Gettin' Lucky (Love and Laughter) (3 page)

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Authors: Kimberly Raye

BOOK: Gettin' Lucky (Love and Laughter)
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“Planning on joining me in my nakedness?”
“Of course not.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Great. This is just great.”
“Not yet, but it could be.”
Her eyes snapped open. “What?”
“This—you and me—two naked strangers.”
“I think one naked stranger is enough.” She grabbed at her waistband with frantic fingers.
“Here. Let me.”
“No, that’s all right. This always happens to me—” His fingers brushed hers. Flesh met flesh and her hands stilled. Their gazes locked as they waited to see what he would do next.
Another breathless moment and Tyler slid the button into place. The action seemed to relax her. Relief eased her expression. “Do you always walk around with your pants undone?”
“My pants, my shoelaces, a few buttons on my shirt.” She gave him a look that said she’d given the subject a great deal of thought. “I try, but it seems I’m always missing something.”
“That must be quite a sight. A shame you’re not from around here.”
“No, it’s fortunate.” She blew out a long breath. “Geez, but it’s hot here. Speaking of which, where is here?”
“Here is private property.”
“Oh.” As if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, instead of simply ogling the cookie, she added, “I’m sorry. If you’ll point me in the right direction, I’ll be going.”
“I thought you didn’t ask naked strangers for directions?”
“You’re not naked. Not anymore.”
He glanced down at his bare chest. “Almost.”
“Well, almost isn’t naked.” She ducked under his arm and moved around him. “Is it?”
“No, but it’s close enough.” He turned toward her, closing the few inches of distance she’d opened between them.
“I could scream.”
“You could, but what for? Because I’m a stranger, or because I’m almost naked?”
“Maybe both.”
“But I’m not the stranger here. You are. Besides,” he said, holding up his hands. “I never molest trespassers. Shoot them maybe. But never molest them.” His words drew a smile from her. “So tell me, how did you get this far off the road?”
“I was looking for a tree. One tree.” She laughed. “Now I’m surrounded by them.”
“Well, to get unsurrounded, you head that way.” He pointed to his left. “Straight through those trees about five minutes, then you’ll be in open pasture. You’ll see the road from there.”
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
“No,” she said over her shoulder as she started off through the trees. “It was definitely my pleasure. You’ve got a great set of buns.”
“I wish I could say the same.” But her jeans were too baggy and he couldn’t quite make out any curves. And that was the real shame, he thought as he watched her disappear between two towering oaks, because it had been quite a while since Tyler Grant had wanted to look. Really wanted to look.
Damn.
If he’d had even half the wild child left in him, he’d have coaxed her out of those pants and seen for himself. But sixteen years away had tamed the hellion he’d once been. At thirty-two, he was exactly what his mother had always wanted him to be: a gentleman. Funny thing was, Tyler Grant had never regretted it until now.
2
W
HEN LUCKY finally broke free from the trees, she saw her cab on the horizon. Breathless moments later, she vaulted over the fence and stared behind her. The pasture was empty, the grass swaying with the faint breeze. Not a sign of Tight Tush.
Unfortunately, her hormones whispered.
Thankfully, her brain corrected. As if he would have followed her in the first place. He’d been flirting. Just innocent flirting. She’d seen it time and time again.
But no one had ever directed any flirting at her and she was still a little shaken up over it. More so because she’d liked it. Yeah, she’d liked it a lot, she thought, climbing into the cab.
She definitely had to step up her manhunting efforts. Maybe if she smiled a little, invested in one of those push-up bras, she might persuade Buster—Wait a minute. Buster?
Yeah, Buster, her desperate hormones insisted. He was nice enough, maybe a little crass. He didn’t do drugs, though she often wondered, considering how clueless he was when it came to the opposite sex. He was sweet at times. Funny. Obnoxious.
Available, her hormones chimed in. And gainfully employed, and that’s all Lucky really needed.
That, and to find Tyler Grant, she thought as she shot a glance at the wallet sitting next to her on the seat.
She’d barely started the engine when she heard sirens. She glanced in her rearview mirror to see a cloud of dust on the horizon and a set of whirling red and blue lights. The sheriff’s car pulled up behind her in a matter of seconds.
Lucky killed the engine when two uniform-clad officers climbed out of the car. One was a large man, intimidating in his starched beige uniform and wide-brimmed hat. Straight out of an old
Smokey and the Bandit
movie. She adjusted her rearview mirror to get a glimpse of his sidekick. He looked friendlier, his expression mildly curious as he licked an ice-cream cone.
“Can I see some ID, miss?” It was Smokey, leaning down, peering into the driver’s window to capture her in the glare of his aviator sunglasses.
“You guys should have been here an hour ago,” Lucky said, handing him her identification and proof of insurance. “I wouldn’t have had to lug the spare out of the trunk myself.”
“This is an Illinois license, miss, and it’s expired.”
“Oops. I forgot.” One hand dived into the leather pouch hooked onto her radio knob. She rummaged through a mess of receipts, several sticks of chewing gum, a few tissues, until she finally found a crumpled slip of paper. “Here’s the current license. I’m new here. Transplanted from Chicago.” She gave him a wide smile.
His expression didn’t even crack.
So much for southern hospitality.
Smokey scoured the papers, and Lucky had the sudden urge to check her speedometer. But she hadn’t been speeding. The car hadn’t even been moving. So why did she feel so guilty?
A glimpse of naked flesh and rippling muscles flashed in front of her and her face grew hot. Her gaze cut to Smokey. Did he know? Had Tight Tush actually reported her for trespassing? He’d been so nice, so helpful, so... well, naked. She wiped a trickle of sweat from her temple. She hadn’t seen a cellular phone. Actually, she hadn’t seen much of anything besides—
“Long way from Houston,” Smokey said.
“Just four hours. Is there something wrong, Officer?”
Silence stretched between them while Smokey handed her back her ID. “No,” he started, his gaze sweeping the interior of the car. “We’ve had some trouble nearby so we’re checking out all suspicious-looking vehicles—” The words stalled when those mirrored glasses came to rest on the wallet next to her.
“I think you’d better step out of the car. Now. We just caught you red-handed, missy.”
Lucky closed her eyes at Smokey’s words. How much time could she get for trespassing? Spying? Surely a fine was the most they could give her. “Look, this is all really just a big misunderstanding. I know I shouldn’t have climbed the fence, but I had no choice. The diet soda just ran right through me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Smokey demanded.
“Trespassing. That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Hell, no, miss. We’re here about a burglary. The perpetrator was last spotted headed down this road, out of town.”
“Burglary?”
Was Tight Tush really a burglar? An escapee from the local prison farm? “He didn’t look like a dangerous criminal.” Okay, maybe dangerous, she amended silently. Very dangerous, to her sanity, that is.
“You’re under arrest.”
“
Me?
But I just had to go to the rest room. And there he was. I couldn’t help but look. Had I known he was a hardened criminal...” Her mouth went dry at the fitting vision the words conjured. “Er, that is, a criminal, I would have gone first thing to the cops. I swear—”
“Tell it to the judge.” Smokey reached for handcuffs.
“But I didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t arrest me for unwilling spying. I did trespass, but it was an emergency and—”
“You’re not under arrest for trespassing or spying, missy. You’re under arrest for burglary.” He motioned to the wallet his sidekick had picked up from the front seat.
“But I didn’t steal that. I found it.”
“Check for a weapon, Billy,” Smokey told the sidekick.
“I don’t have a gun!” she insisted. When he went to snap the handcuffs on her wrists, she tried to jerk free. “This is crazy! I was only taking a little leak, then a little peek, and I certainly didn’t rob anyone! This is unlawful arrest!”
He snapped first one cuff on, then the other, before whirling her to face the cab. “Evidence doesn’t lie. A wallet and several other items were reported stolen by Mr. Tyler Grant and we just found you in possession of that wallet.” He started to pat her down and Lucky’s face flamed hotter. He reached her sides and she erupted into a fit of giggles.
“Ahhhhhh ! Please! Stop it,” she begged, choking when tears started in her eyes. Another pat, another suppressed giggle and Smokey held up a pack of bubble gum. “I didn’t know gum was considered dangerous in this state,” she snorted, her eyes still watering, nerves still tingling.
“Quiet, missy. You find anything else besides the wallet?” he asked Billy. “Any of the other stuff?”
“A couple of packs of chewing gum, an air freshener, a flashlight. Back seat’s clean.”
“Maybe she hid the rest, or ditched some of it when she saw us coming. Dammit, I told Tyler not to bring no city woman out here. Steal you blind if you ain’t careful.”
“But I didn’t steal that wallet. I was returning it!”
Smokey didn’t acknowledge her frantic words. He slammed and locked the cab’s doors, then shoved her keys into his pocket.
“I’m innocent! I was bringing the wallet back.
Back!”
“Just calm down, ma’am,” Billy said as he stepped forward, a puzzled look on his face. “Didn’t Tyler say she hightailed it out of here in Mitchell Pike’s old Chevy?” His gaze swept the cab. “This don’t look like Pike’s old rattletrap to me.”
“Criminals ditch stolen cars all the time,” Smokey said.
“You’ve been watching too many Adam-12’ reruns,” Billy told Smokey. “What criminal in their right mind would trade Pike’s Chevy for a cab? Sort of conspicuous if you ask me.”
“Nobody asked you,” Smokey grumbled. He guided her into the back of the waiting patrol car. “If Tyler wanted someone to teach his daughter how to be a lady,” Smokey went on, “he should’ve hired Merline over at the Piggly Wiggly. The woman’s about as ladylike as you can get. Carries a linen handkerchief to church, and cooks the meanest fried chicken...”
Merline? The Piggly Wiggly?
Burglary?
It wasn’t hell she’d landed in. It was the Twilight Zone. A weird, twisted episode Texas style. She half expected to hear Rod Serling’s deep voice, with the “Yellow Rose of Texas” playing in the background.
Not that even one moment of this nightmare actually surprised her, not with her never-ending string of rotten luck. But she was in Texas, of all places, and Texans were supposed to be nicer, weren’t they?
More like kookier, from the looks of things. Way kooky.
“This is crazy,” she said as the car sped down the road. “You can’t arrest me when I haven’t done anything.”
“Maybe she’s telling the truth,” Billy said as he turned to Smokey. “Don’t forget Pike’s truck.”
“We found her with the evidence, Billy. Tyler reported his wallet stolen by a woman, a
strange
woman, not from around here. Can’t get any stranger than her.”
“Have you looked in the mirror lately, fella?” Lucky’s words earned her a quick glare.
“Could be like she said.” Billy glanced at her. “Got kind of an honest face, don’t you think? Honest eyes? And what burglar in her right mind would swipe a cab for a getaway car?” Billy shook his head. “Come on, Hank. The chief 11 be some kind of mad if he has to postpone his fishing trip for nothing.”
“Doggone it.” Smokey shook his head. “Oh, all right. If it’ll shut you up, I’ll take her out to Tyler’s first.” The car nosed for the shoulder, then made a complete turn.
“Finally some justice,” Lucky said. Tyler Grant could tell these bozos she wasn’t the robber, she could return his wallet, ask for her eighty-dollar fare and get the hell out of Dodge. Or Ulysses. Or wherever she was.
They drove a good twenty minutes before she spotted the house, a sprawling one-story structure set at least a half mile back from the road. A lush green lawn surrounded the place. Several trees stood tall and proud, their large, lazy branches shielding the surrounding yard from the blinding sunlight.
It wasn’t one of those fake mansion-style homes. No, this place looked lived in. It made you think of homemade apple pie and picnics. Just the sort of place that should have a bunch of kids racing back and forth across the grass. A few swings hanging from the trees. Bicycles on the huge porch out front. A cozy wicker love seat just the right size for Lucky and a certain naked stranger...
The car made a sharp turn, effectively killing the vision. They jerked to a stop outside the house. Smokey climbed from behind the wheel and stomped to the front door.
“Chicago,” Billy started. “Why, I bet they got all kinds of ice-cream flavors, being a big city and all...”
Smokey disappeared inside the house and Lucky was left listening to Billy discuss the merits of wild raspberry delight versus chocolate fudge ecstasy.
“Here they come,” Lucky said when Smokey appeared in the doorway. Lucky tried to stare past him to the man that followed, but she couldn’t make out more than a tanned arm here and there, a jeans-clad thigh, scuffed boots.
“Seems you’re off the hook, missy,” Smokey grumbled as he yanked open the door, pulled Lucky from the seat and unlocked the cuffs. “Tyler here says you ain’t the thief.”
“At least someone around here has some sense—” The words died when she turned to find herself staring up at the delicious naked stranger with the unforgettable buns.
“You!
You didn’t tell me
you
were Tyler Grant.”
“I didn’t know you were looking for him.”
“Well, yes. I found his—your—wallet this morning.”
“This reunion’s sweet and all,” Smokey cut in, “but Billy and I got a burglar to catch.” He tipped his hat at Tyler and said, “Keep you posted.”
“Wait a second.” She whirled as the car doors slammed shut “You guys have my keys—” The rest of her sentence drowned in the rev of an engine. The police car bolted down the driveway, gravel spewing from the rear tires.
“
I
have your keys,” came the deep voice behind her. “And relax. I’ll give you a ride back as soon as you tell me how you got my wallet.”
“Like I told Smokey, I found it in the back of my cab.” She turned to find Tight Tush staring at her with his heated eyes. Mesmerizing blue eyes as deep as the Caribbean. The kind of blue you could wade waist-deep through and still see your toes. She forced her gaze from his to look at the rest of him. He was far from
au naturel
now, yet he looked every bit as Marlboro-man masculine with his denim shirt, faded jeans and worn cowboy boots. A far cry from Buster and his bowling buddies.
“So you found my wallet?”
“In the back of my cab after I dropped off your wife.”
“My
wife?”
Incredulity etched his features for a shocked moment.. “Well, how do you like that?” he finally said. Then he burst out laughing. But it wasn’t a happy sound. Anger flashed in his eyes, turning them a deep, fathomless turquoise. “Beautiful. Just friggin’ beautiful.”
“She was.”
“Who?”
“Your wife.”
“Honey, she wasn’t my wife.”
“But she was carrying your wallet and...” Her sentence trailed off as Smokey’s voice echoed in her mind...
burglary.
“You mean she was—I’ve been carrying around hot property?”
“Scorching, but the wallet wasn’t the only thing she ripped off. She took the entire contents of my safe. Nearly fifty thousand dollars’ worth of money and jewelry. Hightailed it out of here before daybreak.”

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