The Ballad of Dixon Bell. Lynnette Kent

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СКАЧАТЬ turned sightless eyes upon him. “Um…I don’t think so. I need a minute. Which is silly, isn’t it? Nothing happened. There’s no reason to be so upset.” She put her hand over her eyes. The deep breath she drew shook with the sound of tears.

      Aware of the lighted windows behind them, Dixon pulled her around until the body of the truck stood between Kate and the diner. Then he opened the truck door, put his hands around her narrow waist and lifted her onto the passenger seat. He made himself let go quickly. She didn’t need another predator stalking her tonight.

      But as she sat there, elbows on her knees and head in her hands, he wrestled with the powerful urge to close his arms around her and never let go. He wanted to put himself between Kate Bowdrey and the rest of the world, make sure nothing and nobody ever hurt her again. His heart ached with the need she had always inspired in him. And he couldn’t let one bit of what he was feeling show.

      Someday, he would be free to tell her how much she mattered to him. Surely, someday.

      But not yet. So he stood stiff and silent while Kate struggled alone with her despair.

      Kate knew she was being weak, knew she shouldn’t give in to the anguish L.T. provoked in her these days. When she knew she would see him, she could prepare herself and get through the encounter pretty well. But accidental meetings like this just swept under her defenses, gave her no chance to control her reaction. And so here she was, quivering like a beached jellyfish.

      With Dixon Bell standing there watching.

      At the realization, she jerked herself upright. She’d accepted his help, let him practically hide her from the world, then forgotten he was there. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped as her cheeks heated up. “What you must be thinking…” She couldn’t meet his gaze, and she couldn’t get out of the truck because he was standing right in front of her.

      His fingertips brushed across her cheek. “I’m thinking you’ll be well rid of that bastard. And that I’m really glad I got to have dinner with you tonight after all.”

      Something in his rich voice encouraged her to look up. She found no pity in his eyes, only a depth of understanding she would never have expected.

      “Me, too,” she admitted, under the spell of his smile. And discovered that she actually felt free to smile back.

      But darkness had fallen while she huddled in Dixon’s truck. Loud rock music blared across the parking lot from the Volvo where Trace and Kelsey waited. Kate sighed, sat up straighter. “I’d better go.”

      She thought he would step back and let her hop down from the high truck seat. Instead, he placed his hands on her waist and swung her around and down, setting her gently on her feet. She felt a little dizzy, a little breathless as she stared up at him.

      “Thank you. For everything.”

      Again, he stroked his fingers over her cheek. “My pleasure. Good night.”

      She lifted her hand, backed up a couple of steps and then, reluctantly, turned toward the Volvo. With great resolve, she managed not to look around again until she had the car door closed and her seat belt fastened. Dixon was still standing by his truck, watching, with his hands in his pockets and one foot crossed over the other. When she waved, he waved back. Then Kelsey turned the car onto the highway, and they left the diner behind.

      Back to the real and dreary world, Kate told herself. When she thought of the expression in Dixon’s eyes, however, the gentleness in his voice, his touch, she couldn’t repress a surge of hope.

      Or maybe not.

      L.T. PRETENDED TO READ the menu, though he pretty much always ordered the same dinner when he came to Charlie’s. He pretended to listen as Melanie chattered on about her mother’s new boyfriend and her sister’s old boyfriend and…whatever. As long as he said something every once in a while, she was happy just to keep talking and believe he heard everything she said.

      “That so?” he said when she paused.

      She gave him her little-girl smile and started up again.

      Charlie Brannon limped over to their table, blocking L.T.’s view of Kate and the kids as they left the diner. “What can I get y’all tonight?” The old man had been a marine drill sergeant and acted as if he still had that kind of authority.

      Melanie ordered a salad plate. L.T. went for the usual. “Fried chicken, white and dark, mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits.”

      Charlie nodded. “Be right back.”

      With Brannon out of the way, L.T. stared out the plate-glass windows on the front of the diner, trying to figure out what was going on. The Volvo was still parked at the far end of the lot, and he could see the kids inside, doors open, lights on. They’d wear down the battery if they weren’t careful. Where was Kate? Why hadn’t they gone home?

      He finally realized that Kate was sitting in Dixon Bell’s truck. The lights were on there, too, because the door was still open. L.T. could see the silhouette of her head and, beyond, the shadow of Bell’s face. They appeared to be talking. About what?

      Shaking his head, he picked up his iced tea and drained half the glass. Old times, probably, the ones he’d never been a part of. He’d come into this town as a stranger. Sure, he was Kate Bowdrey’s husband, and that gave him some leverage. But most of her friends and their parents had looked at him as if he belonged on another planet instead of in a different town. He had never really fit in.

      He’d made money, though, and that had bought him acceptance. He built their new houses, renovated their old ones, and they liked him for it. Unless something went wrong, of course. Nobody realized that you couldn’t get perfect work at reasonable prices. The economics just didn’t add up. L.T. gave them the prices they liked, and they just had to live with the flaws.

      “Chicken salad plate and fried chicken.” Charlie set down their plates and a basket of biscuits. “Abby’ll be here to refill your tea in a minute. Anything else?”

      L.T. shook his head and attacked his meal. But with a piece of chicken in his fingers, halfway between plate and mouth, he looked outside again to see the Volvo driving away. Dixon Bell came around the front of his truck and then he, too, was gone.

      Good riddance. Crunching into Abby’s crispy chicken crust, L.T. thought about Bell’s attitude that afternoon at the house. Wouldn’t sell. Well, they’d just see about that. It took a strong man to resist L.T. LaRue. A strong one, or a very, very rich one. He’d have to find out whether Dixon Bell fit in either category.

      And then find a way to break him, anyway.

      CHAPTER THREE

      MISS DAISY WAS ALREADY bustling around the house when Dixon came downstairs at six-thirty on Friday morning. She stopped long enough to kiss him on the cheek.

      “The housekeeper will be here at nine,” she reminded him. “We have to have everything straightened up before then.”

      He followed her through the parlor as she took the cats’ towels off the furniture and bundled them up in her arms. In several cases, she had to remove a cat, too. Dixon knew he was guilty of exaggerating when he’d told Kate there were too many cats to count. In fact, there were only four—Audrey, Clark, Cary and Marlon. But they moved silently and СКАЧАТЬ