Sweet Dreams

My breath caught and I opened my mouth to say something but he’d disconnected.

  I touched the button and put my cell on the counter.

  Then I turned to Wood and asked, “You want coffee?”

  Wood crossed his arms on his chest and his eyes dropped to my bare, tan legs exposed by my cutoff jeans shorts. I’d cut off the legs of some of my old, fat jeans so the shorts hung on my hips but even I thought they looked kind of sweet, however, now, I was considering changing them.

  Wood’s gaze came back to mine, he grinned slow, it was no less sexy than the times I’d seen it before and he answered, “Yeah.”

  I went to get him coffee and I decided I was definitely wearing Tate’s tee to bed.

  * * * * *

  At 3:30 a.m. in the morning, I stood uncertainly in Tate’s living room watching Wood nab the remote.

  “Do you need more pillows?” I asked.

  “I’m all right, Laurie,” Wood answered, moving his body to lounge on the couch where I’d put the two sham covered pillows from Tate’s bed with the blanket from the couch.

  “Um… I need to –” I started.

  Wood flicked on the TV, turned the volume low and his eyes came to me.

  “Baby, go to bed,” he said gently.

  I nodded and his phone on the end table by the couch rang. He reached for it, looked at the display, grinned huge, flipped it open and put it to his ear.

  “Tate,” he said, his voice vibrating with the chuckle he was suffocating and I bit my lip and decided to listen to the conversation.

  “Yeah, she’s home safe and sound. No Neeta. Though, some guy named Brad turned up at Bubba’s.”

  I could swear I heard Tate roar, “What the fuck?”

  Or maybe that was in my head.

  Wood burst out laughing.

  Nope. It wasn’t in my head.

  I closed my eyes but opened them again when Wood started talking.

  “Yeah man, you meet this fuckin’ guy?” he asked, his voice amused. “I know. Total dick,” Wood agreed. “Bar was jammed. Saturday night but more. Word was out Neeta was in town. Half the folks came to see the faceoff; other half came to take Laurie’s back. Ned and Betty were there, both of ‘em. All the waitresses were there, even the ones who weren’t on including fuckin’ Jonelle. Krystal, Bubba and Dalton were all mannin’ the bar. Stella, Holly, Tyler that trainer and that gay guy who owns the salon showed. Even those two fuckin’ hippies were there, the guy still wearin’ those fuckin’ glasses even though it was night, purple this time.”

  This was true. Everyone I knew or even spoke to in Carnal was at the bar. Twyla even turned up. Apparently Neeta was a big draw. Also apparently I’d made some good friends.

  At first Krystal, Bubba, Jim-Billy, Wendy (who was on with me) and Wood seemed a little stunned at this show of support. Then they all thought it was hilarious. Then they all talked about it, loudly, sometimes yelling about it across the bar. My “posse” as Wood started to refer to them, joined in the yelling conversation and everyone thought this was the height of comedy, especially the more liquor they got down them. Even Krystal joined in the fun, not only making acid comments about Neeta (who it didn’t take a psychologist to read she did not like) but also ending the night doing shots with Twyla. I’d stood at the bar waiting for Dalton to fill an order and stared at her like I’d never met her. Dalton was right there with me. Then he turned to me, smiled and put my drinks on my tray.

  My mind came back into Tate’s living room when Wood started talking again. He was warming to his story and enjoying telling it if the massive grin on his face was anything to go by.

  “Then this fuckin’ guy walks in… to Bubba’s…” Wood started choking because he was laughing so hard he was having trouble speaking but he forced out, “in a fuckin’ golf shirt. Man, I think he had girl shit in his hair.”

  Wood lost his battle with his hilarity and burst out laughing.

  I wondered if Tate was laughing or if he was looking for something to throw.

  Wood controlled his mirth and, still chuckling, stated, “No wonder Laurie got in a car and fled suburbia. The prospect of that guy the rest of her life… Christ.”

  I sighed and crossed my arms on my chest.

  Wood kept talking. “Trouble? No man, he came in ready to bring it on but Laurie’s posse saw him walk in, eyes on her, they clocked him immediately and he didn’t make it within five feet of her. The whole lot of them closed in, except the hippies but they kept goin’ outside to their van so I think they were stoned outta their minds by this time. They were in their own world, they missed the whole thing. Anyway, he started to throw ‘tude and fuckin’ Jim-Billy, of all people, sucker punched him in the gut. Then that butch chick, the new waitress, she got him by the scruff and frog marched him out the door.” Wood shook his head. “Wish I had that shit on tape.

  I didn’t. Experiencing it once was enough.

  Though seeing Twyla frog march Brad out the door was kind of funny and Carrie and Mack would get a kick out of seeing it on tape.

  “No, Tate, not a problem. Bubba jumped on his bike and followed him to the town line. The guy got frog marched out the door by a chick. She’s solid and her chick status is questionable but I’m pretty certain she’s still a chick. That kinda hit to his manhood? He ain’t comin’ back.”

  Wood was wrong. Tate, Wood, Bubba, Jim-Billy, Dalton, they took that kind of hit to their manhood, they wouldn’t come back.

  Brad was another story. Brad got something in his head, even Twyla delivering a hit to his manhood wouldn’t get it out.

  Which meant I had the unpredictable Neeta and the stupid, stubborn, idiot Brad to worry about. Not to mention a night with me in Tate’s bed and Wood on Tate’s couch.

  I was beginning to wish I was back in Horizon Summit, locked behind the gates.

  Though I was wishing for the time when Brad was gone and I was there alone. I could have made it. I made good money. I’d have to fire Griselle, the cleaner and Juan-Carlos, the gardener and maybe forego my monthly pedicure and bi-monthly manicures but I could have eeked by.

  “Yeah?” Wood asked. “Okay, I’ll hang until you get here.”

  I stared at Wood and wondered if my luck was changing and realized it was when his eyes came to me and he said into the phone, “Yeah, she’s awake,” and then held it to me, “wants to talk to you, baby.”

  I walked to him, took the phone and put it to my ear.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “You okay?” Tate asked and I heard in his tone that he wasn’t looking for something to throw but had found the whole story amusing.

  “Yes,” I said shortly, not finding anything amusing.

  “Goin’ to bed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wearin’ my tee?”

  “I haven’t changed yet.”

  “Right, then change of plans. I’m in Denver. I’ll be home in less than two hours. Wear nothin’ to bed.”

  I blinked at Wood’s feet on the couch.

  Then I turned with a jerk and walked toward the kitchen.

  “Tate –”

  “Naked, babe.”

  “Tate, I can’t –”

  He cut me off. “Buck.”

  I stopped in the kitchen.

  “Sorry?”

  “Buck naked.”

  “Wood’s here,” I whispered.

  “He’ll be gone in two hours and I’ll be there.”

  “I just got done working the night shift,” I reminded him.

  “And I just got done apprehending a man out on bail on a murder charge and drivin’ over six hundred miles.”

  “So you’ll be tired and I’ll be tired –”

  “You’re naked, I’ll find a way to revive you.”

  “Captain –” I whispered.

  “You’re not naked, I’ll still find a way to revive you.”

  “Tate, it’s three thirty in the morning, you’ve had a long day. You shouldn’t even make that drive.”

  “Baby
, you’re naked in my bed, no way I’m not.”

  “Tate,” I said to dead air, he was gone.

  I took the phone from my ear and stared at it. It slid from my fingers, my head came up and I watched Wood flip it closed.

  “Go to bed, Laurie,” he said quietly, his eyes soft on me.

  I swallowed. He was really handsome, almost as beautiful as Tate but in a different way. There was an edge to both men but I got the sense that Tate’s was sharper and closer to the surface. Wood’s was just a sharp but it ran deeper.

  “Okay,” I replied then I pulled in breath. “You… today… what you did, looking out for me.” I paused. “It was really kind, Wood,” I finished on a whisper.

  His body moved slightly toward me but he locked it down and I saw his jaw tense.

  Then he repeated, “Go to bed, baby.”

  I nodded, thinking exiting his presence immediately was probably a good idea. I walked by him and headed down the hall.

  “Lauren,” he called and I stopped and turned back to him. He was leaning into a fist on the kitchen counter and his eyes were on me. “Once we were brothers,” he told me and I held my breath. “I’d do anything for him.”

  I didn’t know what this meant and I stayed frozen, staring at him, waiting for him to go on.

  When he didn’t, I chanced my guess on a whisper. “You miss him.”

  Wood held my eyes and didn’t speak. Then he turned away, walked across the kitchen and hit the light switch. The kitchen went dark but I watched Wood in the light coming from the living room walk back to the couch. He dropped down to lounge there, his eyes on the TV, his face blank.

  I had known whatever had happened, the history and bad blood between Tate and Wood was big.

  Now I knew it wasn’t big. Whatever it was was colossal.

  I wanted to go to him, stretch out beside him, hold him close in my arms and watch television, not in a loverly way, in a way I sensed he needed.

  But that would be bad.

  So I turned and walked to Tate’s room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  What Do You See?

  My body jolted awake when I heard the loud bang on the window, a sound like the strong, angry crack of knuckles.

  “Bitch! Get out here!”

  After the shrieking female’s words, the bang came again and I sat up in Tate’s bed, holding the covers to my naked chest, looking toward the window and staring in shock at a ghostly face framed with a mass of dark hair staring into the window.

  She lifted a fist and banged again, so hard it was a wonder her hand didn’t go through the glass. My body jumped with the sound.

  “I said, get the fuck out here!” she screeched.

  The outside light went on and she was illuminated.

  I’d never seen her up close and her face was twisted with fury, making her not at all attractive. Even so, I knew when it untwisted, she’d be a knockout.

  “Yeah,” she shouted, “I see you, bitch!”

  It dawned on me Tate needed curtains. Badly.

  “Jesus Christ, Neeta, what the fuck?” I heard Wood’s angry clip.

  Neeta’s head twisted to the side, it jolted with surprise and then she glared.

  Then she screamed, “Traitor!”

  “Get away from Laurie’s goddamned window,” Wood ordered.

  “Fuck you!” Neeta shouted back.

  I sat there immobile, shocked at what was happening and unable to move considering she could see me and, as Tate had demanded, I was buck naked between his new, high thread count sheets.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Wood asked loudly, with anger and frustration clear in his tone. “Honest to God, Neeta, I wanna know.”

  “And what’s the matter with you?” she shot back. “Honest to God, Wood, I wanna know,” she mocked, threw out an arm and her knuckles cracked alarmingly against the window also making equally alarming clinking noises because she was wearing rings. “I thought she was yours.”

  “Get away from her goddamned window!” Wood shouted.

  “Just like you,” she snarled. “got no fuckin’ balls. Never had any fuckin’ balls. Word is, Tate nailed her right under your nose.”

  This wasn’t exactly true. This also pissed me off.

  Not thinking, I left the bed, dragging the sheet with me. I wrapped it around me, rushed to the dresser, pulled open the second drawer down, grabbed the first t-shirt of Tate’s on top (one I’d laundered, folded and replaced just that day), yanked it out and then pulled it over my head at the same time I clutched the sheet to me. Once I got it on, I dropped the sheet, hurried to the closet, pawed through my open suitcase on the floor, grabbed some panties and yanked them on. Then I dashed out of the room.

  Buster was close at my heels. She’d been sleeping with me and now she was sticking with me. This was probably because there was more shouting, more hurling of abuse and a fair amount of obscenities coming from outside and I guessed Buster probably had met Neeta but I figured Buster wasn’t a big fan of shouting and obscenities and I knew she wasn’t a big fan of having her sleep disturbed.

  I hit the sliding glass door, which was open, slid through it and tugged it closed, using my foot gentle on Buster to keep her back so she wouldn’t get out. I turned to the left and saw Wood was dragging a fighting, hissing Neeta by her upper arm down the deck toward the end where her convertible was parked, top down.

  Of course. Neeta drove through the night with the top down.

  Neeta saw me, jerked free of Wood and came at me, launching herself my way with such velocity, she nearly bent double when Wood’s arm wrapped around her stomach, halting her progress.

  She yanked up her torso, her eyes slashed the length of me and she threatened, “I’ll rip that shirt off you, you fuckin’ bitch.”

  My eyes went the length of her too. Another very short mini-skirt. Another tight tank. A pair of flip flops. Full makeup even though it was the wee hours of the morning, dawn only a promise.

  Taking her in, standing on Tate’s deck, facing off against the Dread Neeta, for some reason I was completely composed. I’d never been in a catfight and would have been glad never to get in one in my life. But at that moment I didn’t care. It was likely she could kick my ass but maybe I could get a few licks in and I was kind of looking forward to it.

  “What did I do to you?” I asked her.

  She struggled against her brother’s hold, eyes fixed to me. “Take it off right now or I’ll rip it off,” she hissed.

  “I don’t even know you,” I informed her.

  “Laurie, get inside,” Wood ordered, his other arm wrapping around Neeta’s chest and he was dragging her back.

  Neeta threw out a hand and grabbed the railing, successfully stopping Wood from retreating.

  “You know me,” she snapped.

  “I’ve never met you,” I pointed out the obvious.

  “You live in Carnal, you know me,” she repeated. “You also know you’re tryin’ to take what’s mine.”

  “He isn’t yours,” I stated calmly.

  “He’s mine,” she shot back and threw out an arm indicating the house. “This house is mine.” She jabbed a finger at me. “That shirt is mine.” She strained against Wood’s hold and her eyes got squinty. “His cock is mine. He’s… fuckin’… mine.”

  I looked to Wood and told him, “She needs medication.”

  “Fuck you!” she shrieked, let go of the railing and struggled against Wood’s grip.

  “You can’t really believe you can behave like this and think you’re going to scare me away. I know about you and I also know Tate wants not one thing to do with you,” I declared.

  She stopped struggling and looked me straight in the eye.

  “Yeah?” she asked. “He tell you that?”

  “Yes, he did,” I answered.

  “That’s what he says, bitch, then I whisper in his ear and open my legs and he likes the smell, the taste, and he’s right back in there.”

  “Maybe so,”
I replied. “But that was before me and he told me I was the best he ever had. He also told me, after two decades of you leaving nothing but bitter in his mouth, I was a sweet the like he never tasted.”

  I was making some of that up but I thought the situation merited it.

  At my words, she quieted in her brother’s arms. I watched her stare at me for a second then, when she had no response, I kept going.

  “He admitted you were under his skin. He admitted he loved you. But he told me I’m under his skin now, he’s worked you out. Or, the way it sounds, you treated him so poorly you worked your own way out.” I shook my head and said quietly, “Stupid, honey, you should have done everything to stay where you were. I’m there now and, you have to know, it’s a good place to be.”

  “Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” she whispered, the words shaking with fury.

  I ignored her.

  “So, this house isn’t mine and this shirt isn’t mine, they’re Tate’s, but he’s mine.”

  “Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” she screeched and started struggling against Wood’s hold again but we all heard the roar of the pipes and saw the headlight shine on the house.

  I turned and watched Tate ride up the drive and park beside the convertible. There were lots of outside lights shining on the deck, the drive, the area around the garage and he was illuminated fully but he moved so quickly I didn’t see him swing off the bike and walk to the deck. It was just that he was suddenly there.

  Wood and Neeta had separated but Wood had only moved a few feet away from her. They were facing each other but both of their heads were turned to Tate.

  Tate stood there and he wasn’t that close to me but I still felt that scary energy sparking as his angry eyes took in the scene.

  “Familiar,” I heard him mutter, “you two standin’ between me and somethin’ I want.”

  I felt a chill enter my bloodstream.

  “Send her away,” Neeta demanded in a way that it sounded like all she had to do was make the demand and it would be hers.

  Tate shook his head. “I’ll ask once. Get in your car and go. You don’t, Neeta, you can stand out here shoutin’ the house down for a month and I won’t hear you. You won’t exist. Fuck, woman, you already don’t.”