Page 23 of Heart of Dixie
Deke returned from the creek bank where he’d retrieved his jeans. “Apparently, picnic’s not the code for anything. You can open your eyes, deputy. I’m decent. So far, there’s been no sex—he glared at her now that her eyes were uncovered and she could catch the heat of it—and there’s been no picnic, either.” He snatched the dinner sack and dropped it in the middle of the blanket. “Would you care to join us? You know Ruby; there’ll be plenty.”
Beth smirked. “Well, I don’t know. Such a gracious offer . . . I believe I’ll just head back—”
“Damn it, Beth. You cannot cock bl—” Her eyes widened and the sarcasm in his invitation evaporated in a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t get your panties in a wad. Now, sit.” He swept his arm in a grand gesture.
She sat.
I’d watched their entire exchange silently from my corner of the blanket, but as Beth dug into the sack for a paper plate and plastic utensils, and Deke withdrew the container of cold chicken, I rose and made my way to the front seat of the car.
Two pair of eyes lifted and followed me as I passed them. “Dixie? You okay?” I waved off Beth’s concern.
“I . . . I just need something from my purse. I’ll be right back.” I dug around in the bottom of my bag and found what I needed: a clean tissue to catch the tears burning my eyes. I took another couple of minutes to collect my thoughts and my churning emotions. The familiar exchange between the two people who used to be my best friends hit me at first with a combination of amusement . . . before it unexpectedly changed to melancholy. The notion hadn’t occurred to me yet that while I left each of them when I moved away—they hadn’t left each other.
Life was destined to change for all of us over the past ten years, in different ways and to varying degrees. It was up to us to decide what we made of ourselves and who remained involved. It was shaming to realize I was the one to distance myself from the two I’d been closest to. I dabbed my eyes again, then dropped the visor to check my makeup in the mirror. It was time to stop feeling sorry for myself; time to stop feeling left out. Deke wasn’t the only one who owed Beth an apology. And a few trite words wouldn’t work for the girl who had my back since we were youngsters. Beth was a nurturer. And Deke . . . I still hadn’t worked out how Deke figured in my life, but I’d already shared how I felt about leaving him, and after the last couple of days, I felt his loss. If they wanted me present in their lives, my friends deserved what made them happy.
I stepped out of Deke’s now dusty classic car, gave the door a shove to close it. As I neared, I reached into Deke’s magical bucket for bug spray, tossed it to Beth as she was the one slapping at mosquitoes. Then I handed Deke a rubber band fromhis stash in the car as his was the hair I’d just been jabbing my fingers through and tousled. I dropped a kiss—a kiss that melded love and apology—on both their cheeks and took a seat between. Reached for their hands to hold, to connect us. “There may not have been much to love about my home while I lived here, but I always had you. You were reason enough to keep in touch, to come back, and I didn’t.” Their gazes were steady and open, and assured me I was still welcome as a part of their club, not apart as I’d consigned myself. I abandoned their hands and gathered them both up in my arms for a group hug. “From now on, I do.”
13
Dixie
Late that night I flopped from my stomach to my back on the queen-sized mattress. The glow of the moon cast shadows on the cabin’s far wall and seared the insides of my eyelids. “Argh!” I thrashed at the covers and resisted the urge to relieve the ache brought on by my memories of today. The parts of me that had been neglected far too long and recently teased were clamoring in the back of my brain, reminding me I didn’t have to lie awake and squirming. I could drive over and knock on Deke’s door. Surely he’d let me in. A night rustling under the covers with him would be infinitely more pleasurable than fighting off fantasies for hours on end.No!I forced myself to abandon the insanity.
Because that’s just what that idea was—insane. And even though I more or less agreed to a weekend hookup, I could pull out a list of reasons as long as my arm why it was a crazy stupid idea. Topping the list was the fear that the man I’d been spending a good amount of time with was already working his way into my heart. Which made me wonder if he ever really left.
With so much on my mind it was little wonder I was up before the sun. Back in LA, I would have tied on my runners and headed up to the gym on the top floor of my building. Kissing Creek’s little Tumble Inn boasted seven private bungalows, each homey and with covered parking, but it did not offer treadmills. It didn’t have Wi-Fi, either, I discovered when I tried to log on and get a little work done. Silly me.
Beth had mentioned at our picnic that the previous night was her last night shift for a while. A quick glance at my phone verified the time—she’d be off work soon and wasn’t due back at the station until Monday. This was as good a time as any to check out of the revered lodge and start our girl time together. Maybe I could talk her into breakfast first, especially since my stomach was already rumbling. A quick text let her know what I had in mind:
Me: Hungry. Ruby’s in 30 minutes. You in?
Her response was nearly instantaneous:
Beth: Bet I beat you there!
Sounded as though she was hungry, too. I shoved my clothes into my suitcase and searched the room for anything I may have forgotten. My phone beeped with an incoming text:
Beth: Hurry!
I let my thumbs fly on the keyboard:
Me: Checking out. See you there!
My phone rang as I gave the room a final glance. I stabbed the button to talk. “Sheesh, Beth! You must be starving. I’ll be there in a minute!”
“Dixie? Dixie!”
Damn it!I dropped my suitcase to the floor. “This had better be good, Drew.” It was practically the middle of the night in Colorado; what couldn’t wait until morning?
“Dixie, what the hell did you girls get me into?”
Girls?Girls? Whether he knew it or not, Andrew Hensley had just flipped my bitch switch. I suppressed a sigh—far too unprofessional—and plopped on the edge of the bed.Suck it up. “Tell me what happened.”
“Denver happened! My ears hurt. My chest hurts. They expect me to run.”
My eyelids slid shut as I massaged my forehead. Drew’s professional baseball career had tragically been cut short with his latest concussion, but his griping could easily cause a throbbing headache to brew. I didn’t have the time nor energy for him and his conniption, though. Not before my first cup of coffee. I reached down deep and found the take-no-prisoners attitude that had served me well in the past. Compassion could come later, after he remembered how to be a team player.
“You read the script, Drew. You’re playing a cop! Occasionally cops chase the bad guy.” I pulled the phone from my ear as Drew gave me a fresh piece of his mind. One that had apparently gotten more than the few hours’ rest I was operating on.
