Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(73)

“Generally at this moment a boy and girl would commemorate the event with a kiss, but, frankly speaking, you’re a little too hot for me to handle in public, so we’ll postpone that till we have a little more privacy.”

She clutched it tighter in the palm of her hand. “Did you give out your high school ring a lot?”

“Only twice. I believe I already mentioned Sherri Hopper, but Terry Jo Driscoll was the first girl I ever loved. She’s Terry Jo Baines, now. Matter of fact you’re going to meet her; I said we’d try to stop by her house tonight. Her husband Buddy was my best friend all through high school, and Terry Jo’s real hurt I haven’t introduced you to her yet. Of course, if you’d rather do something else…” He gave her a sideways glance. “We could probably postpone the visit until tomorrow.”

“Tonight’s fine!” Her throat was dry and her voice sounded squeaky. Why was he prolonging her agony like this? Maybe he’d changed his mind and he didn’t want to make love to her. Maybe he was trying to get rid of her.

His arm brushed the bare patch of skin just above her waist as he reached behind her toward the paper carton she’d set on the seat. She jumped.

He looked at her, his dark blue eyes as innocent as a baby’s. “I’ll help you do dishes.”

With a wicked grin, he began gathering up the fragments of their fried chicken dinner and stuffing it all back in the paper sack, touching her here and there in the process until she had goose bumps everywhere. He knew exactly what he was doing, she decided. He was deliberately driving her to insanity.

Ten minutes later, they were being ushered into the cluttered living room of a small, one-story house by a plump, but still pretty, woman with a baby face and over-processed blond hair, who was clad in a red print top, white leggings, and a battered pair of sandals. She looked like someone who had taken more than her share of knocks in life, but hadn’t let it get her down, and her affection for Bobby Tom was so open and honest that Gracie liked her immediately.

“It’s about time Bobby Tom brought you around.” Terry Jo squeezed Gracie’s hand. “I swear, everybody in town like to die when they heard he finally got engaged. Jo-leen! I can hear that paper rattlin’, and you get out of those Little Debbies right this minute!” She gestured across the clean, but shabby living room, toward the kitchen that lay beyond. “That’s Joleen. She’s our oldest. Her brother Kenny’s over at his friends for the night. Buddy! Bobby Tom and Gracie are here! Budd-ee!”

“Stop yellin’, Terry Jo.” Buddy ambled into the living room from the kitchen, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth in a way that made Gracie suspect he had been the one rustling around in the Little Debbies instead of his daughter.

She had met Buddy Baines briefly when she’d taken the Thunderbird to his garage for new tires. Like the house in which he lived, he had a run down quality about him. With his dark hair and swarthy complexion, he was still a good looking man, but an extra roll of flesh had begun to thicken his waistline and he had the beginnings of a double chin. Still, she could imagine him as he’d been in high school, just as good looking as Bobby Tom, but dark instead of blond. The three of them—Bobby Tom, Buddy, and Terry Jo—must have been quite a sight.

After Joleen had run in to exchange a moist, enthusiastic greeting with her Uncle Bobby Tom, Terry Jo drew Gracie into the kitchen to help her carry the beer and chips. Gracie had no desire for either, but she didn’t have the heart to refuse Terry Jo’s cheerful hospitality. She had tucked Bobby Tom’s ring inside her sweater, and it nestled between her breasts. She touched it there as she looked around the kitchen. It was as shabby and homey as the living room, with children’s artwork held to the refrigerator by Bible verse magnets and a pile of newspapers stacked on the floor next to a dog’s water dish.

Terry Jo held the refrigerator door open with her hip while she began pulling out beer cans and passing them to Gracie. “You might know that Buddy’s daddy is Mayor Luther Baines, and he told me to tell you they’ve put you on the birthplace committee. You’ve got a meeting Monday night at seven. If you want to stop by and pick me up, we can go together.”

Gracie gazed at her in alarm as she cradled four cold beer cans against her chest. “The birthplace committee?”

“For Heavenfest.” She shut the refrigerator door, grabbed a bag of chips from the counter, and poured them into two blue plastic bowls. “I know Bobby Tom’s told you how the town bought the house he grew up in. We’re dedicating it during the festival, but we still need a lot of help getting it ready.”

Gracie remembered Bobby Tom’s opinion of the bizarre scheme to turn his childhood home into a tourist attraction. “I don’t know, Terry Jo. Bobby Tom’s not too happy about this.”

Terry Jo took two of the beers back and handed Gracie one of the potato chip bowls. “He’ll come around. One thing about Bobby Tom. He knows what he owes this town.”

Gracie didn’t necessarily think Bobby Tom owed the town anything, but since she was an outsider, she had a different point of view from the local citizens.

As the women returned to the living room, Buddy and Bobby Tom were arguing about the Chicago Stars’ chances of making it to another Super Bowl. Bobby Tom had his ankle crossed over his knee, and his straw cowboy hat rested on his calf. Gracie walked to the sofa and handed him a beer. His fingers brushed hers, and she felt a tingling that traveled all the way up her arm. He gazed at her with those midnight blue eyes of his, and her knees grew weak.