“I won’t say anything. No need to throw gas on the fire.”
“My thoughts, exactly.” An idea popped into her head. “Look, Rosie, I was thinking you’d like to meet my sister, Charlene. Can we get together for lunch or dinner before you leave for Wyoming?”
“I’d love that! Just think—two girlfriends in less than a month. That’s a record for me. Comes from a lifetime lived in the wide open spaces, I guess.” Her laughter tinkled over the phone. “I’ll only be here till Tuesday morning. That leaves three nights.”
“Great, let’s aim for Sunday. I’ll call you after I have a chance to talk to Charlene. Dwayne’s finished his shower. We’re going to dinner then he’ll stay at my house tonight. My big, strong bodyguard.”
“Aren’t you the lucky one?”
“Yes. Got to go. Bye.”
She got up and walked down the hall to his bedroom. He was dressed except for a shirt. Her heart tripped when she admired his bare chest.
“T-shirt okay?”
“T-shirt is fine. I thought we’d stop by the burger joint and get carryout. We can relax and eat at home.” She looked in the open drawer and lifted out a neatly folded rugby shirt. “I like this one.”
“I don’t know how I ever dressed myself.”
“Oh, shut up. I’m hungry. Skip’s hungry. Let’s go.” She ran her hand across his chest and flashed what she hoped was an irresistible smile.
“Keep your hands off me, Danaher, or we’re not going anywhere.”
“I’ll try, Dempsey.” She grinned and went back to the living room to retrieve her jacket and purse. She called, “We’re way-aa-ting.”
Having polished off three hamburgers and a couple of Dr. Peppers, Dwayne groaned and dropped his head on the back of her couch. She waved a French fry under his nose. “Don’t you dare go to sleep on me. We need to talk.”
“Oh, shit, I just love it when a woman says, ‘We need to talk.’ It usually means ‘You’re out the door, buddy.’”
“Not this time.” She snuggled next to him. “I want to talk about what you think will happen next with Francine and her husband—what you’ll do if they don’t back off.”
He threw his arm over her shoulder. “We’ve got an old saying up in Wyoming: Don’t borrow trouble.” Nuzzling her hair, he whispered, “I’m ready for bed.”
She straightened. “Everybody has that saying, and you’re always ready for bed.” She smiled. “Don’t give me that look.”
“I don’t want you in the middle of my mess, Danaher.”
“I am in the middle of it, Dempsey.”
He pressed his lips together and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you are.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm until she relaxed and snuggled next to him again. “I’m in love with you, honey.”
“I know, thank you. That makes me very happy. There’s nothing sadder than unrequited love, don’t you think?”
“God, you turn me on when you use those big words. Kiss me, or I can’t be responsible for the consequences.”
She tilted her head up for his kiss and was surprised at the tenderness of it. “You have a few big words of your own, don’t you?” She caressed his cheek and thanked her lucky stars that this wonderful man hadn’t been snatched up by another woman. “I love you, Dwayne Dempsey.”
“I know, thank you.” He took her hand from his face and pressed it on his lap. “Big words are nice, but I’ve got something bigger for you.”
“You are bad, bad, bad.” She pressed down. “Real bad.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. “You haven’t seen bad yet.”
Saturday morning around eight, Dwayne, shirtless, wearing only exercise shorts, answered the knock on Marla’s door.
Skipper scrambled to get there ahead of him.
A small man with thick sandy hair, wearing glasses, about his own age, stood on the doorstep and stared back at him with shock on his face and in his eyes. He stood stiffly in pressed khaki pants and a blue button-down shirt. “Is Marla home?”
“Yep.” He turned and yelled, “Somebody here to see you, honey.”
She called from the bedroom. “Who is it?”
He raised his eyebrows at the man. “You are?”
“Edwin Plimpton. I’ve obviously come at an inconvenient time.”
“Not at all.” Dwayne berated himself for deriving so much satisfaction from the man’s words and outraged demeanor. This was the Edwin he’d heard about. Marla’s boyfriend. No wonder she thought she was fat. Edwin was not more than an inch taller than her, and he likely weighed ten pounds less. He extended his hand. “Dwayne Dempsey. Come on in.”
At first Edwin didn’t move. He stared at Dwayne’s leg, tore his eyes away, then tentatively stepped inside. Skipper yipped with excitement, happy to see him. He hopped on his hind legs and clawed at the man’s pants. Edwin gave him a little push with his foot and ignored him.
Dwayne called again, “It’s Edwin Plimpton, honey. Are you decent?” It took all his willpower to suppress an evil chuckle. He was no better than a cur marking his territory, but he didn’t give a shit. He was enjoying this. He felt a moment of shame for his behavior. This guy didn’t deserve it.
Marla answered with a choked voice. “I’ll, um, I’ll be right there.”
Dwayne gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat.” He went ahead of Edwin and picked up the debris of last night’s hamburger feast. “Sorry for the mess. Will you excuse me? She should be here in a minute or so.”
Marla entered the living room as he was leaving. Her face so white the usually invisible sprinkle of freckles on her nose glowed like neon. Bewildered, she pressed a hand on her chest. “I…”
He leaned close and pecked her on the cheek. “Gotta go, honey, I’m meeting Cluny at the gym.” He left her standing there, grabbed his gym bag and keys, and walked out the door.
If it were humanly possible
