The Way to Texas (13 page)

He rolled her over and increased his pace. She wrapped her legs tight around him, giving him deeper access.

He could feel his release building in his lower belly, tightening his balls.

“I can't last much longer,” he whispered in her ear, as he slid his hands down to grasp her bottom and lift her. The words had no more escaped his lips than he felt her tighten around him and the first tremors hit her body.

Her head arched on the bed and a groan ripped from her throat. He covered her open mouth with his and joined her in that most majestic place as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over him.

Finally, he lay still, cradled in her arms, only the harsh sound of their breathing filling the room. Tyson rolled off her, flinging one arm out on the bed and leaving his other beneath Dawn. A canopy stretched above them, a reminder they lay in a bed carved many years before, in a room designed to remind them of the past.

“Oh, my,” Dawn said to no one in particular. And for a moment, her words took him back to the time when paddleboats sailed the lake a mile or two away from the hotel. This woman could have easily been the mistress of his cotton plantation and he her master. Or more likely, Dawn would have been some luscious senorita sent to tempt him with her kohl-rimmed eyes and a low-bodice gown.

A horn sounded on the street below him, totally ruining his crazy daydream of post–Civil War trysts. Orgasms did that for him. Every time after he came, he
turned into some daisy-chain weaving little girl bent on fantasy.

Of course, the reality was that he was lying on a fancy bed, utterly exhausted by the best sex he'd had since Clinton was president, still wearing a spent condom. “I hope we're not sharing a bathroom with any of the other guests.”

Dawn gave a sleepy laugh. “He said a private bath with a claw-foot tub, remember?”

“I was too busy thinking about how I was going to lure you into this bed to listen much to what he had to say,” he responded, sitting up. “Be right back.”

He found the bathroom easily enough and made short work of cleaning up.

When he returned, Dawn was sound asleep, sprawled out naked and looking as delectable as a Southern Maid doughnut. Desire stirred within him though he couldn't fathom burning the coverlet up for a second go around. Yet. Instead, he pulled the covers back and ever so gently eased Dawn beneath them. She snuggled right up to him and within seconds he joined her in the soundest slumber he'd had in a while.

“Y
OU GONNA EAT THAT
?
I'm starving,” Tyson said eyeing the decadent orange-blossom muffin sitting on the side of her plate.

She lifted a fork. “Touch it and you'll be missing a finger.”

He grinned. “God, I love it when you talk tough.”

She swirled her fork at him. “So I recall.”

Silverware clattered in the breakfast room surrounding the wrought iron table at which they sat. Their table perched just inside the courtyard of the hotel where doors opened to the crisp morning breeze. The scenery out the doors was picturesque—herbs overflowed iron planters, a ginger cat curled up on an ancient brick paver and Texas sunshine fell onto the purple pansies and golden chrysanthemums frolicking around the enormous stone fountain. It felt as if the world celebrated the lovemaking they'd shared throughout the night.

“Sorry we didn't make the dinner reservation,” she said, pushing a bit of egg around the toile-patterned plate. When they'd woken from their nap, dinner was long past so they'd settled for an appetizer at a nearby grill before hurrying back to their room to pursue other pleasures.

He dashed away the hair hanging in his eyes, and said, “Are you kidding? I'd rather have what I had than a steak.”

Pleasure filled her. “Are you comparing me to beef?”

“Well, you do have pretty brown eyes. You know, like a cow.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he must have realized what he said. “Wait, what I meant is you have eyes with those thick lashes. And cows, well, they actually have pretty eyes. And—” He snapped his mouth shut.

She arched one eyebrow, a little trick she'd taught herself after watching all those glamour-pusses in the old black-and-white movies on AMC. Then she totally ruined it by smiling.

He shrugged. “Sometimes I'm not so good with the compliments.”

“So I see.”

A few minutes passed in companionable silence. Dawn took time to notice the little things about the man who'd taken her to dance among the stars quite a few times over the course of the night. He drank his coffee with one sweetener, and he liked lots of pepper on his eggs. He passed over the strawberry jam for apple jelly and didn't eat the fat on the bacon. He also didn't look at anyone else in the room but her. It was a nice change and showed the man Tyson truly was. And he
was
different from every other man she'd known—something she'd known from the moment she met him. So, if he was different, the relationship could also be different than any she'd ever had. Perhaps, the old wives' tale was correct. The third time was the charm.

But still, she felt cautious. As though maybe the reason she felt so happy, so absolutely free to pursue possibilities with Tyson was because she wasn't in her reality. Instead she was fifty miles away from her
temporary home, enjoying orange-blossom muffins and tea in a century-old hotel on a weekend adventure with a man who'd moments before treated her to a naughty bubble bath in a claw-foot tub. This was nothing like reality.

Maybe she was being way too pragmatic. She didn't want this to be only a fling, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to tumble into love. For the time being, she'd stop overthinking. Stop expecting the worst. It wasn't as if Tyson's wife was going to show up with two kids in tow and catch them necking in front of the Houston Museum of Natural History.

No, Tyson's soon-to-be ex-wife would stay in Dallas. But his thirteen-year-old daughter would be here on Sunday.

Now that was a romantic fantasy killer.

“What are you thinking about?” Tyson asked, polishing off the last of his coffee.

“Your wife,” she said, taking a sip of her spiced breakfast tea.

Tyson looked as though he might choke on the last of his omelet. “Please. Let's not think about my ex-wife.”

“Almost ex-wife. And we haven't talked about the elephant in the room. About her cheating on you.”

He set his fork on his empty plate. “There's not much to say. It's history. I haven't been with Karen in years. She left me for my business partner. Remember?” He seemed so matter of fact. Something like that would crush most people. Something like that had crushed her.

“How come it doesn't bother you?” she asked, looking around to make sure there weren't any nosy folks catching juicy tidbits. No one seemed to pay attention to them.

“It bothered me. Still does. I came home from some godforsaken country to find my wife and daughter so different I barely knew them. And then my partner Corbin acted strangely. I knew something was up. When I found out, it hurt. In fact, it hurt pretty badly. But what good is it to carry pain around and wear it for the world to see? I can't change what happened. I can only move forward.” By the way he'd said it, she could tell he didn't want to talk about the past anymore.

Maybe he was right. Maybe that's what she'd been doing. Carrying around the pain of her mistakes. Perhaps her baggage blocked the view into her future. She'd have to think more about that idea.

But not today. Today was not about the reality of life. No broken dreams, battered pride or leaky faucets. Today was about sunshine, antiquing and stealing kisses.

“Okay, I get it,” she said, tossing her napkin beside her nearly empty plate. “Let's not talk about things like cheating spouses or Mr. Thompson's gout or how many times Mae wakes me up during the night. No unpaid bills, diet shakes or ungrateful kids.”

Tyson laughed. “Mr. Thompson's got gout?”

“Stuff it,” Dawn said, scooting her chair back from the table. “I'm ready to shop and shop some more.”

“Spoken like a true woman,” he said, trying to dredge up a frown. But he couldn't. His topaz eyes shimmered with something similar to what welled inside her.

She was pretty certain that something was joy.

“You sure you want to come with me? I mean, I could go antiquing by myself,” she said, picking up her purse. She'd been putting aside some cash to buy Christmas presents. Surely, today would be the perfect day to get some of those on her list checked off.

“Are you kidding? I live for exquisitely crafted wood. No better place to find it than in antiques shops. Plus, I'm still sleeping in my old bed from junior high. Slats fall out underneath if I sit down too hard. I'd love to find an old rice sleigh or bed.”

Dawn dug inside her purse for her Costa Del Mar sunglasses then popped them on. She also pulled out a pamphlet. “I've got a brochure right here with a map of the stores. Some have only knickknacks, but others have serious furniture.”

“Lead on,” Tyson said, waving to the front-desk lady and grabbing Dawn's hand.

She wondered if a glow of happiness surrounded her. Because it sure felt that way. For the first time in the longest time, she felt taken care of. She felt bubbly and silly and fun. She felt like there was something more than merely existing.

 

“H
ERE, HOLD THIS.
I'm going to win you that pink elephant,” Tyson said, handing her his half-eaten candy apple. Dawn grabbed the apple and immediately took a bite. The crackling of the sugar coating along with the crisp flavor of Granny Smith apple filled her mouth. Yum. She'd forgotten how good one of these could be.

She watched as Tyson approached the carnival booth and dug money out of his pocket. Men. They loved to throw balls at anything.

All around her people swirled, laughing and fussing, holding hands and high-fiving, and chasing kids and kissing them. She and Tyson had happened upon a Thanksgiving carnival hosted by an Episcopal church, and Tyson had insisted they make a donation, aka, eat funnel cakes, buy raffle tickets for a handmade quilt and play silly games. They'd already won a goldfish
throwing Ping-Pong balls. They'd named the fish Homer and given him to a kid who'd been in near tears because he couldn't win one. His mother hadn't looked too pleased, but the boy had grinned from ear to ear. He'd reminded her of Andrew at that age.

“Here you go. One pink elephant,” Tyson said shoving the fluffy stuffed animal her way and taking his caramel apple. “Hey, you ate some of my apple.”

“Not all of it,” Dawn said, looking down at her new acquisition. “So you won it, huh?”

“Sure,” he said, devouring the other half of the apple in three bites. “I thought you were watching. I was trying to impress you with my arm speed.”

“Oh, you impress me all right. I haven't had this much fun in…well, I'm not sure I've ever really had a true date to compare it to.”

Tyson pulled her to him as they walked over to a display of yarn-crafted tissue holders. “Never had a date? You're kidding.”

“Well, my parents refused to let me date until I was sixteen, which proved wise since I was a late bloomer. I even wore reading glasses. I wasn't exactly a nerd, just a non-entity. Boys ignored me.”

“Can't imagine that,” Tyson said as he picked up a fluorescent yellow-and-green tissue box. “What's this for?”

Dawn laughed. “Tissues.”

A girl of about thirteen blinked at them through the same sort of glasses Dawn had worn at that age. “That's only five dollars.”

Tyson smiled at her. “Did you make these?”

Her eyes shifted away. She was a shy one. “Yes, sir, my grams and me made them.”

“Well, I'll take it,” Tyson said, digging more money out of his wallet. “You did a nice job.”

The girl took the money and placed the tissue box in a plastic grocery bag. Tyson took it and winked at her. Dawn swore the girl puffed her chest out a bit as they walked away. That was her Tyson—saving the female race one prepubescent heart at a time. Hell, who was she kidding? He was saving her very adult heart, patching it up and filling it again.

“What are you going to do with that?” Dawn asked.

“Christmas present,” he said, eyeing a booth advertising apple cake and pumpkin bread. “You were telling me why you didn't date.”

“Oh, yeah, I lost the baby fat, tried out for cheerleader and got a perm. It did wonders for my social life. Not to mention, my pops finally let me go out with my friends. So I went to the movies, drank wine coolers and basically tried to be as cool as a chick could be in a California dairy town.”

They stopped so he could buy a few loaves of bread before continuing toward the carnival rides set up in the park across from the church.

“I remember the night I first saw Larry. I didn't know it at the time, but he'd been sent to stay with his aunt because he'd been getting in trouble in L.A.—skipping school to surf and smoke pot. He was all Malibu sunshine and swagger. And, ol' Larry knew how to cull the weakest from the pack. I was ripe for the picking. We didn't really have a date. He just got me in the backseat of his aunt's Crown Victoria and next thing I knew my panties were on the floorboard.”

Tyson studied her.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, “I was young and stupid. Larry didn't have to do much sweet-talking.

“I wasn't looking at you because of that. Because, lady, you didn't give it up easy to me.”

Dawn laughed. “I've been burned twice. It kinda makes a girl more careful with charming, good-looking guys.”

He tugged her toward the Ferris wheel and waggled his eyebrows. “Why thank you, my dear.”

“So, next thing I know, Larry's moved on to Marla Baker and I'm suddenly very queasy. Long story short. My dad raised hell, Larry conceded and I pulled on my Sunday best. We came to Texas to live with my aunt and uncle. Larry went to work in my uncle's vacuum cleaner repair shop, and I changed dirty diapers and got my GED.”

He pressed his lips together and stared down at her. “Tough to do when you're still a kid yourself.”

She nodded. “Yeah, but what doesn't kill us, huh?”

“Still.”

“So no time for dates, although that didn't stop Larry from having a few.”

Tyson didn't say anything, but she thought she felt his outrage. Something in the way his jaw tightened. “I held that marriage together for almost fourteen years. Mostly for Andrew's sake. I felt he deserved to have a whole family. And also because I got used to what I had. Just existing.”

“Why did you end the marriage?”

“I found Larry's girl of the week's bra in our bed. He'd never brought one home before. I decided I didn't want Andrew having that kind of father in the house after all. Plus, I was finally pissed. Wanted to kill Larry. I'd rather have Andrew have one parent who could
actually take care of him. Maybe mold some values in him, help him grow into a good man.”

Tyson nodded. “Couldn't do that from jail, could you?”

Dawn laughed. She rarely talked about her past, mostly because it dredged up too much shame, but, so far, Tyson wasn't heading for the hills. Yet. “No, I couldn't. Plus, leaving Larry was a long time coming.”

They found themselves in a long line. “Wait here, I'll get some tickets.”

Dawn really didn't want to ride the Ferris wheel, but Tyson looked like a kid at the opportunity. The ride whirred above her, a dizzying blur of motion. After a minute or so, the ride stopped, stranding a cluster of teenagers on top who took great delight in throwing popcorn down on kids waiting in line.

“Got 'em,” Tyson said, slipping in line behind her and curving his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. He kissed the shell of her ear. “I love the Ferris wheel. Makes me feel like I'm a kid again.”

“I can tell,” she said.

They stood, content to brush against one another as they waited their turn. Finally, the operator opened a swinging car and motioned for them to climb inside. After making sure the bar clicked in place, she settled against Tyson's arm where it stretched across the back of the seat.

A moment later they were climbing into the Texas sky. The car came to rest at the very top.

“Wow.” He pointed out the sun sinking into the horizon. Lofty pines looked like grass beneath their feet.