“I wondered what the odd smells on him were. They didn’t last long.”
“My neighbor and I washed him and me both with everything—tomato juice, cucumber-melon shower gel, dog shampoo. And Prissy bathed him in her special formula. It’s a wonder he had any skin left. Then at the last minute before court, I sprayed him with perfume.”
“All’s well that ends well, right?”
She angled a serious look up at him. “Depends on how you look at it. It didn’t end that well for me. I lost my dog.”
“You haven’t lost him. He’s ours together. The judge said so.”
“And you don’t mind that?”
“It’s not a perfect arrangement, but do I mind it? Now that I’ve had time to consider it, I don’t think so. But I can see that you do.”
Her mouth slid into an involuntary smirk. “I’ll survive. Look, I’m trying here. I don’t mean to be a bitch. I hope you believe me.”
Nodding, he smiled. “I do.”
Then, as if he wanted to end the talk about Waffle, he said, “I don’t know what came over Harry. I’ve never seen him spit at anything other than his partner, Albert. Sometimes they get into a contest over hay and spit at each other. You don’t want to get caught in that crossfire.” He smiled again. “Maybe a glass of wine will make you feel better.”
“Oh, wine. I brought a bottle. Let me get it.” She quickstepped out the front door and returned in minutes with the two small bags of Barkies she had brought for the dogs and a plastic grocery sack holding the wine. “I brought some cookies for Waffle and Randy.” She set the two bags of Barkies on the counter.
She cleared the bottle of wine of its sack and stood it on the counter beside the bottle that was already opened.
He looked at the two bottles, then looked at her. She couldn’t read his expression, but gleeful wasn’t a word she would use to describe it. “Lemme see if I’ve got this right. You didn’t believe me when I said I had the wine, or you didn’t think I had enough sense to make a good choice or one bottle isn’t enough. Which is it?”
Wadding the plastic sack into a ball, she frowned and gave a little grunt. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He picked up the open bottle and proceeded to pour. “A college buddy’s dad is a winemaker at Llano Estacado. He keeps me supplied with the good stuff.”
If he had said that to impress her, he had succeeded. “Oh. That’s the winery in Lubbock, isn’t it? I’ve always wanted to go on one of their tours.”
He handed her a glass half filled with red wine. “Try it. You don’t have to worry. It won’t kill you.”
“I’m not worried.” She accepted the wine and sipped. “It’s good. I haven’t had it before.”
“My friend and his dad have tried to educate my palate. He says that with red wine, you should open the bottle and let it breathe a while before you drink it. I figure he oughtta know, so I opened it before you got here.”
A cowboy as macho as Nick hardly seemed like a wine drinker who used phrases like “educate my palate,” but she bit her tongue and didn’t say so. He walked over to what looked to be a new stainless steel refrigerator and opened the door. Out came a large bowl of salad.
“You made salad?”
“Who can’t make salad? I buy a bag of lettuce and dump it into a bowl. Then I add stuff to make it a more interesting.”
She stared down at the salad any cook would be proud to claim. Something red and crinkled showed. Dried cranberries? “And what did you add to this one?”
“Some tomatoes and a cucumber. When I told C.J.—that’s Harley’s wife—I was cooking supper for somebody special, she told me to put some dried cranberries in it, so I went to the store and got some. She also gave me a jar of her homemade salad dressing.”
Somebody special? What the hell did that mean? He kept saying these puzzling things. Sandi ducked her chin, shaking her head. “Somebody special? You are such a BSer.”
He walked over, bent his head and kissed her. On the lips. It wasn’t one of those hot, tongue-tangling joinings. Just a nice, sweet kiss. And she didn’t stop him, mostly because they seemed to have been headed in this direction ever since her arrival.
“I meant that,” he said softly. “To me, you’re somebody special.”
Before she could recover herself and say a word, he picked up the plate holding the steaks. “I’m gonna cook these outside. Go out with me?”
Now she was more than nervous. She was downright rattled. “Sh—sure.”
“Bring the wine.”
She picked up their wine glasses and the bottle and followed him outside.
Chapter 21
Warm and cozy, Sandi came awake reluctantly. She stretched, the sheets soft and silky against her skin.
What?
She moved her hand down her body. She was wearing...panties. And nothing else! Oh, dear God!
How had she gotten to this bed with no clothes on? Oh, dear God!
The previous evening rushed at her in hazy vignettes. She had drunk sooo much wine. Even with Nick telling her not to, she had argued and drunk more.
And what else had she done? Had she or hadn’t she?
Shouldn’t she know, even if she had drunk way too much wine and only vaguely remembered the evening, shouldn’t she know?
This was terrifying.
At the very worst, she was a moderate drinker. Maybe half a dozen times in her entire life, she had been buzzed, tipsy, maybe even drunk, but never had she lost a night. She shifted in the bed checking for tender places where she normally didn’t feel them, but drew no conclusions.
Her tongue felt like
