All That Matters (3 page)

Her tears fell freely, and she swiped at them with the already-damp handkerchief. “There was no way I was going to tell him I carried his child. Not after that. So I just ran. Even forgot my car and...and, well, here I am.” She heaved a big sigh and ducked her head. “I’m really scared this time.”

Then she pulled away and unbuttoned her blouse. Buddy Lee watched in stunned silence as it slid from her shoulders. What he saw turned his stomach.

“
Awww
, Faith, no,” he groaned.

He didn’t consider himself a violent man, but the dark purple blotches and tell-tale scratches streaking across her soft skin made him want to smash his fist into Royce Webb’s face until he no longer felt this red-hot anger.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.

Gently, he moved her hands aside and fastened her blouse, taking care that his clumsy movements didn’t inflict more pain.
 
She was so fragile, so lovely. A sudden wave of tenderness surged through him and he felt his heart crack. It took him all of two seconds to make up his mind and the hell with anyone who tried to stop him.

“Tell me what you need me to do,
darlin
’,” he whispered.
  
Bending forward, he dared to touch his lips to her forehead.
 
Her shaky sigh as she leaned into his embrace threatened to tear his heart right from his chest.

“Just marry me and be my baby’s daddy for now.”

Her words were warm against his chest and adrenalin shot through his veins like a good slug of 150-proof. That was all he needed. He got to his feet, pulling Faith with him. Whatever had to be done, he’d do it to protect her. But he still had questions.

“Are you planning to do this without telling your folks? Your daddy won’t expect you to go through with the wedding if you tell him what happened, will he?”

Faith’s mouth quivered and damned if all the blood in Buddy Lee’s head didn’t rush south again.

“Daddy won’t believe me. He’ll just say I’m trying to make trouble. You know how he is. And if he finds out about the baby, he’ll force me to marry Royce. That’s why we have to tell them the baby is yours.”

Buddy Lee looked at her sweet face and decided he might as well find out what he’d wanted to know for a long time. “Do you love him? Royce, I mean?” His insides started icing up while he waited for her answer.

She touched his face, the soft pads of her fingertips barely skimming his cheek. Her voice lowered to a murmur. “No, I never did. I realize now, I just wanted someone to love me.”

Oh, damn, he was dying here. “Won’t he figure it out? If you were only, um, together once,” he stumbled over the phrase he didn’t want to think about, “it’d be easy enough to count back and know the baby is his.”

“That’s why we have to say I’m already three months along.”
 
Faith still had her hand on his cheek. “I’ve got it all figured out. If Royce thinks I was pregnant before he and I uh...you know, then he’ll believe the baby isn’t his. And Daddy won’t be able to do anything when he finds out you and I are already married.”

Buddy Lee’s poor mind was spinning like a tumbleweed caught in a dust devil. The only thing he was certain of was that he was about to be married to the girl of his dreams and her baby was gonna call him Daddy...if Lionel Morgan didn’t blow him to Kingdom Come first.

“Well, there’s no way I’m going to let you go back...”

The back door slammed and, instinctively, he stepped in front of her, placing himself between her and whatever threat might be headed their way. He had a feeling the alligators were ganging up on him.

“H
ey, Walker, you still awake in there?”

The refrigerator door squeaked and Scooter’s gravelly, three-pack-a-day voice bounced off the kitchen walls like hail on a tin roof.

Buddy Lee relaxed his guard, but kept himself between faith and the kitchen. As usual, his friend was helping himself to a cold one. Well, hell, was the whole damn town gonna show up at his back door tonight? He didn’t want to deal with Scooter’s inquisition right now. How the devil was he going to explain Faith being here? Might as well try to explain
space.

Scooter ambled down the hall, the brown-bottled longneck almost to his mouth before he jerked to a stop right at the living room doorway. An unopened bag of corn chips dangled from his other hand. Wide, disbelieving eyes stared at Buddy Lee and Faith from behind over-sized, black rimmed glasses.

Buddy Lee could have kicked himself for not locking the back door after Faith had shown up. Scooter was better than the local newspaper when it came to circulating gossip in Liberty.
 
His exaggerated version of the situation would be spread all over town by morning.

“Hot damn! What’re you
doin
’ here, Faith?” Scooter flopped down on a worn, rust-colored easy chair and poked his short, stubby legs out in front of him. He shot Buddy Lee a look that said,
What have you gotten yourself into this time, dude?
then chugged his beer like he was fighting off a serious case of dehydration. His appreciative “
aahhh
” followed the crackle of the bag of chips being ripped opened.

Buddy Lee fired off his own look that said,
Don’t even go there if you know what’s good for you.
Then he turned to Faith.
 
“Maybe you’d better tell him.” He’d leave it up to her. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. He sure as hell couldn’t explain something that still had his brain spinning U-
ees
inside his skull.

“Buddy Lee and I have to get married, Scooter.” Faith sniffled a couple of times and dabbed at her eyes.

Jeez, if she started crying again he didn’t know if he could handle it. Her tears pure-D tore him up. Then she reached for his hand and he felt ten feet tall.

“Y’all are just
pullin
’ my leg, right?” Scooter pushed back the orange and blue GAS-‘N-
GOgimme
cap resting on his fringe of mud-brown hair and scratched his head. “If I didn’t know better, B.L., I’d bet a dollar you’ve been keeping company with ol’ Jack Daniels.” Resettling his cap, he proceeded to stuff another handful of corn chips in his mouth, chewing noisily.

“Your daddy know you’re here, Faith?” Scooter asked after he’d swallowed, then chugged more beer. “I only wondered ‘cause Royce was down at the pumps just before I closed up, looking mighty pissed. Took off like a tomcat with his tail on fire, after he gassed up that sporty car of his. Had some big guy with him who looked like he was
kin
to a gorilla. What’s going on?” He plunged his hand back in the chip bag, bringing another handful to his mouth.

Buddy Lee leaned closer to Faith, wanting to hear her answer himself. Scooter’s noisy chomping wasn’t helping any.

“You know Daddy’s not running my life, Scooter.” Faith moved back to the lumpy sofa, pulling Buddy Lee with her. “I make my own decisions.”

Scooter
haw-hawed
at that, spraying corn chip crumbs all over himself. “So, you an’ Royce have a lovers’ spat or what?”
 
He brushed crumbs from his chin with stubby fingers, still chuckling. “Wedding jitters, right?” He slapped his knee and crowed again.

Clearly, Scooter thought this whole thing was a joke. If it was, Buddy Lee wished somebody would tell him the punch line.

“Like she said, we’re getting married, pal.” He emphasized each word, just in case Scooter had trouble hearing over his Frito-crunching.

“Yes,” Faith said. “Tomorrow.” She rested her hand on his knee and every nerve in his body jerked to attention. Oh, yeah. Every damn one.

Scooter’s mouth fell open so wide you could’ve driven a
Humvee
in it and never touched the sides. “You’re serious,
ain’tcha
?”

“She said so, didn’t she?” Buddy Lee sat up straighter. Faith didn’t lie. Well, maybe a few fibs as a kid.
 
This proposed deception of hers was hard for him to accept, though, because what she had in mind was a good deal bigger than a fib.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone yet,” Faith said. “You’ll ruin everything if you do.”

“But...but, you an’ Royce are getting married Saturday, right?” Scooter eyed Faith closely, then narrowed his gaze at Buddy Lee. “Walker, you better tell me what the hell’s
goin
’ on here.”

Telling Scooter was as good as putting it on the six o’clock news. Buddy Lee could see it now.
“Wealthy banker’s daughter weds up-to-his-ass-in-debt convict’s son. Details at eleven.”

Details would be good, he thought, fully aware of the woman beside him. Like, right now. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. Shoot, he didn’t know what to think. She’d appeared out of the blue and in a matter of minutes had thrown herself at him, proposed marriage and wanted him to claim to be the father of her child. When the real father was still around, probably
madder‘n
hell. He blew out a deep sigh. Did she expect him to agree without even a second thought? He must be losing his
everlovin
’ mind, because he knew that’s what he was going to do, sure as Texas had Longhorns.
Scared
didn’t even begin to describe his state of mind right now.
Crazy
might.

Then Faith smiled up at him and he was a goner. He didn’t give a damn. He’d marry her tomorrow if that’s what she wanted, and think about details later. A lot later. Right now, he had to get rid of Scooter and figure out what to do about her tonight.

Getting Scooter to leave was fairly simple. Buddy Lee bribed him with a new bag of corn chips and the last two issues of ON THE ROAD, Scoot’s favorite auto magazine with lots of pictures, then hustled him out the back door. Convincing Faith to stay all night took a little more work.

“I
can’t put you out of your bed, Buddy Lee.” Faith stood in the hall half an hour later, protesting his insistence that she sleep in his room.

“No problem,” he assured her with a lot more confidence than he felt. “I’ll sleep on the sofa. You can’t go home all messed up like you are. Your mama would have a fit and your daddy...well....” Jeez, he didn’t even want to think about what her daddy might do. She could argue all she wanted, but there was no way he was letting her leave now. For all they knew, Royce could be out there looking for her. So could her daddy.
 
Or both of them. Buddy Lee swallowed hard.

Frantically, he tried to remember how long it had been since he’d laundered his sheets. Only a couple of days ago, he recalled, so he was pretty sure they didn’t smell like motor oil. He couldn’t change them. This was the only set he owned.
 
“Dumb and Dumber”
oughta
be tattooed on his forehead.

“Then I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Faith said. “I don’t mind, honestly.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the sofa, Faith, so just forget it.”
 
He didn’t have any bedding for that and he couldn’t expect her to sleep without any. He started scrambling around, grabbing his dirty work clothes from the corner of his bedroom and tossing them in the closet, while Faith kept on arguing. She always did talk too much.

His nerves were strung tighter than a fiddle string at the thought of her staying all night, and in her condition. Lord help him, if old man Morgan showed up before they got out of town there’d be more than hell to pay, and he was poorer than a church mouse already.

“Here, you can wear these,” he said, shoving a handful of folded clothes at her and holding his breath until she took them and left the room. She was back before he had a chance to regulate his heartbeat, wearing the clean boxers and T-shirt he’d handed her.

Holy cow! The thin knit shirt might as well have been made out of cobwebs, the way it revealed every single one of her mouth-watering curves. He nearly choked when his tongue got stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Twin temptations pushed the TEXAS RACEWAY lettering on the shirt front right out there for God and everybody to see.
 
Seeing those boxers of his barely hanging on to the sweet roundness of her hips shot his heart rate straight to the moon.
 
For
cryin
’ out loud, Walker. What were you thinking? You should’ve given her a pair of old sweats or something.

If the room had seemed small before, he was damn certain the sides were closing in on him now. Catching his breath was turning into a major project. Help!

Her presence was everywhere, surrounding him with clouds of warm apple-blossom fragrance. He fought with the images playing leap-frog in his mind. Images that had no business being there at all. Images that were going to get him in a heap of trouble if he didn’t watch out.
Ooooh
, yeah!

He tried not to ogle her tantalizing figure as he folded back the faded quilt on his bed. He couldn’t envision Faith becoming a mother. In his mind, she was still that slightly rebellious teenager always landing in some kind of scrape.
 
Always expecting him to rescue her.

Maybe if her
belly’d
been round like a watermelon, he wouldn’t have had so much trouble with the erotic visions lurking in the corners of his mind.
Concentrate, Walker.
He flipped the pillows over, checked their cases and tried to act cool, which he definitely was not.