True Colors

“Be careful, Vivi Ann. I might touch you back.”

She jerked her hand away from him.

“You sure you want to stop?” he said. There was laughter in his voice, and something else, a knowing that irritated her.

She turned away, walked into the kitchen saying, “There’s spaghetti sauce on the stove and noodles in the strainer in the sink. Help yourself.”

She knew he was still there, watching her, so she went to the phone and called Luke, who answered almost immediately.

“Thank God, Vivi,” he said. “I’ve been going crazy waiting for you to call. I thought . . . maybe . . .”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” she said too sharply. “How about a drink? I need to get the hell off this ranch.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at eight. And Vivi: I love you.”

She knew what she was supposed to say, what he wanted to hear, but she couldn’t do it. Instead, she whispered, “Hurry, Luke,” and hung up.

Slowly, she turned to face Dallas again and saw the way he was smiling.

“Good idea, Vivi Ann. Run off to that pretty boyfriend of yours. He looks like one of those lapdog men who like the leash. See if he can scratch your itch.”

“I do not have an itch.”

But even as she said it, she knew suddenly it was a lie.

And Dallas knew it, too.

The Outlaw was quiet on this weekday night. A few haggard-looking regulars sat on barstools, nursing their drinks. Most were smoking. In the back, a couple of older women with long, permed hair were shooting pool. A pair of Native American men stood back by the restroom door, drinking beers. The jukebox thumped out an old Elvis tune.

Vivi Ann let Luke lead her to one of the small, varnished wooden tables to the left of the bar.

“Margarita?” he asked.

She nodded absently, said, “Rocks. No salt.”

When he walked away, she sighed, trying to listen to the music, but she couldn’t rid herself of Dallas’s voice. His words banged around in her head like stones in a coffee can. Clanging and discordant.

Be careful, Vivi Ann . . .

I might touch you back.

As if conjured by the course of her thoughts, he walked into the Outlaw. Across the smoky interior, their gazes met, and she caught her breath.

Then Luke was back, sliding into view and blocking Dallas out.

“Here you go,” he said, setting a pale green margarita down on the wobbly table. “Look who I found playing pool.”

Winona stepped in beside him. “Hello, Vivi Ann.”

There was something in Winona’s tone, an acidity that bore considering, but Vivi Ann didn’t care. Frankly, Winona had been a bitch lately, and Vivi Ann was tired of trying to figure out what she’d done wrong to her sister. And all she could think about was Dallas anyway.

She leaned sideways to look at the door, but he was gone.

A quick survey of the tavern revealed that he hadn’t stayed.

She stood up. “I need something out of my purse. I left it in your car. I’ll be right back.”

“I can get it for you—”