Читать книгу Lone Star Blues - Delores Fossen, Delores Fossen - Страница 11

CHAPTER FOUR

HELL IN A turd-filled handbasket. Dylan’s head was no longer throbbing so he didn’t have any trouble hearing what Jordan had said.

I should be the one to have custody of Corbin.

No trouble feeling the kick-to-the-gut reaction that he had, either. Or the anger. Really bad, pissed-off anger.

That particular emotion wasn’t exactly a new feeling when it came to Jordan. They’d had way too many arguments before they’d split, but “out of sight” had cooled down some of that old ire. However, it hadn’t done squat for the way his eyeballs kept looking at her.

Specifically, at her mouth.

It had been Jordan’s mouth that’d first attracted him, and it was apparently still a lust magnet. Thankfully, though, he could push the lure of that mouth aside since it’d been the very part of her body to utter those words that’d riled him.

“I’m Corbin’s father,” Dylan reminded her.

“Biologically,” Jordan countered.

“Maybe,” Lucian reminded both of them.

Both Jordan and Dylan shot him glares. Dylan’s was meant to stop any future reminders like that from anyone, not just Lucian. Yeah, there were a lot of things in question, but Dylan was going to believe Adele on this. He also wouldn’t just hand over his son to Jordan. Or anybody else for that matter.

“Is this about that bingo card?” Dylan asked her. “Because if it is, I didn’t start that dumb game.”

Jordan took a deep breath. “It’s not just the game. It’s your, well, lifestyle. Red panties and sex cards. That can’t be good for Corbin.”

It wasn’t. But Dylan had planned on making some big changes in his life. Not that Jordan, Lucian or anybody else would believe it, but he would. He’d do whatever it took to make sure Corbin had a good life.

A good life that Jordan might not be able to give him.

“You’re still in the Air Force?” he asked.

Dylan knew it wasn’t just a simple question. There were other questions that went along with that, including the “right back in her face” reminder that deployments and overseas assignments might be good for a military officer but not necessarily for a toddler.

Jordan nodded. “I’m still in. For now. I’m being assigned to Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio. But I’ve been...rethinking things.”

He saw it then, the slight shift of her posture, and she glanced away. Not exactly any in-your-face gestures, but Dylan could see something simmering just beneath the surface. And he wanted to kick himself. She was rethinking things because she’d been held captive by those insurgents.

Now he was the one who had to glance away from her. Even though Jordan and he hadn’t seen each other in years, she’d once been his wife. He still cared for her. Or at least he had cared before she’d done that custody-challenge throwdown about a minute ago. Now he was riled, along with wishing that something that bad hadn’t happened to her. But it had happened, and Dylan had to take it into account.

“Are you okay?” he asked her. And, yes, he probably should have figured out a different way to ask if she’d gone bat-crap crazy because of being held captive when she was on deployment.

Jordan’s eyes narrowed a little. Her mouth tightened, too, a reminder that yes, that mouth still had a way of getting his attention. That’s why Dylan looked away again.

“I’m fine.” Her tone was snappish, but it was like a person gushing blood saying that it was just a flesh wound. No way could she be fine after something like that, especially since it’d only happened weeks ago. Some folks didn’t get over trauma like that—ever.

“I can get out of the Air Force if I want,” she added a moment later, and her voice was a lot more even-keeled now. “While I’m on leave, I’m considering my options.”

Well, Dylan wanted her to consider those options elsewhere. But he immediately frowned at that thought. Feeling that way wasn’t right. Jordan was Corbin’s family, too, and the kid would need all the support that he could get.

“If you’re at Lackland Air Force Base, does that mean you won’t be deployed or have to go do temporary duty somewhere?” he pressed.

Jordan shook her head. Hesitantly shook it, though. “There’s still a chance something like that would happen.” Her tone was hesitant, too.

That was his winning argument, all wrapped in her own words. Well, it was a winner if she stayed on active duty and took that assignment.

“So, you’re saying you’ll get out of the military, move back here and sue Dylan for custody,” Lucian clarified. His brother didn’t say it as mean-spirited and grouchy as he could have. He did it more the way he would while negotiating a business deal that he wasn’t especially sold on. However, Dylan knew how Lucian wanted this particular deal to go down.

With Jordan getting custody.

And preferably, having the DNA results to prove that Corbin wasn’t even a Granger. That would tie everything up in a neat little package for Lucian.

Dylan didn’t want either of those things, and the only reason Lucian did was he thought this would interfere with business as usual. And all because he thought Dylan was too much of a screwup to handle raising a kid. Of course, Jordan felt the same way. He could see that in her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dylan grumbled at the exact moment that Jordan said, “Don’t look at me like that.”

Obviously, they quit giving each other the looks that’d caused their comments, but that’s because they were both surprised now. And frowning. Even after all these years, they were on the same wavelength.

“I’m not broken,” Jordan snapped. “I was doing my job when I was taken—a job I was trained well to do—and then I was rescued. End of story.”

Since she’d gotten a little louder and a little crisper with each word of that explanation, Dylan doubted it was anywhere near the end. Nope. His sex bingo past didn’t hold a candle to possible PTSD, though Dylan wasn’t especially pleased that he’d won this particular contest.

Dylan was about to tell her how terrible he felt about this god-awful thing that’d happened to her, once he figured out how to say it, that is, but her phone buzzed before he had a chance to work that out.

Jordan yanked the cell from her jeans pocket, and when she saw the name on the screen, she glanced up at the ceiling as if asking for some divine intervention. Obviously, this wasn’t a call she especially wanted to take. Probably because she was more interested in continuing her debate with Dylan, but she hit the answer button anyway.

“Theo,” she greeted the caller.

Theo. She hadn’t exactly said that with love and affection, but judging from the way the name just rolled off her tongue, it was a name she said often.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t talk now,” she added, dodging Dylan’s gaze.

Yeah, definitely a rolling off the tongue kind of name. Which meant this guy was probably her boyfriend. Or maybe even her fiancé. She wasn’t wearing an engagement ring, though. But then, the only jewelry she had on was a thin gold chain around her neck.

“No, we’re working that out now. I’ll call you later,” Jordan told him. She hit the end call button, put her phone away and faced Dylan again. She looked a lot more steeled up than she had earlier so Theo must have worked some good mojo with whatever he’d said to her.

However, the “working out” didn’t get to happen because the doorbell rang. Dylan really didn’t want to deal with anything else today, but apparently someone answered it because it wasn’t long before Dylan heard the footsteps. And the voice that went with them.

“I need to see Dylan right now.”

Great. More complications.

Maybe he should look to the ceiling for some divine assistance, too. Because that voice belonged to none other than Judge Walter Ray Turley.

Several moments later, the hulking man appeared in the doorway of the sunroom. It would have been impossible to miss him since the judge was built like a sumo wrestler, and his facial expressions were just as intimidating. Thankfully, he wore more clothes, though. Walter Ray didn’t seem to make good use of his champagne budget. He was wearing jeans and a yellow plaid jacket that clashed with his dark red cowboy hat.

There was also that nose.

Walter Ray probably didn’t know that most folks called him dick-nose, and it was a well-earned moniker. It was one of those noses that made you stare and wonder why the heck he hadn’t run to a plastic surgeon.

Dylan’s first reaction was to tell the judge to get lost. Lucian must have known that, too, because he shook his head. Definitely a silent warning. Without saying a word, Lucian lectured him about the fact that Walter Ray was a powerful man in these parts. A powerful man with multiple daughters, two of whom Dylan had seen naked. And one of the daughters had won the sex bingo game. For the sake of business, Dylan decided to hold his tongue.

For as long as he could.

But his fun meter was at zero right now, and the judge had better not do anything to send that meter into the minus setting.

Karlee was right behind the judge, and she was communicating without words, as well. Dylan recognized the silent apology she was giving him. “Corbin and I were waiting for the pizza I ordered,” Karlee said.

In other words, she’d opened the door without realizing it was the judge. That was okay. If Karlee hadn’t answered the door, it was very possible that one of the housekeepers would have. Plus, as riled looking as the judge was, he probably wouldn’t have just left without seeing Dylan.

Karlee had Corbin by the hand, and the boy was munching on an apple slice. Despite the frustration over this visit and Jordan’s demand, Dylan found himself smiling at Corbin.

And Walter Ray noticed, too.

“So, this is your son,” Walter Ray grumbled as he slid glances between Dylan and the boy. Jordan got in on that glance sliding, too.

Karlee must have decided that all the glancing might lead to some things being said that she didn’t want Corbin to overhear so she led the boy out of the sunroom and back toward the kitchen.

“Yes, he’s mine,” Dylan verified.

Dylan didn’t have to guess how the judge had found out about Corbin. Misty had likely told him. He hoped Misty hadn’t told him about stripping naked and sneaking into Dylan’s room. If so, this conversation might go in an R-rated direction.

Walter Ray stared at him a long time as if waiting for Dylan to launch into some kind of lengthy explanation. Maybe about Corbin. Maybe about what’d gone on at the party the night before. Maybe about Misty and her missing panties. Since Dylan knew a couple of those discussions could get him in hot water, he just stared back at the man and stalled to see where this would go.

The return stare didn’t help ease Walter Ray’s intensity, but he did shift the direction of it. He turned back to Jordan. “The boy is your son?” he asked her.

Even though it was a pretty straightforward question, Jordan hesitated. Maybe because she didn’t think it was any of the judge’s business. It wasn’t. But the long pause might also be because she hadn’t finished her conversation with Dylan and the judge was interrupting that.

“Corbin’s mother is Adele,” Dylan provided. “She gave me custody because of some personal issues she’s having.”

Of course, it wouldn’t take the judge long to figure out that personal issues was code for Adele getting arrested. It also didn’t take long for Jordan’s eyes to narrow again, no doubt because Dylan had spelled out that part about him having custody.

“So, Jordan and you aren’t back together,” Walter Ray concluded. His expression lightened up a little so he must have taken it as good news. Sort of. “FYI,” he added to Dylan, “it’s not a good idea for a man to bed his ex-wife’s kin.”

“Hmmp,” Jordan said, and it was a sound of agreement.

Dylan added his own grunt to agree to that. Maybe though, the judge had meant that advice for Jordan and Adele and not his own two daughters. Though Dylan had only bedded one of the Turley sisters, Melanie, if Walter Ray found out about Misty staying the night—naked, no less—then things might take an even-uglier turn than they already had.

“I got your text with your vow of celibacy,” Walter Ray threw out there. Dylan groaned, but the judge just kept on yapping. “It seemed like a good start, but I’m not thinking that so much right now.”

Neither was Dylan. There was nothing good about a drunken vow of celibacy.

Walter Ray turned to Jordan. “Maybe you should step out of the room so Dylan and me can talk. Man-to-man. I know you’ve been through a bunch of bad stuff, and I don’t want you to hear anything that’ll upset you.”

Jordan’s hmmp turned to a groan. She probably didn’t like that bad stuff/man-to-man remark, and she likely didn’t want to leave, either. After all, in her mind she thought they still had to discuss Corbin’s custody, but as far as Dylan was concerned, there was nothing to discuss. It was a done deal.

“Our conversation isn’t over,” she warned Dylan, but at least she headed out of the room.

Dylan heard the front door again, but he seriously doubted that Jordan had just left. No. This was probably the pizza delivery that Karlee and Corbin had been waiting for.

“Did you get the scotch Dylan sent you?” Lucian asked the judge as soon as Jordan was gone.

“Sure did. I’m guessing that’s your way of apologizing?” Walter Ray added, not to Lucian but to Dylan.

Since Dylan didn’t know the scotch had been sent, probably either by Karlee or Lucian, Dylan just nodded.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna accept your apology.” Walter Ray gave his huge belt buckle an adjustment. “But Melanie said you’ve been under a lot of stress. She’s the one who talked me into coming here and patching things up between us.”

That would be good, but no doubt came with strings.

“I’m guessing you’ll be calling Melanie soon to chat to her about the boy you had with Adele,” the judge went on. It wasn’t a question.

Dylan huffed. He didn’t mind smoothing things over for the sake of business, but he wasn’t a doormat. And he wasn’t going to stand here and kowtow to this man.

“I’m not marrying your daughter,” Dylan spelled out to Walter Ray.

Lucian shot him a glare that could have withered a cactus on the spot. It was similar to the glare he’d given Dylan the night before when he’d gotten into it with the judge at the party. Dylan remembered all of that now, but apparently, he hadn’t gotten into it deep enough since it still hadn’t sunk into Walter Ray’s head.

“I’m not going to be roped into marrying someone simply because she chose to go to bed with me,” Dylan explained. “Hell, if I did that, I’d be married to...too many women.”

Best not to even attempt a number on that.

Lucian stepped forward, obviously ready to intervene, but Dylan held up his hand to silence him so he could finish having this out with Walter Ray. “I made it clear to Melanie that being with her wasn’t a commitment. She knows that, and now I’m making sure you know it, too.”

Walter Ray’s glare topped Lucian’s, something that Dylan hadn’t thought possible. “You toyed with my girl’s feelings. She’s in love with you.”

Dylan had indeed done some toying, but he doubted she was in love with him. Melanie was more sensible than her dad and had likely mentioned the l-word when Walter Ray had discovered the bingo card. Still, he needed to have an air clearing and smoothing over with Melanie in case there was an outside chance that she had indeed been hurt.

But all of this was a “big can of whip-ass” revelation for Dylan.

He’d made that celibacy vow when he was drunk, but it was a stellar idea, and it could be the first step toward moving on to the next stage of his life. Too bad it’d come so soon after seeing Jordan. Or rather, remembering Jordan.

There was hardly a day that’d gone by over the past fourteen years that he hadn’t thought about her, but he’d always been able to push those old flames aside. It was hard to do that now with her just a few rooms away. Maybe though, he could regain his footing and rein in his bedtime memories once she was on her way. Then, he could get on with his new path to celibacy without any temptations from the past.

Walter Ray leaned in closer, and the man violated a whole bunch of Dylan’s personal space. “You don’t want me on your bad side.”

“No, I don’t,” Dylan assured him. “But I’m not marrying your daughter for the sake of keeping peace between us. I’m a father now, and I need to focus on my son.”

Even though it was logic that Dylan thought a father could understand, that argument didn’t seem to appease Walter Ray one little bit. The man looked at Lucian as if he expected him to scold Dylan. Thankfully, Lucian didn’t do that. Not with words anyway, but Dylan suspected they’d have it out later. Because this could indeed affect business. Even if it did, though, Dylan wouldn’t be Lucian’s doormat, either.

“You better hope you don’t need any favors from me,” Walter Ray warned Dylan. He extended his glare to Lucian, too.

Lucian moved to Dylan’s side. “And you’d better hope you don’t need any favors from us.” That was the tone that had earned Lucian the nickname of Lucifer.

The staring match started—a game of eyeball chicken—and it didn’t surprise Dylan when Walter Ray was the first one to look away. Lucian’s venom wasn’t something that anybody wanted to dick around with because Lucian could be, well, a dick, and his bad side could be a whole lot worse than all the collective bad sides in town.

“My beef’s not with you,” Walter Ray grumbled to Lucian after he’d lost the eyeball-chicken match.

“If it’s with my brother, then it’s with me,” Lucian assured him. “You can show yourself out.”

Dylan didn’t know who was more surprised—him or Walter Ray. His guess was Walter Ray, because the man’s face turned red. He looked like an inflamed testicle, and it didn’t go well with the dick-shaped nose.

Walter Ray stood there several more long moments, volleying his glare, getting redder and sputtering out some ripe profanity until he finally turned and left. He made his size known with his clomping footsteps. And then he slammed the front door.

“You fuck this up, and I’ll smother you in your sleep,” Lucian snarled to Dylan as he walked out.

Ah, there was Lucifer again, who’d stepped up to dissolve the caring brother. And Dylan didn’t get a chance to ask him what would cause that potential smothering. Hurting the family business or messing up things with Corbin. The first was a huge possibility now that they were on the outs with Walter Ray, but Dylan thought he could still do all right by Corbin.

Of course, that started with laying down some ground rules to Jordan. No custody for her, but he would be generous with visitation when she wasn’t off doing her duty for the military. Once he had made that clear, then she could be on her way to work out those changes she’d talked about.

Changes she would be making with Theo, no doubt.

Dylan could smell the pizza once he stepped out of the sunroom, and he crossed the foyer and went into the kitchen. Corbin was at the table, chowing down on a slice with a small plastic cup of milk next to his plate.

“Pep-ronni,” Corbin announced.

It was indeed pepperoni with extra cheese. Dylan’s favorite. Apparently, it was Corbin’s favorite, too.

Karlee was sitting across from the boy. She smiled at Dylan when he came in, but the smile didn’t quite make it to her eyes. He had no idea why, but maybe she’d overheard the argument that Lucian and he had had with the judge.

He glanced around the large eat-in kitchen, but there was no sign of Jordan. “Did she leave?” he asked Karlee.

She shook her head and motioned to the side porch. “Jordan got a call and stepped out there to talk.”

Probably Theo again.

It really wasn’t an adult thing to hate a person sight unseen and when he knew little about him, but Dylan did know one important thing. That he was green-eyed-monster jealous.

Yep.

It made no sense. He hadn’t been married to Jordan in a long time, and they’d obviously both gotten on with their lives. Still, it stung, and Dylan wasn’t sure he wanted to think long enough about it to figure out why.

Dylan gave Corbin a thumbs-up when the boy finished his pizza and went into the box for another slice. Corbin grinned around the next bite he took. Dylan intended to do some eating and grinning, too, but then he looked out the side French doors and saw Jordan. Her back was to him, and she wasn’t talking on the phone, which meant she’d finished the chat that had required some privacy.

“Whatever you do, don’t show any hints that you feel sorry for her,” Karlee said when she followed Dylan’s gaze. “Jordan’s upset that folks treat her like she’s damaged goods because she’s not. She says she’s fine.”

That worked for him. He didn’t want her to be damaged or feel as if she was. He wanted her tough and strong, like the old Jordan. His Jordan.

Well, when she had been his, that is.

But that was a lot of water under an old bridge. She had a new life, and so did he, and it started with those ground rules.

His phone buzzed, and when he saw his mom’s name on the screen, he let it go to voice mail.

“I’ll be right back,” he told Corbin and Karlee, and he headed to the French doors. Dylan took a deep breath. Several of them. And he planned out exactly what he was going to say to get Jordan to leave and forget all about trying to get custody of Corbin.

The moment he opened the doors, Jordan whirled around to face him, and those ground rules floated off like dandelion fluff. That’s because the unguarded look she gave him sent him spinning back to when they were nineteen and crazy in love.

But now he was obviously just “ordinary/not in love” crazy.

Because there was no way his body should feel that need slide through him. No way he should be staring at her mouth as if he wanted that instead of a slice of pizza. Thankfully, Jordan put a quick stop to it by saying just a handful of words.

“Your mom just called me.”

Dylan hadn’t seen that coming, and he wondered if it had something to do with the call that she’d just made to him. He got the feeling that it did when his phone buzzed with yet another call from her.

“You should answer that,” Jordan insisted. “Because your mom knows about Corbin. She knows that I’m here, too, and she just told me that she wants me to stay at the ranch until we’ve all had a chance to talk. She’s hoping to be back here by tomorrow night.”

Crap. That wasn’t good. Yes, his mom, Regina, co-owned the house, but it wasn’t her place to do this. Not when it would put Jordan, Regina and him under the same roof.

Dylan was about to hit the answer button to take the call, but then Jordan said something else that had him saying something much stronger than crap.

Jordan looked him straight in the eyes. “And Regina’s talking to her lawyer now so that she can petition to get custody of Corbin.”