Dirty Money(31)

I ain't taking no for an answer anymore.

About a half hour after I sit down, the front door opens and a very  pale, tired-looking Ivy enters, a stack of flyers in her hand. I  immediately get to my feet, and as I do, surprise moves over her pretty  features at the sight of me. "Boone! What are you doing here?"

"Getting you a seat," I tell her, taking her by the arm and leading her  toward my chair. She looks . . . sick. Unhealthy. There's a sheen of  sweat on her face but she's also paler than I've ever seen her, and my  heart is about to jump out of my chest with worry for her. Is that why  she's been pushing me off? She's ill? "What's going on, Ivy?"

She blinks her eyes at me, confused. "Going on?"

"Why do you look like you're about two steps from passin' out?"

She puts a hand to her forehead. "I'm fine. Truly. I just . . . need to eat some crackers and drink some juice."

That's weirdly specific. "You just donate blood or something?"

"Or something." She sags against me as if all the strength has gone out of her.

Worry slams through my chest. She's so fragile, and the weight she leans  against me is slight. I'm full of panic, because I don't know what to  do. I feel helpless at the sight of her like this. But I have money, and  as long as I have money, she's gonna get the best care possible. So I  scoop her up into my arms and immediately head out to my truck. "You  hang tight, baby. I'm gonna get this all taken care of for you."         

     



 

Ivy makes a small sound of protest as I open the door to the cab and gently set her inside. "Where are you taking me?"

I buckle her in, gently close the door, and then race to the other side of my truck.

"Boone," she demands as I jump into the car. She sits up a bit more, no  longer looking quite so scary-pale. "Seriously. Where are we going?"

"Hospital," I tell her as I start the truck and roar out of the parking  lot. "If I have to buy them a damn wing to get them to look at you, I'll  do it."

To my surprise, she laughs and her hand touches my arm. "I promise you,  I'm fine. You'd be better off driving me to Starbucks than the  hospital."

I glance over at her. Some of the color is returning to her face and  there's a hint of a smile on her lips, though she still looks mighty  pale and worn. I'm torn, but I pull into a nearby Starbucks and order  the drink she tells me. And then I order a few more cookies, just  because she needs 'em. We pull up to the window and I fling my credit  card at the girl, grabbing at the drinks and food and hastily passing  them to Ivy. I don't relax until she takes a few bites out of a cookie  and sips at her iced coffee, and she gives me a bigger smile. "Thank  you."

"You okay?" My heart feels as if it's never gonna stop racing in terror.  Her lips aren't the same color as her pale cheeks anymore, though, so  that's good.

"I'm getting there," she says, and takes another sip. "You might want to  get out of the drive-thru so someone else can get their order."

I glance at the rearview mirror, and sure enough, there's a line snaking  around the building and lots of impatient people. But I don't want to  leave yet in case Ivy needs another cookie. I hand my card over to the  girl at the window. "Pay for everyone else's, too. It's on me."

"Oh, Boone," Ivy says, and there's a soft note in her voice like I just  bought these people something more important than a cup of coffee. "You  big softy."

I put the truck in park. "I ain't leaving until I know you're good. You need more coffee? More cookies? A donut?"

She shakes her head slowly. "I promise you, I'm perfectly fine now."

I ain't sure I believe that just yet, but when the girl at the window  hands me my card back, I guess I don't have more reasons to stall before  returning Ivy.

Then again, maybe I shouldn't return her. I give her a thoughtful look  and she's smiling so sweetly at me, as if she hasn't blown me off all  damn week. As if she hasn't given me blue balls and a sackful of worry.  As if everything is okay now that she's got some mocha java thing to  drink. And then . . . what? I take her back to her work and she goes  back to ignoring me?

I nod thoughtfully and tuck my credit card back into my wallet, hand the  girl at the window a fifty-dollar bill for a tip, and then drive off,  silent.

"I appreciate the coffee, Boone, though it wasn't necessary." Ivy's  voice is like liquid honey, all smooth and pretty and sweet. "You're  thoughtful."

"Just doin' my job," I say blandly, and drive out from the parking lot and into the street.

"Oh, I think you missed the turn for the office," she tells me politely,  gesturing at the windshield. "You can take the next street, though."

I don't. I don't take that street or even the one after that. I just  keep driving, and she makes a surprised sound as I turn onto the  highway.

"Boone? Where are we going?"

I act like it's no big deal, like I kidnap a woman every day of the  week. Don't even look over at her while I'm driving. "I'm taking you out  to West Texas with me."

"What? You can't!"

"Kinda looks like I can, from my point of view."

"Boone!" She makes an outraged sound and thumps her hand on the dash. "Take me back to the office! Right now!"

"Nope."

"What do you mean, nope?"

"I mean . . ." I give her a lazy look. "Nope."

"You can't just drive off with me! My laptop's still at the office. My purse, too! All I had with me was my phone-"         

     



 

I let her make all kinds of unhappy noises, but I keep on driving.

"You can't just take me!"

I glance over at her again. "It kinda looks like I did."

Her eyes are flashing anger now. "This isn't funny, Boone. I'm serious. This is kidnapping."

"No it ain't."

"God, you are so frustrating! Yes, this is kidnapping! I can't believe you!"

I shake my head slowly. "You said you'd go with me."

"When did I say that?"

I'm doing my best not to smile, though it ain't easy. She's real cute  when she's riled. "I seem to recall a certain promise of a blow job  anywhere I wanted. Anytime. Any place."

Her gasp of shock is long, and low.

"I want it in West Texas. At one of my rigs. Don't worry, it'll be  private. I have to oversee drilling on a new well. Got a lot of  production in the new area so gonna dowse for a well in some neighboring  land. Thought I might bring you along with me."

"Because you want me to blow you?"

"No, because I like your company." I can feel the grin spreading across  my face despite my best efforts to play it straight. "Blow job's just an  extra."

"Boone, please." Her voice is turning soft and pleading now. "I have  clients this afternoon. I'm supposed to meet someone to discuss selling  their house-"

"Well now, that's mighty interesting seeing as how you won't look at houses with me."

Ivy goes silent.

Now she's snared. I wait patiently, because I'm bound and determined to get that explanation I've been wanting all week.

She gives a little sigh. "You and I, we're . . ."

"Complicated?" I say drily.

"Yes. No. I mean . . . we're not supposed to be a thing."

"Says who?"

Ivy rubs her forehead, and I nudge the bag of cookies toward her. "Eat another."

"You're so pigheaded."

Not inaccurate.

"And a bully," she adds.

Possibly not inaccurate, either. "Where we goin' with this?"

"Ugh! You are so frustrating, Boone! Seriously! Why won't you listen to  me? I can't be here with you. I need to go back to work!" Her voice  turns pleading and she puts her hand on my arm again. "Please."

It almost works. Almost. "And then you'll call me, right?"

"Of course," she agrees swiftly.

"Just as soon as you get a chance." Yeah. I fell for that once. I know  the moment Ivy gets out of this car, she ain't never gonna see me again  if she can help it. There's something I did that either spooked her or  made her mad, and I need to figure out which so I can fix it. "Just like  the rest of this week, right?"

Ivy is silent.

"Look, Ivy, I am a lot of things, but I ain't stupid, all right? I know  you're avoiding me and you're trying to play it off. I don't know what I  did that made you run, but I'm tired of not getting an answer. So, you  wanna tell me what's going on?"

For a long time, the only sound in the truck cab is the endless rhythm  of the highway that passes under the tires, and the gentle roar of the  air conditioner.

"It's complicated," she says after a time. "I wish I could tell you more."

"Well, now, I sure wish you could, too."

"Can you please just take me back?"

"If I do, am I ever gonna see you again?"

She pauses for a long moment, and I grit my teeth. Damn. Whatever I did  is so bad that she has to stop and think about whether or not she wants  my money? Hell, I'm offering her everything-not just a commission on a  fancypants house, but the chance to live there with me as my wife. My  wallet-hell, my everything-would be hers for the taking.