Page 25 of Bad to the Bone
Chapter Thirteen
BYthe time Alex got back to Morrison Hardware, he was soaked to the skin and his mood was as gloomy as the weather. Bypassing the front entrance to avoid a grilling from Alanna, he circled around to the side entrance and trudged up the steps to their apartment.
As he stripped off his sodden clothing, he debated calling Ricky Lee—he’d gotten his cell phone number from Crae before they left the diner—and telling him to forget their dinner plans. With the way his pulse was pounding behind his eyelids, he wanted nothing more than to pull all the curtains closed and crawl into bed until the migraine went away, or until Ricky Lee left town, whichever came first. But he’d promised Crae he’d at least give Ricky Lee—he wondered whether he should start calling him Lee—a chance to explain why he’d hidden the truth of his success.
With a sigh, he swallowed a few Excedrin, pulled on a dry pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and then brought up Ricky Lee’s entry on his phone.If he’s still on his conference call, I’ll take that as a sign and just leave a message canceling for tonight.
Given the way Alex’s luck was running, of course Ricky Lee answered on the first ring. “Alex? Is that you?”
Damn it, I should have figured out what to say before I called.“I thought you might still be in your Skype meeting,” he temporized.
“I have them on hold.”
Good, that would give him an excuse to keep the call short. “It’s coming down pretty hard out there. It won’t be safe for you to ride over on the Harley. Maybe we should—”
“Crae told me you know,” Ricky Lee interrupted. “We need to talk. I’ve ridden in worse weather than this.”
Crae was right—once Ricky Lee’s mind was made up, there was no changing it. Alex gave in to the inevitable. “Even so, there’s no reason for you to get soaked. I can drive over and meet you at the hotel. We can have dinner there, or”—he really didn’t want to have this discussion where anyone could overhear them—“I can pick up some pizza on the way. You still like pepperoni and black olives?”
“You know it.” Something beeped in the background. “I have to get back to this call. Thanks, Alex.”
“I’ll see you in a few hours.” The phone disconnected, and Alex stared at Ricky Lee’s name on the display for a moment before slipping into his shoes and heading downstairs to face round two.
“What the hell is going on, Xan?” Alanna accosted him as soon as he entered the store.
So far as Alex knew, Sam hadn’t told anyone but him about Ricky Lee’s fortune, and until he had a chance to talk with Ricky Lee himself, he didn’t feel he had the right to spread the news. Not that he thought Alanna would gossip about anything he told her, but still battling the headache from hell, he wasn’t up to a cross-examination. He needed to save his mental strength to face Ricky Lee.
“It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Well, Iamworried when you rush out with no explanation like that. Are you and Sam okay?”
At least he could answer that honestly. “Sam and I are fine. It was just some miscommunication I had to straighten out.”
Alanna wasn’t about to be fobbed off that easily. “Miscommunication about what?”
Reluctantly, Alex played his trump card. “I’m fighting off a killer headache, Lan. I’m really not up for the Spanish Inquisition.”
Sporadic tension headaches were the only lingering aftereffect of Alex’s concussions. He didn’t get them often, fortunately, but it was the one thing guaranteed to keep Alanna off his back. “Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down?” she suggested, switching instantly to mothering mode. “I’ve got the evening shift anyway, and with this rain, I don’t expect it’ll be too busy.”
As tempting as that sounded, Alex knew he’d only spend the time rehearsing his confrontation with Ricky Lee. “Thanks, but I can manage. I’ve got to start placing the orders for holiday decorations.”
“And you’re meeting Ricky Lee for dinner tonight, aren’t you? I know that will make you feel better,” she said with a grin.
Somehow Alex didn’t share her certainty.
A LITTLEafter seven, Alex knocked on the door of Ricky Lee’s hotel room with two large boxes from Napolitano’s Pizza in his arms. His headache had eased a little, but his apprehension about the coming conversation hadn’t.
The connecting door between the suites closed when Ricky Lee ushered him in. “I brought enough for Crae to join us too,” Alex offered, setting the boxes on the counter that separated the sitting area from the small kitchenette.
“Crae’s had more than enough to say to you already.” Ricky Lee clearly didn’t sound too happy about that. “Would you like a beer?”
It was probably a good idea to keep his wits about him, Alex considered, especially since Ricky Lee wouldn’t be drinking.And he doesn’t like the taste, his libido chimed in. His higher brain functions rebutted sternly that he had no intention of kissing Ricky Lee—or doing anything else—tonight.
“Sure,” he answered—take that, libido—and then indulged it anyway by watching raptly as Ricky Lee bent into the minibar to extract a Corona and a bottle of sparkling water.
“Sorry I don’t have any limes.” Ricky Lee popped the cap off the beer and handed it to Alex.
“This is fine, thanks.”
