Page 16 of Lone Star

He put his arm around her waist as they stepped through the front doors and were hit with a blast of cold, dry night air. Their breath plumed, and Michelle snuggled into his side with a shiver.

She didn’t intend to say anything, had told herself sternly that she wouldn’t, but as she tipped her head back to seek out the bright specks of stars through a cloud of curling vapor, she said, calmly, “So that was your ex.”

He groaned. “Babe, I swear to God, I wasn’t hiding it–”

“I know, I know.” She had to chuckle at his tone, that of a scolded child who’d been caught hiding sweets under his bed. “I’m not upset.”

“But you don’t like her,” he guessed. When she didn’t respond right away, he said, “I saw your face.”

She had her own designated parking spot, at the corner of the building’s front walk, out of reach of stumbling, overindulging patrons, but close enough that she didn’t have to walk across the dark parking lot after dark – not that their cameras and security guards didn’t keep a close eye on the whole property. It was more the principle of the thing, a gesture that she’d felt a bit ashamed of, and had tried to resist. Every staff member, and Candy especially, had insisted she ought to have a marked spot, as general manager.

They reached her car, and stopped in front of it. When Michelle turned to face her husband, he had one brow lifted, his face faintly pink in the glow of the Tastes Like Candy neon up above.

“I don’t dislike her,” she said, careful to keep her own expression neutral. “I don’t even know her.”

“But you didn’t get a good first impression.”

“Do you really think I’m so petty?” she asked.

“No, but you’re skeptical. And you were very skeptical about her.” He looked entirely too satisfied with himself.

“I will admit–”

“Ha.”

“I will admit that her energy is very…different from mine,” she said, lifting her chin to a lofty angle. He always said she looked “super British” when she did that. “And I don’t think we’d suit well as friends.” She grew serious. “What do you want me to say, Candy? That I’m feeling insecure about your old girlfriend? That I’m ready to get into a bloody catfight? She’s your ex. And your friend’s sister. That doesn’t bother me.”

He stared at her.

She gestured to her stomach. “I’m flooded with hormones, but itdoesn’t bother me.”

“Alright, fair enough.” His expression softened, then. “But I will say, even though you’re not bothered, that it wasn’t some bad, painful breakup. We were never good together, her and me. She never liked the club, and I was never invested enough to try and ease her mind about it.”

He reached up to hook a knuckle beneath her chin, callused thumb sliding along her jaw, eliciting a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. His gaze went low-lidded, smoky with promise. “She was nothing like you. I’d sell this whole club out to the feds tomorrow for you.”

The words shocked her – maybe more than anything ever had. If he hadn’t been touching her, she thought she would have staggered back a step. “I would never ask that.”

“I know. That’s one of the hundreds of reasons I love you. And that I’m married to you, and not her.”

She wasn’t embarrassed to admit that she melted a little.

“Let’s go home.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ten

Jenny wasn’t sure what woke her, but being awake wasn’t a surprise. She turned her head on the pillow, already alert at a moment’s notice, and saw Colin beside her, sleeping with innocent abandon, mouth open and one forearm over his eyes. Moonlight caught the faint glimmer of drool at the corner of his mouth, and she smiled to herself in the dark. He could sleep anywhere, anytime, not a worrier by nature, and confident he was big enough to handle anything stupid enough to wake him.

Jenny was a light sleeper, though. The house creaking in the wind, a dog barking down the street, the thump of a neighbor’s car door – all of it had the power to draw her out of sleep. Since meeting Colin, she’d at least stopped waking in a low-grade panic. Years spent feeling unsafe in your own home could make a light sleeper out of anyone.

She wasn’t panicked tonight, at least. She rolled the other way and checked the clock: just after three. She lay still and listened a moment. Theirs was a quiet neighborhood, with no dogs save the small indoor kind that didn’t normally cause a ruckus after dark. Their neighbors were either retirees, or young families with small children, so no wild, late night teenage antics to disturb the peace.

The house lay dark and hushed around her; she thought she could hear the stillness of the air in all the rooms; the barely-perceptible snuffling of the house settling down deeper on its slab like a contented, sleeping animal.

But she finally detected a noise that was out of place. Jack wasn’t crying, but she heard the unmistakable sound of his bed springs creaking as he climbed out of it.

Little brat, she thought fondly, sitting up herself and sliding her feet into the Ugg slippers that waited on the floor below. She grabbed Colin’s robe off the back of the bedroom door, huge, and flannel, and cozily threadbare, and pulled it on as she headed down the hall.

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