Cupid, Texas [1] Love at First Sight Page 14

  The dress was sleeveless and showed off her toned upper arms. It clung to her body in all the right places, sharpened his desire. She wore those clunky sneakers and that plastic leg brace, but even so, it didn’t detract from the shapeliness of her legs. Her soft brown hair was straight as Cleopatra’s and it gave her an exotic look. She wore a gold heart-shaped necklace, and a pair of tiny gold earrings nestled at each lobe. Simple, understated, down-to-earth.

  Ah, dammit. Natalie McCleary was kind and gentle and sincere. She was apple pie and happily-ever-after. Her family tree ran deep as mesquite taproots. She was the kind of girl you took home to meet the parents.

  If a guy had parents. Too bad he was rootless, allergic to apples, and happily-ever-after wasn’t in his vocabulary. He was here for one reason and one reason only. To find out what had happened to Red.

  So why, when he looked into the depths of those soft sky blue eyes, did he feel such a bone-deep craving for something he could never have? Why did he burn to take this woman to his bed and lose himself inside her forever?

  Raised voices drew his attention to the other side of the bar where two guys were squaring off, fists raised.

  “Duty calls,” he said lightly, and took off across the room to stop the altercation before it got started, feeling both relieved and cheated.

  He separated the two men, grabbed each by the collar, and dragged them out the side door. “Fight in the parking lot,” he said. “But you better make it quick because I’m calling the cops.”

  Both men snorted and glared and hightailed it for their respective pickup trucks. Dade dusted his hands together and went back inside the bar. Immediately, his gaze went to Natalie’s table, but she was gone.

  I’m precisely the woman for you.

  Dear God, had she actually said that to him?

  Back at the Cupid’s Rest, safe in her bed, Natalie cringed and covered her head with a pillow. After she’d made that ridiculous statement, Dade had laughed. Yes, laughed. As if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

  “Stupid, stupid.” She rolled over and punched her pillow.

  She sighed and wished her mother were here. There were so many things she wanted to ask her about men, about falling in love.

  This shouldn’t be so hard, right? If Dade was really The One, shouldn’t this be easy? Apparently, it was easy for everyone else. Did that mean that he was not The One?

  That made her think about Shot Through the Heart. Falling in love at first sight had been the easy part for the letter writer. Making that love fit into her life was the hard part. No one ever mentioned that.

  Natalie threw back the covers, got out of bed. She went over to the desk in the corner, took out a yellow legal pad and a pen. She sat on the window seat ledge in front of the window where Shot Through the Heart’s letter—now rippled and warped after drying out from its soak in the pond—lay spread. Folding her legs up, she bent them at the knees and created a makeshift table with her lap. She propped the notepad up and began to write.

  Dear Shot Through the Heart,

  She paused, and gnawed on the end of her pen.

  Falling in love is the easy part.

  She ripped the page out, crumpled up the yellow piece of paper, and tossed it to the floor.

  Dear Shot Through the Heart,

  There’s nothing more stimulating than falling in love at first sight. It takes your breath away. Steals your reason.

  Natalie growled, ripped out that paper, and wadded it in her fist.

  Come on. This woman is waiting for a helpful reply. Tell her something she can use. Not platitudes. Nothing vague.

  Dear Shot Through the Heart,

  While falling in love at first sight seems like such a blessing, as you’ve learned, it can cause a great many complications with your life plans. The question becomes which is more important to you? Love or the life path you’ve chosen?

  Rip.

  Crumple.

  Toss.

  She nibbled harder on her pen. She was not the least bit qualified to do this. She was a fraud.

  Dear Shot Through the Heart,

  I have no idea what I’m talking about.

  Another piece of paper joined the others on the floor.

  Frustrated, Natalie tossed the pad aside, got up, and tracked over to the framed photographs on her desk. She picked up the faded black and white picture of Great-Grandmother Millie with her bobbed hair, shapeless flapper dress, long strands of pearls, and blissful smile, standing beside a handsome young man with a Clark Gable mustache and devilish eyes. John Fant, Natalie’s great-grandfather. It was their engagement photo.

  Natalie traced a finger over Millie’s face. “It wasn’t easy for you either, was it? I wish I could have known you. Wish I could ask your advice about what to do. This thing with Dade, well, it leaves me mixed up. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. Isn’t love supposed to make things easier, not harder? Why does it all feel so perplexing?”

  Millie’s eyes twinkled. She had found her true love.

  So have you.

  That’s what scared Natalie the most, the idea that Dade was indeed The One. She didn’t know if she was ready for that.

  “How do I know it’s real, Millie?” Natalie whispered. “I think it’s real, but that could just be wishful thinking. The truth is, I don’t really know him. How can I be in love with someone I don’t know?”

  You know him. Deep in your heart, you know.

  The words popped into her head as loudly as if someone had spoken them. Natalie jumped, unnerved.

  He is the other half of you.

  Goose bumps spread up her arm. How did she know this to be true? It defied logic. In all honesty, these feelings were probably nothing more than powerful sexual attraction.

  What should she do about it? That evening, she’d tried to find someone else to get lathered up over and it had backfired miserably.

  You could always put your feelings to the test.

  “How’s that, Millie?” she asked the voice in her head. Now she was turning well and truly crazy, talking to her long dead great-grandmother as if they could commune through a photograph.

  Take him for a test drive.

  Natalie’s cheeks heated.

  Sex.

  She should just have a red-hot fling with Dade. If this was nothing but sexual attraction, then the affair was bound to burn out. Anything that sizzled this hotly must cool down. It was a law of physics. Right?

  Then again, what did she know? In school, she’d made C’s in math and science.

  If she and Dade dared to feed the flames scorching between them, they might burn each other down, but what a way to go, huh?

  Natalie gulped.

  If it wasn’t just lust, what was it then?

  She stroked her chin pensively. Well, then she’d cross that bridge when she got to it. For the present, she needed a plan. She had to either get Dade completely out of her life, which meant evicting him, or embrace the chaos and just let him lead her into the abyss.

  It was so scary and she immediately knew why. She feared losing control. Surrendering to love meant giving yourself over to another person.

  Whoa.

  Natalie returned to the window seat, picked up the notepad, tore a sheet from it, and began to write.

  Dear Cupid,

  Please help me. I’m in trouble deep.

  Chapter 10

  Sometimes falling in love makes you feel like you’re drowning; just take a deep breath, relax, and you’ll float.

  —MILLIE GREENWOOD

  In the wee hours of Friday morning, four days after he rode into town, Dade closed down the bar, but he did not want to go back to the B&B. He didn’t trust himself around Natalie.

  Jasper had told him if he ever needed it, the hammock on the back patio deck was available to him, just as long as it wasn’t being used by a customer who was too drunk to drive home.

  If he went back to the Cupid’s Rest tonight, Dade didn’t trust himself. Natalie would
be within reach, and he wanted her with a relentless fire, and that back door lock of hers wouldn’t hold back anyone determined to get in.

  Dade stepped outside, looked up at the dark night sky filled with a million brilliant stars. Usually, the quiet night calmed him. Made him feel part of the universe. But tonight, the sky made him feel isolated, alone. Disturbed, he wandered around the side of the building and walked up on the back porch. The white hammock stood out in the shadows.

  It was empty.

  Relieved, Dade sank down into the hammock and let out a long breath. He didn’t have to go home.

  Home.

  Why did he keep referring to Cupid’s Rest as home?

  He kicked off his cowboy boots, rested his hands on his belly, and closed his eyes. The second he did, he saw Natalie’s face, sweet, tempting, out-of-this world. He thought about the kisses they’d shared, the provocative taste of her lush lips. No doubt about it. The woman had crawled under his skin and wouldn’t get out.

  This was dangerous stuff, not only for his peace of mind, but for Red’s sake as well. He couldn’t afford to give in to the attraction. He had to focus on finding his buddy.

  Guilt dug into him then and Dade pulled his cell phone from his back pocket, and as he’d done several times a day since Red had sent the text message, he hit speed dial.

  “This is Red, you know the drill.”

  “Buddy,” Dade said, “where the hell are you? What’s happened? I’m here in Cupid, can’t find a trace of you. Then again you always were good at disappearing, but if you’re out there, please let me hear from you. I’m concerned.”

  Discouraged, he hung up.

  Dade stared at the phone and then called the number again just to hear Red’s voice. He had an awful feeling that his foster brother might be dead. “Nah, man, no. You can’t be dead. You’re friggin’ invincible.”

  He blew out his breath, laid his cell phone on the small green table positioned near the hammock. “Swear to God, I don’t know what to do next. If I keep lying low, not telling anyone who I am, no one is going to talk to me about you, and I can’t blatantly ask without arousing suspicions, but it’s getting harder and harder for me to believe that someone in Cupid wanted to harm you. It’s a nice place. I can see why you decided to put roots down here.”

  Paranoid delusions had been part of Red’s PTSD diagnosis, but just because you were paranoid didn’t mean that someone wasn’t out to get you. Dade couldn’t afford to assume anything. The “Tanked” Mayday message was serious. It was only to be used in case of an extreme emergency. Red would not use it lightly.

  Dade fished in the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the talisman he carried with him at all times. It was a handmade braided bracelet created of black Afghanistan wool, with a bullet casing threaded through the middle of it.

  He closed his fist around the bullet casing, and his mind drifted back four years. He and Red had both just been discharged from the navy and they were sitting in a darkened bar in D.C., neither one of them speaking about what they’d gone through. In fact, they hardly spoke at all, just took periodic sips from their Michelob Lights and stared at the Dallas Cowboys battling Green Bay on the big-screen TV.

  Then out of the blue, Red said, “Gimme your wrist.”

  “What for?”

  “Just give it to me.”

  Curious, Dade had held out his left wrist.

  Red took a small hank of black wool yarn from his pocket.

  The sight of it caused Dade’s stomach to pitch. “Where’d you get that?”

  “The girl.”

  His muscles had tensed. “What girl?”

  “Which one do you think?”

  Dade’s stomach pitched. “She almost got me killed.”

  “I know. I was there.” Red unrolled a piece of yarn, wrapped it around Dade’s wrist to measure, then added two inches and cut the yarn with his pocket knife. “You got a damn big wrist.”

  “You think that’s big,” Dade had teased, desperate to lighten things. His thoughts had gone back to the Afghani girl and he did not want to think about her.

  Red rolled his eyes and cut a second piece of yarn the same length as the first one. He continued to cut strands of yarn, using the first as a guide, until he had two piles of black strings.

  Dade watched while Red began braiding the strands of yarns together. He corded all the strings in one pile, and then started on the other.

  The Cowboys and Green Bay were tied, fourth quarter, two minutes to go. Dallas had the ball. It was fourth down and forty yards from the end zone, but Dade could not take his eyes off Red.

  Red’s fingers flew and while the game broke for commercial, he finished the second braid. From his pocket, he pulled out two bullet casings. A hole had been drilled through the ends.

  Dade sucked in air through clenched teeth. “Are those casings from—”

  “Yep,” Red said, and slipped a bullet casing over each of the braided threads. He knotted the ends of each bracelet. He tied one bracelet around his left wrist, readjusting the knots to fit securely. When he was finished, he glanced at Dade’s wrist.

  Dade held out his left arm.

  The bullet casing was cool against his skin. Red tied the second bracelet around Dade’s wrist. They sat in silence, twin bracelets on their left arms.

  Red took a sip of his beer. “So Romo,” he said, nodding at the TV. “Think he’ll take Dallas all the way this year?”

  That was all he said. No need to explain what the bracelet meant. Dade knew. We’ll always be connected. They were brothers of the soul, if not of DNA and they would have each other’s backs until the end of time.

  He’d worn the bracelet for years, until last week, just before Red had sent the text, the wool strands—frayed and weakened from years of use—had broken.

  Dade hadn’t seen his buddy in two years, not since Red had left the security firm they went to work for postmilitary, and he regretted that. He hadn’t understood why Red left the security detail. It paid well, and after Afghanistan, it was like babysitting. Cushy, well paying, sure they sometimes got mixed up in some gray area misconduct, but that was the nature of the business.

  “Why are you leaving?” Dade had asked, feeling a little betrayed by Red’s defection.

  “This work is too much like war. I need to get the stink of war off me. You can come too,” Red had invited.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find a place where I can settle down. See if I can become human.”

  “Do you think that’s really possible for guys like us?”

  “I have to hope,” Red said. “I have to have something more than this.”

  Much as he loved his friend, Dade couldn’t imagine leading a routine life, staying in one place, being tied down. Not him. No way.

  Natalie drifted over his thoughts. She was a woman who made him want to stay. He wished things were different. Wished he were different.

  Dade reached up to finger his lips, smiled at the memory of their kisses. She was some kind of kisser.

  Stop thinking about her. She’s nothing but a distraction.

  Shifting in the hammock, he stared up at the stars, tried to remember the last time he and Red had a phone conversation. It had been near Easter when Red had called and tried to persuade him to come visit, but Dade had been in Saudi Arabia. He’d promised Red they’d get together whenever he got back to the States, but they hadn’t. He hadn’t even called Red when he’d gotten the Gulf of Mexico detail. He’d been so close and yet he hadn’t made the effort.

  It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to see his buddy, because he certainly had. Rather, it was that he didn’t want to come to this picturesque community nestled in the crook of the Davis Mountains, and see what had lured Red away from him.

  Red spoke so glowingly of Cupid that it made Dade a little jealous that Red had found a place that suited him. And maybe—if he were being honest with himself, he would admit that this was more likely—he was afra
id he’d like Cupid and want to stay.

  He did like it.

  That was the problem.

  He simply wasn’t the kind of guy who settled down. He had no idea how. He’d never been settled in his life. He didn’t belong anywhere, had never belonged, and he liked it that way.

  Rolling stone.

  He fingered the bracelet, rubbed the spent bullet casing between his thumb and index finger. The Bob Dylan song of the same name reverberated through his head.

  “Like a Rolling Stone.”

  Closing his eyes, he sighed, fought off visions of Natalie. No matter how much he wanted her, he couldn’t have her. Not for keeps anyway, and anything else was a complication he simply did not need.

  Dade must have fallen asleep, because sometime later, he bolted awake.

  His eyes popped open. Dark clouds had moved across the sky, drowning out the light. The black waters of Lake Cupid lapped against the dock below the deck. He lay in the hammock, ears cocked, muscles coiled tight, listening intently. He’d always been a light sleeper, mostly the results of being raised in a house of junkies, never knowing who was going to stumble in or what they might do. Under those circumstances a kid had to stay hypervigilant.

  Wind chimes tinkled against each other. A dog barked. A whippoorwill called. The warm night air ruffled the hairs on his forearm.

  He waited, curled his hands into fists, ready for a fight if need be.

  A floorboard on the deck creaked.

  A shadow moved.

  “Who’s there?” he commanded.

  Someone stepped forward and for one sweet second, he thought it was Natalie and that she’d come to be with him. His heart leaped.

  Jackass.

  “Señor,” whispered an urgent feminine voice. “I desperately need your help.”

  Dade squinted into the darkness. It was a Mexican woman, neither young nor old, with her hair pulled back off her neck in a single long braid. Dade swung his legs over the side of the hammock, careful not to tip over.

  “What can I do for you?”

  She stopped mid-step, stared at him, muttered, “Oh no,” and immediately spun away from him.