Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Christine
“Well, that was utterly mortifying!” I stomp right past my dad, tugging the screen door open like it personally offended me. I shoulder the wooden door open, only daring to look back in time to catch the taillights escaping into the night from this distance.
I don’t blame Tag for taking off so fast. Who wants to deal with someone’s dad at thirty? But I hate that I panicked and rushed our goodbye, jumping from the truck before he had time to shift into park. I caught a “good night” before I slammed the door closed.
But it wasn’t the goodbye still playing on my mind. He called me babe, and I will never forget it as long as I live. Lauralee will never hear the end of it until my dying day. It’s like Tag and I have come full circle, and he finally noticed I’m not a kid.
I smile, floating on air from my fantasy coming true. Though my fantasies go a lot deeper than babe, and his mouth always goes lower . . . If I were being truthful with myself.
My dad trails me inside, shutting the doors behind him. The crunch of the old lock set in place as I head for the stairs. He says, “Tagger Grange has known you since you were knee-high to a ladybug. He isn’t someone to be mortified over.”
I stop with my hand holding onto the oak newel at the foot of the stairs. With one foot resting on the bottom step, I look back. “I’m not mortified over anything Tag did. I’m mortified that at twenty-six years old, my dad waited up for me.”
“A dad can’t worry about his daughter?”
I step up and turn all the way around to face him. “You can worry about me, Dad, but scaring off my dates is a whole other story.”
Toeing his boots off by the door, he says, “Good thing you weren’t on a date, then.” The long pause between us has him looking up at me with one boot still stuck on his foot. “You weren’t on a date with Tagger Grange, were you?” The concern riddling his forehead is evident as it pinches.
I drag my teeth over my bottom lip, looking down, and then shake my head. “No. I was only making a point.” Every part of that reply feels wrong, like a lie. “I’m going to bed.”
“Sweet dreams, dear daughter.”
“Sweet dreams, Dad.” I drag myself upstairs, innately aware of every creak in the hardwoods and avoid those planks like I did in high school. I got busted once or twice and learned my lesson. I needed to be quieter. The hell to pay the next day, my chores doubling, might have also played a part.
I’m old enough not to get in trouble like that, but the stealthy path I climb comes naturally from memory.
In my room, I strip off my sandals and dress and slip on a roomy T-shirt I won years ago at the rodeo. It’s too early to go to bed, though I could probably fall asleep after the long day and glasses of wine. I text Lauralee real quick:
He called me babe.
Who?
She’s faster than I am.
I take a breath, my body relaxing as I perch on the end of the mattress.
Tagger.
That one word has my phone ringing the next second. I laugh when I answer, “I can die happy.”
“No. No. Not yet. Before you die,” my best friend says, rushing her words, “you need to hit rewind and tell me how you got from the he never knew I existed stage to calling you babe .”
I grin because if the roles were reversed, I’d want the same. “It’s not as salacious as you make it sound, Laur.”
“Salacious? You’re the one dying happy like you just jumped the man on top of the hood of his truck. Whoa. ” She takes a deep breath. “That escalated quickly.” Tipsy enough to think it was pretty dang funny, I giggle while she loops the mental track of her mind to get back in this race. “Anyway, stop beating around the bush and give me the good stuff, Chris.”
My eyebrows shoot up from the demand, but I won’t lie, I’m just as giddy to share with her. “My goodness.” Of course, I still must give her a hard time. “Patience apparently isn’t a virtue in your book?—”
“We already know this,” she says with a laugh. “Now go on.”
I wave my free hand in front of me like a maestro, and say, “I shall continue now. His son invited me to dinner at the Granges, and I went. I also let him drive?—”
“His six-year-old?” Her voice pitches.
“No, silly.” I roll my eyes. “Tagger. Which means?—”
“He had to drive you home? This story keeps getting better and better.”
With a shrug, I reply, “I drank some wine?—”
“Oh no.” Her concern wavers through the line. “You and wine don’t mix, Chris.”
Slightly offended, I flip my hair over my shoulder. “I’ll have you know that me and wine do just fine.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure.”
“I rhymed,” I say, proud of myself.
“You sure did.”
“ Anywho , I had a great time. The food was great, the company even better. We laughed like we’d been friends forever. And it was good to catch up with his folks again.”
“Good to hear. Good to hear. Now get to it, girl, because I know he wasn’t calling you babe in front of his mother. So you’re in a car at night with fifteen to twenty minutes to spend alone together. Sounds like the beginning of a fairy-tale ending if you ask me.” She giggles, which causes my own laughter to bubble up.
“Which is why I’m not asking you.” I drop my hand to the bed and huff. “I’m way too practical to get caught up in that business. It’s as if you’ve forgotten we live in the middle of Texas with the slimmest selection of men in the entire universe.”
“Are you going to let me live vicariously or ruin the illusion?”
She’s too ridiculous to argue with. Closing my eyes, I can almost remember the feel of the air crackling between us. I suck in a slow and staggering breath, and then whisper, “We talked but didn’t need to fill the silence. It felt good, easy, and a little zap sparked between us when I caught him looking at me. I can’t explain it. It was no big deal, though I felt tension in the air.”
“Sexual?”
“It’s been far too long for me to know the difference.” I lie back on the bed. “I had asked if we were flirting, and he said, “Trust me, babe. You’d know if I were flirting. Just like that, all sexy and deep tones that shot right through me.”
“God, I can just imagine,” she says, her tone as dreamy as mine. “He has the most amazing voice, deep with a slight rugged rasp. Did you have sex?”
“Lauralee?” The whiplash has me bolting to my feet again and pacing. “For Pete’s sake, you think I’d only be telling you he called me babe if we had sex? I would have been texting you before I left that bed.”
Her laughter fills the line. “You’re a good friend, Chris.”
“The best, in fact.”
“Yes, I can’t argue with that.” I hear the crinkle of what I know must be a bag of gummy bears. The soft and pillowy kind. Only the best. We may not always make the best decisions with guys, but we have high standards when it comes to candy. “As for the babe,” she says, with what sounds like a mouthful of deliciousness. I take a sip of water, waiting to hear what she’s thinking. “It’s a step in the right direction. But I’m rooting for sex next time.”
“Pfffft.” The water spews from my mouth, droplets showering my bare legs. “For you or me?”
“Both.” She bursts out laughing, but the sound muffles like she’s covered her mouth. Like me, she’s stuck at home with her mom’s bedroom beneath hers. “Well, it sounds like a good night.”
I sigh after catching my breath, remembering how he rubbed my shoulder. It felt like we were friends. Not me, the little sister of his friend, but as my own being in his eyes. It felt good with him. “It was.”
“Will you see him again before he leaves?”
“I’m not sure. We didn’t have time to talk once he pulled onto the property.” My face heats from humiliation just thinking about what thoughts were running through Tagger’s mind when he saw my dad. We also now know where Baylor gets his overprotective nature. “I’m tired. I’ll fill you in on that another time.”
“You know where to find me.” There’s only a quick pause before she adds, “Hey Chris, I’m glad you can close that chapter on the crush you’ve always carried for him. Well done. Mission accomplished.”
I’m not sure what to think about that. Was it all a game of getting him to notice me? Maybe when I was younger. Tonight, though, it was more. I know it, but only time will tell. “I still don’t have any plans of getting tangled up with a guy who’s leaving in three days.”
“Tangled up or tied down. Either way, the countdown is on.”
“There’s no countdown, Laur.” Before we get caught up in circles of what-ifs, I say, “Good night, friend.”
“Good night.”
I leave the phone on the bed and go to wrap up in the bathroom. I make sure to stop by the window and look up at the stars. “Good night, Mom.” And then I climb under the covers and click on the TV. It’s just gone ten, which isn’t much earlier than I typically go to bed, but my mind is still reeling with the possibilities of how we would have ended the night if it weren’t for my dad being there.
He was caught staring at my mouth. Call me evil, but I licked my lips involuntarily. It was innocent, but I saw how he shifted. I’m beginning to think I wasn’t the only one with a fire lit inside me tonight.
I’ve always heard that the heart wants what the heart wants, but can a crush really turn into true love? I’m not so sure, and it doesn’t seem like I’m going to find out either. So it’s best if I watch TV and get my mind off him altogether.
I want the impossible.
Each hour that passes, dreams fill my head, and thoughts when I wake up are of one thing— Tagger Grange .
Damn him.