Fern’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You’ve actually seen The Karate Kid?”
“Honey, I’ve seen the original and the remake.”
“Really?” Fern slowly moved her head from side to side, giving the haircut a second evaluation. Still frowning, she raised her hand to touch the bob. “I guess it ain’t completely horrible.”
Tanyalee smiled at Fern in the mirror. “It’s not too late to change your mind, you know. We can still fix you up with that purple Mohawk.”
Fern’s eyes went wide as she stared at Tanyalee, almost as if she’d never seen her before. She actually smiled—a full-on, happy, sarcasm-free smile. “Gladys would shake us both stupid.”
“I am afraid you are correct about that.”
Fern sighed, then ripped the salon cape from her neck. “Let’s get out of here and go home.”
“Oh, but we’ve just started our outing.” Tanyalee followed Fern to the register. “Next, I thought we’d head on over to Penney’s intimates and get you fitted with a proper training bra or two.”
Fern froze, horrified. Her eyes darted to the stylist, who hid her smile while ringing up the sale, then Fern glared at Tanyalee. “Uh-uh. No. I don’t want no boys seeing that I’m wearing a damn bra. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I understand.” Tanyalee told the stylist to keep the change, exited the salon with Fern at her side, and headed toward Penney’s. “So you’d rather have the boys see your actual breasts than the outline of a bra?”
Fern’s mouth hung open. “Whaaat?”
“Because I assure you, Miss Bisbee, your womanly assets are about ten minutes away from poppin’ out all over the place, and I believe modesty is the best policy, even in middle school.”
Fern was silent for a moment, walking by Tanyalee’s side with slumped shoulders and a stunned expression. Finally, she glanced up and whispered, “Tell me what time it is.”
Tanyalee checked her phone and smiled at Fern. “Good news! We’ve still got a whole two hours to go!”
Chapter 14
Dante had just finished tossing the salad when he heard the doorbell. He checked the clock—eight P.M. on the dot. Apparently, Tanyalee Marie Newberry was the sexiest little bundle of Southern comfort he’d ever encountered and a punctual dinner guest.
As Dante headed for the door, he took one last glance around his place and smiled to himself. It didn’t look half bad considering he’d raced home from the office to run the vacuum, change the sheets, and unpack six months’ worth of dust-collecting moving boxes. He supposed nothing forced a man to tidy up like inviting a beautiful woman to dinner.
He reached for the doorknob, now grinning ear to ear, unapologetically excited to see Tanyalee. The last few days had seemed like months. He was dying to kiss her. He needed to feel her hot and smooth skin in his hands. He wanted to tell her that he’d missed her.
To hell with DEA regulations.
The door opened, and in an instant, his plans for an evening of lively debauchery were shot to hell.
Tanyalee raised sad and troubled eyes to him. Her brow was creased. She looked pale and so uncomfortable standing in his doorway that Dante immediately scanned her for visible wounds. “What happened?” He felt her arms beneath her coat. “Was there an accident? Are you hurt?”
She shrugged him off. “Oh, heavens no. I’m perfectly fine, Dante.” She produced a smile so dishonest it barely moved her pink lips.
“The hell you are.” He scooped her into the apartment with one arm and held the door with the other. “Here. Let me take your jacket.” Tanyalee shed her short trench coat and let her purse slide down her arm. As Dante hung them in the closet he told Tanyalee to make herself at home, but when he turned around she hadn’t moved. She stood rigid in the center of his small living room, hands stiff at her sides, looking lost.
“Please. Sit.”
“Oh! Thank you! I do apologize, I’m just a little tired.”
Dante sat on the couch and reached for Tanyalee’s hands, pulling her down into his lap. The woman now snuggled into the crook of his arm was as always, the picture of flawlessly groomed femininity. She wore a dusky pink blouse, more rose than seashell blush, he noticed, along with a creamy white skirt and pretty sandals. The usual pearls were there, along with her signature scent. And she wore her hair down tonight, draped over one shoulder in a collection of soft curls. But the shiny outside couldn’t mask the turmoil inside.
Tanyalee forced herself to look like she was thrilled to be there. “What a cute apartment you have! And something surely smells delicious.”
Dante took in the little divot between her brows, her inability to look him in the eye, and her unusually twitchy hands, and he knew he faced a dilemma. Should he pry? Did he even want to? Up until that moment, everything they’d shared could be classified into one of two categories: sexually charged or lighthearted. In other words, hot or fun. Or even hot and fun. And for Dante, that was pretty much the sweet spot for time spent with a woman, and it was never easy to come by. With Tanyalee, however, it had been instant and natural.
Why the hell would he want to fuck with perfection?
She sighed and continued to look around the room, feigning interest. Though she was talking about the “charming” exposed brick wall and “cozy” fireplace, he could see she was fighting back tears. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch her pretend, and he couldn’t pretend not to care.
“Tanyalee, tell me what’s going on.”
“What do you mean?” She pasted a vacant smile on her face, patting her hand against his chest as if to tell him not to worry his pretty little head. “I’ve just spent several hours at the mall with a tween, that’s all.”
Dante nodded, knowing he needed to proceed with care. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how’s it going with Fern Bisbee?”
Tanyalee’s head snapped back. She directed her unblinking gaze right at him. “Agent Cabrera.” She gave the words extra attention. “I realize you know Fern from that horrible meth lab. Is that what you want talk to her about? Something to do with what she saw there?”
Dante shrugged. “I can’t say. I’m sorry.”
“Hmm.” Tanyalee pursed her lips. “Well, Bitsy Stockslager told me all about her history, so I probably already know.”
When he remained silent, she tweaked his bicep.
“You remember Bitsy, of course—Turner Halliday’s secretary? I’m sure you’ve run into her doing all your law-and-order types of activities.”
Dante felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Law-and-order types of activities … “Of course. Bitsy. Yes.”
“Anyway, Bitsy runs the Girls Club after-school programs. She said that Fern really needs a friend she can talk to.”
“That’s awful nice of you, Tanyalee.” He waited. This was her chance to open up some. He already knew she was racking up community-service hours, but they’d never discussed the details of her felony charges and probation. The closest they’d come was the day they met, when Tanyalee admitted to forgery and shoplifting and told a tale of murder, kidnapping, and flying squirrels. Since that day, there had been no opportunity to discuss it further. They were either busy arguing, clawing at each other like bonobo monkeys, or in the company of others.
He thought back to those awkward moments when Garland Newberry had cornered him in the pink bathroom at the top of the stairs. He’d asked about his “intentions” with his granddaughter. Dante’s answer had been complete bullshit.
But he knew the time had come for him to answer that question honestly. Not for Garland, but for himself. Before he opened his mouth again he need to be clear on what he wanted with Tanyalee. It wasn’t rocket science. If he wanted to pursue a relationship with her, he would initiate real conversation that included truthful facts and feelings. If he only wanted more of that hotel-quality sex, he would avoid all real conversation, feed her, make her laugh, and then drag her off to his bedroom.
But what if, for the first time ever, he wan
ted both? And what if, because of her criminal record, he couldn’t have what he wanted?
Tanyalee attempted to escape his lap. Dante grabbed her wrist. She stared at him, the bottomless blue eyes wide with challenge. He knew this would not be easy.
“I like you, Tanyalee. Quite a bit. I don’t usually invite women to my place—in fact, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve made dinner for anyone.”
She blinked, waiting for more.
“I was hoping we could just relax and enjoy each other’s company tonight, you know, talk and get to know each other better. But you’re obviously upset about something, so I think that’s where we should start.”
She stared at him like he was soft in the head. “Don’t be silly.”
“Whatever it is, it will stay just between the two of us. You have my word.”
Tanyalee smiled politely. “That’s so sweet of you, Dante.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek, trying to distract him while she slipped from his grasp. He didn’t fall for it, and wrapped his arm around her waist.
“You’re about a second away from bursting into tears, Tanyalee. I can see it.”
She turned away, pursing her lips. He watched the tendons in her neck pull taut.
“You can talk to me.”
Tanyalee began to shake her head and push herself away from Dante. This time she did it with such desperation that he didn’t try to stop her. She reached the coat closet in seconds, talking as she fumbled with her trench coat and bag. “I shouldn’t have come here. I made a mistake. I was driving here and … Oh, shee-it!” Tanyalee struggled as she tried to get her arms inside the coat.
Dante moved toward her.
“I made the damn-fool mistake of calling my sister earlier and she called me back just as I was on my way to your place. So now I’m … Shee-it!” She ripped the coat from her body and flung it to the floor, then she hurled her bag against the wall.
He gently placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“No!” She pushed him away. “I’m a disaster, Dante. This … this…” She gestured to herself. “This is a lie. I am a lie from head to toe and I’ve been nothing but a lying bitch all my life, and there are so many people I need to make amends to and I can’t keep putting it off anymore—in the next few days I have to take my ridiculous self to the lake house to apologize to Cheri and J.J. and I…” Tanyalee caught herself, looked up at Dante with eyes filled with tears and fear, and began to shake her head again. “I do apologize. You went to all the trouble of making dinner. Maybe we can reschedule—”
I must be as crazy as Tanyalee.
Dante simply wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight. Her body was rigid for several seconds, but eventually he felt her belly soften and her cheek settle into his chest. A quick sob escaped her before she went silent again.
“It’ll be okay.” He held her, stroked her hair, and realized he had started rocking her in a gentle back-and-forth motion, something he was certain he had never done to anyone, ever. In fact, Dante wondered how he knew to do it.
Tanyalee squirmed. She pushed her hands against his body, but Dante simply held on to her, steady and strong, not going anywhere, and waited for her to do whatever it was she needed to do—scream, cry, rant, cuss, punch him …
He’d been in her position before. He knew what it was like to have to find a way of being in the world without relying on something to numb the pain. Dante’s go-to remedy had been booze. Tanyalee’s might have been a little more subtle than his, but the withdrawal process had to hurt, just the same.
After a few moments, Dante realized Tanyalee was not going to cry in his arms. Then, without warning, she took a huge gulp of air and let go with a nonstop outpouring of information, her words muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “They just got back from their honeymoon … I need to apologize for all the horrible lies and I’m scared to death that … that Cheri might not want to try to be my sister, and why would she? All I’ve ever done is be mean and lie to her, steal her man and tear her down out of jealousy … and J.J.? Oh, Lord! That man will hate me until the end of time, which he has a right to after everything I’ve done to him, especially how I tricked him into getting me pregnant and marrying me, then lying when I miscarried. But I’m afraid J.J.’s hate will become Cheri’s hate, and neither of them will ever forgive me when all I want is to find peace with my sister, my family, my … my … myself!”
“I understand.” Dante placed his lips on the top of her head, inhaling the sweet, sugary scent of her. “I know how this feels.”
That’s when the dam broke. Tanyalee’s sobs were the silent, gut-wrenching kind, long stretches of airless silence punctuated by gasps for breath and more silence. After a time, he felt her body crumple. Her knees gave out. Dante kept her standing.
“It will be all right, Tanyalee.”
“How can you say that? You don’t even know—”
“I do know, baby. I know all about it, which is one of the things I wanted to tell you tonight.” As Tanyalee began to lift her head from his chest, Dante decided it was as good a time as any. She was already upset. Why not get it all out at once?
Two pale blue and bloodshot eyes peered at him through mascara-smeared lashes. “You know all about what?”
“Twelve-step recovery.” Dante set her a few inches away but kept his hands on her upper arms. “I go to AA. It’s a long story and I’d rather tell you while we’re sitting down instead of standing by the door, if you don’t mind.”
Tanyalee tipped her head to the side and frowned. “You’re in recovery?”
“Please, come sit with me.” When he guided her to the sofa she went without complaint. He grabbed a box of tissues from the kitchen counter and brought them along.
“Here you go.”
“Thankyousoverymuch.” Tanyalee pulled out three tissues in quick succession and began to dab her eyes. “But … you’re an alcoholic?”
“I am, and I’m in recovery one day at a time.” He sat down on the sofa, a polite distance from Tanyalee. “I started drinking to deal with the isolation and ugliness of undercover work, which I now realize only made it worse. Within a few years I had let it get out of hand. Then, when I got shot in the back—”
“Oh, my God, when was that?”
“Four years ago in California. I’m fine now, but I spent most of my medical leave drinking, and I was headed down a very dangerous road. My family was sick with worry, and just before my father died, he made me swear…” Dante stopped a moment to refocus. He needed to keep his story short and sweet, since this conversation wasn’t really about him. When he met Tanyalee’s gaze he saw that she was surprised. “I swore to my father that I would stop before it was too late. That very night I showed up at my first AA meeting. I got a sponsor and I’ve been sober for three years. My dad lived long enough to see me get my ninety-day chip.”
Tanyalee cast her eyes downward and concentrated on twisting the tissues in her hands until they began to shred. “I am glad you brought yourself back from the brink, Dante. You are a very strong person, obviously.”
Dante smiled and touched her wrist, waiting for her to raise her gaze again. “A lot of very strong people are active alcoholics. Before I even had a chance of finding sobriety I had to find some humility, and I got it by doing the very same things you just talked about.”
Tanyalee’s eyes had become wide blue pools of astonishment. “So you’ve done what I’m about to do?”
“Oh, yeah. I made a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself, made a list of all those I had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. Then I did so. And I’ll keep on doing it—on a daily basis when necessary—because it keeps me sober.”
Tanyalee’s tears had stopped. She blinked at him. “I’m scared, Dante. I’m scared I’ve done too much to be forgiven. I’m scared I’ve been too mean for too long. I’m worried it’s too late.”
Dante grabbed both her hands in his. “Sweetheart, as long as you’re brea
thing and the people you love are breathing, it’s not too late. I can’t speak for anyone else, but for me, the fear of making amends turned out to be far worse than actually doing it.”
“But I have so many to make!”
Dante nodded. “Most of us do. I started with the least terrifying and built confidence and faith until I was ready for the hardest. And when I was done, my head cleared. My heart cleared. Basically, I felt as if I’d been given a second chance.”
They sat like that, holding hands and saying nothing, for a long moment. Then Tanyalee said, “Thank you, Dante. I appreciate you telling me this. It makes it seem more possible somehow, you know?”
“Of course.”
He leaned forward, closed his eyes, and gave her the first kiss of the evening. Dante wanted it to be a delicious and memorably sweet kiss—because knowing where this conversation was headed, it could very well be the last one he ever got from Tanyalee Newberry. She melted under his lips. Her arms rose and curled slowly around his neck. She pressed her body close to his.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.” He ended the kiss abruptly. When he pulled her arms from his neck she appeared puzzled at first, then flat-out suspicious.
“What?”
“Tanyalee, I know about the retail theft and your shopping dependency. I know about the forgery, your probation and community service, and how that night in the hotel caused you a great deal of confusion. If I had known about your struggles with love addiction, I never would have put you in that situation.”
In an instant, the pale blue confusion in her eyes froze over into icy anger. “My whhhhaaaat?”
“Remember how I told you I saw your car in Asheville and tracked your plates?”