“I lied.” Porter lowered his voice. “I went to the Phoenix Monster Truck Rally.”
“Why do we have to keep it a secret?”
“Because I did something stupid.”
Dixie couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been to accompany Gavin Tucker to his motel room. If Veronica hadn’t hounded the handsome cowboy, Gavin would have never given Dixie the time of day.
She’d had no intention of sleeping with Gavin, but when she’d awoken the following morning to find herself staring him in the eye she hadn’t had the power to resist kissing him. When she’d pressed her mouth to his, he’d returned the kiss and the rest had been the stuff of her fantasies.
Porter remained silent, so Dixie prodded him. “Don’t leave me hanging. What stupid thing did you do?”
“I wanted to impress a girl I’d met so I told her I was a mechanic for Bob Patton’s monster trucks. She asked me why I was in the stands and not with the crew.”
“So you snuck your way into the pit area,” Dixie said.
“Yeah. Everything was cool until one of the mechanics handed me a wrench and told me to tighten a screw or bolt—I can’t remember which—on one of the trucks. I stood there like a dope.”
Dixie winced. “What did they do when they figured out you were an imposter?”
“They flung mud balls at me. The TV cameras were playing the video on the JumboTron. The announcer told the fans that this is what happens to boys when they pretend to be monster truck drivers.”
Ouch. Wanting to lighten the mood, Dixie changed the subject. “What’s everyone doing this weekend?”
“Conway said he’s driving to Tucson to visit an ex-girlfriend and Buck and Willie might go with him. Me, Merle and Johnny are heading up to the Growler Stampede.”
Dixie wondered if Gavin would be at the stampede. Didn’t matter. She’d track him down once she decided how she’d support herself and the baby, while at the same time launch her internet business. She wasn’t afraid to tell Gavin he was going to be a father, but she worried what role he’d insist on playing in their baby’s life and the possibility that he’d interfere with her entrepreneurial plans.
If Gavin had been a normal cowboy, she’d take for granted he’d try to do right by her. He’d try to send her money for the baby. He’d try to visit between rodeos. Cowboys tried at everything but usually came up short—at least the ones she’d lived with all her life. Gavin was a different breed—a soldier cowboy. She had no experience with soldiers, but she didn’t need a high IQ to understand that to be successful in the military a soldier had to be dependable, courageous, loyal and unselfish. The unselfish trait worried Dixie—she didn’t want or expect Gavin to change his future plans for her or the baby.
“Why are you shaking your head?” Porter asked.
“I was thinking about how to convince Susie to increase her inventory of my soaps.” Another fib. They sure slid off her tongue easily these days.
“Don’t know why you’re gung ho on selling soap.” Porter pointed to her stomach. “When you marry the father, you won’t have time to make soap.”
Not if Dixie could help it. She tried to summon a smidgeon of anger toward Gavin. For what—being handsome? Charming? Behaving like a gentleman? Shoot, he hadn’t forced her to get into his truck and drive off with him. No one had put a gun to her head and insisted she shuck her clothes at the Shady Rest Motel. She was the sole proprietor of the mess she was in.
Regardless, she wanted nothing to do with marrying a martyr. The fact that Gavin had apologized profusely after they’d made love was proof he’d regretted the act. Why suffer through the pomp and circumstance of a wedding ceremony when a few months down the road they’d end up divorced—a divorce she’d have to file for because Gavin was too principled to initiate the split.
“Look out!”
Dixie slammed on the brakes. If not for Porter’s warning she’d have blown through the four-way stop on the outskirts of Yuma.
“Didn’t realize being pregnant impaired a woman’s driving.”
“Ha. Ha.” Dixie drove six more miles, then swung into the Desert Lanes Bowling Alley. “I’ll text you when I leave Susie’s,” she said.
“Take your time.” Porter nodded to a bright yellow Mustang parked near the entrance. “Hailey’s working. She lets me bowl for free.”
If only Dixie had her brother’s charisma she might have talked the online marketing company into setting up her business website for free. When she reached Yuma’s historic Main Street, she parked in the lot behind Susie’s Souvenirs.
“Susie? It’s Dixie,” she hollered, stepping into the shop.
“Be right down!” Sandals clacked against the stairs that led to an apartment above the store. Susie greeted Dixie with a smile. “You look good.”
“I do?”
The older woman moved closer and studied Dixie’s face. “Your skin is glowing.” Susie dropped her gaze to the wicker basket in Dixie’s hand. “Which one made your complexion so radiant?”
She’d used the same olive soap this morning that she’d washed with the past three years and until today no one had ever used the word radiant to describe her.
It’s because you’re pregnant.
Dixie set the basket on the counter and selected the organic peppermint soap. “This is what I’m using.” She held the bar beneath Susie’s nose.
“That smells amazing. What’s in it?”
“Sunflower, palm, coconut and peppermint oils.” Along with wheat and barley grass, alfalfa, parsley and grapefruit-seed extract. “I also brought along a Christmas soap I’m experimenting with.” Dixie handed Susie a star-shaped bar.
“How pretty. I love the threads of red and green that run through the soap.” She sniffed. “Pine boughs, fresh fruit and spices. Very nice.”
“I was hoping you’d consider using a display instead of leaving the soaps next to the register.”
“I won’t know if I have room for a stand until I finish stocking the Christmas merchandise,” Susie hedged.
Dixie’s soaps were available in other stores along Main Street, but Susie’s Souvenirs was the most popular tourist shop in Yuma and Dixie made more money here than the other places combined. “Can you find room if I pay you a fifteen-percent commission instead of the usual ten?”
“What else did you bring?” Susie peered inside the basket.
“Eucalyptus and spearmint.” Dixie lined up the soaps on the counter. “Lemongrass. Desert Sage. Oats and Spices.” Each bar was a unique shape wrapped in colored tissue paper and a frilly ribbon with a hand-stamped label—Dixie’s Desert Delights, Inc. $6.99.
“I’ll find room for a display.”
“Thanks, Susie. I put extra business cards at the bottom of the basket.”
“I’ll give you a jingle when inventory gets low.”
Dixie could only hope she’d sell all forty bars before Christmas.
* * *
WHERE THE HELL WAS HE?
Gavin stood in the dark shivering. He knew he was in the desert, because coarse grains of sand pricked his feet. But where in the desert? And what had happened to his weapons? He wore nothing but his sweat-soaked fatigues. The booming sound of a rocket-propelled grenade sent him running, his lungs burning with each gasp of air.
The target exploded in the distance and streaks of bright light lit up