Play It Safe(127)

“I’m done,” he was still whispering and he was also gone.

Shit!

I locked the door then I ran to the backdoor and locked that then I ran upstairs and got my baseball bat (well, it was Gray’s, I didn’t have one anymore) then I ran back downstairs to the living room where there was a window where I could see Buddy Sharp and Hoot Booker in the snow.

Their positions hadn’t changed.

I twisted the window latch, crouched low, shoved the window up an inch and called out, “Uh…sorry if you heard the lock turn. No offense but my man isn’t real comfortable with me being alone here with a man he doesn’t know and Buddy.”

Hoot Booker’s head was up, he was looking at me through the window and he was smiling a huge, white, wild-ass smile.

“See you found yourself a decent man,” he remarked, still casually holding Buddy in the snow.

“Uh…yeah. He’s great.” I was still calling out the crack of a window.

“Good news, girl,” he replied.

“I, uh, also called the police. They know about Buddy so they’ll probably be here really soon,” I told him.

“More good news,” he said.

“Fuckin’ let me up!” Buddy shouted, still struggling against Hoot’s hold, snow flying all around but Hoot ignored him and kept his eyes on me.

“So, you live here long?” he asked conversationally and I again couldn’t control the giggle.

When I controlled it, I answered.

“Just over six months but Gray and I’ve known each other for over seven years,” I told him, decided, considering he seemed willing and able to dole out justice for me, I would leave out the history and Buddy’s place in it and finished, “It’s a long story.”

“Gray?” he asked.

“Gray, uh…Grayson Cody. That’s my man’s name.”

“Fuckin’ hell, I get from the dude ranch I’m on he’s a cowboy but, Christ. Grayson Cody? That’s like the most cowboy a name can get.”

I giggled again.

Yep, this was totally my Dad.

“Let…me…up!” Buddy shrieked and Hoot looked back down at him.

“Your car, your clothes, your house, chief, I get you think you’ll get whatever you want but, clue in, right now is not one of those times,” he stated.

“Fuck you,” Buddy spat.

“Lotsa money,” Hoot Booker muttered, still looking down at Buddy, “no class.”

My heart skipped a beat. Then it warmed.

That was when I heard sirens.

“Uh…um…Hoot?” I called and he looked at me.

“Yeah, darlin’,” he replied softly and I felt my nose sting but I fought back the tears.

“Well, just so you know, Gray doesn’t want me out there until he’s home so the cops are gonna be here soon but I won’t be out until he gets here. Just wanted you to know. Okay?”

“You give your man peace ‘a mind and do as he asks, Ivey. I’ll be good until he gets here,” my father assured me.

My father.

I smiled at him through the window and called, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, beautiful,” he called back.

My father.

It seemed this was going to be a family Christmas.

And, again, I couldn’t wait.

* * * * *

Nine fifty-seven in the morning, Christmas Eve…

I was ready by the time I saw Gray’s pickup truck speeding down the lane.

There were two uniformed officers outside in my yard wearing their big, bulky winter uniform jackets.

Buddy was up, his back still caked in snow and he was shouting, complaining and threatening.

Hoot Booker was standing removed, beefy legs planted wide and beefy arms crossed on his chest straining his jeans jacket with its sheepskin collar. His eyes were on Buddy and there was an expression on his face like he’d never encountered anything quite like him and, to save anyone else from doing it, he was struggling with the idea of crushing him like a bug.

The cops were staring at Buddy, clearly unhappy that what they’d hoped would be a laidback, Christmas Eve shift involved a run-in with the town’s most hated inhabitant.

As for me, to be ready for Gray’s arrival, I’d run upstairs to yank on my cowboy boots then back downstairs to pull on my jacket, wrap a scarf around my neck and tug a fitted, knit cap on my head down to my ears

What I couldn’t do was wrap my mind around the fact that the man outside was my father but I also couldn’t think about that just then.

I had to think about Gray.

So the minute his pickup turned in and stopped, I dashed through the living room and out the front door and I didn’t stop. I jumped off the porch and raced through the snow toward Gray.

And I knew with one look at him that the time it took for him to make his drive did not cool his anger. He’d been pissed when Casey came to call, angrier than I’d ever seen him.

Now, he was beyond enraged. I knew his control had snapped. He had not lied with what he said to me on the phone.

He was done.

And I needed to stop him from doing something he’d regret and something that might take him away from me.

I made it to him just as he viciously slammed the door on the old girl, the door making the usual creak but also the entire truck rocked ominously.