Come and Get It (8 page)

Quin stretched out on his big soft bed
with his eight-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets and
wondered again where Rose was. He thought of their earlier
conversation. He’d gotten her to play with herself while he gave
her directions on what to do. He’d heard her gasps as she came. His
cock lifted the sheet covering him. Rose. Great. He could get it up
for Rose but not for Allison? He snorted in disgust. Novelty. That
had to be it. Rose was different. All he had to do was fuck her out
of his system and things would get back to normal. He hit redial on
the handset, got the machine again. Where the hell was she? Was she
on a date? It wasn’t like they were exclusive. She could see anyone
she wanted. The thought of her with someone else made him scowl. He
didn’t like the idea of anyone else kissing her, touching her. No,
he didn’t like it one little bit. He resolved to get all the
client’s concerns out of the way tomorrow—well, today actually—and
get his ass back to Butt Crack, Texas, so he could get down to the
business of screwing Dixie Rose Bonifay out of his system once and
for all.

Chapter Six

Quinn guided the truck between rows of
vehicles parked along the lane to Rose’s house. He could hear the
music and laughter clearly. There was some kind of get-together to
which he’d not been invited. It didn’t strike him as her style to
exclude him from a party, even after a fight. Still, it stung, even
though he hadn’t let her know when he’d be back. He found a slot
big enough for the king cab rental and parked.

He approached slowly, giving himself
time to assess the crowd. People were smiling and laughing, kids
and dogs ran helter-skelter, bumping into people. No one seemed to
mind. In fact, they laughed and patted the offenders’ heads. The
music was loud enough to allow partiers to sing along but low
enough to allow for conversation. Everyone seemed to be having a
good time.

Quin couldn’t help but feel out of
place, given that he was a relative stranger and unused to casual
parties. Most of the parties he attended in L.A. had a frenetic
edge to them. Everyone trying to outdo one another. Celebrity bands
were hired for entertainment. Food was as exotic or as expensive as
possible. Every kind of liquor imaginable flowed nonstop. So did
drugs. Hollywood parties could be, and often were, the downfall of
an A-list star. Quin had to admit he liked the atmosphere here more
than he did the L.A. scene. And where, amid all this revelry, was
Dixie?

He saw her across the
expanse of green grass, standing beneath a handmade banner that
read
Happy Birthday, Dixie Rose
in bright red. His chest expanded with a sigh of
relief. She really was a balm to his frazzled nerves. She had
someone’s baby on her hip and was dressed casually in a pair of
cutoff jeans and an oversized, pink and white striped T-shirt with
elongated arm holes. She was wearing a bikini top underneath the
revealing shirt. And she was barefoot. If he’d come to know
anything about Rose these past weeks, it was that she hated shoes.
Dressed as she was, bouncing a baby on her hip, she was the picture
of country motherhood. And it scared the shit out of him that he
wanted her so badly.

The crowd went silent as he crossed
the patchy lawn. Rose looked up, spotted him. Her smile was warm
and welcoming. She handed the baby back to its mother and made her
way to him.

“
Hey. I didn’t know you’d
be back today. Why didn’t you call and let me know?”

Quin shrugged. “I finished early and
decided to surprise you.” He pointed to the banner strung between
two majestic oaks. “You might have mentioned you had a birthday
coming up.”

A blush heated her cheeks. “I didn’t
want you to feel obligated.” She looked away for a moment. “I mean,
I’m sure it’s not the kind of party you’re used to and, well, we’re
not that kind of couple. Figured it might make you uncomfortable
being around my friends and family.”

His jaw tightened. Not his kind of
party? They weren’t that kind of couple? Did she really think so
little of him?

“
Nevertheless, happy
birthday, and if you’d invited me, I would have come.” He leaned
down and hugged her. “For future reference.”

She laughed. “Good to know.” She took
his hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you around.”

To his surprise, the partygoers
accepted him. A red Solo cup full of beer was thrust into his hand
and he was led away to be someone’s partner in a game of
horseshoes. Everyone thought it hysterically funny that he’d never
played the game before and they took demonic delight in teasing
him, calling him Hollywood. Only Hugh, the big drywall installer,
took umbrage to Quin’s presence.

Quin was pleasantly buzzed when a tiny
blonde goddess bounded up to him.

“
Hey!” she chirped happily.
“I’m Rebecca Lynn, Dixie’s sister. How you likin’ your first Texas
barbecue? Of course, the hog and the beef aren’t ready yet but
there’s a grill goin’ over by the spring house, if you’re hungry.”
She stood on tiptoes. “Yup. Greg and Jess are workin’ the grill.
Greg is my husband and Jess is married to Daisy Jean.”

When she wound down, Quin smiled and
offered his hand. “Quin Halladay, Dixie’s . . . friend from
California.” The girl giggled, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks.
The same blush Dixie got when he teased her.

“
Whatever you wanna call it
is fine with me but I know it’s more than just friends. A man’s
truck ain’t parked in a woman’s yard at seven in the morning unless
he spent the night.” Quin was taken aback but she kept on talking.
“I say it’s about time Dixie shed the widow’s weeds and had herself
some fun. But Bennett, that’s our brother, he don’t much like it.
Thinks you’re gonna break her heart.”

Quin raised a brow. “And what do you
think?”

She grinned at him. “Oh, I reckon you
will but it won’t be near as bad as Garrett dyin’ in a foreign
land. And barely enough left of him to bury. Then the miscarriage
and nothin’ left of him to pass on to the world. It wore on her.
Still does, I imagine.”

“
Oh, man, I had no idea. I
knew her husband had passed but I didn’t know about the
child.”

Rebecca Lynn sighed. “Most folks
don’t. I mean, it’s not exactly parlor conversation.”

Quin scanned the crowd
above the diminutive blonde’s head. There she was, his Yellow Rose
of Texas, refilling glasses of tea for the nondrinkers. As if
connected by an invisible thread, she looked up, smiling when he
winked at her. She glanced at her still chattering sister and
mouthed
Sorry
. He
gave her the thumbs-up and tuned back in to Rebecca
Lynn.

“
Gotta figure half the
town’ll be here once the sun starts to go down. Some of the local
musicians will come out and play. It’ll be a first-class shindig,
that’s for sure.”

Quin nodded politely, but his eyes
were back on Dixie’s approach. “Sounds like it,” he said,
distracted by the way her hips swayed when she walked. She was
putting an extra wiggle in her step and her heavy-eyed gaze caused
his cock to twitch. As though she knew exactly what happened, she
gave him a sultry smile. Her arm went around her younger sister’s
shoulders.

“
So, I see you’ve met
Rebecca Lynn.” She gave her sister a squeeze. “She and the rest of
the girls are responsible for this not-so-secret surprise
party.”

The younger woman hip-checked Dixie.
“Hard to keep two huge barbecues a surprise, especially considering
how long it takes to roast the meat. And nothing stays a secret for
long around here when your sister’s part bloodhound.”

Quin’s gut clenched. This was what
family looked like. They laughed, they loved, they squabbled, felt
one another’s pain. They went out of their way for one another. As
her siblings had done here. As Dixie had done by quitting college
to keep her family intact. His family life paled in comparison. A
surge of resentment washed over him. Mostly toward his parents but
also for Rose, for having something he’d so longed for as a child.
He ruthlessly crushed that particular thread of bitterness. She was
not responsible for his parents’ deficiencies.

“
Come here, you,” he said,
opening his arms. She stepped into them willingly. “I wish I’d
known it was your birthday. I would have gotten you
something.”

She smiled up at him. “Not necessary.
I’m surrounded by people I care about and the party’s gonna be a
blast when it goes into full swing.”

He swooped down for a kiss designed to
turn her knees to jelly and he hauled her close as she staggered a
bit.

“
Happy birthday, baby,” he
murmured beneath catcalls and hoots of encouragement. “To be
continued.”

* * *

Dixie cursed as she dodged a chair
someone had moved and not put back in its place. She sighed with
relief as she set the final load of dishes on the island. Quin was
outside helping Bennett secure the lids on the trash barrels so the
critters couldn’t get to the garbage. She should probably wash the
dirty dishes, but what she really wanted was a shower. The shower
won out.

The phone rang as she stepped under
the water but she let the machine answer. Anyone who called a
person at three in the morning had no business thinking she’d
answer the phone. Not when she had all this glorious hot water,
peach-scented body wash and shampoo. Maybe Quin would join her and
they could do it in the shower. She giggled at the wickedness of
that thought. With thoughts of Quin in her mind, she hurried
through her shower and wrapped herself in a bath sheet.

She wandered from the bathroom to the
kitchen, where Quin was loading the dishwasher. He looked up and
smiled.

“
You don’t have to do
that,” she told him, rubbing her hair briskly with a
towel.

“
Hey, it’s your birthday.
Birthday girls don’t wash dishes.”

Dixie laughed. “It’s not my birthday
anymore, silly.”

He smiled and shook his head.
“Everybody knows your birthday doesn’t end until you’ve gone to
sleep.”

“
Everybody knows, do
they?”

“
Yes, ma’am, they surely
do,” he drawled, trying to imitate a Texas accent.

She rolled her eyes. “All right. Have
it your way.”

“
Oh, I intend to,
sweetheart.” He put the last dish in the machine, washed his hands,
then started toward her. “My way, your way. Any way I
want.”

Dixie’s breath hitched. “Any way?” She
backed out of the kitchen and bumped her hip on the library table.
“Ouch!” Then she remembered the machine. “Oh, look, the light’s
blinking.” She pressed the button before he could stop her. The
tape kicked on and began to play back the message.

“
An answering machine. How
retro. This message is for Quin,” a bored female voice said. “I
checked your phone while we were at Over the Rainbow the other
night and saw the picture of your little friend. Really, Quin? You
said she was a bumpkin but I never imagined you were bedding Ellie
Mae Clampett. I mean, bare feet? What is she, a hobbit? Anyway,
I’ve been invited to Ryan’s premiere three weeks from now. Please
be home in time to escort me. Seriously, lover, have your fun but
that girl is not up to your standards. Finish your job and come
home. Your people miss you.”

When the message played out, the
machine clicked back to answer mode. Dixie took a deep breath and
turned to face him.

“
Rose . . .” Quin began, a
plea in his voice.

Dixie shook her head, backing away
from his outstretched hand. “No. You heard her. Your people miss
you. You should go to them. Now.”

“
Rose, it’s not like that.”
He followed her across the front room. “I never said you were a
bumpkin or that you weren’t up to my standards.”

She stopped, hand on the doorknob.
“Maybe not but you thought it plenty of times. Didn’t you?” His
hesitation was like a fist to her stomach. She closed her eyes,
head tipped heavenward to beg for some dignity. She took a deep
breath and blew it out. “I see. You should go now,
Quin.”

“
Rose—”

“
Goddamnit!” She wrenched
the door open. “Now look at what I’ve done. I’ve taken the Lord’s
name in vain. I asked you a hundred times not to call me that. Now
I’m not askin’. Do not call me Rose, and get out of my damn
house.”

He nodded. “All right, I’m going.
We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

Dixie stiffened. “Maybe we will and
maybe we won’t.” He stepped onto the porch and she slammed the
door. Hard. Thank goodness she didn’t work on Sunday.

* * *

Dixie pulled into the parking lot of
the Southern Interfaith Worship Center and cut the ignition. She’d
no sooner started up the stairs when Quin sprinted up to her and
hooked arms with her.

“
Good morning, Dixie Rose.
Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Of all the things he could have done,
this was the one thing Dixie never expected. Being from California,
there was no way Quin could understand what it meant—in Texas,
anyway— when a man accompanied a woman to church. And while he
certainly hadn’t driven her, he was escorting her up the steps and
into the building.