Texas Hustle (25 page)

The scene and the certainty that everything she’d worked for was gone, was almost impossible for her mind to register. She was right to come. It was hard to ignore reality when it stared you in the face. When she’d first heard, she’d held out hope that some of her store would be salvageable, but it wasn’t. She doubted there was a pan in there that would be usable.

“I’m walking around front,” she said over her shoulder and started around the end of the building. She didn’t have an ounce of proof Slade had anything to do with this. For all she knew, Sarah Jane Mackey had done it to get back at Porchia for being with Darren. Okay, that was grabbing at straws, but still, she didn’t have any facts other than it was arson.

There was one person, however, who might know more…Mallory. Porchia needed to talk to her and find out exactly what she’d seen. From the report she’d given the sheriff, Mallory couldn’t identify her attacker. Porchia didn’t believe it, and if the skepticism on Singer’s face was any indication, he didn’t either.

Until she talked to Mallory, she’d keep her mouth shut.

Darren followed her, not offering simplistic platitudes or fake optimism, which she really appreciated. It was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that the business was a total loss.

The front was no better than the rear. Charred wood. Broken glass. Puddles of water everywhere.

“Sheriff. Can I see you a minute?”

Marc headed toward the deputy who’d called him over.

“Seen enough?” Darren asked.

“I keep hoping to wake up and find this is all a horrible dream.” She looked at him. “Not gonna happen, huh?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“I don’t know whether to cry or cuss.”

“Maybe a lot of both is in order.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist. The position sent a wave of security through her. Still, a sob escaped and her breath hitched.

He held her, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “It’ll take a while, but you’ll rebuild. And I’ll be beside you every step of the way. Whatever you need, just ask.”

She realized how easy it would be to give up, just like she’d given up on her parents. Just like they’d given up on her.

She wasn’t quitting this time. She asked to go to the hospital right then to see Mallory. However, as Darren pointed out, it was four in the morning, not optimum visiting hours.

The sheriff was still tied up with the investigation at the jewelry store, which had been burglarized. Deputy Brody gave Porchia and Darren a ride to her house. When they walked in, the fresh, clean scent of her house was instantly marred by the reek of smoke from their clothes.

“Lift your arms,” Darren said. When she did, he pulled the foul-smelling shirt over her head. “The sight was bad enough for you. You shouldn’t have to relive it with this stench. I suggest we set our boots on the porch for tonight and let them air out.”

She nodded, but words couldn’t punch through the solid lump in her throat.

He set both pairs of boots outside and then turned his attention to her jeans. Once he got them unfastened, he helped her push the heavy material down her legs. She stepped free and stood frozen in place wearing only her bra and panties.

What was she going to do? Her brain was on overload with flashes of ideas and thoughts, and yet nothing was sticking long enough to make an impact. What time was it? Should she make coffee? Offer breakfast? Take a nap? Was the newspaper here yet? Would the fire be in it?

A pair of warm hands on her shoulders turned her. She looked up into Darren’s blue eyes.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you in the shower and get that odor off you.”

She started toward her shower as numbness overtook her. He finished removing her underwear and then his own clothes before putting them both under the warm water.

Her salty tears mixed with the warm water. “Thank you,” she said, hugging him.

“For?”

“The coffee you’re going to make when we get out.”

He chuckled. “Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

Chapter Nineteen

Porchia woke to an empty bed about noon on Saturday. The sheet beside her was cold, so either Darren had gotten up earlier or he was gone. Staring at the ceiling, she made a mental to-do list. By the time she got to item ten, grief swamped her, overwhelming her emotions.

Throwing off the bedcovers, she stood and stretched. She could accomplish nothing by hiding. But first things first. Some food and then to the hospital to see Mallory. She needed to know what Mallory had told and would tell the sheriff’s department about her fight.

In the bathroom, she washed the sleep from her still-puffy, red eyes. Her hair looked pretty much like she’d invited a family of rats to move in. But then she had gone to bed with wet hair, so what could she expect?

The overcast sky set a dreary tone for the day, and that fit her mood perfectly. A bright, sunny day would have been more than her emotions could take.

Dressed in khaki slacks and a sweater set, she headed to the kitchen to find some food, which she knew would be a challenge. Before leaving for Whiskey Creek for her vacation, she’d made sure all the spoilable food was trashed. There was probably at least peanut butter and jelly in the cabinet and bread in the freezer.

Darren entered through the front door at the exact moment she walked into the living room. Startled, she screamed and then laughed at herself.

He slammed his hand over his heart. “Nice way to give me a heart attack.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think you were here.”

“I wasn’t. But now I am. Did you know you have absolutely no food in your refrigerator?”

She chuckled. “Yes. I know. Sorry about that. But…” she shrugged, “…better to leave it empty than return to green mold.”

“I’ve lived as a bachelor for years with my brother. We, of course, know nothing about moldy, leftover food.”

“I’m sure.” She accompanied her remark with an eye roll.

“You better be nice to me.” He held up two brown bags. “I brought lunch from the Orchid Deli.”

“I’m restraining myself from falling over in starvation.” She held out a hand. “Gimme.”

He held up identical bags. “Pick one.”

“Does either of them have an anchovy sandwich?”

Grimacing, he said, “No.”

“Then it doesn’t matter. I’ll eat whatever is in the sack.”

She pointed to the bag in his left hand and he tossed it to her. Inside was a hot meatball hoagie, chips and three peanut butter cookies.

“I love the Orchid’s meatball hoagies. How did you know?”

He grinned. “Mental telepathy.” Then he pulled out the exact same meal from the second sack. “My favorite sandwich. Good that you love it too.”

They sat side-by-side on the couch and arranged their lunches on the coffee table before them. For the next few minutes, there were only groans of gastronomical pleasure.

“Hey. How did you get to the deli? Did you drive my car? How did you know where to find my keys?” Her eyes widened. “Did you go through my purse?”

“Slow down, Columbo. No, I didn’t go through your purse or drive your car. My truck was in your drive this morning. I guess my folks packed my stuff last night and drove the truck up sometime early this morning. My bags were in my truck along with this note.” He passed her an envelope with her name written on it.

Porchia, we enjoyed spending time with you and hate that it had to end with such a tragedy. You’re such a dear. If we can do anything for you, don’t hesitate to ask.

Love Nadine and Clint and the rest of the Montgomerys

“You have such great parents. Not only were they quick to volunteer to help last night, they did it immediately. That’s so nice of them to go to all that trouble for you.”

He frowned. “All what trouble? Packing my stuff and bringing my truck home? I’m sure they didn’t mind. That’s what family is for. It’s not like I wouldn’t have done it for them or any of my family.”

His words stabbed at her gut. What he described wasn’t her family, not at all. Her grandmother had been wonderful, taking her in, letting her stay until college, leaving Porchia the house. Her Grandma Summers had been able to show her love for Porchia in ways her parents never had. She’d never doubted that her parents loved her in their own way.

However, now that she’d spent so much time with Darren’s parents, she couldn’t imagine that Clint and Nadine would have sent any of their children to live with a relative to quiet the rumors.

“What can I do to help you?” he asked. “It’s Saturday, so odds are that you can’t talk to your insurance agent until Monday. Want me to call Marc and see what’s going on with the investigation? We probably won’t be able to get into your bakery today to see if anything is salvageable, but I can find out.”

“No. Thanks. I think I need a couple of days to get my thoughts together. I thought I’d start making a list of who I need to call and things I need to get done. It’s going to be a long list. Why don’t you go on to your ranch and check on things there? I’m sure you’re dying to get home.”

“Come with me?”

“Thanks, but, no. I could use some alone time. It’s nothing to do with you or your family,” she added. “They were super awesome, but I need some quiet time to think.”

“What about your folks? Have you called and told them yet about the fire?”

“No, but I will.” Mentally, she flinched at the idea of telling them. They’d never approved of her running her business, much less something as pedestrian as a local bakery. “I’d rather have some firm information and plans before I do.”

“I hate to leave you here by yourself. Come home with me. I promise you’ll have lots of quiet time at the ranch.”

She laid her fingers on his firm thigh. “I’m used to being here alone. I’ve been alone since my grandmother died twelve years ago. Don’t worry about me.”

“But you’re not alone. You’ve got your parents.”

“Right. I meant on my own in Whispering Springs.”

“I just don’t feel right going.”

“You’re not going. I’m sending you away.” She gave him a quick kiss. “I really appreciate your concern, but I need to be here. You go on and don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

She could see his mind whirling. He wanted to go home and check on the animals. But, on the other hand, since he was a true Southern gentleman, leaving her probably went against the grain.

“Go,” she said more firmly. “Call me tonight. Tell me how much all your cows missed you.”

He chuckled and stood. “Okay, I can take a hint.” Taking her hands, he pulled her to her feet. “I’ll miss you.”

“Me too.”

“If you need me, or just miss me, call. I’ll be on the road back to you before we hang up.”

He brought her closer and pressed his mouth to hers. Her heart sighed and Porchia gave up her struggle to remain unaffected by him. Snaking her arms up and around his neck, she held on and enjoyed all the sensations of his tongue delving into her mouth. When he growled and jerked her flat against him, aligning their bodies so they touched chest to chest and groin to groin, the merry-go-round in Porchia’s gut lit up and started spinning. Damn, she was going to miss this man.

Their week together had shown her that the age difference she’d thought would be a problem just wasn’t. However, it wouldn’t be right to drag him and his respectable family into the rabbit hole with her problems. She didn’t know what or how Slade would figure in her future. She just knew he brought nothing but bad news whenever he appeared.

When he finally broke from the kiss, he rested his forehead on hers. “I’m going, but only because you’re forcing me.”

“I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

After a quick final kiss, she stepped back. “Go.”

Once he was gone, the house settled into a quiet so pronounced it almost hurt her ears. The only sounds were her breathing and the hum of the refrigerator. She gave him twenty minutes to get out of town before she grabbed her purse, pulled out her keys and hurried to her car.

The town hospital was small. Most life-threatening cases were sent on into Parkland or Baylor or some other major medical center. However, burns like the ones Mallory had suffered could easily be managed locally, so Porchia was sure her employee was still hospitalized here. She needed to talk to Mallory to find out what she knew about the fire and what she had—and more importantly—had not told the sheriff’s department.

An angry voice resonated from Mallory’s room, followed by a calming male voice. Porchia pushed open the door. Mallory was sitting in bed, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes blazing with anger.

“Knock, knock,” Porchia said through the open door.

“Porchia.” Mallory’s voice held a whisper of relief. “Tell this jackass that I can take care of myself.”

The jackass under discussion was a man dressed in a pristine white lab coat who looked to be in his thirties with dark hair and a five o’clock shadow. His hazel eyes wore the concerned look of a professional doing his job.

“I’m Porchia Summers,” she said, holding out her hand. “Mallory works for me.”

“Dr. Salvie. Nate Salvie.”