Croc's Return (4 page)

“Your sister is a yuppie housewife?” Caleb snickered. “Never thought I’d see that day.” Not given how much of a tomboy Melanie had been growing up.

“Yeah, my mom is so proud. Apparently, owning a house with a dishwasher and more than one bathroom is an indication she’s made it.” Daryl rolled his eyes. “Apparently, having an in-house toilet and outhouse one just isn’t the same.”

Yet another smile stretched his lips. Daryl was a bayou man at heart. He’d never get caught dead in a suit or living a cookie-cutter life.

“I see you’ve managed to evade getting hitched. Whatever happened to Stacy what’s-her-name that you were dating?”

A shudder shook his friend. “Stacy was over like a month after you left. She started talking marriage and babies, and I started talking leaving civilization behind and living off the land…” Daryl shrugged as he grinned. “As it turns out, she wasn’t wanting the same things in life I was.”

Caleb chuckled and shook his head. Nice to see his best friend hadn’t changed. He had to admit he’d wondered what Daryl would do when he showed up at his mom’s front door right after dinner—a dinner consisting of a droolingly delicious homemade clam chowder with Ma’s special cornbread for dipping.

Caleb had no sooner tucked away two platefuls than someone rang the doorbell.

“Since when do we have a fucking doorbell?” Caleb exclaimed.

“Language,” his ma chided in the midst of clearing the table.

“We have a doorbell because I spent thirty bucks to get one. Just because we live by the swamp doesn’t mean we can’t have amenities,” Constantine informed him.

A doorbell, shutters, and new laminate flooring in every room. What had happened to the charming shack he’d grown up in? Caleb could no longer see the marks of his past—they’d painted over some of his best penwork!

As Princess took off for the front door, barking and bristling like a rabid squirrel, Caleb followed after, not out of any interest in who was at the door, but more a wonder if the tiny dog would rip whoever dared come to the house into shreds.

She was certainly freaking out enough to make Caleb think she was perhaps part hound of Hell.

Opening the door, he had no trouble recognizing who stood there. Daryl.

Awkward.

Ma and Constantine weren’t the only ones Caleb had more or less abandoned without a word. How had his best friend taken his abrupt departure?

Daryl took a hard look at him and said, “You know you’re a dickhead, right?”

“Biggest dick around,” Caleb retorted.

To which Daryl smirked. “Not according to the ladies.” And that was that. His Latino friend sauntered in and hugged his mother.

Now some people might wonder at Melanie and Daryl’s very non Hispanic names. Simple. Their mother was convinced that in order to succeed in the world, they needed a proper name. A very English name. Although, as Daryl once confided to Caleb, the name wasn’t what slammed doors in his face, but his tanned skin, tattoos, and attitude. Raised on the wrong side of the bayou, it didn’t matter what they wore or how they spoke, people judged. But guess what? Caleb didn’t give a fuck and neither did his best friend.

Apparently, Daryl had not been a stranger to his home in Caleb’s absence. Perhaps that was why his mother told him—after a dessert of homemade peach-flavored ice cream—that they should go out and enjoy themselves.

Whatever the reason for her wanting to get rid of him, Caleb took it, not eager to get into a conversation with his ma that would prod him about things he’d prefer to bury. See, the thing was, despite the need for secrecy, he wasn’t sure he could lie to his mother anymore.

But what about Daryl? He’d probably have questions, too, so Caleb warned him. “I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about the last few years.”

“I’m not a fucking idiot. It’s obvious something serious went down. Why else would you have fucked off in the middle of the night without a word hardly to anyone?”

“I had my reasons.”

“I’m sure you did, and I’m sure they’re valid, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t still a dick move. Lucky for you, though, I’ve been a dick a time or two in my life, so I know it can happen. However, I do insist you buy me a beer. To remind me why you’re my friend.”

Just knowing Daryl still considered them friends had Caleb buying a pitcher and telling the waitress to keep them coming. And they weren’t cheap pitchers, seeing as how they were ordering them in a strip club.

The Itty Bitty Club—featuring the ittiest thongs and most fabulous titties around—resembled every other exotic dancing bar with tables with enough space between them to give a man a bit of room—so the dancers would come by and offer a little more personal time. The place was cleaner than most. The scarred wood surfaces might have seen a cloth before he sat down. No sticky spots or moisture rings to be seen.

Just don’t touch under the table.

The chairs all had armrests, for the entertaining ladies’ benefit. It gave them something to hold on to as they lap danced for a large bill or two. Panties on and no body parts grinding didn’t mean a gal couldn’t straddle the chair and air hump.

Not Caleb’s thing, in public at least.

Having gone to strips joints more than a couple of times, Caleb knew the best spot was by the bar, chatting up the usually pretty bartender while watching the show on stage in the mirror.

His buddy, however, had other plans.

“Let’s get up close,” Daryl had said, leading the way to the stage.

“Why? Seen one, seen them all.”

Daryl kept walking and found a vacant spot.

Caleb followed and dropped into the open chair across from his bud.

This is as close as you can get.

Sitting in pervert’s row meant Caleb had a great glimpse of the action on stage. Daryl quite enjoyed the show, calling out to the girls, apparently knowing most by name. After a while, Caleb realized he knew quite a few of those gals, too.

“Is that so-and-so?” followed by a “yup” formed the bulk of several conversations. Relaxing. No pressure. Some of his tension eased.

I’m safe here.

Or so he thought until Daryl broke the pattern with a muttered, “Shit. She wasn’t supposed to be working tonight.”

“Who are you talking about?” Caleb no sooner said the words than awareness made him stiffen. A tingle swept across his senses, a familiar, longed-for touch.

Uh-oh.
It couldn’t be her. No way. No way could he still feel her in that intimate way he used to so many years ago.

I must be wrong. I mean think, idiot, she would never work in a place like this. Renny was always so damned classy. And let’s not forget her daddy would never let her.

Wrong.

What he thought he knew had changed, but Renny hadn’t.

Holy fuck, she’s more beautiful than I remembered.

Long blonde hair swept into a ponytail showing off the long column of her neck. A figure a little more round than before, but utterly sexy. As to her face… A few years of maturing had taken her soft girlish features and sculpted them.
She’s a woman now.

A ridiculously attractive one, and for the first time since they’d entered the strip club, Caleb had to drop his hands into his lap—so he could mash his fist against his daring-to-stir cock.

Stay down.

Seriously. Getting an erection for her was probably perverse. Titties bouncing all over the place, practically in his face, did nothing, but seeing the one woman in the world who probably hated him, and was clothed to boot, turned him on?

At this point, he should note that while Renny did wear clothes, they were exceedingly sexy and skimpy. In his view, they were not appropriate for this bar—or public viewing.

What does she think she’s doing strutting around in that tight-fitting crop top?
A shirt that molded to her perfect handful of tits. And who thought those itty-bitty jean shorts she wore, that barely covered her full ass, were appropriate work attire?

Doesn’t she know how sexy she fucking looks? What a temptation she poses?

Why the hell did he care so much? Agitated, he turned his attention back to the reason he was feeling the tension creeping back in. Daryl had done this.

Caleb growled. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

Hands raised, Daryl shook his head. “Sorry, dude. I honestly didn’t know she’d be here. She doesn’t usually work here Fridays.”

Usually? “Are you saying she works here on a regular basis?”

“Has been since not long after the baby.”

He choked on his sip of beer. “Baby?”

“Dude, did you not keep up on any of the news in town?”

“No.” Because a part of him didn’t want to know.

“Lots of stuff has been happening.”

So he kept being reminded. “Who’s she hooking up with?” Because he totally wanted to plant his fist in his face.
Rip into him and kill him.

He ignored the suggestion. He most certainly suffered from a green problem, but it wasn’t jealousy.

Daryl shrugged. “No one that I know of lately.”

“What about the baby’s daddy? Is he still in the picture?”

“Nope. Not that anyone knows who it is. She went off not long after you left to care for an aunt or something. She came back about six months ago with a kiddo.”

“And no one knows who the father is?

Daryl shook his head. “She won’t say. All my sister will say is that he was a jerk who wasn’t ready for the responsibility.”

A certain right fist wanted to show an asshole what happened when he ditched his responsibilities. Caleb knew what it was like to grow up fatherless. Despite the fact that Renny probably hated him for leaving, Caleb didn’t like knowing she was struggling.

But that still didn’t excuse her choice of work.

Caleb stood abruptly, the chair screeching back against the floor. “I need to see her.”

Reaching out, Daryl grabbed his arm as he went to walk by. “Dude, don’t do it.”

“Do what? Say hello to an old friend?”

“You guys were more than friends. Everyone thought you were going to get hitched. And then you left. No warning. Nothing. She was hurting. Bad. You can’t blame her for mistakes she might have made.”

Mistake? He’d left, and she had a baby by another man.

He should have been happy to know she’d moved on. Instead, he wanted to kill something.

Biting is good.

He ignored the voice. He did that a lot, and he didn’t give a shit what that damned shrink said. Some things were better left locked away.

Because some acts couldn’t be unseen.

“I don’t know why you think I’m going to blame her for anything. I just want to talk to her. Say hi. Let her know I’m back.” And that there were many nights he wished he’d never left.

Seeing her again reminded him of the most precious thing he’d lost.

Yet not leaving was never a choice.

Talking to her would prove a cruel form of torture, but he couldn’t stop himself, even as Daryl reminded him, “Dude, don’t do it. She knows you’re back. Trust me, she knows. So sit down and have another beer. Or, even better, let’s take off and go to the Bitten Saloon. It’s a short stagger to my place then.”

“You know I hate Western. And you’re worrying for nothing. Better I get this out of the way now. We were bound to run into each other at one point.” Caleb had just hoped he’d find himself better armed when he did—like with a gun so he could shoot any asshole who dared to touch his girl.

Or we could eat them.

The cold thought wasn’t his own. He paid it no mind, just like he paid Daryl no mind. Gaze narrowed, he made his way across the room. People wisely stepped out of his way. Could it be the intense glower he wore as he watched a certain pert ass—
an ass I groped too many times to count—
sashayed away? He followed.

Renny ducked into the women’s washroom. Did she think to escape him? Caleb was a master when it came to getting his prey. It was what had gotten him into this situation.

I’m coming to get you.
Given the women’s public washroom was in a strip joint, and the employees had their own behind the scenes, Caleb felt pretty safe following.

No screams as he entered, a good sign, but neither did Renny acknowledge his presence. She knew he was there. She could see him approach in the mirror, just like he could see the tight set of her shoulders and the thin press of her lips.

A peeved-looking woman who sounded it, too. “You made a wrong turn. This is the women’s washroom.”

Ignoring her welcome, he said, “Hello, baby.” The familiar nickname purred from him, unbidden, but once spoken, unable to be retrieved.

A long time ago, that endearment might have once curled her lips into the most beautiful smile. Now it just served to make her eyes flash with anger. “Don’t you baby me, Caleb. I have no interest in talking to you.”

“I get that, and I don’t blame you.”

“How magnanimous of you,” she retorted dryly.

“You look good.” Again, he spoke without thinking—or filtering.
I’d better start watching my words, or I’m going to get myself in trouble.

Too late. He was in trouble the moment he came seeking her.

At his praise, she sucked in a breath, and a slight flush heightened the color in her cheeks. “You look good, too,” she said.

At her obvious lie, his lips tightened. “I’m very much aware of how I look. No need to coddle me.” The burns had left a scar, not just on his skin but his psyche. Even if she could ignore the one, he couldn’t ignore the other.

“Coddle? I can assure you that would be last thing I’d do for you.”

Renny always did have that irritating tendency of telling the truth, but even if she didn’t find his scars ugly, that changed nothing.

“As you can see, I’m back.”

“So everyone keeps telling me,” she mumbled. “As if I care. I stopped caring a long time ago.”

A lie that hit him hard and low.
She still feels something for me.

Yeah, lots of anger.

“I know you hate me, and I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to do my best to stay away from you.” Even if all he wanted was to stick to her like honey on a bear.

Her brow arched. “So far you’re not doing a good job staying away.”