Tied With a Bow and No Place to Go (Tizzy/Ridge Trilogy Book 3) (9 page)

Synola held up a plastic container. “We thought we’d share
these cocktails left over from the luncheon.”

“We have plenty of Nana’s little cakes, too,” Rayann said,
and dangled a bag with one hand and pulled a stool away from the counter with
the other, and sat.

“Great, that will save me from making a dessert. Ridge can
eat one of those with ice cream. The ladies said they were delicious. Did y’all
get Molly home okay?”

“I drove her, and Rayann followed in Molly’s car. She was
drunk on her butt and would have never gotten in the house without our help.”
Synola stepped to the cabinet and removed three juice glasses, then sat on the
stool next to Rayann.

“Can you believe those three ex-wives used to be friends? I
hope nothing like that ever happens to us,” Rayann said.

“It won’t. We’ve never slept with the same man. That’s where
their trouble started.” Synola poured drinks.

“Jinx talked to me after everyone left and I’ve made a decision,”
Rayann said.

Synola and Tizzy gave her their full attention.

“After Jinx does the first surveillance and finds out where
Dwayne’s going, I’ll follow him the next time.” Rayann drew her lips into a
tight line. “That is, if Jinx catches him with another woman. Y’all were right.
I need to confront him. This is my problem.” She scowled, then gulped her
drink.

Tizzy opened the bag, produced two chocolate cake squares,
and handed each of her friends one along with a napkin. “We won’t let you do
this alone. If another woman is involved, Synola and I will be with you when
you face him.”

“You got that right,” Synola said around a bite of cake.

“If he is cheating, I’ll bake a batch of Keep Your Hands Off
My Man Macaroons and we’ll make that hussy eat them until she pukes,” Tizzy
said. They laughed as she emptied her glass, then refilled it.

“Oh my Lord, this cake is fabulous,” Rayann said. “Why
aren’t you eating one, Tizzy?”

“I’ll wait and have some with Ridge.” She glanced at her
watch and stepped to the oven to check on the casserole. Her phone chimed.
“Ridge just texted. He’ll be home in fifteen minutes.” She removed steak from
the fridge and brought it to the counter.

Rayann helped herself to another piece of cake and Synola
topped off their glasses again.

Tizzy put the skillet on the burner and added shortening.
While it melted, she cracked an egg into a bowl, added milk, and then stirred
to combine. Once done, she dredged the meat in flour, dipped it in the egg
mixture, back in flour and put it in the skillet to fry.

Synola started on her second piece of cake. “We must get
this recipe from Nana.” She drained the last of her drink and stood, unsteady
on her feet. “Let’s play some music!” She picked up the television remote and
surfed channels and found one featuring high-energy dance numbers. She pulled
Rayann off her stool and they whirled around the kitchen, arms flapping, hips
swaying, laughing like little girls at a slumber party.

Tizzy watched them with pure delight. Given the events of
the day: death, arguments, Vienna, she was ready for fun. She added the last
piece of steak to the skillet, removed the corn from the oven and drained the
potatoes. When the next song came on, she got caught up in the party atmosphere
and danced over to the table with plates and silverware.

Synola hip-swayed to the counter and helped herself to a
third piece of cake, broke the square in half and shared it with Rayann.

Rayann twirled around, lost her footing, the corner of the
counter breaking her fall.

“You two better sit before you hurt yourselves,” Tizzy said.

They both sat and Synola laid her head on the counter top.
“I’m dizzy.”

“Me, too.” Rayann rested her head next to Synola’s.

“What the hell is going on?” Ridge shouted from the doorway.
“I could hear that music when I turned onto our street.”

Tizzy grabbed the remote and pressed the off button. “Sorry.
We’re winding down from a rough day. You want a drink? They brought leftover
cocktails.”

Synola tried to lift her head, but couldn’t manage it.

Rayann rolled her eyes up at Tizzy. “That steak smells
sooooo wonderful.”

He walked around the counter and kissed Tizzy and then
looked across at Synola and Rayann. “Are you two okay?”

“Hmm-mmm,” Rayann said.

“We’re cheer as beer. Fine as wine,” Synola sang.

“Look at me,” he said.

Rayann and Synola stared at him.

He leaned closed to the pair. “Good God. They’re stoned out
of their minds. How many drinks have they had?”

Synola held up four fingers. Rayann held up five. They both
said, “Three.”

“Well, apparently they’ve lost control of their motor
skills, but they’re still able to do math. That’s a good sign, right?” Tizzy
asked.

Ridge groaned, shook his head, and pulled out his phone and
sent a text. “Bubba will be here in a minute to take them home.”

“What about myyyyy car?” Synola slurred.

“We’ll get it later. You sure as hell can’t drive in your
condition. What’s in that damn drink? By the time I finished questioning Molly
Hix, she was stinking drunk, too.” He eyed the crumbs on the counter. “Wait a
minute. Is that the cake from the party?” He picked up a sizeable piece and
held it to his nose. “You remember the other day when Nana told us Om planted
an herb garden?”

“Yes, so what?”

“Jesus. Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse,
it does. I think that old hippie is growing pot and Nana’s baking with it.”

~~*~~

Thirty minutes later, Tizzy, Ridge and Gracie sat at the
dining table. Underneath, Cuddles twined around Ridge’s bare feet. The fur
massage hit the spot after the day he’d had. “This is delicious,” he said,
cutting off another piece of steak smothered in cream gravy. “I’ve missed your
cooking and our family suppers.”

Gracie stretched a big smile and announced. “I made a pie.”

Tizzy grinned. “It’s a special mud pie.”

“Well, I love your mud pies,” he said.

“After we eat, I thought we’d take Gracie out to Momma and
Daddy’s to swim and spend the night,” Tizzy said. “And after everyone is in
bed, you and I can swim in the moonlight.”

Ridge wiggled his brows. “I’m not sure, Margie Lou. That
could be dangerous.”

“Why is it dangerous?” Gracie asked.

Ridge winked at his wife. “Well—your momma likes to—dunk me
when we’re in the pool.”

“Do you, Momma?”

“Yes, I do.”

Ridge scooted from the table and rubbed his belly. “Dang,
that was good. Chicken fried steak and gravy are my favorites. Now I’m ready
for that pie.”

Gracie finished off her mashed potatoes and ran out to the
backyard.

Tizzy cleared the dishes from the table and got a can of
whipped cream from the fridge. When Gracie brought the dessert, Tizzy covered
it with the topping, then stuck the remaining sausage in the middle.

Gracie scampered away and returned with plastic plates from
her tea set and placed them next to her daddy. She went to the kitchen and
brought the special recipe to the table. Tizzy followed with a spoon.

Ridge pointed at the meat stick. “What kind of pie is it?”
He directed the question to Gracie, but looked at his wife.

“First, tell Daddy how much fun we had making it.” She
dipped a portion onto a plate and set it in front of him.

“We mixed those—what are they called?” Gracie looked at her
mother.

“Vienna sausage.” She fluttered her lashes.

“Vinna sausage,” Gracie repeated. “We put them in the bowl
and squished them. It felt funny. I liked it.”

He screwed his mouth around and frowned at Tizzy. “I bet
your momma liked it too.” He zeroed in on something hanging from his fork.
“What’s this?”

“Oh, that’s a pickle,” Gracie said.

He pretended to take a bite. “Man, these pickles make me
pucker and when I pucker, I need a kiss.” When he pulled Gracie into his arms and
planted one on her cheek, she collapsed into a giggling fit. He hugged her
tight, loving the sound of her laughter. “Mmmm, good. The kiss and the pie.”

Gracie sat on his lap and he ate one last pretend bite, then
pushed the pink plate away. “Well, that’s all I can eat. It was delicious.”

Gracie slipped her feet to the floor. “I’ll save the rest
for tomorrow.” She carried the concoction back outside.

He folded his arms over his chest and gazed at Tizzy.
“Vienna Sausage Pie, huh?”

“Therapy.”

“You cured?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Now, let’s get Gracie to your parents. I’m ready for
you to dunk me.”

Just after midnight, Ridge and Tizzy lay naked on a floating
pool mattress, her arm and leg flung over his body, her head resting on his
shoulder. He slid his hands over her lush curves so soft and warm against him,
and for a moment he forgot the report he’d received.

He lifted her face to his and kissed her. She sighed against
his lips. He got lost in the way she settled into him and the touch of her hand
as she dipped it in the water and stroked his chest. These were the moments he
lived for, when the world went away and there was nothing but her. Loving him.
Wanting him. Needing him.

“You’re quiet,” she said. Her warm breath floated across his
neck.

“I’m thinking how at the end of a horrible day, holding you
makes everything right.”

“You’re treading on dangerous ground. You know how sweet
talk gets me hot, so unless you want me to dunk you again, you’d better change
the subject.”

He whispered a laugh. “It’s still early in the
investigation, but the three ex-wives and the mayor are possibilities. I’ve got
to check into the loan and question the other two exes, as well as every other
classmate in town. Molly being so eager to point her finger at everyone else
makes her look mighty guilty.”

“I heard today during the luncheon they’re going to try for
a funeral or memorial service on Sunday. The family wants to have it while his
friends are in town.”

Ridge shifted his weight. “A more pressing problem is Nana
and Om.”

“I told you when Nana brought Om home from her Hawaiian
vacation he was trouble. But no—you told me the woman’s eighty years old, and
if she wants to have a live-in boyfriend, so be it.”

“How the hell did I know he’d get her involved in making
Boom Brownies?”

“Are you sure they were?”

“No, but it puts me in a terrible position along with your
brother, the sheriff. We can’t send a sample to be analyzed without connecting
it to a case, so I’m not sure what to do.”

“Jinx.”

“What about Jinx?”

“I’ll send him to her house to search the place. If he finds
plants, he’ll get rid of them. Right now, it’s just a suspicion without proof,
so ethically, you haven’t crossed any lines.”

“Great idea. The thought of arresting your Nana had me
worried. You’d never want to dunk me again if that happened.”

“You wouldn’t arrest her. Om, yes, but not Nana. You’d do
everything in your power to keep her out of it.”

He remained silent. He needed to approach the next subject
with caution. Since the Department of Public Safety required thumbprints from
every person getting a driver’s license in Texas, fingerprints found at crime
scenes were quickly processed. He’d heard that soon, the state planned to put
in place taking a full set of prints. “You’re right, and that brings me to my
next dilemma.”

“What’s that?”

“I got the prints from the whiskey bottle that came from the
crime scene.”

“And how is that a dilemma?”

“There were only two sets.”

“Uh-huh,” Tizzy’s voice sounded as if she were almost
asleep.

“Jay Roy’s and . . .”

She pushed up at his hesitation. “And?”

He let out a long sigh. “Your mom’s.”

A noise coming from the bathroom woke Ridge. At first he
thought it was wind from the earlier storm, but then realized it was a blow
dryer. He smiled and thought back to skinny dipping in the moonlight. Too tired
to shower when they got home, they’d fallen into bed, asleep within minutes.

He sank deeper into the feather mattress. A shaft of light
streaked across the ceiling, and split in two as Cuddles climbed up the
comforter. She crouched at the end, stalking, then jumped straight up in the
air and landed on all fours as if on a balance beam. “Whoa!” He marveled at her
gymnastics. She pounced. He stuck out his hand and she rotated her face in his
palm, purring with satisfaction.

Tizzy swung open the door and stood in the morning light,
wearing nothing but white lace panties and bra. She tiptoed across the floor
and climbed onto the bed, pushing Cuddles aside to get under the covers and lie
next to Ridge. She didn’t say anything, just molded against him and trailed
fingers across his chest—the only sounds, her breathing and Cuddles’ purring.

He let the concert lull him into a daze and didn’t remember
the last time he’d felt so relaxed, free of thought and tension.

“You need to get up,” Tizzy said.

“Huh?”

She lifted her head, stared at him, and repeated, “You can’t
lie here all day.”

He half-opened his eyes and stroked fingers across her skin,
still damp and warm from the shower, and inhaled the scent of coconut clinging
to her hair. “No, Baby. Don’t ruin this. Everything is perfect.”

“Sorry. You have a case and I’m helping Jinx with one.”

Ridge’s eyes popped wide. Tizzy taking part in investigative
work remained a point of contention in their marriage. She always wanted to
help with his cases, and now that Jinx offered private investigation, Ridge had
an additional fight on his hands. He jutted out his jaw. “What case?”

“Nothing dangerous, just a possible cheating husband.”

“And Gracie? The bakery? Aren’t you working?”