Wet and Reckless (Private Pleasures 4)

“I’m sure she would have loved to meet you.” Addy’s kind heart overruled her honest soul, but her expression belied her words. Lillian Belle would have slammed the door in her granddaughter’s face.

Old grudges and fucked-up family relations hardly mattered anymore, but the practical part of him focused on something that could make a difference. “Do you know which law firm handled the estate? Roxy might have an inheritance coming her way as next of kin.”

“You should talk to Roger. He’ll know the details.”

He heard an unspoken but in her statement and decided to call her on it. Details had a way of circulating in a small town. “But?”

“I believe she left her entire estate to Bluelick Baptist. They dedicated their new pews in her memory.”

Damn. Roger Reynolds, the younger of Reynolds & Reynolds, Attorneys at Law, would no doubt have the specifics, but apparently the estate wasn’t sitting in probate somewhere.

“That’s okay,” Roxy insisted. “I didn’t come for money. I just wanted to meet her. She’s the only family I have. Had.”

“I guess this means you’ll be keeping your stay in Bluelick short? Shit!”

Addy sent him a glower to go with the under-the-table kick to his shin and then turned to Roxy. “You should spend some time here and get to know the place your family hailed from. I’m sure my parents went to school with your mom. I’ll bet my mama has old class pictures and yearbooks somewhere if you’re interested in taking a look?”

Roxy’s eyes brightened some. “I would love to if it’s no inconvenience.”

While the women chatted, West marked his mental calendar. A day to see the lawyer, a day to page through Mrs. DeShay’s photo albums, and then he’d generously drive her to the bus terminal in Lexington and put her on a Greyhound to Austin, or Nashville, or hell, Alaska—the farther the better. Somewhere beyond temptation.

His radio crackled from its holster on his duty belt. Dispatch requested any available units respond to a reported 10-100, and a cold knuckle slid down his spine when she rattled off a mile marker along Route 9 almost exactly where he’d picked up Roxy. A possible dead body qualified as an atypical call by any standards, but absolutely unheard of in the admittedly short history of the Bluelick PD. He spared a glance at Roxy.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll bring your things in.”

She bounded out of the booth. “I’ll get them. Save you a return trip.”

No. He wanted her to stay and eat. “One duffel, one guitar. I think I can handle it.”

Addy slid out as well and stepped aside so he could do the same.

“Put dinner on my tab?”

“Sure thing. I’ll box up your sandwich.” She hurried to the kitchen.

Roxy had dropped back into the booth by the time he returned with her stuff. He placed the duffel by her feet. She reached for the guitar, bracelets cascading, T-shirt sliding all over the damn place so flashes of red lace provoked a predictable reaction from parts of him far south of his brain. He handed it to her and prayed his hard-on subsided before he showed up at the code looking like a truly sick fuck.

Once she had the instrument tucked into the booth, she looked up and slayed him with those disconcertingly guileless eyes. “Thanks for the ride and dinner.” She held out her hand. “My cigarettes?”

Roxy Belle Goodhart drew things from him he didn’t want to give, and the awareness made him terse. He shook his head. “You’re quitting, remember? No more hitchhiking, either. I mean it. Consider this your first and final warning.”

Chapter Four

Roxy picked at her salad and watched the di

ner fill with customers. A young family—mom, dad, and three tow-headed daughters—took over the semi-circular booth in the corner. While the oldest child talked her daddy’s ear off, and the tiniest one did her best to kamikaze out of her highchair, the middle girl fixed her owl eyes on Roxy. Roxy winked at her. The sweet little thing blushed, smiled, and hid her face against her mom’s arm. Too cute.

A group of high school girls sipped shakes and sent mixed signals to a foursome of guys at the table across the aisle. Every once in a while, one of the foursome sent a hopeful look her way. Also, too cute. And way too young. Had she ever been that young?

Four women breezed in on a wave of laughter and perfume. They chatted with Addy and then stopped to exchange hugs and kisses with the family before taking a table on the other side of the diner. Not for the first time in the evening, inquiring looks landed on her.

A natural reaction. She picked at the remaining half of her salad. Bluelick was a tight circle. Everyone knew everyone. They all had a place. She didn’t, and without a local to share her table and provide a frame of reference for her presence, she might as well have Mystery Girl tattooed across her forehead.

Addy swung by to refill her lemonade and then frowned as she noticed the pile of salad still on the plate. “Can I get you something different?”

“Oh, no. This is really good.” To prove it, she speared another forkful but couldn’t muster up the follow-through to lift it to her mouth. “I’m just not very hungry anymore.” She offered a weak smile and glanced around. “I should give up the table. You’re getting busy.” Just because she didn’t have anywhere to go didn’t mean she could hang out in the diner all night, waiting for…what? A sign from the universe?

Addy shook her head. “You’re fine. We look busy because I’m down a waitress. One of my best just had a bouncing baby boy by way of a C-section, and she needs a few weeks to recover and care for her little guy.” Her beleaguered sigh suggested it was going to be a long few weeks. “If you know of anyone with waitressing experience who’s interested in earning fifteen dollars an hour, plus tips and meals, send them my way.”