Stardust Miracle (7 page)

“I never asked him for money.”

“Neither did Jim or I. But he gave it to us.”

His left eyebrow lifted in a skeptical arc. “Maybe you didn’t, but I bet Jim hinted pretty broadly.”

“Not around me.”

“He didn’t get blow jobs from other women around you, either. Besides, I don’t base my behavior on his.”

Tears welled up. She turned her head from him and faced the field, blinking away the tears. So tired of tears. She sniffed and looked back to him.

“Put the money in the bank. I gotta go.” He grinned crookedly. “Hey, thanks for the thought. For half a moment, I was feeling pretty damn good.”

“You can still change your mind.”

He laughed. “You’re a devil, you are.” With a nod, he took off. 

She’d just stepped into the house when her phone rang. She dropped the envelope on the table and dug into her purse, not as happy as before Marsh turned down her money. She
wanted
to help them.

There had to be another way. She would think of it.

The phone trilled again, and she looked at the Caller ID.
Derek Muench.

She didn’t want to talk to him now. The only person she wanted to talk to right now was a fairy godmother, and good luck with that. But unlike an imaginary fairy godmother, Derek was flesh and blood and wanted to talk to her, so she put the phone to her ear and pressed ‘talk.’

“Hey, Derek. Thanks for calling while I was sick. I appreciate it.”

“Mom says Pastor Jim doesn’t deserve you. I agree one thousand percent.”

“I filed for divorce today.” The words dropped out of her mouth like rocks clunking onto a road.

She made a face. Why had she said that? Derek was a guy. They didn’t want to hear this kind of thing. 

“Oh.” There was a pause. “Good. Would you, uh, like to go out to eat tonight?”

She frowned. “With you and Elaine?”

“No, not with Mom. Just me.”

She looked down at her left hand. At her bare ring finger.

Was Derek asking her on a date? With romantic intentions?

“I’m not sure...” She stopped herself from saying more. She was being silly thinking he thought she was...well, datable. Or something more. Derek probably thought she was ancient. For a woman to be seven years older than a man was like a generation dividing them. Guys who were twenty-nine were dating twenty-year-olds, not thirty-six-year-olds.

Obviously he was inviting her to dinner as a friend. Payback for all the times she had him and his mother over for dinner. She was one of the few who asked Elaine to her home and smiled as the woman rambled on about all that she still did for Derek despite her physical problems.

“I know you like Italian,” he said. “Paradiso in Tomahawk is one of my accounts. I just updated their website yesterday. Pete, the owner, said to come over anytime and bring a friend. How’d you like to be my first guest?”

Her shoulders relaxed. He just thought of her as a friend. They both liked Italian, and the meal was free. Nothing romantic about a free meal.

“Sounds wonderful. I’d love to be your first. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” he said, and his voice changed. Deepened.

A small frisson went through her, like a tiny starburst shooting through her bloodstream. 

They set up a time for him to pick her up. After she ended the call, she let Goldie outside then went to the guest bedroom to change into a sweatshirt and pants with an elastic waistband. Not that she needed elastic. She still hadn’t regained her appetite, and instead of gaining weight, she’d lost another pound.

Three weeks ago, she would’ve been thrilled. Now she didn’t care. Well...maybe a little. She went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She could see herself from her hips up. But what she saw looked good.

“This is what you’ll never have again,” she said to her reflection, meaning the words for Jim, not herself.

Then she went to let Goldie back in to be with her puppies, and followed the dog into the puppy room. The black puppy tried to climb up her leg. No one wanted him yet. He looked too much like a black lab for perspective owners to pay the designer-dog price that Sarah and Marsh were asking.

She wanted to tell him she’d take him, but how could she? She had no idea where she’d be living. How much time she’d have.

Goldie barked, stopping her thoughts. The large dog got up on her feet and faced the front, barking louder. All the puppies squealed and the black puppy barked. Small, high barks that sounded cute now but she knew would soon be loud and irritating.

Becky climbed over the barrier that kept them from escaping – an old door in bad shape that looked like it should be firewood once the puppies were gone. Sarah had plans to spruce it up for resale.

In the living room, Becky peered out the large front window at a white truck, sized about halfway between a semi and a pickup. Squinting, she stuck her nose close to the glass to see a black and red emblem, with more lettering on the side. But all she could make out was one word: ANTIQUES.

The driver walked around the cab, and she breathed in – then couldn’t seem to breathe out. The air stuck in her lungs.

Almost eighteen years had passed since she’d seen Trey Niemow, and she probably wouldn’t have recognized him if Earl hadn’t mentioned his name at the village board meeting. He’d filled out some. In a good way. His shoulders were broad under his blue long-sleeved shirt, and his hips and legs lean under his jeans. From this distance, she couldn’t see too much of his face, but he wore his hair short now. He probably didn’t feel he had to show the world he was a rebel anymore. Financial success did that to a person, she thought.

He headed toward the house, and she realized she was probably covered in dog hair. She had a frantic high school moment, wondering if she had time to do something to her face and hair, and knowing she didn’t. She pushed her hands through her hair and then realized what she was doing, and stopped.

She didn’t need to impress anyone. Certainly not any man. She was living in her sister’s guest room, her brother-in-law’s office, really. She wasn’t ready for a puppy, much less a new man.

The doorbell rang. She headed toward the front entrance while Goldie barked madly and the golden puppies squeaked and the black one barked. Opening the front door, she put on a smile the way another woman would put on makeup – not as a decoration but as a weapon.

“Hello, Trey,” she said. His face was wide, and so were his shoulders. On him both looked good. His nose was broad, too, his jaw square and his eyes wide. Everything fit nicely and with his olive complexion, he looked foreign, exotic. It was his quarter native Indian blood that gave him the always-tanned color, while she was the foreign one with the paleness she’d inherited from German ancestors on both sides of the family.

He didn’t seem to mind her pale complexion as he looked her up and down.

Her body temperature went up a few degrees. One thing hadn’t changed. He reeked of sex.

And one thing had. His appeal no longer scared the crap out of her.

He smiled with appreciation. “High school,” he said, his eyes glowing with appreciation. “Becky Hoffman. It’s been a while. I would’ve bet money you didn’t marry a picker.”

“You would’ve won that bet. The lucky woman who lives here is my younger sister, Sarah.”

“That’s right, you married the golden boy.” He still smiled but the warmth in his eyes cooled. “The future preacher.”

“He is a preacher and I married him, but we’re...” Her tongue stumbled. It felt odd explaining anything. In Miracle, everyone knew already. Gossip sped faster than dandelion fluff. “We’re not together now.”

His eyes flashed to her bare ring finger then up to her eyes. “Recent?”

Her fingers twitched and she fought an urge to put her hands behind her back. She suddenly felt naked without the ring. Probably just nerves.

In all honesty, she was attracted to him, and the way he looked at her, his brown eyes warm and openly admiring, she sensed the feeling was mutual.

She couldn’t remember the last time a man looked at her like she was his favorite ice cream sundae and he wanted to lick every inch.

“I saw my lawyer today.”

“No kidding.” He didn’t say anything for a moment and she took the moment to study him. He didn’t look like a bad boy anymore. Now he was just a big guy with a great body and eyes that were...kind.

As if he read her thoughts, his eyes gleamed. No longer kind but predatory. A hunter’s eyes. And she was the prey.

Excitement sizzled through her body, even as she told it to calm down.

It didn’t listen to her.

“Have you celebrated?” he asked.

Chapter Ten

Becky shook her head, and her heart thundered. This wasn’t happening to her. This was like the opening scene of a porn movie. Or an erotic book.

Not that she watched any porn or read erotica. But if she did watch or read them, she knew a scene like this would be there – just before things
really
got hot.

He stepped back. “I have something in the truck that’s just the thing for a celebration.”

Wine? Champagne? Ribbed condoms?

No,
her mind shouted as she watched him stride to the truck. But she remained silent.

She swallowed, wetting her throat so there would be no excuse for her not to decline with a firm ‘no.’ The kind of
Nooooo!
that three-year-old Keelie Woods screamed every Sunday when her mother left her at the church nursery.

“No,” Becky whispered as she watched him leave. Heat and ice then more heat rushed through her.

She was pathetic. But after eighteen years of lukewarm sex, didn’t she deserve at least one searing encounter?

“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

He opened the passenger door of his cab and his head ducked inside. A moment later, he walked toward the house, holding a medium-sized paper bag.

Booze, she guessed. But as he neared the house, she saw it wasn’t tall enough to be wine or champagne.

Candles? Thongs?

Her brain froze.

She wanted these ridiculous thoughts to stop.

She put her hand over her left breast. Beneath her palm, her heart thumped strong and healthy.

At least her thoughts weren’t about Jim.

At least they weren’t about what other people thought about her.

They were the same thoughts other women had every day.

It didn’t mean she was going to act on them. It just meant that right now she was alive and there was nothing wrong with her body’s heightened sexuality. Good to know it worked. Maybe all it needed was a new man.

She hurried to open the front door and saw Jan Brougham on the sidewalk. As Jan’s gaze skittered to Sarah’s house then to Trey’s back, her white Chihuahua began to do his business on Sarah’s lawn.

Putting on a big smile, Becky stepped onto the front porch and waved vigorously. “Hi, Jan! Great day, isn’t it?”

Jan nodded, gave a smile that looked sick and tugged Clyde forward, though Clyde, not finished, barked his complaints in a voice that belonged to a bigger dog.

That’s what I am, Becky thought. By smiling and waving at my detractors instead of shrinking and whimpering, I’m showing them I’m a bigger dog.

“Nosy neighbor?” Trey asked, nearing her. “Tell her I’m the big bad wolf and I’m about to blow the town down.” Then he laughed.

Becky laughed, too, but hers was breathless. A Marilyn Monroe laugh.

The big bad wolf wasn’t so far off from her own thoughts about Trey. But now she realized he was carrying a grocery bag.

“What are we celebrating with?” she asked.

“You like peanut butter fudge?”

She was suddenly ravenous. “Does Santa like cookies?”

“So I’ve heard. And chocolate. Do you like chocolate?”

“Do puppies pee?”

He chuckled, and dimples creased in his cheeks. How could she have forgotten them?

“You have puppies?” he asked. 

“
We
have puppies.” She claimed temporary ownership of the squirming, squeaking, peeing, pooping bunch. She felt happier on this one day in her sister’s messy house that smelled like
eau de
puppy than she’d been for years in her own immaculate house.

Stepping back, she swept the door open. “Come in and meet them.”

They went to the kitchen first, where she set down the bag on the table. Then on to the puppy room.

He stooped down with his hands out so the puppies could sniff and lick and nibble. When a golden puppy gnawed the toe of his right leather boot, he laughed and gently removed it, his hands big on the small body.

Petting the puppies, Trey didn’t seem like the bad boy she’d remembered. Of course not. She should know better than to believe gossip. Especially since life as an adult in a small town was a lot like it was in high school.

Then he looked at her. Her body heated again and she told herself it was too warm in this room with the sun shining through the dining room’s long rectangular window.

Goldie barked and Becky let her outside. Ignoring the puppies’ whines, Becky and Trey went into the kitchen and ate peanut butter-chocolate fudge. “I can’t think of a better way to celebrate my divorce,” she said, and then thought of the dinner tonight. But whatever she had for dinner would have to be very good to beat the fudge...and spending a few minutes with Trey.

He gave her a crooked smile. “I can. But don’t think it’s what you want.”

Her face flushed. “I was right about you.”

“What’s that?”

“You were the bad boy at school.”

He leaned back in the chair and shouted with laughter; the two front chair legs lifted a couple of inches and his face glowed with life.

Deep inside her, something stirred. 

This man
,
it said.
This man.

He tipped the chair forward. “You know what I think?”

She shook her head, beyond thinking.

“I think Goldie wants to come in.”

Flustered and hot. Embarrassed because he probably read her mind and knew just what she was feeling and thinking, she stood too fast. Her chair tumbled back, crashed into the stove, and the puppies in the dining room squealed and barked. While she righted the chair, her face flamed, and she heard his boot steps on the laminated floor.