living room. A ton of crushed beer cans littered the floor, a pile of clothes of indeterminate cleanliness took up half the couch and paper plates with food scraps covered the occasional tables. No writing pad in sight, not even by the phone. Course, no telling if the phone was even in service any more. “Where were you between two and four this morning?”
Nate tossed back his overly long hair, badly in need of a wash and a cut. “Here. Sleeping.”
Tick nodded. “Can anybody verify that?”
“Yeah.” Nate gave a satisfied sound, something between a chuckle and a belch. “Your wife.”
Tick sighed. Like he’d never heard that one before. “So the answer is no.”
Leaning back in his chair, Nate folded his arms behind his head, exposing tufts of underarm hair. “What’s so important about last night?” He narrowed his eyes. “Let me guess. Somebody tried to invade Autry’s ivory tower. Probably pissed off she’s defending that son of a bitch Schaefer.”
“Autry’s receiving threats.” Hands at his hips, Tick lowered his voice. “Let me find out they’re from you and being Virgil Holton’s son won’t save you this time. Got me?”
Nothing flickered in the blank depths of Nate’s blue eyes, but the insolent sneer remained. “Oh, yeah, I got you.”
Tick held his gaze a moment longer and nodded. “Good. See you around, Nate.”
He stepped out of the trailer and closed the door behind him. Keeping a close eye on the narrow mobile home, he walked to his truck. The scents of Nate’s home lingered with him and Tick rubbed a hand down his jaw. Damn, he needed a shower.
She’d obviously lost her mind. Autry tossed a handful of panties into her suitcase. Not only had she agreed to Stanton’s idea they should move in together, but she’d let him persuade her to begin tonight. In the privacy of her bedroom, she didn’t have to lie to herself—she would feel safer with him. Maybe she’d actually sleep.
If she stayed out of his bed.
Heat flashed through her. They weren’t talking about being merely roommates, her using his guest room. No, they were planning on a month of cohabitating, sharing everything from the morning paper to a bathroom to Stanton’s big bed.
Autry sank to the edge of the bed, a hand over her stomach. Oh, this gamble was huge. She was betting on one more month, thirty days, to make Stanton fall in love with her. How did she think that was going to happen in a mere four weeks, when four months of dating hadn’t done it?
Because the stakes were higher now. She rubbed at the slight swell of their baby. He had to feel trapped and that would lead to resentment if she couldn’t make him love her. They could all end up hurting so badly.
Even knowing all that, she was going to try anyway.
“Insane,” she muttered and pushed to her feet. So insane it might work.
She dumped jeans and T-shirts, pajamas and a couple of sweatshirts in her suitcase. She tugged her garment bag from the closet and loaded it with several of her suits. Matching shoes joined the montage in her suitcase. From her bedside-table drawer, she pulled the pregnancy book she’d been reading and tossed it in the case as well. She leaned over to latch it and moaned, the inevitable nausea climbing in her throat.
A hand clapped over her mouth, she scrambled for the bathroom. The horrible retching was over in minutes and she pushed to her feet, knees shaky. She brushed her teeth and tried not to look at her bruised face and red, damp eyes. Sure, Stanton would want that woman in his bed. She rested her forehead against the cool mirror.
She splashed cold water on her face and wrists, dried them, and walked out to the living room. “I think I’m ready…”
Her voice trailed away, a smile nudging at her mouth. Sprawled sideways, Stanton took up half her couch, his eyes closed, face relaxed in sleep. He probably hadn’t eaten all day, or if he had, it had been greasy takeout grabbed with Tick and eaten on the
Nate tossed back his overly long hair, badly in need of a wash and a cut. “Here. Sleeping.”
Tick nodded. “Can anybody verify that?”
“Yeah.” Nate gave a satisfied sound, something between a chuckle and a belch. “Your wife.”
Tick sighed. Like he’d never heard that one before. “So the answer is no.”
Leaning back in his chair, Nate folded his arms behind his head, exposing tufts of underarm hair. “What’s so important about last night?” He narrowed his eyes. “Let me guess. Somebody tried to invade Autry’s ivory tower. Probably pissed off she’s defending that son of a bitch Schaefer.”
“Autry’s receiving threats.” Hands at his hips, Tick lowered his voice. “Let me find out they’re from you and being Virgil Holton’s son won’t save you this time. Got me?”
Nothing flickered in the blank depths of Nate’s blue eyes, but the insolent sneer remained. “Oh, yeah, I got you.”
Tick held his gaze a moment longer and nodded. “Good. See you around, Nate.”
He stepped out of the trailer and closed the door behind him. Keeping a close eye on the narrow mobile home, he walked to his truck. The scents of Nate’s home lingered with him and Tick rubbed a hand down his jaw. Damn, he needed a shower.
She’d obviously lost her mind. Autry tossed a handful of panties into her suitcase. Not only had she agreed to Stanton’s idea they should move in together, but she’d let him persuade her to begin tonight. In the privacy of her bedroom, she didn’t have to lie to herself—she would feel safer with him. Maybe she’d actually sleep.
If she stayed out of his bed.
Heat flashed through her. They weren’t talking about being merely roommates, her using his guest room. No, they were planning on a month of cohabitating, sharing everything from the morning paper to a bathroom to Stanton’s big bed.
Autry sank to the edge of the bed, a hand over her stomach. Oh, this gamble was huge. She was betting on one more month, thirty days, to make Stanton fall in love with her. How did she think that was going to happen in a mere four weeks, when four months of dating hadn’t done it?
Because the stakes were higher now. She rubbed at the slight swell of their baby. He had to feel trapped and that would lead to resentment if she couldn’t make him love her. They could all end up hurting so badly.
Even knowing all that, she was going to try anyway.
“Insane,” she muttered and pushed to her feet. So insane it might work.
She dumped jeans and T-shirts, pajamas and a couple of sweatshirts in her suitcase. She tugged her garment bag from the closet and loaded it with several of her suits. Matching shoes joined the montage in her suitcase. From her bedside-table drawer, she pulled the pregnancy book she’d been reading and tossed it in the case as well. She leaned over to latch it and moaned, the inevitable nausea climbing in her throat.
A hand clapped over her mouth, she scrambled for the bathroom. The horrible retching was over in minutes and she pushed to her feet, knees shaky. She brushed her teeth and tried not to look at her bruised face and red, damp eyes. Sure, Stanton would want that woman in his bed. She rested her forehead against the cool mirror.
She splashed cold water on her face and wrists, dried them, and walked out to the living room. “I think I’m ready…”
Her voice trailed away, a smile nudging at her mouth. Sprawled sideways, Stanton took up half her couch, his eyes closed, face relaxed in sleep. He probably hadn’t eaten all day, or if he had, it had been greasy takeout grabbed with Tick and eaten on the
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