“What’s the matter?” she asked, stepping closer.
He moved to the side and put out a hand to halt her progress. If she got close to him now, he was pretty sure he would grab hold of her and never let go. Panicked, he said the first thing that came to his mind, “I won’t be home for dinner tomorrow.”
She tilted her head to the side.
“We’re taking the cattle to market tomorrow… about three hundred head. A half dozen hired hands will be here at dawn with horses and trucks to help round them up and load them for transport.”
“And that will take all day… and evening?”
“Well, Clarence and Linc and Jimmy might be back by dinnertime, but I have some appointments afterward.”
“What kind of appointments?”
How like Charmaine, he thought with an inner smile. She just barreled ahead, never questioning whether it was any of her business or not.
“First, I have to meet with my parole officer.”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“Just a regular meeting. Then I have an appointment with that detective that Luc recommended.”
“Let me come, too.”
“No,” he said flatly. “This is about the investigation into my alleged crime. It has nothing to do with you. Luc is working on your problem.”
“Maybe I could help… with the parole officer, too. Really. I could say lots of nice things about you.”
“Believe me, Charmaine, you do not want to meet my parole officer. Deke Devereaux is not fond of me, and I guarantee he would treat you with the same disrespect he gives me. He is a little runt of a bully who enjoys the power his job gives him.”
Her face grew stormy. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. Maybe I’m just the person to put him in his place.”
That’s all I need. A pit bull female coming to my defense. He decided to home in on something else. “What nice things would you say about me?”
“Lemme see. You’re nice-looking, in a rugged sort of way.”
“That would impress the hell out of Devereaux.”
“You work hard.”
“He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about hard work. He would think that’s a minimum requirement for an ex-con… which is how he refers to me every other word.”
“You look like hell on wheels in tight, faded jeans.”
He grinned. “Oh, baby! You should not tell me things like that.”
Charmaine moved one step closer.
This time he didn’t move. He could smell the floral scent of her shampoo. He could feel her body heat.
Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous.
“Sometimes I wonder…”
“What?” she asked, looking at him like a cold drink on a hot Loo-zee-anna day. It wasn’t hot tonight, but it felt steamy as all get out.
“… why we ever broke up.”
“Oh, Rusty, we were always breaking up. The least little thing caused us to argue. I’d run off to one of my girlfriends’ for a day or two. Or you’d go to a frat house, or sleep on the couch.”
“Yeah, but the makeup sex was mind-blowing.”
She smiled sadly. “It was that.”
“I guess I never really understood how that last argument snowballed into your leaving for good. And don’t quote me that bullshit about my calling you a bimbo. That was anger speaking, and you know it.”
“You were upset about my quitting college and going to work.”
“A real ogre I was, wanting my wife to get a college degree.”
“College was always more important to you than it was to me.” She put up a hand to stop him from arguing with her. “Really, you had a dream to become a veterinarian, but there was no clear career goal for me then. I was taking a bunch of liberal arts courses with no goal in sight. Pointless.”
“And what was the point in your taking a job at a strip club instead?”
She gasped. “The Blue Pelican was not a strip club, and I would not have been a stripper. I would have been a waitress earning good tips.”
“You might as well have been a stripper as wear one of the outfits the girls wore there. Jesus, Charmaine, why do you think half the college boys hung out at the Pelican? Because of their greasy burgers?”