Fancy Pants (Wynette, Texas #1)(91)

Her words came out in a rush. “But you made it seem like it was so easy to get him to stop. You say a few words to Mama and it's all over. But it wasn't easy for me. I was afraid. He kept hurting me, and I was afraid he'd hurt Mama like that before he sent her away. He said nobody'd believe me if I told, that Mama would hate me.”

Dallie walked over and sat down next to her. She could see where the leather was scuffed on the toes of his loafers and he'd tried to polish over the marks. She wondered if he hated being poor as much as she did, if poverty gave him the same sense of helplessness.

Dallie cleared his throat. “Why'd you say that about me pinning the flower on you? About grabbing a feel? Do you think that's the way I am because of how I was talking the other day in front of Hank and Ritchie?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then why?”

“I figured maybe—that after what you saw with Billy T, maybe you'd expect me to... you know, to maybe—have sex with you tonight.”

Dallie's head shot up and he looked indignant. “Then why'd you say you'd go out with me? If you thought that was all I wanted from you, why the hell did you say you'd go out with me?”

“I guess because someplace inside me, I hoped I was wrong.”

He stood up and glared at her. “Yeah? Well, you sure were wrong. You sure as hell were wrong! I don't know what's wrong with you. You're the prettiest girl at Wynette High. And you're smart. Don't you know I've liked you since the first day in English class?”

“How was I supposed to know that when you scowled every time you looked at me?”

He couldn't quite meet her eyes. “You just should have known, that's all.”

They didn't say anything more. They left the building and walked back across the parking lot to the stadium. A big cheer went up from the bleachers and the loudspeaker announced, “First down. Wynette.”

Dallie topk her hand and tucked it, along with his own, into the pocket of his navy blazer.

“Are you mad at me for being late?”

Holly Grace spun around toward the door of the gym. For a fraction of a moment she felt disoriented as she gazed at the twenty-seven-year-old Dallie leaning against the center post, looking bigger and more solid, so much more handsome than the sullen seventeen-year-old kid she'd fallen in love with. She recovered quickly.

“Of course I'm mad. As a matter of fact, I just told Bobby Fritchie I'd go out with him tonight for surf and turf instead of waiting around for you.” She pulled her purse off her shoulder and let it dangle from her fingers. “Did you find out anything about that little British girl?”

“Nobody's seen her. I don't think she's still in Wynette. Miss Sybil gave her the money I left, so she should be on her way back to London by now.”

Holly Grace could see he was still worried. “I think you care more about her than you're letting on. Although to tell you the truth—other than the fact that she's knockout gorgeous—I don't see exactly why.”

“She's different, is all. I'll tell you one thing. I never in all my life got involved with a woman so different from me. Opposites may attract in the beginning, but they don't stick together too well.”

She looked at him, a brief sadness in her eyes. “Sometimes people who are the same don't do too good a job of it, either.”

He walked over to her, moving in that slow, sexy way that used to melt her bones. He pulled her into his arms to dance, humming “You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'” into her ear. Even with improvised music, their bodies moved together perfectly, as if they'd been dancing with each other for a million years. “Damn, you're tall when you wear those shoes,” he complained:

“Kinda makes you nervous, doesn't it? Having to look at me straight on.”

“If Bobby walks in here and sees you wearing those high heels on his new basketball floor, you're on your own.”

“It's still hard for me to think of Bobby Fritchie as Wynette's basketball coach. I remember hanging around the office door while the two of you served morning detention.”

“You're a liar, Holly Grace Beaudine. I never served a morning detention in my life. I used to take swats instead.”

“You did, too, and you know it. Miss Sybil raised so much hell every time any of the teachers gave you swats that they got tired of tangling with her.”

“You remember it your way, and I'll remember it mine.” Dallie rested his cheek against hers. “Seeing you here reminds me of that homecoming dance. I don't think I ever sweat so much in my life. All the time we were dancing, I kept having to put more space between us because of the effect you were having on me. All I could think about was getting you alone in that El Dorado I'd borrowed, except I knew that even after I had you alone, I couldn't touch you because of the way we'd talked. Most miserable night I ever spent in my life.”

“As I remember, your miserable nights didn't last too long. I must have been the easiest girl in the county. Damn, I got so I couldn't think about anything except having sex with you. I needed to wash the feel of Billy T off me so bad I was willing to go to hell for it....”

Holly Grace lay back on the narrow bed in Dallie's shabby room, her eyes pressed shut as he pushed his finger up inside her. He groaned and rubbed himself against her thigh. The denim of his jeans felt rough against the bare skin of her leg. Her panties lay on the linoleum floor next to the bed along with her shoes, but other than that she was still more or less dressed—white blouse unbuttoned to the waist, bra unfastened and pushed to the side, wool skirt modestly covering Dallie's hand while it explored between her legs.