Place Your Betts (The Marilyns) (22 page)

“Yes, she gave it to me two weeks before she died.”

Gigi’s last act was to return the son to his mother.

“You had it for two weeks and didn’t read it?” If he had read it, would things be better or worse?

“No, ma’am. It was sealed—not my business.” Tom tried again and a resonant D floated out.

“The note is perfect.” Pride filled her. He was a natural. “Now use your second, third, and fourth fingers to pluck the remaining strings. Start with the thumb, move to the second finger, and on down.”

The note rang out clear and full. “Wow.”

“Now try different combinations. Thumb then third finger. Mix it up.”

Gigi had regretted taking Tom, and she’d tried to make up for it. It didn’t change the past, but the old woman had given Betts a future with her son.

***

“So I was thinking…” Kaitlin snuggled closer into Tom’s arms as cicadas hummed and Travis Tritt droned from the truck speakers. “You haven’t told me whether you’ll be my date to the homecoming dance.”

Tom adjusted the blanket tighter around her. The cold, metal grooves in the bed of his pickup dug into his back, but he didn’t want to move because this was a perfect moment. As he held Kaitlin and they stargazed, the weight of her breasts mashed against his side and her arm rested on his middle. “Sure, I’d like to go with you, but sometimes the guy likes to do the asking.”

“Ask away.” Kaitlin kissed the underside of his chin and ran a finger down the buttons of his shirt. Her hand stopped at the top of his jeans, and his breath caught.

“Not now. You’re expecting it.” Thank God they were under a blanket or she’d see his hard-on pounding against his zipper. Did girls get as excited as boys?

“When then? I don’t want to go alone.”

“I’m the only one you want to go with?” He’d been dying to know since she’d asked him about the dance.

Kaitlin drummed her fingers on his chest. “I want to go with my boyfriend.”

Tom’s heart shriveled up, and he loosened his grip. There it was…the truth. Kaitlin wanted to go with Lance, but he wouldn’t have her so she was settling for Tom. His fists balled, and his jaw went so tight it gave him a headache. “What? He said no?”

Kaitlin laughed. “I don’t know. He hasn’t answered me yet.”

Tom sat up. “I knew it. I’m your second choice—”

“What are you talking about?” Kaitlin leaned up on one elbow.

“You asked Lance—”

“I haven’t spoken to Lance.” She sat up. “I’m talking about you, dummy. I asked you, my boyfriend, if you wanted to go, and you haven’t answered me.”

Relief coursed through his veins, settling some of the adrenaline. “Boyfriend? I’m your boyfriend?”

“Do you think I snuggle under a blanket with just anyone?” Kaitlin crossed her arms. “You don’t want to be my boyfriend?”

“No…I mean yes… Wait.” Tom bit his upper lip. Man, he was screwing the pooch big-time. “I really want to be your boyfriend, and I’d love to be your date for homecoming.”

He couldn’t help the stupid grin because it would probably be fixed to his face permanently. Miracles did happen. He was Kaitlin Smith’s boyfriend.

Tom leaned down and kissed her. Slowly, her hand found his and linked fingers.

“I know it’s fast but…” Kaitlin kissed his cheek. “I think I love you.”

 “It’s taken you long enough.” Tom kissed her forehead. “I fell in love with you in the third grade.” His chest swelled to bursting.

Tom felt like he was wading into a pool way over his head. It was thrilling and wonderful and scary as hell.

***

Betts Monroe was naked and sudsy in the next room.

Gabe scraped the last drop of gumbo from his bowl. The dinner bargain had been pretty inspired. Betts came from a long line of good cooks. Why waste a resource that close-at-hand? Gabe shoved the last piece of French bread into his mouth and relaxed back in the kitchen chair.

The pipes groaned as the hot water in the bathroom turned on again. Betts had been in there for forty-seven minutes—not that he was counting. When she’d walked through the front door dressed in an ugly orange bathrobe and holding a bottle of bubble bath and several magazines, he’d known she meant to stay long, but not this long. He had work to do, and he sure as hell couldn’t do it with her naked and soapy behind a bathroom door that hadn’t locked in over a decade. Talk about a distraction. All it would take was for him to walk down the hall and hit the old wooden floor in just the right spot, then the bathroom door would slowly swing open.

He’d give her another fifteen minutes, and then she was outta here.

Gabe pulled out the battered briefcase that had belonged to his grandfather and did his level best to drown out the faint splashing of water by burying himself in work.

Gabe clicked the tarnished brass locks and opened the old briefcase. His only nod to modern technology was the secondhand laptop he kept inside. Computers were a necessary evil, and the online course he was taking was supposed to teach him everything he needed to know to put all of the ranch’s records in one place. Trouble was, Gabe was a total computer idiot. In today’s world, moving at the speed of lightning-fast Internet, he felt like he was driving an amusement park bumper car, bouncing around until he hit the site he needed.

Converting the ranch into a hundred percent organic beef operation required detailed records be kept and emailed to various agencies. These days, if he walked a handwritten form into the Ag Extension office, they’d laugh him all the way to Oklahoma.

Tom had setup a Facebook page and website for the ranch, so that once the organic certification did come through, they could sell beef online. That made Gabe’s head hurt because he equated online with inadequacy…but he was learning.

Gabe flipped open the laptop and pressed the power button.

Tonight’s Mr. Professor lesson was on Excel. And he had homework due. After the computer went through the normal rigmarole, he double-clicked on Excel and brought up the workbook he’d been slaving over. He slipped on his headphones, plugged them in, and clicked the link to his class. The video chat was already set up so he could see the professor and type in questions, but that was the limit of the contact. No one could see Gabe, which suited him just fine. Even to the techno-renounced, hunting and pecking on the keyboard was a thing of shame.

Gabe settled into his lesson on creating equations using Formula Builder.

The heavy scent of peach blossoms and vanilla saturated the air around him. Shifting his weight more solidly on his right butt cheek, he almost jumped out of his skin to find Betts leaning over his shoulder. “Jesus. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Is that Mr. Professor from those late-night infomercials?” Betts bent closer to the computer. “Looks like you’re learning Excel.”

Gabe slammed the computer shut and threw his headphones on the table. “None of your business.”

Picking up the pamphlet on organic beef he’d made in lesson four—MS Publisher and You—Betts unfolded it and leaned on the kitchen table. Her robe gaped open, showing the top of one creamy white breast.

It would have been a sin not to look. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. He could practically feel the weight of them in his hands, pert, upturned nipples pressing against his palms. Her skin would be warm and moist from the bath. His eyes drifted lower. Was she warm and moist everywhere?

“Going organic?” Betts continued to read and absently adjusted her robe closed.

Damn. It’d been good while it had lasted.

“Yep. Always have been, but it wasn’t documented. ‘Certified Organic’ requires lots of proof.” Gabe propped his foot in the chair across from his. Betts didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, and truth be told, he liked her company.

“It’s funny how things come full circle. People did it right for hundreds of years, then technology comes along and promises to make things better. Not until later do we find out that it just screwed up a perfectly good thing. The latest, greatest isn’t always the best.”

“Said the woman who probably owns the latest, greatest everything.” Gabe laced his fingers behind his head and stared up at her. “Your trailer is piled high with gadgets.”

“That’s true, but on the whole, I’m pretty low-tech. I get enough technology at work. Bringing it home is way too complicated.” She set the brochure down. “Are my cows certified organic? Not that I really care, but it says in the brochure it’s better for the land.”

Betts cared about the land? That was a new one. Then again, how well did he really know her?

“Yep. Every single one. Makes them worth more. Lots of blood, sweat, and tears went into every cow.” Gabe no longer minded how she had come by the cows. Betts cared about them and made sure they were cared for…that was all that mattered. “Have any future plans for them? Consider giving them to Tom. He’ll take good care of them.”

Not that he was looking for a handout for his boy, but he really wanted to know what to expect from her, and Gabe needed to feel her out about joining the two farms again. God knew he couldn’t afford to wait another two years for new organic certification paperwork to be processed. The only chance he had to keep his ranch from going under was the organic certification. The original paperwork included her land, and amending it would take just as long as starting from scratch. Besides, one day she would leave. He hoped it wasn’t going to be anytime soon.

“He’s a good boy. He works really hard to not disappoint you.”

Damn, she was slippery. Avoided the future question like the plague. If she didn’t want to talk about it, fine.

“I got nothing to be disappointed about. Tom’s learned the cattle business from the ground up. He loves it, and that shows in his hard work.”

“What about his music?” Betts crossed her arms.

“What music?” From rest-of-her-life plans to music. She was good at evasion, he’d give her that.

“Tom wants to learn to play the guitar. May I teach him?”

“Why?” Gabe hunched his shoulders. What did that have to do with the price of organic beef?

“It doesn’t matter. He wants to learn, and I’d like to teach him.” Betts’s usual feistiness was gone. She seemed older—more mature. The high school urge to do something stupid to impress her was almost too strong to resist. And what, exactly, would impress her these days?

“He’s got chores. And school—”

“Here’s the deal. I’ll sign the cows over to Tom with you managing them until Tom’s twenty-one if you let me give him music lessons. This is a one-time offer. Take it—”

“Done.” Gabe grinned. He’d been about to say yes anyway, so the return of his cattle was just a bonus. She hadn’t taunted him or smirked. She was sincere. He liked the adult Betts…very much. If he could get her to sign over the land to Tom, it would save his organic permit.

Betts took his hand, and the same old sparks tingled up his arm. She shook it, let go, and straightened. She was at the front door before he’d thought about standing and showing her out. Walking her home might have been fun; he’d sneak a kiss or two under the stars.

Jesus, he was feeling all sappy and romantic.

With one hand on the knob, she looked over her shoulder. “I hope that Video Professor class really did come with a money-back guarantee, because you’re about as good at Formula Builder as you are at negotiation. ’Night.” She walked out the door.

He opened his laptop and peered at the equation. Damn, she was right. As his finger pounded the delete key, Gabe sat up straight.

Dang, she’d only seen the screen for a second. Boy howdy, she was smart.

What had just happened? He dropped back against the chair. Betts had played him like a pair of twos on poker night. She’d waltzed in here smelling sweet, used the gaping robe, interest in his ranch, and the cattle to get what she wanted. Laughter rumbled in his throat as he shook his head. He hadn’t seen it coming. Yep, smart as a whip. Betts had game. One corner of his mouth curled up. He was more than willing to let her play it out. Hell, he hoped to have a starring role.

At eight o’clock on Monday morning, Gabe fired up his pickup and took off down the driveway. Since he’d gone out of his way to avoid her, Betts didn’t feel the need to ask his permission to use his tub.

She leaned back from the window.

Where did he go? Just because they’d had sex less than forty-eight hours ago didn’t mean that he was obligated to spill his life story, but it would be nice to know where he was going.

She chewed on her lip. Did he have a date?

Scooping up her bubble bath, book, and robe, she hip bumped the button to open the door, hopped down the stairs, and scooted across the yard. Standing on her tiptoes, she felt around the door ledge for the spare key. Nothing. She stepped back and put her hands on her hips. Where else would Gabe hide it? Her eyes landed on a terracotta pot full of dirt and dried-up plant remains. With her right big toe, she tilted the pot. Bingo. Shaking her head, she leaned over and retrieved the key.

Gabe, God bless him, was predictable. The door swung open, and she was struck by the same feeling of déjà vu as before…. Everything was the same but not. The furniture had been over-the-hill back then—it was positively ancient now. Maybe after her bath, she’d rearrange a few things and see if she could spruce it up a bit. Try and get some positive Chi flowing. Then again, harvest-gold burlap shouldn’t have made it out of the seventies, so positive Chi might be aiming too high.

But something in chocolate leather with clean lines would work well. Her son needed a comfortable home, and a yummy leather couch was a start. Her men—not that either one was hers—deserved a nice home. She had sixteen years to make up for, and this was a start.

Betts trudged to the bathroom and dumped her armload on the vanity. With a turn of the hot water tap and a liberal sprinkling of bubbles, her bath was underway. After stripping down and twisting her hair on top of her head, she stepped in. Warm, liquid heaven sucked her down. She leaned back against the edge of the claw foot tub and let the world fade away.