The Way to Texas (17 page)

Karen gave an affected laugh and rested her hand on Larry's arm. “You Southern men sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.”

Dawn wanted to make a gagging sound, but figured Bubba would slap her on the back. He'd done that once before and she'd nearly lost a lung. “He's not Southern.”

“Oh,” Karen said. “Where you from?”

Before Larry could answer, Bubba interrupted.

“Southerners know when to let the vittles fill our mouth. Y'all get to eatin'. The Boys is comin' on in half an hour, and I got me a date with Jack's recliner.”

“Hell, no, you don't,” Jack called through the open door of the dining room. He and the rest of the group had settled at the large table in the kitchen.

Bubba laughed and a piece of turkey fell out of his mouth. “'Scuse me,”

Karen looked horrified. She stared with wary fascination at Bubba for a full minute before lowering her fork. “Who are
the Boys?
”

Larry laughed a slimy little laugh. “It's what all these Texas rednecks call the Dallas Cowboys.”

Karen looked bemused. “The football team? As if they are neighborhood boys?”

Tyson took a drink of the sweet Texas tea. “People around here are a bit obsessed with the Cowboys. It's very personal.”

Bubba, not the slightest bit offended by the redneck remark, leaned back and suppressed a belch. “Damn straight.”

Karen smiled at Tyson. “But you grew up in North Carolina and you weren't obsessed with the Panthers.”

Her voice was low, teasing and intimate. But Bubba got there before Tyson did. “It's 'cause they got that pansy-ass Delhomme boy. That's what you get when your quarterback comes from U of L. Ragin' Cajuns, my ass.”

“I like Jake Delhomme,” Karen said, stiffening her shoulders.

“I bet you do,” Bubba said.

Tyson looked at Dawn, humor dancing in his eyes. He was having a good time, damn him. She could hardly enjoy the melt-in-your-mouth sweet potatoes. Her stomach felt tied up in knots.

Everyone at the table let sleeping dogs lie and got busy paying tribute to Nellie's delicious Thanksgiving meal.

Forks clattered, cheerful conversation floated out from the kitchen spurring Dawn to make appropriate conversation. About the weather.

Everyone joined in except Bubba who dedicated himself to finishing three plates of food before the clock hit one o'clock, aka game time.

Finally, he pushed back his chair. “Okay, folks, later.”

He took his empty plate and vanished.

Karen observed his movements like a scientist would study a newly discovered species. “Well, he's certainly an interesting…person.”

Dawn smiled. She loved Bubba. He was crass, slovenly and as country as a pot of turnip greens, but he was the kindest person she knew. He was also Nellie's dear friend. “He's quite a man.”

“Well, a bit…”

“Unpolished?” Dawn offered.

“Um, yes.” Karen shuffled her food around on her
plate. She'd hardly touched anything. She kept cutting glances at Tyson as he finished the last of his peas. The woman was hungry for something. It wasn't turkey or ambrosia.

With Bubba's departure, silence fell round them like an oppressive curtain. Dawn figured it had to be the oddest of situations. It felt like a scene from a romantic comedy. She half expected Vince Vaughn or Ben Stiller to walk in with a shaved cat. Or a vomiting baby.

Finally after a full five minutes of no conversation, Larry scooted his chair back. “Well, think I'll get me some of that chocolate pecan pie and join ol' Bubba in the den. You wanna come with me, pretty lady?”

His comment was addressed, of course, to Karen.

“No, I'm still working on my turkey,” she said, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear where a full carat diamond winked flirtatiously. She pulled her eyes from Larry's beachy good looks to Tyson. Her gaze warmed and caressed him. “Tyson, I'd like the chance to talk to you later, if you don't mind.”

Tyson shrugged. “Sure, but I'm thinking we should get in the kitchen and get some pie before it's all gone. Or before Laurel ends up in Andrew's lap.”

Karen laid down her fork. “Please. You know she's too young for him. He's in college.”

“Yeah, I know that. You know that. But the question is, does Laurel understand that?” He stood and scooped up his plate.

Karen rose, too. “Of course she does. She just can't help it. You know the girls in my family can't resist handsome men.”

Flirty words, evident intentions. Karen was throwing her hat into the ring with Tyson as the prize. And the woman was up for the fight. She had all the right
equipment. She was beautiful, elegant and held the trump card—she was the mother of his child.

Tyson paused at the dining-room door. “You coming, Dawn?”

She tossed her fork onto her half-eaten plate. “Do I have to?”

“If you want pie,” he said with a grin. She longed to run to him, bury her head in the warmth of his chest and have him wrap his arms around her. Because at that moment she was plain scared.

Scared she'd risked her heart for nothing.

Karen watched her as a hawk might watch a lizard beneath its talon.

“Dawn?” Tyson prodded. “Pie?”

“No,” she said, “Think I'll finish my—” she looked down at her plate “—creamed corn.”

“Okay, see you in the den.”

He left. Dawn shoved her plate away and crossed her arms. Then she got mad at herself. She'd let Karen waltz out the dining-room door with her man. Okay, no one knew he was her man, but that didn't matter. He was. Wasn't he? She should have done something to stake her claim on him. But what? They'd decided to break the news to Laurel before openly admitting their relationship. And with Larry and Andrew pulling her one way and Laurel and Karen pulling Tyson the other, it all felt so hopeless.

How could the tender, new feelings in her heart survive this mess?

She stared at the table and sighed. So much for a cheerful Thanksgiving. Nothing could be worse.

“O
KAY, WE'RE GONNA
run a reverse. Hand off to Dawn, she hands off to Marcie. Marcie, you haul butt down the left sideline. We need to score. Everyone got it?” Jack asked.

“Where's the left sideline?” Marcie asked, whisking her ponytail over her shoulder and studying the perimeter of their makeshift football field. Andrew's girlfriend had arrived right before half-time—in time for the flag football game.

“Just don't step outside the line of the silver-leaf maple.”

Marcie nodded, but Dawn could tell she had no idea what he was talking about. Their team huddled together near the non-operational water well on a stretch of flat land. It was halftime for the Dallas Cowboys, and they had only five more minutes before Bubba abandoned their flag football game for the comfort of Jack's recliner and the second half.

“What do I do?” Larry asked.

“You block.” Dawn almost smiled at Jack's exasperation. Larry loved to showboat any chance he got. Her ex wanted the ball so he could dazzle the few spectators on the sidelines. Jack wasn't going to give him the pleasure.

They clapped and broke the huddle. Dawn made sure the old tube socks were tucked in her jeans on either side
of her hips. They could have gotten a flag football set, but Jack insisted on playing old school with old striped socks tucked in their waistbands. Darby tradition.

Dawn watched Tyson as he lined up to play defense. His demeanor was relaxed, but his eyes were intent. Like almost every man on the planet, Tyson loved a good contact sport. Field or bed. The man brought the heat.

“Down. Set. Hut. Hut,” Jack yelled.

Dawn swung to the left and allowed Jack to tuck the football into her breadbasket. She immediately untucked it and handed it to Marcie, who came the other way. Faking the carry, she ran straight toward Tyson. He wasn't fooled, but he made no attempt to follow Marcie, who trucked it down the opposite sideline. He came right toward Dawn, reaching out for her socks.

“No ball,” Dawn said wiggling her fingers and coming to a halt.

“I know.” He gave her a sharky grin. “I just wanted to cop a cheap feel.”

And so he did. His arms came around her, skipping the dangling tube socks, and settled on her butt. He gave it a squeeze. Laughter bubbled inside her, but she swiftly silenced it. People watched. In fact, Dawn risked a glance to where her mom and Karen sat in canvas camp chairs on the sidelines. Sure enough, Karen's eyes were on them. And they narrowed.

Tyson's arms stayed around her.

“Better stop,” she said under her breath. “We've got spectators.”

“To hell with 'em.”

She tugged at his arms. “We tell Laurel first.”

Tyson dropped his arms, and they both turned to
watch Marcie leap into the air and perform a touchdown dance. The girl had definitely been a cheerleader.

Dawn moved away from the warmth of Tyson. The chill of the afternoon stung her cheeks and made her long to snuggle beneath a throw on the couch with the man who took her breath away. She liked football, but she'd rather be playing footsies with Tyson.

“Hey! She stepped out of bounds!” Bubba cried, clomping toward Marcie, where she celebrated jubilantly.

“She went past the maple. Anyone else see her?”

“You still get the ball back. Stop being a big baby,” Jack hollered, trotting down the field and giving Marcie a high-five.

Andrew grinned at the sight of his girlfriend slapping hands with her team. His smile dimmed a bit when Larry slapped Marcie on the rear.

“Good, 'cause we got a little somethin' for you,” Bubba said, gathering his team together. Andrew pulled Nellie from the sideline where she'd gone to kiss Mae's pink cheeks. The baby was wrapped in layers of faux fur sitting on her grandmother's lap. As the other team huddled together, Dawn noticed Andrew didn't put his arm around Tyson.

Jack motioned them to spread out. “Don't let anyone past you. We can't let them tie this one up.”

Dawn lined up on Nellie while Larry covered Tyson. Marcie leered at Andrew, giving him the come on signal with her hands. Andrew waggled his eyebrows. Sheesh.

Bubba called for the ball and her dad hiked it to him. Jack started counting, “One Mississippi, two Mississippi.”

Bubba took two steps back and veered to the right. He was going to throw it to Tyson. He never looked for
any other receivers. Dawn pulled off her coverage on Nellie and ran toward Tyson. The ball arced through the air, a perfect spiral a bit too high.

Tyson leaped for the ball, as graceful as any wide receiver she'd seen. He snatched the ball from the air. And then he came down.

Right on Larry and his perfect upturned nose.

“Son of a bitch!” Larry screamed, dropping to his knees.

Tyson didn't seem to realize his elbow had just taken out the competition. He never stopped in his pursuit of the end zone. Dawn stopped right next to Larry.

“Shit!” Larry covered his nose, which spurted blood all over his no doubt expensive sweater. Dawn darted over to her mother and pulled a diaper cloth from her lap.

The game ground to a halt. Everyone stopped and stared at Larry as he muttered a few more colorful expletives. Jack loped over as Dawn bent to place the mostly clean cloth over Larry's nose.

“Here, Larry. Use this,” she said, pulling away his bloodied hand and pressing the cloth to his injured face. She felt Tyson's presence even before he spoke.

“Hell, Larry. I'm sorry, man. I didn't realize—”

Larry held up a hand. “Ith okay.”

The Elmer Fudd words had her wondering if Larry's nose was broken.

“The hell it is.” Andrew's voice came from behind her.

Dawn held the cloth against Larry's nose and turned to look at her son. He stood indignant. Pissed. A posture that was starting to become too familiar.

“Look, I didn't do it on purpose,” Tyson said, prop
ping both hands on his hips. He opened his stance. She could feel the tension thicken, smell the confrontation.

“Bullshit. Just 'cause you're screwin' around with my mom doesn't give you the right to nearly take my dad's head off.”

“Andrew James Taggart!” She rose and crossed her arms, hitting him with a glare designed to wither. Her smart-mouthed nineteen-year-old had no business airing her laundry in front of the world. “Who I date and who I don't date is none of your concern. Besides, that has nothing to do with this accident.”

“Not an accident,” her son said, shaking his head.

“Come on, Drew. You don't really think Tyson hit your dad on purpose?” Jack asked, stepping between Andrew and Tyson.

“She's dating my dad?” Laurel asked.

Dawn hadn't realized the girl had come outside. The last time they'd seen her she'd been sulking on the couch with her cell phone in hand. Marcie's arrival had squashed the tween's dreams of pass interference on Andrew. The girl now stared at Tyson. “You're dating
her?
”

Dawn blinked. What was she? Chopped liver?

Karen showed up right behind Laurel. “I wouldn't mind knowing the answer to that myself.”

Tyson's eyes briefly met hers before shifting away. She read his look, though. It said, “Oh, hell.”

“Now is not the time for this discussion. Larry needs to be the priority,” Tyson said.

Everyone's eyes shifted back to the man still sitting on the ground, holding the cloth to his oozing nose. Dawn had momentarily forgotten her ex-husband.

Andrew glared at Tyson. Laurel started crying. Karen
glared at Dawn. Everyone else looked at Larry…or off into the woods.

She'd been wrong earlier when she'd thought things couldn't get worse. They had. Again, she had to survive.

“Here,” she said, offering Larry her hand. He took it and she helped him stand. She heard his knees crack and he issued another moan. She concentrated on Larry because she didn't want to look at Tyson. A goose egg had lodged in her throat and her anger at Andrew had soured her stomach. “Here, Lar, let me see your nose.”

Larry obediently removed the cloth. His nose bore resemblance to the famous reindeer—red and swollen. Blood still trickled from both nostrils. If it were broken, she couldn't tell.

“Ith it broken?” Larry asked, tipping his head back while keeping his blue eyes on her.

“I'm not sure,” she said, spinning toward Jack. “You think we ought to get him to a doctor?”

Bubba ambled over and squinted at Larry's nose. “It ain't broke. Just gonna have two black eyes is all.”

“You sure, Bubba?” her brother asked, cocking his head and looking at Larry's nose.

“See my nose?” Bubba asked, turning his head left and right so they could all get a good look at the bent appendage. “It's been broke twice. Never looked like his. Put some ice on it. Boys are back on.”

With that Dr. Bubba lumbered up the porch steps and disappeared into the house, passing Nellie who came out holding a plastic bag of ice. She gave the bag to Dawn. “Try this and see if you can get the swelling down.”

“Thanks,” Dawn said, helping Larry apply the ice.

Jack waved everyone else away. They dispersed—Tom and Lila cooing to Mae, Laurel sheltered by her
mother and Marcie with a disclaimer about needing something from her purse. Tyson slapped a hand on Larry's shoulder. “Sorry again, Larry.”

“No probwem,” Larry muttered, wincing.

“Dad, you sure you gonna be okay?” Andrew asked, still shooting daggers at Tyson. Larry wasn't nearly as upset, even with a busted nose. He wouldn't care if Dawn dated a serial killer. She had never really concerned him much. Andrew grasped at straws if he thought anyone could pin Larry down.

“I'm fine.” Larry waved his son's concern away. Andrew nodded then headed toward Marcie where she leaned into her low-slung Mustang.

Dawn placed a hand on her ex-husband's back and directed him toward the steps leading into the house. She didn't want to be responsible for doctoring him, but there was really no one else. Yet one more time she took care of him. “Sit down, Larry. Once the bleeding stops, you can go inside. Do you want to call a doctor?”

“Nah,” he said shaking his head. “Thanksgiving. No one will be avaiwable. I think I'm okay.”

His words had her reeling. Larry not wanting personalized attention? Larry not wanting to disturb someone else's holiday? Larry not having a plastic surgeon on speed dial? What alien had taken over his body?

“Pwus, I have a buddy who does pwastic surgery. He's the best in Houston. Don't want no wocal yokel jacking me up.”

Exactly. No aliens. Just Larry.

“Fine,” she said, unable to stop herself from noticing Tyson stopping Karen and Laurel on their way to the car. He had a hand on Laurel's back. It was a tender scene. One that ripped at her.

She could see Karen nod her head. Then Laurel.

What was going on? Dawn's emotions galloped full speed ahead, zooming past reason and speeding toward disillusionment.

There were facts she could not dispute. Karen and Laurel were Tyson's family. The divorce wasn't final. And Karen wanted him back. The woman might as well have lit a fire and grabbed a blanket with the signals she'd been sending out. Even sleep-deprived Nellie had cocked an eyebrow at Karen's innuendos earlier. If Karen wanted Tyson back, where did it leave Dawn?

After all, Karen had chosen to end the marriage. Not Tyson. Did he want a second chance with his family?

“Dawn?” Nellie popped her head out. “Andrew's in the guest room, packing his bag. He said he's taking his dad back to Houston.”

“What?” Dawn's feet moved before her mind truly accepted the concept. Her son acted like a complete ass in front of everyone, accused Tyson of hurting Larry on purpose, then packed his bags like a spoiled brat and took off? Not likely, not if she had anything to say about it. Of course a small voice niggled in her subconscious, taunting her. Andrew acted this way because she'd always allowed him to. She'd always put his wants and needs first.

She tossed one last look at Tyson and Karen. They stood shoulder to shoulder looking at a cloud of dust disappearing on the winding drive to the blacktop. Grady and Laurel had taken their leave.

But Dawn couldn't worry about Karen or Tyson. She had a son to deal with. A son who should have been dealt with a long time ago.

Her chickens had come home to roost.

Was it too late to close the henhouse door?

 

“W
HERE DO YOU THINK
you're going?” Dawn said as she entered the guest bedroom in which Andrew had been staying the past few days. The warmth of the decor did little to dispel the chill radiating off Andrew. He silently shoved jeans and underwear into a large duffle. The boy had never even learned to fold his own clothes. She'd always done it for him.

“I'm taking Dad back to Houston. I'm not staying here while you…you do that with that dude.” Andrew's hair flopped into his face, a face that still held the vestiges of boyhood. Though he shaved, his cheeks held firm to the sweet curve of youth. She wished he had not grown up so quickly. Maybe she hadn't done such a good job of raising him. Maybe she needed more time to teach him how to be a man. “
Do that with that dude?
Seriously? That's what you have to say to me? Especially after you bring your dad here when I told him he wasn't invited.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. She wasn't letting him out. He'd have to pick her up and move her.

“What do you want me to say? Dad came here to be with us. And what happens? Your boyfriend shows up to dinner. A
family
dinner. And then he hits my dad in the nose.”

Dawn tried to stamp down the anger she felt bubbling inside her, but she couldn't. “I didn't ask your father to come to dinner. He came uninvited. And Tyson was invited. By Nellie.”

He shrugged. A smart-ass shrug. She wanted to smack him on his bottom. The boy needed it.