A Bad Day for Romance (21 page)

“You remember what I wore to the tree lighting?” Stella asked, impressed. “I didn’t even know you saw me that night.”

“Stella Hardesty, I bet I could lay out for you every damn thing you wore since the first day I ever saw you. Which was in April 2007, by the way, and you were in your driveway washing the Jeep, and you had on a Missouri Tigers sweatshirt. I seen you in a green dress at church that spring, and I figured out when you went to the Freshway so I could run into you there. I know you like to wear your lucky shorts for races and when you don’t get around to wash day you wear them old Wranglers with the hole nearly wore through the knee. I like those, by the way, they fit you real snug and I’ll be hoping you’ll wear them for me a little more often.”

“Wow,” Stella whispered. “I didn’t think you… uh, noticed me.”

“Didn’t think I
noticed
you?” Goat’s eyes, faded to cornflower in the morning light, sparked dangerously. “Damn it, woman, you’ve been a torment to me since the moment we met. You’ve kept me from sleeping on summer nights and nearly run me off the road a few times when I got to daydreaming. I’ve wanted to strangle you just about as often as I wanted to drag you to bed, but you can bet a day hasn’t gone by that I didn’t notice you and what you do to me.

“And one more thing,” he said, his voice now scraping down along the smoky raw register, the one that sent little trills of gotta-have-that along Stella’s spine, “if you think I got anything left in me for Daphne, even if I wanted to, why I don’t think you realize how you wring a man out. You’ve used me up, Stella, and all I can say is it was a pleasure to be used.”

With that he closed one big warm hand around Stella’s bare foot and did something with his thumb along the sole that suggested that, despite what he said, he might have held a little something back.

“Oh,” Stella said. “You, um, you think you might recover a little by the time you get back here?”

“By the next time I see you, I plan to be fully charged again,” Goat said in a voice that was more threat than promise. “I got to get Daphne calmed down, and then I promised Kam and Ian and the crime-scene boys I’d have lunch with them. Kam wants to thank us law enforcement gents for helping out with getting Divinity sprung so he can get hitched.”

He paused and glared at Stella for a long moment, and suddenly Stella couldn’t seem to find anywhere to direct her gaze. She knew what Goat was thinking, and it was a conversation she definitely did not want to get involved in.

But Goat was not so easily dissuaded. “Let’s pretend for a second that I didn’t find a propane-tank bomb in your Jeep,” he said. “Let’s pretend I don’t know that you and trouble could find each other in the middle of a North Pole snowstorm. I’m gonna say something here and I’m just going to count on this new, ah, phase in our relationship carrying a little more weight with you than it has in the past. Are you with me here, girl?”

Stella had almost stopped breathing, but she managed a tiny nod.

“This. Is.
Not
. Your. Case.” Goat bent over the bed and cupped Stella’s chin gently in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. “Divinity Flycock ain’t some downtrodden woman needs saving, you hear? She ain’t no shy bloom, and she’s got an entire crew of uniforms and family keeping her safe. Whoever killed Bryant seems to agree with me that you might want to just let the professionals handle it from here. Now you and me, we got some hard conversations ahead, I know that, ’cause there ain’t gonna be two of us in charge in this relationship, and I’m pretty sure we’re both gonna have to figure out how to give a little, no matter how hardheaded you are. But way I see it, let’s just get through this weekend first, and we’ll tackle the rest when we get back to town. For now, for the love of God, woman, I’m just asking you to—to—go get your hair fixed or get a massage or whatever the hell it is that regular women do, and we’ll have us a nice time tonight and let the Quail Valley folks keep an eye on things so you can get your friend married off tomorrow without anyone else getting shot. Can you do that, Stella? Please? Just that?”

Goat had worked himself into such a state that the little muscle along his jaw was jumping the way it sometimes did. Stella, fascinated like always, said the first thing that came into her head. “We’re in a relationship?”

For a moment Goat glared at her as though he planned to light the bed on fire with his mind. Then he laughed, a gorgeous sound that Stella wished she could take a bath in.

“Were you paying any attention at all the last eight hours? What we done, I don’t do with just anyone. I put my mark on you, woman, and my suitcase is in your closet. You want to throw me out, well, I guess that’s your prerogative. But the way I see it, from my perspective, anyway, I done showed you how I feel, and you shouldn’t even have to ask.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

STELLA RESISTED THE URGE TO GO
by the coffee shop and spy on Daphne Simmons and Goat, aided by a delicious sense of trust that just seemed like a natural evolution in their hours-old relationship. It was only eight o’clock. The only friends Stella could think of who might be awake were the Green Hat Ladies, and she was pretty sure she knew where to find them.

Sure enough, Novella and Gracie were taking up most of the seating near the free coffee service set up in the lobby. They had a box of Fiber Ones open on the table and as Stella slid into a chair at their table, Gracie was upending the Splenda into her purse. Despite the move being a technical foul, Stella couldn’t find it in her heart to blame the ladies, who were on fixed incomes and sharing a single room to save on expenses.

It was a shame that their husbands couldn’t come, but Stella figured the arrangement suited everyone. The gals had spent the prior evening as they spent every wedding and christening and church barbecue and holiday party—sitting in the corner gossiping about everyone they assumed were out of earshot, and their menfolk were free to gather at the Brennans’ house, which was outfitted with a basement rec room that had its own knotty pine bar, and drink beer and watch a game or a little Fox News. Stella, on the other hand, had a
boyfriend
now, a thought that gave her a secret thrill from her toes to her hairline. She and Goat were going to
talk
when they got back to town, set up the whys and wherefores of their relationship, a prospect so exciting Stella could hardly stand it.

“Good morning, ladies,” she said cheerfully, reaching for a Fiber One. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

Two pairs of shrewd eyes turned in their nests of wrinkles to regard her suspiciously. “What’s got into you?” Novella said.

“I reckon she’s happy on account of her young man,” Gracie said, “though I doubt his doctor would approve, what with his back troubles.”

Stella blinked.
BJ.
Immediately, a backlog of guilt washed over her. She’d barely thought of BJ for the last eighteen hours—ever since he was hauled off to the hospital. Of course, the elderly ladies had retired from the party before Stella and Goat got cozy on the dance floor, so they had no way of knowing that they’d spent the evening together.

“I doubt BJ’s to blame, seein’ as he spent the night in his room with Jorge.” They all looked up to see Chrissy calmly pouring coffee into a pair of Styrofoam cups. “Besides, I’m sure Stella wouldn’t dream of going against his doctor’s advice.”

“Why, Chrissy Shaw, don’t you look pretty!” Novella exclaimed. Stella sighed. The ladies had a soft spot for her young assistant, partly because she had been a sweet cherub of a child who’d stolen their hearts thirty years ago, and partly because Chrissy always put on her best manners for the old ladies; Stella suspected she did it just to get to her.

“Oh, Mrs. Glazer,
you’re
the pretty one,” Chrissy said. “Why, look at that sweet little sweater, it just sets off your green eyes. And here I am in an old rag—why, I’m just
ashamed
of myself!”

Stella harrumphed loudly, wondering if she was the only one who noticed the bit of fire-engine-red silk peeping out from the neckline of Chrissy’s sweats, or the trail of love bites along her neck. “I imagine you could find something else to get ashamed over, if you gave it a speck of thought,” she said mildly. “What are you doing up, anyway? Nothing good on pay-per-view?”

Chrissy shot her a look laced with good-natured wickedness. “I was just up reading my verses,” she said. “I
do
like to start my day with the Good Word.”

“Oh, the devil is going to claim you for his
own
,” Stella whispered as the ladies murmured their approval and made room for Chrissy to join them.

“I’d like to see him go up against these girls,” Chrissy whispered back. “You’re just jealous because they like me better than you.”

“I believe I saw the sheriff at the party last night,” Novella said. “Mighty bold of him, seein’ as he’s the one sent poor BJ to the hospital again.”

“But BJ moved in on his woman!” Gracie exclaimed. “Sheriff Jones couldn’t just stand by and allow that to happen, now could he?”

“I don’t know,” Chrissy said sweetly. “What do you think, Stella? How are you ever going to decide between your two admirers?”

Stella felt herself flushing deeply. She took a sip of her coffee to cover her embarrassment while her friends debated her romantic prospects.

“I wish I could stay,” Chrissy said, “but I want to call my mama and see how she and daddy are faring before they get busy with their day.”

“Such a thoughtful daughter,” Gracie exclaimed, while Chrissy shot Stella a smug look.

“But I had a little information for Stella first.” Chrissy pulled out her phone and tapped at it.

“Oh my, is it something incriminating?” Gracie asked.

“The case of Bryant’s killer?” Novella demanded. “Y’all closing in on a suspect?”

“That’s enough,” Stella said in alarm. “Listen, all of you, you can’t be talking about this.”

“We know, we know—we keep your secrets, Stella!” Novella protested.

“No, I mean—I think I’m off this one. Seriously, the local cops have it well in hand, Divinity’s safe, the wedding’s going to happen—I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t just let them do their job.”

More goggling. “You
never
just let them do their job,” Novella observed. “You always say that letting them do their job is a sure way to fudge things up.”

“ ‘A woman can’t have too much firepower on her side,’ ” Gracie said, quoting Stella, who winced.

“I know, I know, but there ain’t any woman getting beat up around here,” she protested.

“Well, except for me,” Chrissy said. “Almost, anyway. But whatever, I’m just practically your kin, and I’d hate to take you away from your busy day.”

“You’re not helping.”

“On the contrary, I am too helping, and I left a very, um, fulfilling passage in my book to bring this to you, which I’m now wondering why I bothered seeing how ungrateful you are. I guess I can just shut this down and head back to my devotions.”

“What are you reading, Chrissy?” Gracie, who was a devoted member of the church Women’s Club book group, asked with interest.

“Oh, it’s called
Hearing from God Each Morning
,” Chrissy told her. “It’s got a special story for every single day of the year.”

“It sounds inspirational.” Gracie sighed.

“Give me that damn phone,” Stella snapped.

“But I thought you said we were just going to let folks do their jobs,” Chrissy protested sweetly. “That everything was under control.”

Only Stella saw her dangle the phone from her fingers, teasing her with it. Chrissy alone knew that Stella could no more resist a lead than she could a blueberry doughnut—even if she was still throbbing from last night’s romp, even if she was now Goat’s official girlfriend. The case was in her blood, and Chrissy knew it.

“I wouldn’t want to—”

“I said give it here!”

Chrissy sighed and allowed Stella to snatch the phone. She clicked the screen and saw a dense paragraph in a tiny font. Exasperated, she thrust the phone back at Chrissy. “You know I can’t read that.”

“Oh, I forgot about your failing vision,” Chrissy said. “Ladies, I’m so sorry, will you excuse me? I need to go read to Stella.”

“Always thinking of others,” Gracie murmured.

“You take care of yourself, now, precious,” Novella added.

“Heaven’s angels are
smiling
down on you, sweetheart!” Gracie called after her, not to be outdone.

Stella waited until they had rounded the corner before grabbing Chrissy’s elbow and dragging her to the little nook that had once housed a row of phones, back before every human over the age of three had a device practically glued to his or her ear for a good part of every day.

“What the hell was that?
Hearing from God Each Morning
? Did you make that up?”

“I sure didn’t. Danyelle got it from her hairdresser and Tater made me read to him out of it last time I babysat.”

“You’re
shameless
.”

Chrissy smirked. “That’s a big old pot calling a kettle black. But you might want to think this through. I mean, if you’re serious about letting this one go, well, I guess I’d understand.”

“Now you’re just smarting off,” Stella said. “If I have to take that thing out of your hands and go hunting down my reading glasses, you know I will, and then I won’t have no choice but to read all them dirty texts Ian’s probably sending you right now.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll read it to you. And I got to say, at least it goes along with the spirit of the day.”

“Huh?”

“ ‘Alexia Rose Halburtson’ and Wayne Donald Griffin were joined in marriage on June 15, 2009, at Big Lake Presbyterian Church. Alexia is the daughter of—’ ”

“Wait up,” Stella exclaimed. “You telling me Lexie was married?”

“Still is,” Chrissy said. “There’s no record of a divorce or separation ever being filed.”

Stella whistled. “Damn, you sure about that?”

Chrissy glared at her. Stella added hastily, “I don’t mean are you sure about are they still married, I just mean, well, you got any more info on their, ah, current status?”