Call Me Irresistible (Wynette, Texas #5)(93)

Out of nowhere, something came flying toward her car. She gasped and hit the brakes, but she was too late. A rock slammed into her windshield. She caught a flicker of movement in the trees, slammed the car into park, and jumped out. She slid on some loose gravel but regained her balance and raced toward the grove of trees that lined the service drive.



       
         
       
        

Stickers grabbed at her shorts and scratched her legs as she plunged into the undergrowth. She saw another flicker of motion, but she couldn't even tell whether it came from a person. She only knew that someone had once again attacked her, and she was sick of being a victim.

She plunged deeper into the woods, but she wasn't sure which way to go. She stopped to listen but heard nothing except the rasp of her own breathing. Eventually, she gave up. Whoever had thrown that rock had gotten away.

She was still shaking when she returned to her car. A spiderweb of shattered glass spread from the center of the windshield, but by craning her neck she could almost see well enough to drive.

By the time she reached the church, her anger had steadied her. She badly wanted to see Ted's truck parked outside, but he wasn't there. She tried to use her key to get in, but the lock had been changed, just as she expected. She stomped back down the steps and looked under the stone frog, knowing even as she picked it up that he wouldn't have left a new key for her. She stomped around some more until she located a security camera mounted in the pecan tree that had once sheltered the faithful as they'd come from worship.

She shook her fist at it. "Theodore Beaudine, if you don't get over here right away and let me in, I'm going to break a window!" She plopped down on the bottom step to wait, then hopped up again and cut across the cemetery to the creek.

The swimming hole waited for her. She stripped down to bra and panties and dove in. The water, cool and welcoming, closed over her head. She swam to the rocky bottom, kicked off, and came to the surface. She dove again, willing the water to wash away her terrible day. When she'd finally cooled down, she stuffed her wet feet into her sneakers, grabbed her dirty work clothes, and headed back toward the church in her sodden underwear. But as she stepped out of the trees, she came to a dead stop.

The great Dallas Beaudine sat on a black granite tombstone, his faithful caddy, Skeet Cooper, standing at his side.

Cursing under her breath, she ducked back into the trees and pulled on her shorts and sweaty polo. Facing down Ted's father was a whole different ball game from dealing with the women. She dragged her fingers through her wet hair, told herself to show no fear, and sauntered into the cemetery. "Checking out your future resting site?"

"Not quite yet," Dallie said. He rested comfortably on the grave marker, his long, jean-clad legs stretched out before him, dappled light playing in the silver threads of his dark blond hair. Even at fifty-nine, he was a beautiful man, which made Skeet's leathery ugliness all the more pronounced.

Her feet sloshed in her sneakers as she moved closer. "You could do worse than this place." 

"I s'pose." Dallie crossed his ankles. "The surveyors showed up a day early, and Ted's out at the landfill with them. This resort deal might go through after all. We told him we'd help you move your things to his house."

"I've decided to stay here."

Dallie nodded, as if he were thinking it over. "Doesn't seem too safe."

"He's set up at least one security camera."

Dallie nodded again. "Truth is, Skeet and I already moved your things."

"You had no right to do that!"

"Matter of opinion." Dallie turned his face into the breeze, as if he were checking wind direction before he made his next golf shot. "You're staying with Skeet."

"With Skeet ?"

"He doesn't talk much. Figured you'd rather move in there than have to deal with my wife. I might as well tell you I don't like it when she gets upset, and you sure do upset her."

"She gets upset about the damnedest things." Skeet shifted his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "Not much you can do to talk her out of it either, Francie being Francie."

"With all due respect . . ." Meg sounded like a lawyer, but Dallie's calm assurance rattled her in a way the women didn't. "I don't want to live with Skeet."

"Don't see why not." Skeet shifted his toothpick. "You'll have your own TV, and I won't bother you none. I like to keep the place neat, though."

Dallie rose from the tombstone. "You can follow us over, or Skeet'll drive your car and you can ride with me."