Baking soda, alcohol, ammonia, Epsom salts. Check. More Benadryl, ibuprofen, cotton pads. Check. What else?
She tried to remember what was in her purse. A brush and gloss. That was it.
Foundation, blush, mascara. Check. Toothbrush and toothpaste. Check. Whatever she forgot, Joss would have. Her sister couldn’t travel across a room without her makeup case in hand. Unless she’d left it on the bus with her clothes.
At nine thirty, Raney turned onto Interstate 35 south of Baylor University, and was backtracking north when the GPS lady started in with directions to the hotel.
“What?” Dalton said, struggling to sit up.
“Sorry. It’s the GPS. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
He looked around, his face not as swollen, but still lumpy. She couldn’t take him through the Hilton lobby looking like that. They’d have to go through the garage or an exit door around back.
“Where are we?” he mumbled.
“Waco. We’re staying here tonight. Mama got us adjoining rooms at the Hilton. Joss is already there.”
“We’re staying here? In Waco?”
“Yes, Dalton.” Had the venom reached his brain? “How do you feel?”
“Like I just woke up.” He poked at a lump on his arm and winced. “And sore.”
Raney saw a lit-up WALMART sign ahead on the right and made a quick decision. “Do you mind if we make a short stop before we go to the hotel? I’d like to get some things at Walmart since I didn’t pack anything.”
“Can I stay in the car?”
“I insist on it.”
Luckily, the off-ramp passed directly by the Walmart parking lot. She turned in, found a place close to the nonfood entry, and parked.
“Can you get me something to eat?” he asked.
“At Walmart? This time of night?” She shuddered. “We’ll get something at the hotel. I won’t be long.” She opened her door, then hesitated. “You want me to get you anything? Other than food?”
“Like what?”
“Underwear? A shirt? Socks? A toothbrush?”
“Okay,” he said around a yawn.
She waited. The yawn ended. His eyelids drooped.
“What size, Dalton?” she prodded in a loud voice.
He blinked at her.
“Underwear, shirt, socks?”
“Boxers, 36. Socks, big. T-shirt, 2XL. Blue.”
“Blue T-shirt?”
“Toothbrush.” He gave her a sleepy grin. “So we don’t get ours mixed up.”
The man was relentless.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, and got out.
Actually, it took longer than she anticipated because she wanted to get the most garish, outrageous, tacky boxers she could find. She had to settle for orange-and-white plaid with a Texas Longhorns logo, and a Mickey Mouse toothbrush.
“Can you tell time?” Dalton groused after she loaded her bags in the backseat and climbed behind the wheel. “You said a minute. Not forty-seven of them.”
She smiled sweetly. “The meds must be wearing off. Luckily I got more.”
“And how do you start this thing? I about died of suffocation with all the windows closed.”
She held up her index finger.
“If you’re trying to flip me off, you’re doing it wrong.”
She poked the ignition button. The car rumbled to life. “That’s how.”
“I punched that thing at least ten times. It doesn’t work.”
“That’s because I keep this in my purse, not the car.” She held up the fob that activated the keyless ignition. She wondered what else he might have missed while he was in prison, other than a contentious election and a slump in cattle prices.
“Can we go now? Or do you need to get your hair done?”
“Yes, we can go now.”
And they did.
CHAPTER 9
“Honey, we’re home,” Dalton sang out when Joss opened the door to Room 213.
“Asshat,” Raney muttered, nudging him in the back with the Walmart bags. She hadn’t let him carry any because of his swollen hands, bless her heart.
“Mercy sakes, you’ve changed,” Joss exclaimed as he walked in. “And I’m not just talking about the yellow jacket lumps.”
“Does that mean you like me better now?”
“Why, I think I do.” Joss winked at him and twirled a lock of multicolored hair. Green, blue, and bright pink. And lots of curls. It looked like a clown wig.
“Don’t get bigheaded,” Raney muttered to him as she kicked the door shut and dumped the bags on the nearest queen bed. “She says that to all the guys.” After separating her stuff from his, she picked up his bags and asked her sister for the key card to the adjoining room.
Joss handed her two. “I had an extra-large robe sent up.” She gave Dalton another once-over and a smile. “Hope it fits.”
Before he could voice any of the half-dozen clever quips rattling through his head, Raney herded him into the adjoining room, kicked the door closed, and tossed his bag of clothes onto the single king bed. “Best lock it. She might not be able to help herself now that she likes you better.”
“Good point.”
Raney looked at him like she thought he was serious. When she saw he wasn’t, she allowed a small smile. The woman hoarded her smiles like treasure. But when he finally did manage to get one, Dalton felt he’d been given something special.
Raney picked out all the medical stuff, carried it into the bathroom, and dumped it into the sink. Alcohol, ammonia, cotton balls, baking soda, a box of Epsom salts, bottles of ibuprofen and Benadryl, a small tube of toothpaste, and a Mickey Mouse toothbrush.
Dalton held up the toothbrush and met her smirk with a grin. “Just like the one I have at home. Timmy got it for me for Christmas.”
Her smirk faded. “Really?”
“No.”
With an unladylike snort, she bent over and started filling the tub. An inspiring view of a truly fine butt. Or it would have been if he’d felt any better. As the tub filled, she went back into the bedroom and returned with a white robe, which she hung on the hook by the tub. “If it doesn’t fit, wear it backward. I wouldn’t want her to jump you.”
“I’ll
