Sixteen
Up all night and running on nothing but coffee and fumes, Dallas walked into his house to shower and grab a bite to eat. For once in his career, he wasn’t upset by what he found when he taken a call about another drive-by shooting. No witnesses, of course, but he was inclined to hang a medal on the chest of whoever had taken Jerome Warner out. The world would not mourn that loss, and was safer for having him gone.
He spotted his phone that he’d forgotten the night before and checked to see if he’d missed a text or call. Walking into his bedroom while he scanned his phone, he stopped short when he saw his bed wasn’t made. Making his bed daily was a habit, something that was drilled into him by his mother, therefore his hackles rose when he saw crumpled sheets. He’d stayed the night at Nicola’s the day before, so he knew he hadn’t been in his bed for two days. Looking around the room, he caught sight of one of his T-shirts thrown on the end of the bed, one he hadn’t worn this week, and he picked it up. The smell of perfume drifted up as he sniffed the shirt. He knew that fragrance, knew it intimately because it used to make him hard when he’d smell the subtle perfume. Smelling it now, he was pissed.
She’d still had a key.
Scanning through his text messages, he saw he had at least five new ones from Brynne since he’d left. All pictures in different degrees of undress. She had contacted him for the first time in two years the night before; professing her undying love to Dallas saying she wanted him back. It had taken all his self-control to keep from laughing when he’d heard her crocodile tears. Then the text messages had started. He’d ignored them all, which is probably why she’d been persistent with the pictures hoping the memories of her body would sway his mind.
Two years ago, unhappy with how much Dallas worked and made as a cop, she’d found a replacement for him. One who made twice as much as Dallas did.
He and Brynne had married young and bought the house Dallas currently lived in with dreams of flipping it so they could buy a bigger house once kids came along. Renovations on a cop’s salary were slow but steady. However, not steady enough for Brynne. She’d complained constantly that she wanted a bigger house. Coupled with his promotion to detective and his constant calls in the middle of the night; the tension in their household rose to a fevered pitch. So much so, that Dallas stayed later and later at the office and Brynne went searching for another man.
He’d met her new husband one time, on the day he showed in court to finalize their divorce. He knew when he met the man she had him on a short leash and would be bored quickly. However, he never dreamed when she decided to trade up again, she’d come sniffing around Dallas. He neither wanted the attention nor gave a fuck that she was calling. He’d been done long before the divorce was final and intended to keep it that way.
Scrolling through his recent call list to find her number, Dallas hit dial and waited for her to answer.
“It’s about time you returned my call. You know, ignoring all those pictures I sent could give a girl a complex,” Brynne breathed sensually into the phone.
“You still have a key?” Dallas gritted out, wanting to end the call quickly.
“No, but I remember where you hide the spare.” Dallas could hear a smile in her voice as she tried to taunt him with her sexuality. She had that in spades with her long legs and flaxen hair, but Dallas found out recently that a tiny woman with jade-green eyes and a cupid-bow mouth appealed more to his baser desires.
“I’m only gonna say this one time so you’d better listen carefully, Brynne. No more calls, no more texts. I don’t want you comin’ to my house and I don’t want you crawlin’ into my bed. You lost that privilege when you fucked another man.”
“Dallas, baby, I miss you. I know you still have feelings for me or you wouldn’t be this mad.”
“What feelings I had for you died when you wrapped your mouth around another man’s cock,” Dallas growled.
There was silence on the other end of the phone. He could hear Brynne breathing hard, formulating a comeback for her actions that wouldn’t mean shit to Dallas.
“You worked all the time and I had needs, Dallas. You weren’t here to take care of them. What was I supposed to do?”
“Jesus, this excuse again?”
“It’s not an excuse, it’s a fact. It’s your fault we broke up,” she whined.
“I’m not havin’ the same argument with you again. Go back to your husband if he’ll still have you, I’m done, been done for two years.”
“But he’s not you,” she whispered into the phone.
“And you’re not Nicola. I’ve found a woman who’s so goddamned sweet that after you I feel like I’ve won the lottery. If you think I’d give that up for you, you’d be wrong.”
“You bastard,” she shrieked. Not one to reign in her temper before speaking her mind, fortunately for Dallas, Brynne let loose before she could check herself, giving him a heads up to what she had done. “You know Dallas you really shouldn’t leave your phone lying around,” Brynne hissed, “you don’t know who might look at it. Maybe even “sweet” blondes with big green eyes.” Dallas caught her meaning as soon as the words left her mouth, and knew immediately that she’d met Nicola here at his house. Jesus, she’d been in my bed, in my fuckin’ shirt.
“What the fuck did you do?” Dallas seethed.
His answering reply was dead air.
***
Devastated after finding out about Dallas and his ex, I ran home and packed a bag so I could check into a hotel and lick my wounds for a day or two. I didn’t want to talk to anyone; I just wanted to hole up where no one could find me and order room service. I couldn’t bring Simi and Snape to the hotel, which meant I had to drop them off with Mom and Dad, while I ate my weight in ice cream.
My parents lived on a quiet street in Maple Ridge, an older neighborhood in midtown Tulsa full of historically maintained homes. In the early days, Tulsa was the center of the universe for oil and gas production and was aptly named, “The Oil Capital of the World.” This distinction quickly brought oil tycoons, such as Waite Phillips, J. Paul Getty, and William G. Skelly, to Tulsa. The insurgence of these tycoons and others into the small city of Tulsa required stately houses to be built with modern conveniences. Due to Maple Ridge’s close vicinity to the Arkansas River and downtown Tulsa, those stately homes were built on the winding streets trimmed with cherry blossom trees. Most of those mansions were built in the popular Art Deco style of the time, giving Tulsa a treasure trove of architectural gems. Mom and Dad lived in one of those gems and it was my mother’s full time job, in her opinion, to maintain the historical home for the generations to come. Their three-story Art Deco home, with its red-tiled roof, soft yellow exterior, and large black shutters framing the windows, stood at a corner of Madison Avenue. This house was my touchstone, the place where I grew from a child to an adult. Nothing signified family, security, or love more than that three-story home on that quiet street, but somehow, as I sat in my car with tears streaming down my face, I didn’t think it could help me this time.
I had my lie all figured out as to why I was leaving the cats on such short notice. I’d tell them my editor called and I had to fly to Chicago to work out some bugs with Highlander’s Pride. This would kill two birds with one stone. A) I could cancel the barbecue without having to explain and B) no one would worry or come looking for me, this way I could be alone. I could hole up until this emptiness in my chest healed over and then come home as if nothing had happened. I knew eventually someone would ask about Dallas, hopefully by then I’d be able to explain without bursting into tears that we didn’t mesh. Don’t ask me why I was hiding Dallas’ deception other than I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle the pity in their eyes if they knew.
My experience with men should have taught me better than to think someone like me would be woman enough for someone like him. No, that’s not exactly true, based on what his ex-wife had said no woman was enough for Dallas, no one but her.
“Oh, God, after he fucked me senseless he couldn’t wait ten minutes before he threw on his jeans to go to her. Was I really that bad in bed?”
A fresh wave of tears streamed from my eyes and I buried my head in my hands.
“Meow,” Simi called out from her kennel, letting me know that she felt my pain.
“I’ll be fine guys, just give me a minute,” I sniffed.
Reaching into my purse, I grabbed a tissue and blotted my eyes. Pulling down the visor to inspect the damage, I groaned when two red eyes stared back at me. Taking a deep breath to steady my frazzled nerves, I jumped when my phone started ringing. I pulled it out and saw that Dallas was calling and immediately turned off my phone. He’d probably talked with his ex by now and knew the jig was up. I didn’t want to hear about how he had a weakness for her. I didn’t want to think about all the lies he’d told. I wanted to crawl into a bed and pull the covers over my head until it sunk in that there were no real men anymore.
A loud rap on my window made me jump. My mother was standing at my door, peering down at me with concern in her eyes. I should have known she’d see me out the window and come out to check on me. Pasting on a bright smile, I opened my door and got out.
“What’s wrong?” my mother asked.
“Nothing. Why would you ask?” I lied.
“You’re sitting in your car and your eyes are red. Oh, God, did you have a fight with Dallas?” she blurted out, her eyes wide with worry that I let another man get away.
My fake smile faltered just a little when it hit me that my mother expected me to do something that would send Dallas running for the hills. She was wrong, of course, he sent me running for the hills instead, but it added an additional crack to my already broken heart. Was there something about me that screamed, “She can’t keep a man?”
“I haven’t seen Dallas since last night, mother, he was called away on a case. I’m here because my editor called and I have to fly to Chicago unexpectedly. I need you to watch the cats,” I explained. “Sorry about the barbecue, can we reschedule for another time?”
“Why are your eyes red?” she inquired ignoring my explanation as if she knew I was lying.
“Allergies. I woke up this morning with my eyes swollen shut,” I lied rather convincingly, considering I was making it up as I went.
“Oh, well, hand me one of the carriers and I’ll help you in with it. Do you need me to drive you to the airport?”
“No. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. It’ll be easier to have my car waiting for me, rather than bother you when I return.” I had to admit, I was making this stuff up while we spoke. She seemed to believe me so I wondered why I got into so much trouble in my youth. It must be all those years writing. Maybe my ability to piece together stories quickly meant I programmed my brain to come up with a plausible answer on the fly.
I said goodbye to my two feline children, stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle, then headed downtown to the Mayo Hotel and booked myself a room. I spent the day watching movies, ordering room service, and taking shots to ease my pain. By eight o’clock I was foxed (that’s drunk in regency speak), lying on my bed flipping channels looking for something to watch that wasn’t about cops or love. The former reminded me of Dallas and the latter reminded me that I sucked at finding a man to love. Settling on a rerun of Jerry Springer, I waited anxiously to find out if Daisy’s baby was indeed fathered by Duke.
“Daisy and Duke,” I snorted. “Daisy Duke. I wonder if they have an old Charger. What did the Duke Brothers call that car?” I wondered out loud. Grabbing my purse, I fished out my phone and turned it on. While looking for the google app so I could research the name of the Dukes of Hazard’s car, I glanced at my text message icon and noted I had fifteen new texts. Under the influence is my only excuse for opening my messages to see who was looking for me. Though reading them easily was questionable. Blinking several times to see who had texted, I saw Angela, my mother, Dallas, and Bo. Grabbing my half-empty bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold, I took a swig for courage before swiping to see Dallas’ text.
“We need to talk, call me.”
“Um, no, we don’t,” I slurred at the phone.
“Babe, call me.”
“In your dreams pal and don’t call me babe,” I shouted at the phone.
“Where the fuck are you?”
“Having an illicit affair with a bottle,” I giggled.
I went back to the home screen, swiped Angela’s text, and tried to focus on her words.
“Dallas called me looking for you, WTF is going on? Call me ASAP.”
“I’m having an illicit affair with a bottle,” I repeated to my phone, “It’s very rude of people to bother me.”
I went to tell her just that, but my hands didn’t cooperate and I dropped my phone. Reaching down to pick it up I hit the back function by accident and had to go back to my messages. I swiped Angela’s message again, or so I thought, and used the voice function to type for me since I couldn’t read the keys, “I’m having an illicit affair. I won’t be home for several days ‘cause I’m getting foxed with a handsome golden Latino named Jose. Yours respectively, Nicola Grace Royse.”
It took all of thirty seconds for my phone to start ringing so I answered it without looking to see who was calling since I knew it would be Angela.
“It’s very rude of you to call me while I’m entertaining a gentleman,” I slurred.
Dead silence, yet heavy breathing, could be heard down the line.
“Angela?”
“You wanna repeat that?” Dallas growled in my ear.
I didn’t repeat what I said I didn’t want to talk to him at all. I swiped end call immediately when the knot in my chest started aching again. All those hours of drinking to help ease the pain were shot the minute I heard his voice. The tears started streaming, followed by big gulping sobs. Jesus, I hadn’t snot sobbed like this in years. Probably since I was a little girl. Leave it to Dallas to reduce me to a big puddle of mucus in one short week.
When my phone started ringing again, I turned it off and burrowed under the covers. Exhausted from crying and coupled with the alcohol clouding my head, my lids became heavy as I watched the fading light of the burnished sun slowly setting through my window.
That’s the last thing I remembered, until I heard pounding on the door. Covering my head with a pillow, I tried to ignore the pounding in my head as well as the pounding on the door. The sound of my door opening scared the bejeezus out of me, so I sat up and tried to get out of the bed as a deep rumbling voice bellowed, “Where the fuck is Jose?”
Turning around at the sound of Dallas’ voice I watched in shock as he opened the door to the bathroom and searched it for the imaginary Jose. When he stormed back in, I almost laughed when he bent at the waist and looked under the bed. Furthermore, I did crack a grin when he opened a closet that no man I knew could fit in. When he turned around and glared at me as if I had done something wrong, it sunk in that he was pissed and he absolutely had no right to be.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped.
“Where the fuck is Jose?” he roared.
He didn’t deserve an explanation, but I gave him one anyway. I picked up the half-full bottle of Jose Cuervo and handed it to him. When he read the label, recognition of what I’d meant in the text dawned on him, and his tight mouth and angry eyes softened. Not that I cared, he was still a cad, a scoundrel and a rake of the highest order.
“We need to talk about Brynne,” he started cautiously as he placed the bottle on the nightstand.
“I think everything that needs to be said she explained quite elegantly, if not visually, to me yesterday morning.”
“She lied,” was his pitiful excuse.
“Oh, well, that makes this awkward. You see I came by yesterday morning to tell you that you were right, that I did need a man who could buy me my heart’s desire. When she told me that you two were still sleeping together, I was quite relieved,” I lied. If he was going to string me along, I could too. The only problem was, the more I spoke the more he smiled.
“Do you always hide in a hotel and refuse to return phone calls when you break it off with someone?” he questioned with a grin.
“Um.”
He had me there dammit.
“Babe, she lied. She’s got a wild hair up her ass that she wants me back, so when you showed up yesterday morning, she got rid of the competition.”
“Why was she in your house?”
“She used the spare key. I suspect she thought if she climbed in bed with me, I’d overlook the fact that she cheated.”
“But you have nearly nude pictures of her on your phone,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, pictures she sent me all on the same day, which I didn’t get because I left my phone at home.”
“But she told me you have a code for when you’re supposed to hook up. She said you refer to it as “duty calls.”
“Jesus, that bitch. Nic baby, I’ve said “duty calls” since I was a kid and she’s heard me use it a million times. I watched some cop show when I was a kid and one of the detectives said it. Since all I ever wanted to be was a cop, it stuck, and I’ve used it ever since.”
“Are you telling me she lied about all of it?” I asked incredulously.
“Babe, honestly, do I seem like the type of man that would share a woman?”
I studied him for a moment and thought about how he’d been with me the last week, how easily he was jealous of other men and it hit me like a bolt of lightning; he wasn’t the type of man who shared. In fact, if I’d thought about that trait yesterday morning instead of automatically believing what she’d said, I would have known she was lying.
“No, you aren’t,” I finally answered as the hole in my chest started to close. “She lied and I’m an idiot for believing her.”
“Then get over here,” he growled.
I’d stood while we were talking and the bed separated us. When he issued the order for me to come to him, I put a foot to the bed and launched myself at him. He caught me as I wrapped my legs around his waist and buried my head in his neck. Overcome with relief, tears flowed once again, but for the right reasons this time. He’d cared enough to hunt me down and win me back. God, I’m an idiot. I should have answered the phone when he called and listened to what he had to say. With deep regret at how I handled this situation, I whispered, “I’m sorry.” What else could I say? I’d put us both through the wringer because of my foolish pride.
“Don’t,” he murmured in my ear. “She’s a good liar and I have no doubt she was convincing.”
“I should have talked to you,” I cried.
“Yeah, you should have, but considering I thought you were with another man from a fuckin’ text, I can understand why you’d believe her considering the pictures.”
“And the fact she was in your shirt.”
“That too,” he agreed with a sigh.
“With sex hair and sleepy eyes,” I continued as I pulled back and locked eyes with him.
“Jesus, she’s a piece of work,” he bit out before wiping a tear from my cheek.
“She said you were addicted to each other and that she was “duty” and she would always call.”
“That should have clued you into the fact she was lying,” he replied with a smile. “The only thing I’m addicted to is your lips and heart-shaped ass.”
“You’re addicted to me?” I asked breathlessly.
Without warning, Dallas dropped to the bed, still holding me close. When he let go, he yanked the shirt from my body before he leaned down and placed a kiss where my heart lay.
“I’m addicted to your heart,” he answered against my chest, his tongue darting out to taste the skin. “To your ass,” he ran his hand down my side, watching it go until he reached my knee and pulled it up so he could cup the cheek of my butt. “To your big eyes,” he explained, leaning down to kiss my lids, “and this sassy mouth,” he finished, biting my bottom lip.
I guess you could say that in that moment I knew without a doubt that I’d spend the rest of my life with this man. That I fell in love with him on the spot for giving me tender words that I knew he meant, but didn’t give often. He was a man’s man for God’s sake; they don’t easily spill forth words of love or hearts and flowers. So I tucked them away in my heart and the hole sealed over for good.
“Dallas?” I whispered against his lips.
“Yeah?” he whispered back before he kissed his way across my jaw and up my neck.
“I think I’m falling in . . . like with you.”
Dallas stiffened for a moment only to relax further into my body. He pulled back and looked at me, his eyes like molten gold as he scanned my face, looking for the truth of my statement. Our eyes locked and held for a moment, an electric tension seemed to bounce between us and we both held our breath waiting for what I wasn’t sure. When I was about to laugh and say I was joking, since he silence was more than I could bear, he leaned down suddenly, ran his nose up my neck, and exhaled on a shudder before whispering, “Good, I like you a fuck of a lot too.”