When Things Got Hot in Texas Page 27

Jennifer handed Pete the towel.

  Clay, his gaze between the unconscious man and the side of Pete’s face, pushed the old man’s hair to the side. “You’re going to be okay. Why don’t you sit down? I already called 911.” He looked down at Bundy then squatted to touch the man’s neck, checking for a pulse.

  Jennifer’s breath caught. “He’s not . . .”

  “No, he’s alive.” Clay stood up and brushed her hair from her cheek. “Are you hurt?”

  Pete started out the door.

  “Where are you going?” Clay caught the old man’s arm.

  “To see if I can find my ear.”

  “No, you need to sit down. And it’s only the tip of your ear.”

  “Why don’t I drive him to the hospital?” Jennifer said. “I need to go to the hospital anyway. Savanna’s having problems.” Tears filled her eyes, but she inhaled deeply. Mark had said Savanna needed her to help to calm things down. Calm was in short supply, but for her best friend, she’d find it.

  Clay looked at her. “I don’t think you’re okay to drive.”

  “I’m going to the hospital. Savanna needs me.”

  Police sirens echoed in the distance.

  Clay stared at her, and she stared right back at him.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let the sheriff get here, and I’ll drive you both.”

  “You can’t leave an active investigation.” The sheriff yelled from the porch.

  Yes, we can, Clay thought. “I’ll be right back,” he called out as he drove off.

  Hopefully he wouldn’t return to a pissed off sheriff who’d lock his ass up for not following orders.

  Right after they got on the road, Clay called Jake and told him what had gone down. Jake was already at the hospital with his wife checking in on Savanna, but he agreed to drive out to Clay’s house and help the sheriff.

  When he got off the phone, he heard Jennifer say, “I can’t believe I haven’t already said thank you.”

  He looked at her to ask for what, and realized she was talking to Pete.

  “You saved me.” Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t look nearly as panicked as she had the first time she’d had a showdown with Bundy, but the wrinkle in her forehead said she wasn’t without stress. And damn it, he wanted to comfort her.

  Guilt bit down on his gut. He shouldn’t have left her to go to the grocery store.

  “You’re my hero.” The tender way she spoke to Pete had Clay’s chest tightening. He tried to remember if she’d said that to him after their encounter with Bundy. He didn’t think she had. Not that he was jealous, just . . .

  Okay, maybe he was jealous. Or maybe he was just worried. Worried that his stupidity had turned her away. Not that he was going to let it break them up. Thinking he’d lost her had knocked some sense into him.

  “Hero. I’ll wear that badge proudly,” Pete said. “But in all reality, you helped out.” He chuckled. “Never seen a woman wield a skillet quite like you.”

  She grinned. “We did good, didn’t we?”

  “I told you I wouldn’t let anyone hurt a hair on your head,” the old ranch hand stated with affection.

  Clay felt a warm sensation fill his chest, telling him how important both Jennifer and Pete had become to him. “I’m just glad both of you are okay.”

  She sent Clay a soft smile, but it seemed leery.

  Pete chuckled. “For a while there, it felt like we were acting out a skit from the Three Stooges. And Curly didn’t come out so good.”

  Jennifer’s smile faded to concern. “I hope we didn’t hurt him that bad.”

  “And I hope he has a headache for a month of Sundays,” Pete retorted. He reached up and touched the side of his face. “He maimed me.”

  As soon as they got to the hospital, Jennifer hugged Pete and promised to check on him later. Before she ran off, Clay caught her by the elbow and leaned down to kiss her. “We’re going to talk.”

  “Yeah.” She headed up to the maternity floor. Something about her tone, about the way she had ended that kiss so quickly, and something about the look in her eyes, told Clay he’d better work up a hell of an apology.

  Jennifer rushed up to the maternity floor, counting seconds as the elevator took its time rising up to the fifth floor. Bethany and Macy were in the waiting room right outside the elevator.

  “How is she?” she asked when the two of them came hurrying toward her.

  “How are you?” Bethany answered and hugged her.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Fine?” Bethany sounded doubtful. “Someone just tried to kill you. You can’t be fine. If you need me to, I can stand in for you with Savanna.” The offer came with love, because Jennifer knew how much Bethany hated the idea of seeing any blood.

  “No, I got this.” The panic stirring in Jennifer’s stomach had been given a rain check. As had the heartbreak over Clay.

  Savanna needed her, and Jennifer wasn’t about to let her down.

  Bethany nodded. “Mark came out a few minutes ago. She’s still asking for you.”

  “No one told Savanna what happened, right?” Jennifer asked.

  “Not us. But Mark knows.” Concern brighten Bethany’s eyes.

  Macy leaned in. “He also said the bleeding is under control, and they are going to let her try to deliver vaginally.”

  Three minutes later, Jennifer, wearing scrubs, pushed open the hospital door leading to her best friend. Savanna, red-faced, sweat pouring down her forehead, screamed, and the sound seemed to echo off the walls. Mark, whose palm was being crunched by his wife’s two-handed fist, looked up and appeared relieved to see her.

  Stepping the rest of the way in, Jennifer let the door close. As she stopped beside Mark, her heart jolted at the pain in her friend’s eyes.

  “How far along is she?” She asked, when Savanna stopped screaming and dropped her shoulders back onto the mattress.

  “Eight centimeters,” the nurse standing at the foot of the hospital bed answered. The women looked up at Savanna. “You’re doing really well.”

  All Savanna did was pant like an animal in pain.

  “Shouldn’t the doctor be in here?” Mark’s question came laced with worry and stress.

  “Shortly,” the nurse replied.

  “What took you so long?” Savanna spat out the question, glaring at Jennifer.

  “I’m here now.” She traded places with Mark and forced herself into the role of Lamaze partner. “Are you breathing through the contractions?”

  “No,” Savanna snapped with fury and glared at her husband. “He keeps forgetting to tell me to.”

  Mark flinched. “Sorry. I guess it’s a good thing you love me.” He smiled.

  “You think this is funny,” Savanna growled.

  “No. Sorry.” Mark cut his eyes to Jennifer as if pleading for help.

  “That’s okay,” Jennifer intervened. “We’ll breathe through the next one. How far apart are the contractions?”

  The question was aimed at Mark, but she shouldn’t have asked him. He shrugged, looking overwhelmed, and she noticed sweat running down his brow.

  “He’s a lousy coach,” Savanna snapped, “which is why you should have been here an hour ago.”

  “About two minutes apart,” the nurse answered in a calm voice.

  “I swear I’m never having sex again!” Savanna screamed, glaring at her husband. “Even smile at me sexy, and I’ll slap you ass-backwards.”

  Jennifer recalled the classes covering how the mother-to-be might turn mean. She just hadn’t expected it to happen to sweet, soft-spoken Savanna.

  “Why don’t you go get a drink of water,” she told Mark. “I’ll take over for a minute.”

  He looked hurt and hopeless. Leaning down, he kissed his wife, who allowed it, but begrudgingly.

  As soon as the door closed, Savanna started crying. “I’m being a bitch, but I can’t help it. It’s so unfair. This is his baby, too. Why shouldn’t he be hurting just a little?”

  “You’re not a
bitch,” Jennifer said. “And believe me, seeing you hurt is killing him.” She’d never been surer of anything. The adoration and helplessness she’d seen in Mark’s eyes brought a knot to her throat. And oh, God, but she wanted that. Wanted that kind of love. That kind of devotion.

  Savanna squeezed Jennifer’s hand. “It hurts so bad,” she said. Then her face tightened and reddened. “No,” she spoke to her belly. “It hasn’t been two minutes.” Looking up, her face tight in pain, she started trembling. “I don’t want to do this.” She sat up and pushed her legs over the side of the bed and glared at the nurse. “I changed my mind. I quit. I don’t want to do this.”

  The nurse smiled. “We’re almost there. Do you want to try sitting up for this contraction?”

  Savanna’s groan sounded like a wounded lion. “You didn’t hear me. I don’t want to do this!” She gripped her belly than started scooting off the mattress.

  “No,” the nurse said. “Stay on the bed. We’ll lift it, so you can sit up.”

  “I’m not sitting up. I’m leaving.”

  When the nurse didn’t seem to be getting through to Savanna, Jennifer put a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Hey . . . We’re going to get through this. Just think of your sweet little girl. You’re going to get to hold her for the first time. She’s going to be so beautiful. Perfect. And she’s going to love you so much. Your life will be perfect then. You’ll be part of a family. You’ll never be alone again.”

  Savanna started sobbing, but she backed up onto the mattress. She let out another moan, pulled her knees up, and went into a full-fledged scream.

  “Okay. Let’s breathe,” Jennifer ordered. “Come on, breathe.”

  Chapter 17

  “Just breathe,” Jennifer told herself when she walked into the empty silence that clung to her condo walls. Walls perfectly painted, rooms perfectly decorated, living space imperfectly lonely.

  This was never meant to be her forever home. It had been an investment. A pit stop before she had her white-picket-fence life. And if she was serious about wanting that life, she’d done the right thing to leave.

  That peek into the hospital room when Mark and Savanna held their baby girl had her heart doubling down on her life plans. She wanted a forever man and babies and commitment that would never end. And what were the chances of getting it from a guy so commitment-phobic that taking a gift from her had him pulling away?

  Luckily, by the time Savanna delivered, Clay had left to take Pete home. The sheriff had been waiting to talk to her. She finished with him and quickly called Uber. She needed to be home. Needed to be alone. She had a meltdown waiting on her.

  Every few minutes, even with her heart still on that sweet little baby, she would remember Bundy. Remember hitting him with that skillet. Remember she’d almost died today. Again.

  Life was short. Fragile. And she was going to be thirty-one. She’d known Clay hadn’t been husband material, yet she’d let herself go there. But oh, lordy, what had she been thinking?

  On the ride to her place, she got a text from him saying he was on his way back to the hospital to pick her up.

  Through tears, and a wavering resolve, she texted him back.

  Already heading home. Need to be alone. Talk in a few days.

  The second she sent it, her resolve crashed and she regretted it. Breath held, she waited for him to text back to insist he was coming for her. Insist she needed him and that he needed her. To say he didn’t want to lose her.

  He didn’t text back. He was probably relieved.

  She walked into the kitchen. The stainless-steel appliances and the granite countertops gleamed and seemed to mock her with their cold sterility. No scorched spots on antique Formica. No dirty dishes waiting to be washed. No breakfast aroma or laughter hanging in the air. No one to cook for, and no one to cook for her.

  Tears filled her eyes. Doubt filled her heart. Had she given up on Clay too easily? Hadn’t he insisted they talk? Wasn’t he worth fighting for? Was it too late to text him back? But to say what? Please love me.

  A knock sounded.

  With her emotions on her sleeve, she bolted for the door.

  So sure it was Clay, she swung it open without peering out the peephole. But when she yanked open the door, her heart slammed to her stomach.

  “You’re finally home,” Charles said.

  “Yeah.” She debated asking him to leave, but he’d probably come for his things, and perhaps the sooner she got all evidence of him out, the better she’d be. She backed up.

  “You’re crying.” He walked in.

  “I’m allowed,” she answered back.

  “You haven’t been accepting my calls.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been kind of busy.” She went and sat on the sofa, folded her hands in her lap, and fought the heartache. When she realized, he stood there staring, she said, “You can get your things.”

  He didn’t move. “Busy with what?”

  Trying to avoid a hit man, falling in love with a commitment-phobic cowboy, helping Savanna deliver her baby. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Maybe it does.” He took a step forward. “Look, I’m thinking maybe we broke up too soon. I’m willing to give it another shot.”

  He was willing, was he? She thought of several nasty retorts, but didn’t care enough to toss them at him. “Just get your things.” Before she could say anything else, another knock sounded on her front door.

  Again thinking it might be Clay, she rushed to open it. Shock washed over her for the second time.

  Pete and Devil stood there. “You promised me fried chicken.”

  Her lips started to tremble.

  “You need to come home,” Pete said.

  “She is home.” Charles’s remark echoed behind her. “Who are you?”

  “I’m her hero,” Pete said. “Who in blue hell are you?”

  “Her fiancé,” Charles spoke with confidence that had her shoulders snapping back.

  “Ex-fiancé,” she said. Devil ambled into the room, and Charles, afraid of dogs, stepped around the sofa. Right then Clay, holding a bouquet of flowers, walked up behind Pete.

  His soulful gaze met hers. A knot formed in her throat. He side-stepped past Pete and started to reach for her but stopped when he noticed Charles.

  Clay’s brows puckered. “You must be the idiot who cheated on her.”

  Charles flinched as if insulted. “Who are you?”

  “I’m the lucky son of a bitch who’d never cheat on her in a million years.” Clay paused. “And if I’m not overstepping my bounds,” his gaze shifted back to her, “I’d appreciate it if you left now.”

  “You’re not overstepping,” Jennifer said, her heart filling with hope. He cared enough to be here. That had to mean something.

  Charles shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Before Jennifer could speak up, Clay did. “Okay, suit yourself.”

  Clay’s gaze shifted to her. “I was an idiot this morning. My ex called and it reminded me that women in my life have a history of letting me down. I got scared again. But when I knew Bundy was at the house and I realized I could lose you, everything became so clear. I love you, Jennifer Peterson.”

  “What?” Charles spouted out. “You can’t love her. She just broke up with me.”

  Clay looked at Charles. “You’re going to have to shut your mouth or get the hell out of here.” His focus came back to her. “I’m sorry for acting like a fool.”

  “So am I.” Charles rushed around the sofa, looking at Jennifer. “I shouldn’t have slept with Lisa. It was a mistake. But it didn’t mean anything. We can go ahead with the marriage. We’ve already set the date. We’ve got the church. We picked out chicken piccata for the reception.”

  Jennifer looked at Charles. “I don’t like chicken piccata. And I don’t want to marry you.”

  “What about me?” Clay said.

  Jennifer gasped. Had he just said that? Air got caught in her throat. “It’s a little soon, isn�
��t it?”

  “Hell yes, it is,” Charles said. “Unless you’ve been cheating on me! How long have you two been seeing each other?”

  Clay glared at Charles. “She’s too classy to cheat on anyone. That’s your game, bucko. And I think she asked you to leave.”

  Charles shook his head. “You’ve been screwing him, haven’t you?”

  Clay exhaled loudly and looked at her. “Can I hit him?”

  “No.” Jennifer said. “He’s leaving.” She shot Charles a glare. “Now.” She pointed to the door.

  “You slut. You’ve been fucking around--”

  Before she could stop it, Clay bolted forward, picked the guy up by his collar and slammed him against the wall. “Tell her you’re sorry.”

  “If only I had my shovel,” Pete yelled. Even Devil bolted forward and let out a growl.

  “Say it!” Clay insisted.

  “I’m sorry,” Charles spit out.

  “Say it like you mean it!” Clay demanded.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  Clay dropped the man, and he lost his balance and fell to the floor. “Leave.”

  “You can get your stuff later,” Jennifer said.

  Pete took a step forward. “Devil and I’ll see him out.” The old man stared at Charles. “Now get your ass up before you start growing roots.”

  “This is insane,” Charles bellowed out, but he bounced up and started to the door.

  As Devil and Pete escorted Charles out, Clay faced her. Their eyes met, and her heart felt wide open, vulnerable.

  “I need you in my life,” he said.

  His words were like a warm blanket on a chilly night, like the first rays of sunshine after a long, gray winter. But she also remembered his words from earlier. We started this thing living together, and I’m not sure . . . how we’re supposed to move forward.

  She stepped closer and ran her hands over his chest. “I need you, too. But you were right about it happening fast. We haven’t even dated.”

  “That’s bullshit. The picnic was a date,” he said. “We’ve cooked and eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. Those could easily be viewed as dates. And that night you crawled in the shower with me and took advantage of me, I’m pretty damn sure that was a date.”