Beauty Queen (16 page)

Trust me, Im not interested, either, he quickly and decisively informed her, and started looking around for her purse.

Fortunately, Rebeccas tipsy state of mind made her easy to maneuver, and in spite of the heated discussion that ensued, Matt managed to convince Miss Texas that she was too inebriated to drive (Am not! Well, I cant drive right this very second, but give me a little bit!), and furthermore, shed only make herself sick drinking that much Chablis on an empty stomach (/ hate Chablis!). Finally, he got her by pointing to Fred Davis, who, having tossed a few back himself, was doing the sloppy duck lip thing at her.

You cant drive, agreed?

Agreed, she said, nodding resolutely.

So if you dont go with me, youre looking at that guy. Choose your poison.

She squinted at Fred. Okay, she said instantly, then slid out of her chair, sighing resolutely as if she were teetering off to hell. And away she went, sloshing her way

into the parking garage and managing to pour herself into his Jag. That was the point at which Matt eighty-sixed the Stetsons idea. So where? Sitting in the car in the parking garage while he was trying to figure out what to do with her, Rebecca chattered on about campaign slogans and some nonsense about kicking Gunters ass, the reason for which, Matt did not quite catch. The woman needed food, and quickly.

He hit on a brilliant idea. You like steak? he asked, reaching for his cell phone.

She snorted. Dont you know? You have all the answers, dont you?

Oh, come on, Rebecca, he scoffed. You know I dont have all the answers just most of them. And for your information, smart-ass is not going to work on me. First of all, Ive had a bossy sister all my life, and on her best day, she cant get under my skin. Second, I am frequently in family court, which means I have seen the best smart-asses the world has to offer, and you are no competition. I am going to call in some filets, okay?

O-kay! she shot back, swaying a little with the force of it.

And a gallon of strong coffee, he added, more to himself.

Dont start, Rebecca warned him, folding her arms across her middle to steady herself. You always start.

Whatever that meant. She was the one always accusing him of being cheap or sleeping with deer ... it was enough to make his head spin. And now here she sat, glaring at him like some sort of perv. Yet he couldnt help noticing that the bucket of wine she had imbibed had given her a bit of a flush that made her look ... well, gorgeous. Gawd, he was a sick bastard.

What are you looking at? she demanded.

Oh, for the love of Rebecca, listen very carefully and lets see if we cant get at least some of what Im about to say into that thick skull of yours. I am not looking at you. I do not want in your pants, he said, even as the thought that it wouldnt be all bad zoomed across his mind. Im not

doing anything but trying to sober you up because you are three sheets to the wind. But thats all.

Her frown crumbled, and she unexpectedly admitted, I know. Isnt that weird? It just sort of happened without me knowing it. She groaned as her head fell back against the seat. Matt dialed Stetsons. How did this happen? she sniffed, suddenly maudlin. Matt shrugged. I mean, I was just sitting there

Just sitting there with your own little vineyard, you mean . . . Hello! Yes, an order to go . . .

I was just trying to do a good job! Thats all I ever wanted to do, a good job, and then you came along, she pouted as he ordered the steaks.

And saved you, he added, clicking the phone off. Dont forget that. Now quit looking at me like Im some sort of molester. Just relax. I wont even mention strip mining or deer.

Or stupid campaign slogans, either, she added, wagging a finger at him.

Hell, I wont mention the campaign at all if you wont.

Then ... She cocked her head to one side as she tried to focus on him. What in Gods name will we talk about?

Excellent question, he agreed. But well think of something. In fact, he was already racking his brain. First, lets get you sober. He started the car, pulled out of the parking garage, and drove a couple of blocks to a convenience store, where he bought her some water. Rebecca gratefully took the bottle and drank the entire contents in one gulp, then dragged the back of her hand across her mouth.

Are you all right? he asked, chuckling.

Right as rain, she said cheerfully, beaming that knockout grin at him again.

They continued on, Rebecca now rambling about how she never drank and Heathers need of a comb until he pulled up in front of Stetsons. The valet went in to check on the food, returned and said it would be a bit. So Matt pulled into a metered spot.

They sat there in silence for all of four seconds before Rebecca blurted, See? There is nothing to talk about.

Sure there is.

Name one thing, she challenged him, frowning.

Okay, he said, and not able to think of even one thing he could possibly have in common with her, blurted, How come youre always mad at me? Where, exactly, that had come from, he had no earthly idea, and it surprised him, because honestly, he didnt care what she thought or didnt think about him. Please!

Much to his indignation, however, Rebecca responded with another very unladylike snort of laughter. Are you kidding?

Well, no. No, Im not kidding, he said, pretty certain that he wasnt.

Rebeccas head lolled back against the seat, and when she lifted it again, her blue eyes (damn those eyes) were shining with amusement. Youve got it aaaall wrong, Mattie, she said, tapping the console with her finger to emphasize each word. Im not mad at you. I just dont like you. As if that were a perfectly natural thing to say to someone, she flashed a charmingly crooked little smile.

But it flabbergasted Matt what was not to like? Everyone liked him! Even the judges who hated him liked him! How could you not like me? he asked, aghast.

Oh, its easy! she proclaimed adamantly, her smile unwavering. But I think youre very . . . cute.

But Matts head flew right past the cute thing and went straight to the not like thing.

No, no, its not easy. Im a pretty likable guy, he insisted. Ask anyone.

She laughed loudly. No, youre not! Really, youre not likable at all! Youre just really cute. And that is as far as I can go, she said, swinging one arm out wide to demonstrate just how far she could go and barely missing his chin.

Well, he said, more than a little miffed that she would not like him, like she was such a piece of cake to like or something, youre not exactly the easiest person in the world to get along with, either, Miss Priss.

Why not? I am very polite, she said, with an emphatic nod.

No, actually, youre a little on the stuck-up side, sweetheart. Had to be, or else shed like him.

I am not stuck-up. I am very nice, she said, now punching the dash with her finger. In fact, everyone says I am too nice!

No one on this planet, he said, looking around for the valet. What in Gods name had possessed him to appoint himself her protector and bring her here? Miss Priss probably thought if a guy didnt fall on his knees the moment he saw her, there was something wrong with him. You know, that Miss Texas thing you have going on is a little too much, he added irritably, if only to make himself feel better.

Rebecca groaned. You dont know what you are talking about, Mattie! I didnt even want to be Miss Texas!

Please! All girls want to be a beauty queen when they grow up.

Not all girls want to be a beauty queen when they grow up, you ... you moron, she said, and inexplicably, the moment the words were out of her mouth, she made a soft little gasp and smiled, a beautiful, radiant smile, as if she was as proud of that as anything she had ever said.

Moron? Matt echoed, incredulous. I didnt know we were adopting the fourth-grade rules of name-calling. Look, Im just saying that it is pretty hard to believe you didnt want to be Miss Texas. I mean, you give off the impression that you need a lot of attention ... a LOT of attention.

See why I dont like you? she asked, poking her finger into his shoulder. And I didnt mean that it wasnt anything. Wait... no, thats not right. I mean, it was something, she said, leaning forward, so far forward that he glimpsed a tantalizing flash of the lacy black bra (of which, truthfully, he had noticed beneath her filmy blouse more than once this evening). It was great! she declared. Its just... I mean, I never really saw myself as ... that.

As what?

As a beauty queen! Duh!

Well, good God, who could understand her? And how could she not see herself as a beauty queen? As far as he knew, the one requirement for a beauty queen was to be beautiful, and Rebecca was definitely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Even when she was shit-faced.

The beauty queen was now sliding down in her seat and planting an elbow on the console to steady herself. Lemme ask you something, Mattie. Have you ever thought that?

Thought what? he asked, confused, and all right, a little lost in the lush pout of her lips again.

Tom know .. . did you ever think that you didnt really think that youd be something?

That gave him pause primarily because he had to repeat the question in his head to decipher it. But then he said honestly, I dont think so.

Oh, she uttered softly, clearly disappointed.

Well hell, he hadnt thought that. Had he? Hed always imagined himself a lawyer, hadnt he? Yes, of course. His grandfather had been one, his dad was one. And didnt he believe that hed follow in his dads footsteps and be a judge one day, too? So why, then, did he feel so uncomfortable and have that vague notion he ought to be doing something good with his life instead of chasing a buck? Because he was hungry. He honked for the damn valet.

Okay, he said, how exactly did you end up as Miss Texas if you didnt really want to be Miss Texas?

Rebecca looked up from her study of the radio and pierced him clean through with those blue eyes without even trying. How she did that was really starting to unnerve him.

I guess because .. . because everyone wanted me to.

Who, your parents?

Yeah, my dad. And my boyfriend. Or husband. Well, he was both, she said, and dropped her gaze to the radio again. Bud. He was both. She made a whirling motion with her hand. Husband and boyfriend. Ooops... and jerk, she added, then laughed at her own little joke.

Not exactly territory Matt wanted to enter not that he

wasnt mildly curious about the dolt who was stupid enough to let go of a woman like Rebecca. But then again, she did raise big red flags on a routine basis.

But it wasnt just them, she continued, sounding almost as if she was arguing with herself. It was me, too. I mean, I didnt enter the pageant at gunpoint, did I?

I would guess not.

And I went through all ... that stuff to get there, didnt I?

I would assume, he said, and tried to imagine Rebecca putting hemorrhoid cream under her eyes. Nope, couldnt see it.

No, / did it. But still. . . she sighed, swung a hooded gaze to him. Hey, Mattie, do you remember when you were young and full of ... of ...

Piss? he offered, noticing how elegant her hands were.

She smiled; her eyes were now an incredible smoky blue. Not that, she said, shaking her head. Hope. You know, hope about life. The future and who little Mattie was going to be. Remember?

I suppose so. Although it was near to impossible to conjure up the young Matt anymore. That was such ancient history.

Rebecca nodded slowly and looked down, and he wondered if she was having A Moment. Sometimes, I wonder if the young Rebecca would have liked me very much, she said, and propped her head on her fist, slanting toward him. I wonder if she would have liked me at all

The hair on Matts neck rose; danger, danger, Will Robinson! He cocked his head to one side, tried to see if she was crying. He couldnt tell, but in a valiant effort to stave of any tears (Over what again, exactly? Having won the Miss Texas title?), he said, Everyone wonders, dont they? Dont we all wonder if we have achieved what we set out to achieve? Or if we became the man or womanthat we believed we could be?

Rebecca didnt say anything.

Damn it, where the hell were those steaks? Look, lets talk about something else, okay? Lets talk about... hey,

what about your son? So what is he, like seven? Eight? In school? What does he like to do? Against his better judgment, he dipped a little lower to see if she was crying. Rebecca?

But instead of answering, Rebeccas head slid off her fist, and landed, facedown, smack in the middle of his crotch.

Just as that mushy spot on his body registered in Rebec-as brain, Matt had her by the shoulders and was propping her up in her seat.

Whoa! she exclaimed, mortified, and gaped at Matt, who was likewise gaping at her, apparently just as mortified. Oh, for the love of Pete, how did that happen? Rebecca blinked several times to clear her vision, and noticed that Matt was staring at her so intently that she began to worry how long she had actually been lying facedown in his crotch. Could it have been God forbid longer than a moment?

And to make matters worse, there was a guy at Matts window, tapping on the window. Only Matt didnt seem to hear it. He didnt seem to be even breathing.

Ah ... She gulped, wide-eyed.

You have my undivided attention, he said.

Rebecca pointed at the window.

Matt slowly turned his head, at which point Rebecca covered her face with her hands. Humiliation aside (not possible)she couldnt remember the last time she had

drunk too much, and really, at the moment, she couldnt remember where shed left her car. She took a breath a big one and remembered that there was always more than one way to look at a bad situation. All her books said so. So what if shed just made a huge and enormous jackass of herself ? Maybe she was just being the new Rebecca, the carefree lets-have-a-little-fun Rebecca, who could let her hair down every once in a while instead of just dreaming about it.