Shut Up and Kiss Me (23 page)

“Damn,” Redfoot said.

Jose’s balls still burned. Mustard oozed down his ankles. “Excuse me,” he said. And fighting the temptation to throw any punches, he headed to the bathroom, leaving yellow footprints in his wake. One thought echoed in his mind:
welcome to fucking Precious.

Sky didn’t budge as Lucas left; his emotions held him paralyzed. Standing frozen, he stared out into the woods at nothing. Absolutely nothing. Even when the front door opened again he stood frozen, though he was scared shitless it was Shala.

At last he overcame his paralysis and turned. His friend stood in the doorway. “The fact that you haven’t run yet is pretty telling, friend.” Lucas brought a coffee cup to his lips and studied Sky over its rim. “Damn. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Sky wanted to deny it, but he didn’t quite know what he’d be denying. All he knew was that Shala Winters had him tied in knots.

Lucas lowered his mug. “Here’s my advice. Pour her a cup of coffee. She takes it with cream. There are some croissants on the counter. Put a slab of butter on the plate and then some preserves. She likes the peach better than the raspberry. Oh, and try to get that ‘I’m fucked’ look off your face before you do.” He chuckled and headed back inside.

Sky gave his truck one more glance. He could still run, could still get the hell out of there. Lucas would take care of Shala. But then Sky realized Lucas knew what type of preserves Shala liked, and he himself didn’t. That disturbed the hell out of him.

His gaze shot back to the cabin door. He didn’t have to leave. He could take Shala a cup of coffee and a croissant, just as his friend suggested. But the claustrophobia with which he’d woken up that morning was playing scary
music in his head—something like “Here Comes the Bride” mixed with the theme from
Jaws.
He took a step toward his truck.

What the hell was wrong with him? Stopping, he raked a hand over his face. Shit. They’d had sex. Yes, it had been good sex, maybe even great sex. It probably had been more intimate than any he’d ever experienced…and yet it was still just sex. Which meant that this next step…? It was just breakfast. Hell, it wouldn’t even be a full breakfast, simply a cup of coffee and a piece of bread—good bread, like it had been good sex, but still just bread. He’d personally cooked a three-course breakfast for almost every woman he’d ever slept with, so why in the heck was he behaving like this? What made this so different? Nothing, damn it.

He shot inside and got the coffee. Got the croissants. And the preserves. But the moment Sky walked into the bedroom and saw Shala sitting with the sheet wrapped around her naked body, he knew what was so different:
everything.
Shala was different. The sex was different. With her,
he
was different.

She smiled up at him, and he had flashbacks of hearing her moaning little half sighs, recalled with pleasure how it had felt to enter her that first time: tight, awesome, and so damn right. And just like that, he decided the differences didn’t mean crap. They didn’t change a thing. She lived over two hundred miles away—she couldn’t smother him with talk of relationships or commitments. What the hell was wrong with just enjoying this? Whatever “this” was, it would play its course and eventually be over. Long-distance relationships didn’t work. He knew that.

She’s your soul mate.
The
wacoi
confirmed it.

Redfoot’s words echoed in his mind, but he tossed them into a mental blender. Not only did he not believe in that stuff, he knew himself better than any prophecy ever could. But did Shala? Did she know him enough to not
expect much? Lucas had been right: Shala wasn’t his normal type. His type didn’t have that hint of innocence, that touch of vulnerability. His type wouldn’t be misconstruing what had just happened.

Then again, Shala had practically told him she didn’t want to get involved because of her ex. She’d implied she didn’t want to go down that whole serious-relationship path. All he had to do was clarify that they both understood their limits, and then all these yin and yang feelings would fade. Right?

She plucked at the sheet again and tugged it higher. “Can I have the coffee?” she asked.

Realizing he’d been staring like an idiot, Sky moved. He set the tray down, sat, and handed her a cup. He took his own. “Did you sleep well, Blue Eyes?”

“When I was sleeping I did.”

Her sexy grin pulled him closer. Damn, she was beautiful. “I hope that’s not a complaint.”

She chuckled. “Not at all.” Her gaze shifted to her coffee, and when she looked up, her eyes held a different glint—one that reminded him of the “Wedding March” and
Jaws.
“Am I going to talk to the Texas Rangers today?”

“Yeah, it’s set for ten.” He looked at the time. “I’ll probably just hang out here and take you in.” He sipped his coffee and ached to touch her. Oh, hell, he ached to tug the sheet away and have a repeat performance of last night. The idea shot a lot of blood down south.

She nodded. “But after that I should probably get back to Houston.”

He nearly choked. “Go? Are you freaking kidding? The idiot tried to run you down in a car and he shot Jessie. What in God’s name are you thinking, woman?”

She blinked those vulnerable blue eyes at him. “You said it would only be a couple of days. That’s passed, and—”

“That’s before he tried to make roadkill out of you and
nearly murdered a friend of mine.” When she dropped her head on her sheet-draped knees and groaned, he added, “I’m sorry, but there’s no way I’m letting you walk away from here right now.”

She raised her eyes. “I know you’re right, but I have a life, my job, my house, a missing computer, and a police report to make, and it’s all in Houston. And Lucas has been great, and you’ve been great, but what am I supposed to do? Put my whole life on hold until you catch the guy?”

The fact that he’d been referred to as great in the same sentence as Lucas—and came second in the lineup—bothered Sky more than he wanted to admit. Then another bothersome realization jumped into place: her leaving annoyed him on
many
levels, some of which had nothing to do with her being in danger. The whole thought process didn’t make sense, because he’d just concluded distance from her would be a good thing.

Baffled, he pushed all his insane thoughts aside and tried to think like a cop. He set his cup on the bedside table and said, “Okay, let’s look at the options. You can put your life on hold for a little longer, stay here where people are more than willing to watch out for you, or go home alone where there’s a damn good chance you’ll get killed. Now, which one seems like the better deal?”

Shala didn’t get to answer, because Sky’s phone rang. He picked it up from the bedside table and saw it was Trooper Pete Dickens. Holding up a silencing finger, he took the call.

“Yeah?”

“You want the good news or the bad news?” Pete asked.

“Both,” Sky snapped, having no patience for games.

“I think I can explain the shots your friend heard.”

“And?” Sky asked.

“And I found Charlie Rainmaker. Unfortunately, that’s how I know about the shots.”

“Shit! Is he—?”

“Dead?” Pete said. “Afraid so.”

Sky moved off the bed. “I’m on my way.”

Staring at the door, Shala pinched off a bite of buttered croissant, poked it into her mouth, and swallowed without tasting. Sky had kissed her and left, saying only that he had to go and would call. Something bad had happened—she’d gathered that. And from the way he’d looked at her, as if he had more ammunition to keep her in town, she gathered it had something to do with her neighborhood stalker.

“Lovely! Just lovely!” she muttered, Nana’s favorite sarcastic saying. Then she dropped her plate on the bed and hugged her knees to her chest again.

What she wouldn’t give for Nana to be alive right now, because she needed to talk to a woman. She needed someone she could talk to about the budding emotions causing hurricane-sized havoc in her heart. She could call her sister-in-law, Beth, but honestly, she’d never really bonded with her brother’s wife. Calling her now to say, “I had awesome, multiple-orgasm, curl-your-toes-up, headboard-banging sex, and I’m afraid it’s the biggest mistake I’ve made since I had mediocre sex with my ex-husband”…well, that just didn’t feel right. Then again, she wasn’t sure she’d have told Nana that, either.

I’m sorry, but there’s no way I’m letting you walk away from here right now.
Sky’s words floated through her head. He was right about her safety, but seriously, how long could she stay? She had things to do, things to attend to…and more importantly, things to run from. And those didn’t include her stalker. More like awesome, multiple-orgasm, curl-your-toes-up, headboard-banging sex.

“Everything is so freaking fucked up!”

Sky looked up from his desk at Maria, who charged into his office with all the subtlety of a pissed-off elephant.

“Yup.”

Leaning back in his office chair, he agreed totally with her assessment. His last four hours had been spent staring at Charlie Rainmaker’s corpse, combing over the crime scene with the Texas Rangers, and trying to make heads or tails of just how involved Charlie was with everything that had been going on. He knew Charlie was adamantly against bringing Shala into town, and finding several photos of her on the man’s cell phone proved he’d been following her. Phillip had interviewed a group of people who’d attended one of Charlie’s protest meetings, and they admitted that Charlie had insinuated that Shala could probably be “easily convinced” to up and leave town. And he knew the person willing to do it.

Contributing to Sky’s bad mood was the phone call he’d just had with Candy Peterson about her reasons for not wanting to file charges against her abusive husband. Thankfully, he’d managed to talk her into it. Getting off the phone with Candy, he’d found missed messages on his cell: Jose wanting to talk to him about Maria, and Matt—Maria’s married ex—presumably wanting to talk about her, too. The third message was from Redfoot, asking what Sky had done with his pills. And all this had been served up while he was still dealing with his emotions regarding Shala. Yup, Maria’s assessment of “fucked up” pretty much described it all.

Maria slammed her purse on his desk and dropped down in the chair in front of him. The tears in her eyes kept Sky from handing her his cell phone and telling her to call someone who cared. Because he did care. He cared about Maria. He cared about Jose. He cared about Redfoot. He cared about Charlie Rainmaker’s wife, whom
he’d left sobbing in her living room. He even cared about Candy Peterson—well, he cared more about her little girl. And damn it to hell and back, he cared about Shala Winters. A lot. So much so that she was at the top of his list of worries.

“What’s wrong?” He pushed a box of tissues toward Maria.

“I punched Matt. Hit him hard on the nose.”

“Okay,” Sky said, not knowing what else to say. Matt, unlike the others, didn’t inspire even an iota of caring. “He hasn’t filed charges against you, so I don’t have to arrest you yet. A good thing, since I’m tired of having to lock up my own family.” It was a bad joke, but he didn’t have a lot of energy left. Seeing her tears, he wouldn’t mind giving Matt a punch himself. He didn’t know crap about relationships, but lying about being married always deserved a hammering.

“It hurt like hell,” she sniffled. “But it felt fabulous.”

He remembered how it had felt to hit Mr. Peterson last night. “As long as you don’t make it a habit, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine! He lied to me, Sky. He’s married, and now he comes into my kitchen and announces that I can’t give Jose another chance because I still love him!”

“What?”

“He told Jose that I still love him,” Maria said, and the fact that she didn’t deny it said a whole lot more. “What makes it worse is I think Redfoot is the one that took Matt there. Why would he do that?”

Sky shook his head. “He wouldn’t.”

“Then Veronica comes charging in, saying that the tribal council is going to force her to marry Redfoot. Matt’s all worried about my hand, and Jose just stands there with his pants filled with mustard and doesn’t say a thing!”

Sky shook his head again. “What? You almost had me until you got to the mustard part.”

“It’s not important.” Maria grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.

Sky scratched his chin. “Okay, Redfoot’s not going to be forced to do anything he doesn’t want to do. And I’m sure Ms. Cloud will—”

“But that’s just it. Why didn’t we know about that?”

Sky shrugged. “Redfoot obviously—”

“You know what I think?” she interrupted. “I think we didn’t see it because we’re so fucking busy burying our heads in the sand. I buried my head in the sand when it came to Matt and his weekends in Dallas. I buried my head in the sand about how Jose feels about us.”

Sky didn’t know whether to listen or ask. He decided to ask. “Uh, how does Jose feel about us?”

“He’s jealous.”

“Of us?”

“Mostly you.”

“Of me? Please. The guy has a couple-hundred-thousand-dollar-a-year job, probably drives a hundred-thousand-dollar car, lives in—”

“That has nothing to do with it. You’re more like Redfoot’s son than Jose is.”

“No. I refuse to take that on. When Jose was living here, I purposely didn’t join in on anything those two did together. I didn’t even do science projects, because that was their thing. I didn’t go on those father-son camping trips…”

“You did the powwows,” Maria accused.

“Only because Redfoot insisted!”

Maria sighed. “I’m not saying you did anything wrong, Sky. But remember that Redfoot insisted Jose do it, too, and he didn’t because he hated it. And you enjoyed it.”

“I didn’t enjoy it. I respected it. There’s a difference.” Even today, Sky participated in the powwows only because he respected the culture. He didn’t believe—at least, not in everything.

“Truth is, you’ve always had more in common with Redfoot than Jose. Jose is no fool. He could see that. I can see it, looking back. Jose is like Estella.”

This was more crap to care about, and Sky didn’t think he could handle it now. “If Jose wants to be close to his dad, he should move back here.”

She shook her head. “He would be miserable.”

“So it’s my fault that he hates Precious?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “You’re not listening. It’s not your fault. It’s not about you—it’s about them. Estella used to be the link between them, and when she died they lost touch. I should have seen it. I should have done something a long time ago.”