Texas Fandango: Texas Montgomery Mavericks, Book 3 (12 page)

After watching the dancers for about fifteen minutes—or was it twenty?—Drake entered the ballroom in the wake of a steaming Elsie Belle. She wondered what had happened. Elsie’s face was flushed. She walked stiffly as though every muscle was tight. Every look she gave Drake—and anyone else who dared look her way—was a hostile glare.

The petty side of KC hoped they’d had a raging fight and Drake had told her he would never see her again. Her more mature side—which agreed a little with her petty side—hoped—nope, she was lying. Both sides of her hoped they’d had a knock-down drag-out fight.

When Drake pulled Elsie into his arms to dance, KC had to shut her eyes against the pain. Her stomach roiled and hurt. Her body heated. Her head ached. Who knew being in love and being jealous felt like having the flu? Once she got control of her rampant jealousy, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into Drake’s gaze. Drake had danced his date close to where KC sat. He was focusing on KC, not his date.

Travis walked Caroline to where KC sat and KC shoved a chair out with her foot. “Sit,” she commanded. “Keep me company while I drink myself under the table.”

Travis held the chair for Caroline as she sat. “Be right back,” he said. “Thought I’d grab us something cold to drink.”

As soon as he was gone, Caroline turned to KC. “What’s going on with you? What’s with the drinking yourself under the table nonsense?”

“Pay me no attention.” Her gaze flicked toward Drake and Elsie Belle as they danced by. She drained her wineglass. “Bastard.”

Caroline followed KC’s gaze. “Drake Gentry? That’s who’s got you drowning your sorrows tonight?”

“Absolutely not,” KC lied. “Why would I care if he’s here with the biggest social skank in the county? Damn. I should have had Travis get me another drink.” She turned her back to the dance floor.

The WSCC End of Summer dance had a history of someone doing something to liven up the night. One year, old man Ritter had dropped his pants to moon the crowd. Of course, he’d claimed his pants had fallen down when his belt broke but nobody believed that. Then there was the year Callie Young climbed on the table and did a strip tease. Just as KC was thinking that this year’s event was a drag and maybe she should go home, Elsie Belle Lambert jumped on the stage to save the day.

Drunk and staggering, Elsie Belle commandeered the microphone and proceeded to make a total fool of herself. Drake, bless his heart, tried his best to get her off the stage before she embarrassed herself. Luckily for the crowd, he failed and Elsie Belle toasted herself into this year’s event for the history books. Finally, she lost her balance on her fuck-me pumps, tumbled backward and was caught by Drake, who tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, waved bye to the crowd and left.

KC decided nothing else tonight would top the Elsie Belle drunk show, so she was heading home. She waved her goodbyes and headed for her car. Truth be told, she had no business driving, and if she’d actually spoken her goodbyes instead of waving, some family member would have snatched her keys from her hand.

The amount of wine she’d drunk had her vision a little blurry and her walk just shy of steady. Still, she wasn’t that far from home. She could keep it between the lines.

As she stepped off the last stair into the parking lot, she saw Drake buckling an unconscious Elsie Belle into his car.

“Nice job,” she called with a wave. “Getting her out of there, I mean.”

He turned, and for a second froze. Then he shut the door of his Range Rover and headed over to her.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she said and then closed one eye to help her focus. “Want to hear something funny?”

“Sure.”

“There’s three of you. Right here in front of me.” She pointed. “One. Two. Three.” She swayed. “You know what three times one is?”

He smiled and her gut tugged.

“You’re so pretty.” She leaned toward him and whispered, “You may be a total shitbag, but you can do better than Elsie Belle Lambert.”

As though just remembering he had a date, he glanced over his shoulder toward his SUV. His date was slumped against the window, clearly asleep.

Drake reached out and ran a finger along the curve of her chin, leaving a trail of fire.

“Don’t.” She jerked her head back out of his reach. “I gotta go,” she said and began to walk toward her car.

“You shouldn’t be driving.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You’ve been drinking.”

“How do you know what I’ve been doing? Ha!” Her voice rang with triumph. “You don’t know ’cause you weren’t with me.” The ground beneath her feet moved and she stumbled to her left. “So leave me alone.”

He took her arm. “No, I won’t leave you alone. You can’t drive. Give me your keys.”

“Fine then. I’ll walk home. I can do that.” Ready to make a dignified exit, she yanked her arm out of his grasp. He must have held on too long because when she pulled her arm, she staggered. “Hey. You almost made me fall.”

She thought she saw the corners of his mouth twitch. “Are you laughing at me?” She squinted in a glare, or she thought she did. She wasn’t sure as he didn’t appear all that threatened.

“I would never laugh at you,” Drake said and then ran his hand over his mouth. “But I’m not letting you drive or walk home alone. Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“Won’t your date mind?” Her tone was sarcastic and she was pleased with herself, even if the ground kept moving.

“No, she’ll never know.” He took her arm. “I want to make sure you get home safely.”

“Why? Wait. Don’t answer that. I know.” She tried to snap her fingers, but getting her thumb to meet her middle finger proved impossible. “Looking at your date, I know the answer. You take care of all the sluts in the county, right?”

His steps faltered and then he stopped. “I didn’t say that. Jesus, I didn’t even think that.”

She lifted her nose in the air. “But you covered me up with a towel like you were ashamed of how I was dressed.”

He nodded. “I had no right to do that. I’m sorry.”

She was mortified when a tear rolled down her cheek.

He put his arms around her. “Hell, honey, I didn’t want those other guys to see you in the suit I bought you.”

“Because it doesn’t look good on me.” The statement was made as a fact, not a question. The realization that he was embarrassed for her to be seen in an inappropriate outfit in public made her wish the ground would open and swallow her. At least this horrible night and her horrible love life would be history.

He pulled back until he could look her in the eye and then he chuckled. “Nope. You’ve got that all wrong. I didn’t want those guys looking at you because you looked too damn good in it.”

“I did?” She sniffed.

He gave a short snort. “Hell, yes. You looked so hot I was surprised the water in the pool wasn’t boiling.”

Her heart got all soft and gooey at his words. She smiled even as another tear dripped. “Then I don’t understand,” she said, her chin quivering as she fought a fresh round of crying. “Why did you care if the other guys looked at me?” She turned away from him. “We aren’t a couple or anything.” She lowered her gaze to the pavement. “I mean, other than running into you at the Hendersons’, I haven’t heard from you since you left me at my house last Sunday.”

His body heat radiated to her bare back as he stepped close to her. “That’s true.” He rested his heavy hands on her shoulders. “Us not being together isn’t my idea. It’s yours.”

Her mind swam as if she’d been knocked in the head by a rock. “My idea?” She looked over her shoulder. “Where did you get that crazy notion?” She tried to turn around to face him, but the heel of her shoe rolled on a pebble and she stumbled.

“That does it. You’re not driving or walking home.” When she opened her mouth to reply he said, “Don’t argue. I’m taking you home.”

“Because I’m drunk.”

“Because I care about you. I care a lot. And I miss you and need you to be safe.”

Had she heard him correctly? He cared about her? A lot? Wow. Did he really say that or was her wine-soaked brain playing word games with her? Right now, she didn’t care. She’d believe he cared, maybe even loved her, even if he hadn’t said those words. Or had he? She couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said. No matter. For tonight, she’d wrap herself in his words and enjoy the pleasure rushing through her.

But she had to admit that he was right about one thing. Driving herself home wasn’t her best idea.

“Okay. You may drive me home.” He took her arm, but after a couple of steps she jerked to a stop. She just had to know the truth. “You care about me? Care like I’m a girlfriend, right? Not like a little sister?”

He kissed the slight upturn at the end of her nose. “Like a girlfriend. Not like a sister.”

“Good.”

He led her to the backseat of his SUV, opened the door and helped her in. She held her finger to her mouth.

“Shh. Let’s not wake the sleeping dragon.”

Drake laughed and closed the door.

Sometime during the night, someone had broken into KC’s house and applied a vise to her head. That was the only explanation she could come up with when she awoke. Her eyes were swollen. A jackhammer was going to work on her temples and her mouth tasted as though she’d eaten a can of Jazz’s dog food. She could swear each individual strand of hair on her head pulsed with pain.

A full sun in a cloudless sky shot red-hot fire into her eyes. She slammed them shut…as much as anyone could slam swollen eyes. Looking through tiny slits, she could see she was in her bedroom, in her bed, wearing her pajamas. What confused her was how she’d gotten here. The last clear memory was talking to Caroline Graham about something…rings, maybe?

She rolled over, the action making her stomach revolt. Leaping from her bed, she made it to the bathroom before she lost all her stomach contents. She wet a wash cloth and pressed it to her head. How did she get home? She racked her brain and Drake’s face kept coming into view. She remembered seeing him at the dance with Elsie Belle Lambert. The sight had almost killed her. It’d certainly made her physically ill.

Sure she was past the stage of vomiting, she brushed her teeth. Not her usual quickie brush, but a thorough cleaning to rid her mouth of the nasty taste hanging in. As she restored her toothbrush into its holder, nausea rolled through her again. Damn cheap wine at the country club.

She climbed back into her bed, ready to die and meet God. She groaned and threw her forearm over her eyes. Thank goodness Monday was Labor Day. If she slept until then, maybe she’d be able to face Tuesday.

She shut her eyes and dreamed of Drake. Him holding her. Kissing her. Stroking her hair. Telling her how much he loved her. Rubbing her back while she lay in her bed. Playing with Jazz on the floor of her bedroom.

Her eyes popped open. Drake had never been in her bedroom. It had to be one of those dreams that seemed so real when morning came…a dream so vivid it was hard to tell where reality started and the dream stopped. She let her eyes drift shut. Yes, that had to be it. But, damn, it felt so real.

Her front door closed with a slam. Jazz barked and KC’s eyes flew back open. Jazz’s bark wasn’t a stranger bark, a warning-of-danger bark. It was a I’m-so-glad-to-see-you greeting.

KC tried to swallow against the rising knot of fear in her throat. Had someone broken in and given her worthless guard dog a treat?

“KC? Honey? You awake yet?”

She’d only thought her eyes were open. At the sound of Drake’s voice, her eyebrows shot up to her hairline, pulling her eyes to their full expansion. What the…?

“KC?” he called again. “Come on, squirt. Let’s go find your momma.”

KC scooted into a sitting position in the bed, her back squashed against the headboard. Without thought, she pulled her sheet up to her chin and then realized how stupid that was since this man had had his lips and tongue on almost every square inch of her flesh. What was he doing here?

“Good morning.” His smile was too sunny and bright for how crappy she felt.

“I see you survived. How are you feeling? I brought you coffee.” With that statement, he handed her a cup of coffee from her favorite coffee house.

After shoving her hair out of her eyes, she took the cup and drank. Oh, thank the heavens. It was like drinking the nectar of the gods, if you worshiped the god of caffeine.

“What are you doing here?” she croaked out. Her throat still ached from her last bout of vomiting. “I’m not speaking to you.”

His facial expression took on one of confusion, and she suspected their expressions matched at the moment.

“You don’t remember last night?” He sat on the edge of her bed.

Jazz clawed at his calves so he lifted her up onto the mattress with them. The puppy attacked KC with yips and licks. As much as KC loved her little hellion, she pushed Jazz out of her face and took another gulp of her coffee.

“Last night?”

“The dance? At the country club?” His brow furrowed. “Our conversation?”

She dropped her head against the top of the headboard and closed her eyes and tried to grab the fragments of memories from last night. Giving up on trying to piece together the puzzle of the last twelve hours, she met his gaze. “Okay, let’s say I don’t remember. Want to fill me in on what I said or did?” Her heart began to race. “Did we have sex?” She rubbed her eyes. “Surely I’d remember having sex. Did we?”