“You’re not leaving, are you?”
“Afraid so.”
“Can’t you stay for a game of pool? I heard you tell Lewis that Adam is home with a sitter.”
“Not tonight.” He tried to pull his arm from her grasp, but her grip tightened. She pressed one big breast into his arm, and he knew her well enough to know it wasn’t an accident. He’d known Dixie most of his life. He’d dated her sister, and he’d remembered her as a scrawny kid. Life hadn’t been real kind to either Howe sister, and he felt bad about that, about the way they’d grown up, but he felt nothing more. “I have to take Ms. Spencer home.”
Dixie cast a quick glance in Hope’s direction, then once again focused her attention on Dylan. “You remember my offer the other night?”
Of course he remembered. There hadn’t been many times in his life when a woman had walked up to him at a T-ball game and blatantly offered oral sex.
“Any time.” She finally released her grasp and Dylan pulled free.
“Good night, Dixie,” he said and moved to the bar before she could grab hold again. Hope followed beside him, and while he quickly retrieved his handcuffs from Hayden’s wrists, he had to listen to her express her appreciation to Hayden for his “heroic intervention.”
As far as Dylan was concerned, she laid it on too thick and gushed too much. She had the poor fool blushing and stammering about how it had been his pleasure to get his nose broken for her. Hope had been in town for five days, he’d run into her three times, and she hadn’t smiled at him until five minutes ago. He guessed he now knew what it took to make her smile. It took getting hit in the face.
As they left the bar, a cool breeze loosened tendrils of blond hair from Hope’s ponytail and blew them across her smooth cheeks. His gaze lowered from her face to her arms and the very distinct points in the front of her top. Dylan’s chest got tight, his left eye throbbed, and he looked away.
He helped her into the sheriff’s Blazer, and on the short drive to Timberline Road, he wondered what kind of woman dressed in spandex, walked into a redneck bar, and provoked a man like Emmett.
Someone who thought she was a badass. The Terminator.
“Who was that woman in the bar?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“There were several women in the bar. Which one do you mean?”
“Blond. Big hair. Big breasts.”
His brows lifted and he winced. “Dixie Howe,” he answered and gingerly touched his cheekbone just beneath his eye.
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“No.” Damn, his face had started to swell. “Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious.”
He looked over at her, the light from the switch panel illuminating half her face. Her ponytail was a bit ragged. She smelled strongly of beer. “Curious if I have a girlfriend?”
“No, curious about what she offered you.”
He turned the Blazer onto Timberline Road and said, “Now, that would be telling.”
“I bet I can guess.”
He laughed and pulled the Chevy into her dark drive. “Maybe she just wanted to talk.”
“Yeah, maybe through the bone phone?”
He slammed on the brakes, and if the vehicle hadn’t already been slowing, he would have put her through the windshield. “What?”
She put her hands on the dash to stop herself. “Maybe she wants to talk through-”
“Jesus H. I heard you the first time.” He stared at her and suddenly it all made perfect sense. Her glassy eyes, easy smiles, and the stench of beer he’d assumed had spilled on her. Relief hadn’t warmed her up to him at all. “How many beers did you drink?”
“Hmm? Well, usually I’m not much of a drinker, but it was twofer night.”
“How many?”