

Pallie’s trailer was a stark contrast to the rest of the neighborhood. Not only was it fairly new, it was also meticulously maintained. Another incongruity was the bright red Mini Cooper parked under the adjacent carport.

CiCi thought she detected a pattern emerging—one that involved the big lug who was following her up the steps.

“You have a nice yard.”

“I like to garden,” the old woman said. “The yard’s small, but it’s a good size for me.” The area inside the picket fence was barely larger than a postage stamp, but with its abundance of flowering plants, it almost felt like an English garden.

“Get yourselves on in here,” she said, shepherding CiCi and Jake inside. “Have a seat on the couch.”

Pallie started tidying up even though there wasn’t a speck of dirt to be seen. “Lord have mercy, it’s an oven out there. Hope you don’t mind dogs. Chico’s right partial to pretty young ladies.” As if on cue, the dog cozied up next to CiCi.

“I’ll fix us some sweet tea.” Pallie shuffled off to the miniscule kitchen.

“Let me help you. I know where the Oreos are.” Jake was grinning like a mischievous kid.

“About time you offered. You were actin’ like company,” Pallie said, tweaking his ear. With their disparity in height, that was something of an accomplishment.

CiCi wondered about their relationship. Jake treated Pallie like a grandmother, but considering she had skin the color of dark caramel, that wasn’t likely.

Jake placed a tray of goodies on the coffee table. “Like I said, Pallie practically raised me. When I was fourteen, I decided it would be cool to be in a gang.” He smiled fondly at his old friend. “She quickly disabused me of that notion.”

“I whaled the dickens out of him, that’s what I did. By the time he was eight he was bigger than me. But I was a whole bunch meaner.” Pallie chuckled with humor. “This boy here kept those ne’er-do-well cousins out of trouble, too. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t do quite as well as I wanted.”

“You kept ’em mostly out of jail. And to my way of thinkin’ that was an accomplishment. How are they?”

Jake laughed. “Dwayne is the reason I met CiCi.” He told Pallie the story of the chicken.

By the time he finished, Aunt Pallie was laughing so hard tears were running down her wrinkled cheeks. “That rascal was always up to something. As bad as he was, I miss him.”

An hour later, CiCi’s blood sugar was through the roof, thanks to a combination of sweet tea and Oreos.

“I hate to say this, Aunt Pallie, but we’d better get going,” Jake told their hostess.

“Chico’s gonna surely miss you, Miss CiCi, but if you gotta go, you gotta go.” Pallie followed them out to the SUV. “Give me a hug,” she demanded, and Jake obliged. “You, too.” CiCi gladly complied. “Don’t be scarce now, ya hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jake gave Aunt Pallie a kiss and another hug.

It was almost six o’clock before they pulled onto the freeway. “I don’t know about you, but I need some real food. How would you feel about some of the best Mexican food in the state?” Jake suggested.

“That sounds perfect.” After the visit to Aunt Pallie’s, CiCi could only imagine where they’d be dining. And when Jake pulled into the parking lot of a seedy-looking strip mall she knew she’d called that one right.

The café’s décor was strictly thrift shop—mismatched tables and chairs, oilcloth table coverings and a menu written on a blackboard—but the aroma was enough to make CiCi’s mouth water. And forget about English being the primary language. She felt as if she’d been transported to Guadalajara.

They were barely in the door when the owner spotted them. “Jake Culpepper, amigo, where have you been?” The man didn’t even reach Jake’s chin. “You too good to come eat with Juan?” He tempered his insult with a huge grin. Not waiting for an answer, and oblivious to the stares from other customers, he yelled. “Mama! Come out here. Jake’s finally home.”

“Mama” came out, wiping flour from her hands. “Juan
Martinez, stop that bellowing.” She was a small woman and so pregnant that she seemed as round as she was short.

It appeared that Juan was about to get ripped a new one, but then “Mama” caught sight of Jake.

“You handsome devil, where have you been?” She got up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, leaving a smudge of white be hind. “Bad, bad boy, you haven’t been home in ages.” She smiled coyly. “If you ask me real nice, I’ll ditch him and run off with you.”

“Marcelita, you’re as gorgeous as ever.”

Jake patted his friend’s belly. “How’s Junior doing?”

“He’s doing gymnastics. It wasn’t like this with the girls,” she said, placing her hand on her back.

“CiCi, I’d like to introduce you to my friends Juan and Marcelita Martinez. We grew up together.”

CiCi wondered how he was going to describe her. Girlfriend? Wannabe lover? Boss?

“And this is my really good friend, CiCi Hurst.”

What did
that
mean?

After the introductions, Juan took them to the party room in the back of the restaurant and produced a mountain of food. Periodically during the five-course meal, Juan and/or Marcelita would join them, exchanging stories and reminisces with Jake.

“How’s your mom?” Juan asked as he and Marcelita brought in another round of mouth-watering food.

“She’s okay. You know I bought her that house in the Wood lands near Houston. Now she’s working at the cosmetics counter at Dillard’s. It’s something to keep her busy.”

“You’re a good son.”

“I try.”

“How about those no-good cousins?”

Jake shook his head. “Dwayne lives in Houston now and hasn’t changed much. He stole my car a few weeks ago.”

Juan exchanged a look with his wife.

“And Darrell is currently in the Bexar County jail. He just got his third DUI. Frankly, I hope he has to serve some time for this one.”

“Amen. That would be a blessing.” Juan made a sign of the cross.

“Juan and Darrell used to be best friends,” Jake explained to CiCi. “They got into a lot of scrapes together. Aunt Pallie is responsible for keeping us all out of Huntsville.” He was referring to the infamous state prison.

On that not-so-cheery note they finished their meal. Even though the cousins weren’t physically present, they’d still managed to put a damper on the fun. With a chorus of “come back soon” and “we’ll be watching the games,” CiCi and Jake left the restaurant.

Fifteen minutes into the drive, her curiosity got the best of her. “Where are we going?”

Jake’s expression remained shuttered, giving nothing away. “Uh, I thought we might spend the night here since we don’t have to be back at camp until morning,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

This was the point of no return. Was it time to take that next step?

“Are you thinking of two rooms or one?” CiCi knew exactly what he had in mind, but for some reason she couldn’t help teasing him.

Jake took the exit toward downtown and pulled into a valet parking lot. He stopped the SUV and gave her one of those “oh, shucks” grins. “We can get two, if that’s what you want. But I have to tell you that I hope that’s not what you’re going to say.”

“Really?” CiCi couldn’t resist the giggle that was bubbling up.

“Yeah.” Jake looked a bit chagrined, but maintained his drop-dead smile.

“It would be my honor to share a room with you.”

“Hot damn!”