Dance of Desire (1001 Dark Nights) Page 6

  “I know, I know. You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Amber.”

  “Well, I do if you’re gonna get all judgy.”

  “I’m not being judgy. I’m just… This is a sensitive time for you, Amber, I just—I want you to be clear on what your motives are. Don’t say you’re just looking for a good time when in your heart you’re looking for something else.”

  “Like looooooooooove?”

  “Hello, fifteen-year-old Amber. Could you give the phone back to twenty-six-year-old Amber, please?”

  “Oh, Momma. I appreciate what you’re saying. I really do. But I have needs. And Belinda has never stayed at a hotel that doesn’t have five stars, so that means whoever’s gonna be tending to my needs at this place, they’re gonna be real high end.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Just a teensy bit.”

  “Is that why you’re telling me all this stuff?” her mother asks.

  “No. I’m going to be gone for a couple days coming up and I need someone to know where I’m going.”

  “Okay. When are you going?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Okay… Where is this place?”

  “I don’t know that yet either.”

  “Well, alrighty then,” her mother says with a sigh. “This has been very informative, Amber. Thank you.”

  “But when I do know, I’ll tell you.”

  “And tell Caleb.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not telling Caleb about any of this!”

  “Why not? If something goes wrong, he’s right there in town.”

  “It’s none of his business!”

  “Personally, I don’t think it’s any of my business either, but here you are, telling me all about it so…”

  “’Cause I can’t tell Caleb.”

  “I see.”

  “What? What do you see?”

  How, in the midst of talking about Belinda Baxter’s favorite sex club, did they wind up on the subject of Caleb? Is this how it’s going to be now that her so-called brother is back in town? All Caleb, all the time, no matter how she tries to avoid focusing on him and his broad shoulders and the shift of his powerful legs in those ass-hugging jeans and those—

  “Baby girl, I don’t care if you go to this club. Hell, I don’t care if you sleep with five guys in one night—I need the room please, Nora. Just another minute, okay?”

  “Awesome,” Amber whispers.

  “All I care about is that you don’t go looking in the wrong place for what you really want.”

  “That’s kinda what the place is about, apparently.”

  There’s a long pause before her mother says, “I don’t understand.”

  “Belinda says they teach you about who you really are and what you really want. So who knows? Maybe I’ll come away realizing this true love thing isn’t for me after all.”

  “Yeah, you’ll come away with a newfound love of handsome male hookers, in which case Belinda better give you a raise.”

  “Ouch, Momma.”

  “It may not sound like it, Amber, but I hope whatever this place is, you have a good time. And I hope that’s all you have. Because that’s really all you need right now. A very good time.”

  “Thanks, Momma.”

  “And Amber?”

  “Yes, Momma.”

  “If you do have a good time, I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  “Deal!” Amber says brightly.

  5

  “Are you gay, dude?”

  Caleb stares across the bar at his old friend, waiting for the guy to crack a smile.

  Danny Patterson stares right back as if all he did was ask the time.

  Apparently it was a serious question. Thank God nobody else inside Watson’s heard it.

  “No, I’m not gay,” Caleb finally answers.

  “You just never seemed that into Theresa is all.”

  “Well, we weren’t in love. That’s why we got divorced.”

  “I got that. So why marry her in the first place?”

  “I don’t know. Convenience?”

  “Since when is marriage convenient? Especially if you don’t love the person?”

  We’re not always supposed to be with the one we really love, Caleb thinks, but he doesn’t say it because he knows Danny will just respond with more pushy questions.

  Also, Danny hasn’t shut up yet.

  “Unless, you know, the dad’s threatening your life ’cause you got the girl pregnant, in which case you do it ’cause staying alive is convenient. But…wait a minute! You didn’t get Theresa pregnant, did you, ’cause I don’t re—”

  “Danny, you’re twenty-three and you’ve been engaged three months. Quit lecturing me on marriage.”

  “Three or four sentences isn’t really a lecture, if you ask me.”

  Which I didn’t, Caleb thinks. But you drove an hour out of your way to have a drink with me so I’m gonna be polite and not clean your clock today.

  People who watched too much daytime television liked to say Danny Patterson was on the spectrum. But as far as Caleb was concerned, implying someone had Asperger’s syndrome was just a fancy way of shaming them for not talking to you like you were their boss.

  He’d first met Danny back when they were both working on the Proby Ranch outside Surrender, Montana. The kid was fresh out of high school then, so Caleb had blamed his 5-Hour Energy drink demeanor on the blissful ignorance of youth. But Danny’s older now and a cop, and still he chatters away like a five-year-old who doesn’t know when to stop bugging his parents during a long car ride.

  “So,” Danny said.

  “So what, Danny?”

  “Are you gay?”

  “For the second time here, which I’m hoping will be the last. I’m not gay. Why are you asking me this?”

  “’Cause women catch on fire the minute you walk into a room and you’re still single.”

  “I’m a huge player.”

  “You’re not. You hooked up with one girl in the time I knew you before you married Theresa.”

  “I’m not a fan of women on fire.”

  “You’re evading, sir. A guy who looks like you…well, it’s just not normal for you to fly solo for this long, Caleb.”

  “Unless I’m going full Brokeback Mountain in secret, you mean?”

  “Pretty much. Yeah.”

  “Well, if this is your way of telling me you think I’m good looking, then thank you, Danny. And I’m sorry I’m not more excited about that information, but, see, the thing is, I’m not gay.”

  “Eliza’s got a gay brother and the dude’s awesome. Good looking guy too.”

  “Son of a… Is this some kind of fix up?”

  “What’s wrong with that? What are you a homophobe or something?”

  “What’s wrong with it is that a good friend of mine is accusing me of lying about who I am. I’m not gay, Danny, and I’m not married to my ex-wife anymore ’cause we both moved on. It was a mutual decision, alright?”

  “And you both moved on ’cause you were never in love with her to begin with and apparently she wasn’t in love with you either. I guess that’s supposed to make sense?”

  “Danny, I’m fixin’ to add some Drano to that Heineken if you don’t shut up!”

  “Just hate to see you alone is all,” he says. He shakes his head with a faraway expression that says he’s thinking about his new fiancée. Again. Because these days, he doesn’t think about much else.

  “I get it. You meet the love of your life and suddenly you’re everybody’s matchmaker. You’re whipped, dude. That’s all.”

  “Frat boys called it whipped. Grown-ups call it engaged.”

  “Sounds like something Eliza told you.”

  “It is,” he says with a smile, as if his fiancée’s corrections feel as good as her shoulder rubs.

  “Serves you right for hooking up with one of your old teachers.”

  “Alright, now. Don’t up the creep factor. You’re sound
ing like one of the old gossips back home.”

  Danny’s hearty slug suggests the gossips back in Surrender are bothering him more than he cares to admit. Caleb isn’t surprised. In towns big and small, a ten-year age difference between lovers will make most people talk. But when the woman’s the senior partner, people tend to freak out even more.

  “Is it just talk or are y’all getting some real grief over it?” Caleb asks.

  “Oh, just the usual busybodies, claiming we got together when I was a teenager and she was my teacher.”

  “Did you?”

  “Hell, no. Back then, she pretty much wanted to chuck me out the window.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “’Cause I asked too many questions, apparently.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Only reason I give a damn is ’cause Eliza seems to give a damn, and after everything she’s been through, I don’t want her to have to give a damn about much besides being happy.”

  Caleb knows only part of the story, the part where Eliza’s bastard ex got her involved with some nasty guys who didn't make it out of Surrender alive. There are about eighteen different versions of the story floating around Surrender. Every time he calls someone and tries to get the real scoop, he gets a totally different account. Whatever happened, Eliza and Danny survived without injury, and now they're in each other’s lives for good. That’s all that matters. More importantly, he’d rather get off the topic of their personal lives altogether before he has to answer any more questions about his own.

  “Have you tried bringing her an apple every day? Maybe that’ll cheer her up.”

  “Oh, that’s real original, cowboy. How ’bout you sing me some of that old Van Halen song while you’re at it?”

  “Just trying to make light of the situation. Small towns can be tough.”

  “Yeah, well, Surrender’s alright when the MacKenzies have your back!”

  The way Danny says it, he makes Surrender’s most beloved family sound like the mafia. They’re anything but. Thomas, the doctor of the family, is the only MacKenzie Caleb had ever spent much time with, probably because he’d been willing to drive out to Proby at a moment’s notice to treat even the first signs of an infection or a sprain among the ranch hands. If Thomas MacKenzie’s generous spirit ran in the family, no wonder most of Surrender thinks he and his brothers hung the moon.

  “Is that really why you came back to Dallas?” Danny says. “’Cause small towns can be tough?”

  “Got family here,” Caleb says. “Now I’ve got a family business, looks like.”

  “You never called this place your family business before.”

  “Danny, does Surrender have some intelligence agency that hires you to track down all the former ranch hands in the area and find out about their lives? ’Cause this is getting kinda intense, friend.”

  “Nah, I told you, Conference of Local Law Enforcement Agencies is at the Hyatt downtown this weekend and I’m representing my hometown.” Danny taps one closed fist against his heart as if there’s a shiny policeman’s badge there.

  “And you always like to kick off a conference by giving an old friend the third degree?”

  Danny sips his beer and stares at Caleb.

  “I was going to fix you up with Eliza’s brother,” he finally says.

  “Danny!”

  “Well, if it means anything, I lost the bet.”

  “The bet with who?”

  “Eliza. I told her all about you and she’s sure you’re straight.”

  “She knows me better than you do, apparently.”

  “She also says your heart’s on lockdown ’cause you already met the woman you want to give it to and you’re convinced she won’t take it.”

  Way better apparently.

  “So who’s the girl who got away?” Danny asks. “Is she married?”

  If Annabelle hadn’t picked just that moment to set an armful of invoices and order forms down on the bar with a loud thunk, Caleb might have faked a seizure.

  “Here’s everything you asked for,” she says

  “Whoa, you might want to get a filing system there,” Danny says

  Annabelle gives Danny a long stare, then turns it on Caleb.

  “Who’s the child with the mouth?” she asks Caleb.

  “Old friend,” he answers. “Just ignore him.”

  He reaches out with both arms so he can draw the mountain of lose paperwork closer to him without spreading it across the bar.

  “Name’s Danny Patterson, ma’am, and it just so happens I’m an officer of the law.”

  “In Dallas?” she asks.

  “Nope. A beautiful little town in Montana called Surrender.”

  “Then shut up. You’re out of your jurisdiction.”

  Danny gives Caleb a broad smile and says, “I always forget Texas is the not nice part of the South.”

  “And I’m the not nice part of Texas,” Annabelle says. “So, Guy I Was Actually Talking To, this here’s about six months worth of invoices and orders from my amazing former employer. As you’ll be able to see, he forced us to use a cut-rate produce company even though every other batch they brought us was spoiled and also, he spent about seven thousand dollars on consultants to research”—she dug into the pile and read from the invoice in question—“the latest in jukebox technology. And by consultants, I mean members of his horrible band who Googled stuff about jukeboxes. Probably while hung over.”

  “I suppose I can’t get you to file all of this stuff,” Caleb asks.

  “You can. For about forty dollars an hour.”

  “Oof,” Danny says with a groan. “Pricey!”

  “You know, normally, it takes people more than fifteen seconds to get on my nerves,” she says.

  “Oh, I don’t believe that for a minute, Annabelle,” Caleb says with a smile.

  They just stare at each other while Danny looks back and forth between them like a kid expecting his parents to break out in a screaming match.

  “I don’t file, cowboy,” Annabelle finally says. “I’ve got about a dozen chicken fried steaks that need to be battered before we open for dinner. But I’d be happy to take you back to the dish cabinet where he stuffed all the invoices for the past two years.”

  “Lord,” Caleb groans.

  “Nobody said being a knight in shining armor was easy,” she says. Then, to Danny she adds, “Have a good one, Deputy Diaper. Enjoy those puppy dog eyes while you got ’em. I can already see the crow’s feet starting.”

  “I love a woman who can make me feel small,” Danny says after she’s gone.

  “You realize I’m calling you Deputy Diaper forever now?”

  “Knew it the minute she said it.”

  “Want to do some filing?” Caleb asks.

  “No, thanks. Knight in shining armor? She made it sound like you came home to rescue a lady, not a bar.”

  Don’t look up. Don’t let him see your eyes. He’ll put two and two together and figure it out.

  “Danny, unless you want to help me do some filing, you need to get gone.”

  “I love filing!”

  “Danny, I was kidding. It was great to see you, buddy, but I need some time to pull things together here.”

  He’s hurt Danny’s feelings, and it makes him feel like crap. Truth is he’s got all the time in the world to file these stupid invoices. Well, all the time in the world until tax day. But Danny’s like a dog on a scent. Worse, he’s following the trail right to a place Caleb needs to stay buried, and there’s only one damn way Caleb can think of to stop him.

  “Alright, well,” his buddy says, sliding off his barstool. “Try to make some time to come down to the Hyatt this weekend so we can hang.”

  “Sure thing, buddy.”

  “And, you know, sorry if I asked too many questions or if I talk too much.”

  “Nah, man. It’s work. That’s all. Just gotta get back to work here.”

  “Sure. Sure. I get it. Good luck, you know…with al
l of it, I guess.”

  All of it. Including the stuff you won’t talk to me about.

  Caleb nods.

  Danny nods.

  Then he’s out the door but not before giving Caleb a glimpse of his wounded smile.

  He just stands there for a while, feeling like a royal shit.

  He should have known this would be the hardest part. The questions. People noticing.

  He didn’t stay a loner for this long because he couldn’t control himself; he’d never do something stupid where Amber was concerned. His self-discipline’s always been good. Abel Watson, his only real father, is to thank for that. But his feelings and his anger about his feelings, those are another matter entirely. Making sure they stay hidden now that he’s back in Dallas, that’s going to be a lot harder than getting Watson’s books in order.

  Sometimes, when he’d had a few too many with the guys he’d worked with up in North Dakota, he’d mention the woman he couldn’t have, the one it would never work with, even though he wanted it to. Desperately. And if anyone pressed for more details, he’d just tell them the woman in question, the one he never named, had gone off and married someone else, which had been true then.

  It wasn’t true now. And if he’d known that, he might never have come home.

  This isn’t just fear squeezing his chest. It’s a kind of terror, the same terror he always feels when someone brushes the sand off that deep, buried place inside of himself.

  In his memory, he’s back on the side of a winding country road on that awful night when everything changed. Abel’s shaking him by both shoulders and asking him what he’d do to have a family. A real family. And then there’s darkness. Darkness and branches and a whole lot of other stuff he doesn’t want to think about.

  He doesn’t drink after people. It’s a rule. But panic attacks call for an exception to pretty much every rule, so he downs half of Danny’s abandoned beer in several swallows.

  It helps a little, but only a little.

  Maybe I should have let Danny believe I was gay, he thinks.

  If he’d had any gay friends, he’d have put the question to them. What’s harder, being gay or in love with the woman the State of Texas considers to be your sister?