Chapter Eleven #2
My hand tightens in her hair.
“Twila.”
She doesn’t stop.
“Fuck. I’m gonna come.”
Her fingers dig into my thigh.
Permission.
Warning.
Maybe both.
Doesn’t matter.
I come hard enough that my entire body locks beneath her.
Twila stays with me through it, mouth around me while I curse into the ceiling and try not to pull her hair hard enough to make myself an asshole.
When she finally lets me slip from her mouth, I’m breathing like I just ran from the cops.
She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
Smug.
Completely fucking smug.
“Still think I needed convincing?”
I stare at her.
Blonde hair wrecked. Lips wet. My shirt nowhere near either of us.
And the stupidest truth I’ve said in years falls straight out of my mouth.
“I like you.”
Twila freezes.
So do I.
Fuck.
Her eyes widen.
Pounding hits the front door.
I shut my eyes.
“No.”
Another knock comes louder.
Twila starts laughing. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“If that’s your daddy, I’m moving to Tennessee.”
The pounding comes again.
“Whiskey!”
Woman’s voice.
Every bit of heat in me drops through the fucking floor.
Twila notices. “That ain’t Daddy.”
“No.”
“Who?”
I climb off the bed.
“Stay here.”
She sits up straighter. “Oh, absolutely not.”
“Twila.”
“Who is she?”
“Don’t start.”
“That answer means woman.”
I tuck myself back into my underwear and yank my jeans closed while Twila sits up. “No.”
She stops. “What?”
I scrub a hand over my face.
“Fuck. I mean, you don’t need to deal with this.”
“I’ll decide what I need to deal with.”
“Fine.”
Another knock rattles the front door.
“Whiskey, open the goddamn door!”
Twila yanks open one of my drawers, grabs a T-shirt, and jerks it over her head. “Who is that?”
“Wren’s mama.”
Silence.
Then, “Oh.”
That one syllable has enough ice in it to keep bourbon cold all summer.
I point at her. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re fixing to do.”
She jerks the hem of my shirt farther down over her panties. “I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re doing nothing angrily.”
She jerks the hem down hard enough to nearly rip the damn thing. “I always dress angry.”
“Bullshit.”
“Go answer your damn door.”
I leave before I say something stupid.
Already said I like her.
Quota reached.
The knocking keeps coming.
I pull my shirt on before I open the door.
Holler’s sister stands on my porch. Wren’s mother.
Beth.
She looks better than the last time I saw her. That don’t mean good.
Her dark hair is done, makeup careful, jeans too expensive for somebody who keeps claiming she ain’t got money. Same high cheekbones she had three years ago, though life has sharpened the rest of her.
Her eyes sweep over me and stop at my half-fastened belt.
Then my neck.
Twila bit me.
Beth’s expression changes. “You got someone here.”
“Why’re you here?”
“Your mother told me she had Wren.”
My jaw tightens. “Mama didn’t call you.”
“No. Holler did.”
My hand closes around the edge of the door, keeping the opening narrow enough that Beth would have to go through me to enter.
I make a mental note to kill Holler later.
“Wren ain’t here.”
“I know. She’s at school.”
“Then go.”
Her expression twists. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
“I’m her mother.”
“Barely.”
“Whiskey.”
“No.”
She steps closer. “You don’t have to treat me like this.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I’m clean.”
“We ain’t doing this today.”
“I’ve been clean four months.”
“Heard.”
“From Holler?”
“Yeah.”
“And you still won’t let me see her.”
“No.”
Tears gather in her eyes. Used to work on me. Long time ago.
“I made mistakes.”
“You left her alone forty-six hours.”
“I know.”
“She was five.”
“I know!”
“Then quit saying mistake like you forgot to buy milk.”
Her mouth trembles. “I was sick.”
“You were high.”
“I was addicted.”
“Wren was still alone.”
“I love her.”
“Love didn’t feed her.”
That one hurts her. Maybe I’m an asshole for wanting it to.
Still true.
“If I didn’t find her when I did…”
Beth wipes beneath one eye and looks past me. “You’ve replaced me.”
Cold moves through me. “What?”
“You got another woman in my house.”
“My house. You haven’t lived here for five years.”
“Our daughter lives here.”
“That don’t make it yourn.”
“I can smell her perfume.”
Twila ain’t wearing perfume. She probably smells like barbecue, basement musk, and sex. Considering where my fingers were and where her mouth was before Beth started pounding on the door, perfume ain’t what she’s smelling.
Beth notices the bite mark on my hand, then the one near my shoulder.
Her face hardens.
“You’re fucking somebody.”
“Not your business.”
“Is she around Wren?”
“No.”
“Who is she?”
“Not your business.”
“Club girl?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
A floorboard creaks behind me.
Fuck.
Twila appears in the hallway wearing only a shirt and panties, hair thoroughly fucked, bare feet planted like she came out here specifically to make sure nobody can pretend she did it by accident.
Her eyes land on Beth.
Then they drop. Straight to the inside of my left forearm. They stay there one beat too fucking long.
Ah, shit.
Beth sees her. Recognizes her immediately. Everybody in this county knows Sheriff Dix’s daughter.
“Deputy Dix?”
Twila smiles. It ain’t friendly.
“Hi.”
I close my eyes.
There goes the neighborhood.
Beth looks at me, then Twila, then back at me. “What the hell is she doing here in my house?”
Twila crosses her arms. “I’m askin’ myself that.”
“Twila.”
“What?”
Beth’s mouth opens. “You’re sleeping with a cop?”
Twila answers before I can. “He kidnapped me first.”
Beth goes white.
I look at Twila. “Not helpful.”
“What? We’re bonding.”
Beth takes one step backward. “What?”
“It’s complicated,” I say.
“Complicated?”
“Very.”
“Does Holler know you’re in bed with a pig, literally?”
“None of your business.”
“Does Legend?”
“Same answer.”
“Does Sheriff Dix?” Beth looks like she walked into an alternate universe. Then anger replaces shock. “So this is why I can’t see Wren? You found her another mama?”
“No.”
“You replaced me with some cop and suddenly I’m too dangerous?”
“You were dangerous before Twila set foot in this house.”
Beth’s attention shifts to Twila.
“You think he’s gonna keep you?”
Jesus Christ.
Twila’s eyebrows rise.
I step between them. “Beth.”
“No. She ought to know.”
“Know what?” Twila asks, sounding far too interested.
Beth folds her arms tightly over her middle, but her eyes keep darting to Twila’s bare feet and messy hair like those tell her everything she needs to know.
“He gets bored easily.”
I almost choke. “That’s bullshit.”
“You got bored with me.”
“You disappeared into drugs.”
“I loved you.”
“Wasn’t enough.”
“The club always came first. You cheated how many times?”
Behind me, the floorboard stops creaking. Twila doesn’t move again.
Beth sees that too. She struck gold. Women can detect jealousy the way sharks detect blood.
“You didn’t tell her?”
“There ain’t anything to tell. I didn’t cheat. You left, took Wren, I moved on. We weren’t married.”
“We had a family.”
“We had Wren.”
“We had more.”
“No. Not really. You were in love with getting high. I eventually figured out I came second with you, and Wren came last.”
Her eyes fill again. “You’re fucking cruel.”
“A bastard,” I agree with her.
“You’ll come back when you’re done playing with Sheriff Barbie.”
Twila makes a sound behind me.
I put one hand out without looking, some stupid traffic-stop gesture like I’m separating two women at the Piggly Wiggly.
“No.”
Twila’s voice turns dangerous. “Did you just put your hand up at me?”
“Yes.”
“You wanna keep that hand?”
Beth laughs once. “You deserve each other.”
“Probably.”
Beth flinches.
Shit.
That slipped.
Beth’s face closes. “Fine.” She steps off the porch. “I’ll go through the court again here in this county.”
“Do it.”
“I’ll get visitation.”
“If you earn it.”
“I’m her mother.”
“And I’m her father.”
“She needs me.”
“She needs safety.”
Beth looks toward Twila one last time. “This won’t last.”
Twila smiles. “Lady, I’m still deciding whether to arrest him.”
Beth turns and leaves.
I close the door slowly, turn the lock, and don’t turn around. I can feel Twila behind me. Jealousy has heat.
Hers could fry bacon.
“Don’t.”
Beth’s car tears down the road.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re about to.”
Her eyes drop to my arm again. “That’s her.”
I look down at ink I quit seeing years ago. “Yeah.”
“You have your ex tattooed on your fucking arm.”
“Got it a long time ago.”
“And you never covered it?”
“Never mattered enough to bother.”
Her eyes narrow. “That might be the worst answer you could’ve given me.”
“Probably.”
“You loved her.”
I turn.
Twila has snatched the throw pillow off the couch and is hugging it across her bare stomach like she only now remembered she came into my living room without pants.
She looks ready to fight somebody.
Possibly me.
Probably Beth.
Likely both.
“Long time ago.”
“You didn’t mention that.”
“You asked where Wren’s mother was.”
“You said Official.”
“She is.”
“You said she lost custody.”
“She did.”
“You forgot the part where you loved her.”
“Ain’t relevant.”
Her laugh has no humor in it. “Not relevant.”
“Nope.”
“She wants you back.”
“That’s her problem.” I grin. Wrong choice.
Twila’s eyes narrow.
“You’re jealous.”
“No, I ain’t.”
“You are.”
“I’m a deputy assessing a volatile domestic situation.”
“You ain’t wearing pants.”
She looks down.
Long legs. Panties. Bare feet.
My brain immediately quits cooperating.
Twila follows my stare. “Oh, fuck you.”
“Was working on it.”
“Stop looking.”
“Hard.”
“Whiskey.”
“Very hard.”
She throws pillow at me.
I catch it and laugh. Wrong again.
“You think this is funny?”
“Hilarious.”
“You had your fingers in me ten minutes ago, and now your ex is on the porch telling me you get bored. You cheat.”
“I ain’t bored, and I didn’t cheat. So, where were we?”
Her face heats. “You can’t seriously think we’re picking up where we left off.”
“Can still feel you on my hand, Deputy. Thinking about it ain’t exactly difficult.”
Her gaze drops to that hand before she catches herself.
Got her.
Her mouth opens. Then closes. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not.”
“You wanted to wrestle her.” I bite my bottom lip.
“I was deciding whether to arrest her.”