I Cross My Heart (13 page)

13

T
HEY
NEVER
MADE
IT
TO
the ice-cream caper. Bethany suggested they save the experience for the next night and use the plastic covering that his mattress was shipped in to protect his new bed. He kept trying to convince her he was up for another round, but it didn’t take a genius to see that he was exhausted.

He’d worked far harder on the carpet project than she had, and his day job was physically taxing, too. If he could have fallen asleep afterward, they might have indulged, but he had to drive back to the Last Chance. Everyone might know what was going on, but they didn’t have to advertise the fact by having Nash drag in at dawn.

So once they’d both dried off, she pulled on a bathrobe and, in spite of his protests, went to get his clothes. By the time she’d taken his jeans out to the porch to give them a good shake and returned to the bedroom, he was sprawled on her bed, nearly asleep.

How she longed to tuck him in and leave him there. But she knew he wouldn’t be happy about that in the morning. So she shook him awake and helped him get dressed. She worried that he was too groggy to drive.

“I can make coffee,” she said.

He smiled sleepily. “I’ll be fine. Nobody could fall asleep on that horrible road of yours. If you were selling to anyone but me, you’d have to get it graded. But I’ll take care of it after...” His voice faltered. “After you leave.”

“Okay.” She didn’t want to think about that any more than he did. Once she returned to her routine in Atlanta, she hoped her memory of him would fade. Right now she couldn’t imagine that happening, but for her sanity, it had to.

“I’ll pick you up at six.” He lingered by her screen door.

“That’s silly. I can drive over.”

“Well, you
could,
but then what excuse would I have for coming back after dinner?”

“Oh.” She liked knowing that his brain was functioning, which meant he’d be okay on the drive home. “But won’t they all think it’s strange that you came to get me instead of me just driving over there?”

“Not if we make a big deal about the condition of your road and the fact that you have a rental car.”

“Nash, I drive the road all the time. I’ll be driving it tomorrow when I go pick up the floor polisher.”

He frowned at her. “You’re not helping.”

“Then why don’t you simply say that picking me up is the gentlemanly thing to do?”

“Brilliant. Sarah will love that. She’s big on manners. Thank you. Excellent suggestion. So I’ll be here at six.”

“What should I wear? Does everyone dress up?”

“Not in a big way. Nice jeans. Nice shirts. Sometimes the women wear something with a little sparkle to it.”

“But I’m supposed to be a city girl, right?”

“Guess so. But I don’t know what—”

“Never mind.” She wasn’t going to put the poor guy through any more discussion about her clothes selection. “I know what I’m going to wear. See you at six.”

“Wish I didn’t have to leave.” He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss.

“Yeah, me, too.” She watched him cross the porch and amble down the steps. When he reached his truck, he turned and waved as if he knew she’d still be standing there. Good instincts. “Drive carefully,” she called out.

“I will.” He climbed in his truck, started the engine and drove away, taking that nasty carpet with him. As his truck’s red taillights disappeared around a curve, she battled the gnawing emptiness of missing him. With a sigh, she closed and locked the door. She’d have to get over that inconvenient feeling, but until she left for Atlanta, she might as well not even try.

After she turned off the overhead light in the living room, she expected the room to be plunged into darkness. Instead, moonlight spilled through the living room windows and lit up a section of the bare floor. She smiled to herself. Now she knew where the new bed was going.

As she slipped under the sheets of her own little bed, she gave thanks that plenty of hard work topped off with great shower sex allowed her to sink quickly into oblivion. Her sleep was filled with erotic dreams of Nash, and she woke up to a sunny day and the prospect of having a bigger bed delivered, one they could share for a little while tonight.

The two guys from Jackson who brought the bed were cheerful and friendly, although they complained about her road. They seemed puzzled by her request that they set up the bed in the empty living room, but they went along with it. After they left, Bethany admired the bed, standing boldly in the middle of the room, from all sides. She’d asked the guys to position it so the footboard faced the front door. She wanted Nash to get the full effect when he walked in tonight at six. But later on, when the lights were turned off, the bed would be bathed in moonlight.

The posts probably weren’t actual walnut, but they were stained that color. About five feet high, they were nicely proportioned. The headboard was plain except for a groove that ran about three inches around the perimeter. The footboard had a similar groove.

Kicking off her sandals, she hopped up on the bed. It didn’t move an inch. Then she bounced a little on the mattress. It gave, but the bed itself remained solidly planted on the floor. Nothing creaked. Yep, this was the perfect bed for sex.

Her thoughts strayed to Nash having sex on this bed with someone other than her, but she immediately banished the image. It was unproductive. “Happiness Is a Choice,” she muttered to herself as she climbed off the bed, picked up one of the large plastic bags that held the linens and began opening packages.

A second bag contained two king-size pillows. If she’d been buying, she would have opted for several standard pillows instead of two humongous ones, but that was probably a woman thing. A guy would figure a king bed needed two king pillows.

She smiled when she discovered the sheets and pillowcases were white. Also probably a man thing. Or a Nash thing. She had no idea what his favorite color was, now that she thought about it. Or when his birthday was, or if he had a favorite TV show, or whether he liked to dance.

In some ways she knew him more intimately than she’d known any other man. But she had huge gaps in her knowledge of Nash Bledsoe. As she made up the bed, she thought about asking him some of those questions.

And yet, that might be a mistake. Why find out when his birthday was if she’d never celebrate it with him? They weren’t destined to watch TV together, and his favorite color was of no consequence, either. Any yearning she had to learn more about him was evidence that she hadn’t faced reality. They had no future.

For the next few nights, though, they had a really great bed. She’d told the delivery guys to leave the plastic they’d taken off the mattress. It lay folded in a corner in case ice cream came into play.

The snowy sheets and white down comforter gave her an idea. Shoshone didn’t have a florist, but she’d noticed a red rosebush outside the Shoshone Diner. If they’d sell her a bloom or two, she could strew rose petals over the bed.

Several hours later, she had rose petals on the bed, and a waxed and polished master bedroom floor to show for her day’s efforts. She hummed to herself as she stripped down for a shower. She’d laid a clingy black dress on her own little bed. It was part of the city-girl look she wanted to project at dinner tonight.

The clanking of the pipes almost drowned out the sound of her cell phone, but that ring was distinctive. She didn’t take time to turn off the water as she dashed for the phone she’d left sitting on her pink-and-white dressing table.

When she answered, the expected cool voice came on the line. “Please hold for Miss Knightly.” A thousand frantic thoughts ran through her head as she waited to hear Opal’s Southern drawl. Whatever her mentor had on her mind was important or she wouldn’t have called. They’d agreed that Bethany needed this week away from work so she could cut her ties to Jackson Hole.

“Bethany, honey. How are you doing, girlfriend?” Opal’s deep voice, familiar to viewers all over the world, seemed to fill the little bedroom.

“I’m fine, Opal.” Bethany took long, slow breaths. “What’s up?”

“I need to inform you of something, but— What’s that racket I hear in the background?”

“It’s the plumbing.”

“The
plumbing?
Heavenly days, it sounds like you’re standing inside a cotton gin. Can you make it stop, or does it just do that all the time?”

“I can turn off the shower.”

“Then do that, please. I can’t think while that’s going on.”

“I’ll be right back.” Bethany laid down the phone, ran back to the bathroom and shut off the water. Her heart continued to pound and she was short on air as she hurried back and picked up the phone. “It’s off.”

“Praise the Lord. You need to get that fixed, honey.”

“I know.” Her stomach was in knots. Opal didn’t ever call just to chat.

“Here’s the problem.” Opal’s tone became more businesslike.

Bethany was afraid she’d pass out. “What problem?”

“My sources tell me that the folks at
Real News 24/7
think they might have a story on you.”

“Oh, no.” The hard-hitting show specialized in digging up unsavory details about celebrities. Bethany squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that Morgan hadn’t slipped up, or worse yet, Nash. “How did they get it?”

“It seems that before he died, your dad raved a little about his daughter. Nobody believed the guy because he was often delirious, but a nurse talked to someone, who talked to someone else, and gradually a rumor that the author of
Living with Grace
had let her father die alone and in poverty made its way, like rumors often do, to
Real News
in New York.”

“Dear God.” Bethany sank to the edge of her bed and gulped for air.

“Don’t panic, sweetie. It’s not true, and you’ll be vindicated. But I’d rather they didn’t show up at the Triple G and find a dump. So is it one?”

Bethany felt light-headed. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean,
not exactly?
Is it just a little run-down, or does it look like it’s got a date with the wrecking ball?”

Bethany gulped. “From the outside, it’s kind of bad. We’ve been working on the inside of the house, but—”

“You know the importance of first impressions, honey. They’ll film the outside and think they have their story. How fast can you get everything in shape?”

“I don’t know. How long do I have?”

“Hard to say. I doubt they’ll be out there tomorrow, but they might show up in a couple of days. Here’s my advice. Hire as many people as you need to bring it up to snuff in the next twenty-four hours. If it’s a money issue, then I can—”

“No, Opal. Thank you, but I can handle this.” She had the money. The logistics were the problem, but Nash would help her figure it out. Just thinking of him calmed her frazzled nerves. “Thank God you heard about it.”

“Honey, Opal Knightly sees all and knows all. And sometimes tells all.” Her rich laughter spilled over Bethany like warm maple syrup. “Call me tomorrow, okay? I want to know what kind of progress you’re making.”

“I will.”

“Good. Gotta run. Time for my massage. ’Bye, sugar.”

“’Bye, Opal.” She said it even though she knew Opal had hung up.
Thank God for Opal Knightly.
She owed that woman so much that she’d never be able to repay her kindness. Opal had invited her on the show when her first book had come out, and without that boost, Bethany’s career might never have taken off.

But Opal hadn’t stopped there. She’d continued to support Bethany’s career and they’d become friends. Well, not the kind of friends who went shopping and hung out at coffee shops together, but the kind who respected each other’s work and cared how each other’s lives were going.

She’d confided in Opal as she’d tried to decide how to deal with her depressed father during the past eighteen months. She’d felt that if Opal was endorsing her career, she should know about the skeleton in Bethany’s closet. Now that truthfulness had paid off.

Ironically, the new crisis had evolved from her father bragging about her to his caretakers. That knowledge wrapped her in a warm blanket of parental approval she’d never felt before, and tears slid down her cheeks. He had loved her, had been proud of her, and that filled an empty place in her soul. The invasion by
Real News
wasn’t welcome. Still, evidence of her father’s pride healed wounds she’d barely acknowledged, but had felt all the same.

Yet he’d left her with a big problem, and she had no idea how she’d pull off this miracle of giving the ranch a makeover in one day. Maybe Nash would have some ideas.
Nash!
She glanced at the time on her phone and tossed it on the bed. He would be here in twenty minutes, and she must not be late. That wouldn’t start the evening off well.

Her shower was quick and her makeup application even quicker. She slipped on the dress, added a silver belt and silver hoop earrings and grabbed her black sling-back pumps just as she heard his truck pull in. Stepping into the pumps, she dashed into the living room as he walked through the screen door.

When he saw her, he stopped abruptly and stared in the way that all women longed for when they dressed up for a man. He didn’t even glance at the bed. “Wow.”

She’d hoped for a comment along those lines. “You said I should emphasize that I’m a city girl.”

“You’re emphasizing more than that, sweetheart.” He walked slowly toward her. “I would kiss you, but I don’t want to muss you up.” His gaze raked over the flirty little dress. “And if I started kissing you, I’d want to muss you up.” He made a soft growling sound.

She laughed, feeling suddenly lighter just because he was here. “How do you like the bed?”

“Oh.” He turned toward it as if only now realizing it was there beside him. “Looks good. I hope you didn’t rob some little old lady’s garden to get the rose petals.”

“I most certainly did not.”

“So where’re they from?”

“My secret.”

His gaze flicked from the bed to her. “Damn. You and rose petals on a big ol’ bed. I sure would love to—”