Here Comes Trouble (20 page)

But what the hell was she scorned about?

He unrolled the wrinkled paper sack and peeked inside to see his boxers folded up in a neat little square on the bottom of the bag.

Where in the world had she gotten these and why was she so peeved about them?

“Lacy!” he called after her right before she opened her car door. The bag fell from his fingertips as he sprinted to the driveway just before she shut the car door. He grabbed the door seconds before it closed. “You gotta give me some answers.”

She stood from the driver’s seat and shoved him away from the car. “I don’t have to give you anything. I should have known better than to get involved with you.”

He grabbed her arm before she slid back into the car. “Where’d you get those?”

“It doesn’t matter where I got them.” She twisted her arm out of his grasp and tried to get into the vehicle. “Let go!” she spat out when he wrapped his hand around her other arm. Her attempt to pull herself away from him was futile. He outweighed her by a good eighty pounds.

“Dammit, stop,” he said through gritted teeth after she kicked him in the shin. “”Lacy, stop,” he said with more force this time when she stepped on his bare foot. She wasn’t very big, but the girl was determined. The only way he was able to subdue her assault was to pin her arms behind her back and shove her against the car with his body. Her round breasts heaved up and down against his chest. Chase forced his thoughts away from the thin cotton of her tank top rubbing against his bare skin. Now would not be a good time to sport a boner.

“Now, start at the beginning and tell me what the hell is going on.”

Her breath came out through her nose in short, uneven puffs. Shallow lines bracketed her angry mouth. “You don’t have to manhandle me.”

“I do when you’re trying to beat the shit out of me.” He couldn’t help the tilt of his mouth.

“You deserve it,” she said through clenched teeth. Two spots of red colored her high cheek bones.

“For what?”

Her pointy chin trembled. “For two-timing me.”

Huh? “Lacy…”

“Forget it.” She struggled against him again, twisting her shoulders this way and that. “Will you let me go? You’re going to cause a scene with your neighbors.”

“Then calm down.” He loosened his grip on her hands. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s got you so upset.”

To his surprise, she pulled in a breath which shoved her breasts harder against his chest. “I already told you. That bag is proof you can’t keep your pants zipped.”

Astonishment lifted his brows. “You think I’ve been running around behind your back?”
Was she insane?
When she didn’t respond he said, “Lacy I haven’t slept with anyone else since you and I got together.”

Her beautiful green eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked her.

“How can I? You’re going to tell me your underwear climbed their way out of your drawer, walked down the street and found their way into that woman’s house all by their itty bitty selves?”

“
What woman
?” he asked her again.

“I don’t know!
 
Some woman with dark curly hair. What the hell does it matter?”

This time he let her wriggle her way out of his arms. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back from her and ran a hand though his hair. An explanation was on the tip of his tongue, but Chase held back. Lacy was in one of her moods and in no frame of mind to listen to what he had to say. He could say something like, “I can explain those,” or “It’s not what you think” or some other stupid thing that would make him sound even guiltier. Even though he wasn’t guilty of anything to begin with.

Sonja had some serious brass balls to stroll into the restaurant, hand his freakin’ underwear to Lacy and ask her to return them. She could have burned them for all he cared. She was one demented woman if she thought their night together would lead to some sort of courtship. He’d made it clear from the beginning he had no intention of entering a relationship with her. And while he was fully aware he never should have slept with her to begin with, it was a mistake he couldn’t go back and undo. The only thing he regretted was Lacy getting hurt in the process. No doubt she’d deny being hurt, because Lacy portrayed herself too strong than to let herself become hurt by a man. Chase was no dummy. The strain in her voice and trembling chin told a different story.

“Lacy,” he started anyway, even though his efforts were useless. “I swear I haven’t been with anyone else since the first night we slept together. I’m not that kind of guy.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Then how did she get a hold of your underwear?”

Okay, this is where it got tricky. He’d have to tell her something she wouldn’t want to hear in order to explain them away. “I left them at her house.”

Her chin lifted then lowered in a slow nod. “Right. See you later, Chase.” She grabbed the door handle of the car with an unsteady hand.

“Lacy.” Dammit, it couldn’t end like this. She had to believe him. He placed his hands on her slim shoulders and turned her to face him. “I would never do anything like that to you. Yes, I did sleep with her but that was before we got together.” A single tear leaked out of her eye and rolled down her cheek. He swiped it away with his thumb. “You believe me, right?”

Her gaze dropped down to his mouth, then lifted up to his eyes. She was so beautiful his heart ached. “I have to go to work. It would probably be better if we didn’t see each other anymore.”

Ten

One Month Later

Some people thought Lacy was jaded. Perhaps…annoyed was a better word.

Although she tried to portray the essence of someone who had a “Little House on the Prairie” upbringing, sometimes she failed miserably. To her credit, she never let her shortcomings show at work. Always the consummate bundle of joy, she had a smile plastered to her face and a bounce to her step. She figured the happier she was, the happier her customers, hence better tips. Big tips were forever welcome.

To add to her list of things to be happy about, the State of Wyoming could no longer take her house away. In her haste to beat the deadline that had been imposed on her, she’d grabbed the check Chase had given her, drove to the clerk’s office in Casper and paid them the sum of twenty-thousand dollars. Normally, Lacy wasn’t a procrastinator. On the contrary, putting duties off until the last minute was something she avoided.

So why did she use Chase’s money after what happened between them? Well… she didn’t really have a logical answer to that, especially when the check her mother had left still sat in her dresser drawer. Lacy
still
couldn’t bring herself to use it. She’d chose the lesser of two evils. It was either hang on to her pride for dear life or keep her house. Lacy chose to keep her house.

Even though she hadn’t heard anything about him, there was always the chance of her father showing up. There hadn’t been anymore reports on the news or moms seeing creepy men at the park. For some reason no news made the hair on the back of her neck stand up more than if there had been sightings. It was sort of like seeing a spider and not killing it before the thing disappeared in the bowels of the house. Lord only knew where it would show itself next.

Lacy tied the final knot in her running shoes then stepped out the door. The afternoon was unusually cool, giving her a reprieve during her afternoon jog. Last week she’d been reminded how out of shape she was while lifting boxes out of the garage and into the bed of Brody’s pickup truck. By her third box, she’d reached the point of hyperventilating. Brody had patted her on the back and said she needed to take a trip to the gym. Like she could afford a gym membership. Because she’d given it up, Lacy had lost her ability to jog without becoming winded within forty-five seconds.

Whatever. It was all about the effort right? Power walking was better than sitting on the couch like a bum.

She jogged for another thirty seconds before slowing to a walk. A strong gust of wind picked up, cooling her skin where perspiration had formed.

She missed Megan. Two weeks ago they’d had lunch together, as they’d made a habit of doing, when Megan announced she could no longer put off returning to Southern California. Things there awaited her, like deciding what to do with the house and getting ready to return to school. Prior to leaving, Megan had called Lacy and said she’d come back at the end of summer before school started. As much as Lacy would miss their acquaintance, she understood.

She power-walked past Mrs. Pratt’s house, then picked up her pace to a light jog again. The old woman was in her flowerbed, a sunhat the size of a satellite dish covering her thin gray hair. She lifted a frail hand in Lacy’s direction. Lacy grinned, waved back and kept going down the street.

The one unfortunate thing about running, besides the sweat, was the amount of time it gave her to think. As much as she forced her thoughts to stick to her surroundings, her mind always wandered…to things like Chase. The other day at work Lacy had noticed a few of the female diners in the waiting area eyeing the GM as he walked through the dining room. In the kitchen she’d told him, “You have a fan club waiting for you.” To which he tugged on her ponytail and said, “You sound jealous, Miss Twiggy.” However much she’d been hurt by the way things ended between them, she still considered Chase a friend. And she had been hurt. After calming down, Lacy had realized Chase had been truthful with her. He hadn’t been with another woman. After two weeks of being intimate with him, Lacy felt things for Chase that were definitely more than friendly. She hadn’t gotten to the point where she’d been able to put a label on those feelings. Chances were they’d start to veer into the “deeply caring” category, if not all out love. The last thing she needed was to fall in love with someone like Chase. Better to have ended things when they did.

All in all, she had no regrets. Being with Chase had been a fun and unique, if not adventurous, experience. He made her laugh, made her feel beautiful and gave her orgasms unlike anything she’d ever felt. No, she absolutely didn’t regret any of it.

After turning around, Lacy slowed to a power-walk again and headed back to her house. Sweat formed between her breasts and coated her backside by the time she walked through the front door. At hearing the door open, Boris pushed himself onto shaky legs and waddled his way to her.

“Are you finally ready to eat?” Lacy asked him after scratching his ear. She pulled last night’s chicken out of the fridge, shredded it up with a knife, and dumped the food in his bowl. He touched his nose to the meat, gave a gruff sniff then lopped his tongue out. Only about half the meat actually made it into his mouth. The dog didn’t seem to care. She left him to his devices and peeled her sweaty clothes off as she headed to the bathroom.

Half an hour later, Lacy was sweat-free and smelled like gardenias. She took the time to blow dry her hair, something she rarely did, and slathered on vanilla-scented lotion. She’d walked into the bedroom to pick up her dirty clothes when a cool breeze flowed through the doorway and brushed along her freshly-scrubbed skin. The only way that sort of air flow could get into the house was through an open window. Lacy knew without a doubt she hadn’t opened any of the windows. Boris didn’t often make it a habit of standing up on his arthritic hind legs and opening the windows for his sheer pleasure.

Had she not shut the front door all the way? Yes, the thing was old and sat off balance on its hinges, but she’d never had a problem with it failing to latch. She tossed her clothes in the hamper and walked out of the bedroom. Another refreshing breeze blew across her face just before she rounded the corner. The front door stood halfway open, partially revealing her front yard, in need of some TLC. Maybe she hadn’t shut the door with enough force, although she could have sworn hearing the latch click. What other explanation could there be? Doors didn’t open by themselves.

She placed one bare foot in front of the other, pushed the old door closed until the latch clicked. Just to be extra cautious, she gave the handle a tug to make sure it was actually in place.

“Next time you might want to throw the deadbolt.”

Lacy spun around and couldn’t stop the gasp from leaving her lips. Before the sentence was even finished, she immediately recognized the speaker. There, in Ray’s torn, faded corduroy recliner sat the elusive, yet borderline psychotic, Dennis Taylor. His long, spindly legs stretched out in front of him in a pair of pathetic, paint-stained jeans. His thin, bony hand ran circles over Boris’ head, which was perched in Dennis’ lap.

With her back pressed hard against the door, her breath came in short, shallow gasps. In the past few weeks, she’d lived in the dream world where Dennis had moved to the other side of the galaxy. As unlikely as that seemed, Lacy just
knew
her luck couldn’t be so good. Dennis, the lowlife bottom feeder,
always
resurfaced.

Lacy closed her eyes briefly and she forced her breath to deepen for fear of hyperventilation.

Okay, Dennis has never been violent before. All he wants is money to get his next fix or drink himself silly.

“You’ve put on weight. Don’t take that as an insult though. You were too thin last time I saw you.” His voice had the quality of someone who’d had a cigarette in his mouth since birth. The past five years hadn’t been kind to him. If it was even possible, his voice had gotten rougher. His discolored white shirt had holes along the hem at the neckline and practically hung off one sharp shoulder. The skin on his forearms looked like rawhide with hair and lean, sinewy muscles made him look more lanky than strong.