had been fixing on the third grill. Nice compromise.
He watched as her small white teeth nipped a bit of beef off her fork. His groin tightened.
Right. Knock it off . Clearly this whole thing was getting way out of hand. Competing with Friedrich was one thing, but pursuing Janie Dupree was something else entirely. If he hurt Janie, even inadvertently, Docia would mutilate him, with good cause.
Music boomed over the sound system Billy had installed around the pool—Willie Nelson and “Yesterday’s Wine”. Pete wasn’t up on country music, but he recognized the basics. Billy and Reba waltzed enthusiastically on a concrete slab at the other end of the pool. Reba threw back her platinum head and laughed.
“Dance with me.”
Pete turned to see Sherice standing over Lars, hands on hips. She’d changed out of the minimal strips of cloth that had passed as a bikini into a halter top and pair of shorts that stopped just below her butt cheeks. She wasn’t smiling.
Lars tipped his head back to look at her. “I’m eating,” he said in a flat voice.
“You can finish later.” Pete noted a significant firmness in Sherice’s jaw.
Lars waited a moment longer. Long enough, Pete suspected, to piss her off even further. Then he pushed himself up from his lounge, extending a hand in her general direction. The music shifted to a woman singing a song Pete didn’t recognize as Lars pulled Sherice stiffly into his arms.
Pete glanced at Cal.
“Not good,” Cal shook his head.
“Nope.”
Pete concentrated on his mushroom, half-listening to the music until he heard Cal’s sharp inhale. He looked up to see Billy Kent waltzing carefully with Mom. “Holy crap!”
He and Cal leaned forward in unison, bodies taut. The dance would either be terrific or disastrous, depending on how Mom felt about the whole thing. As the music ended, Billy gave Mom a quick twirl under his arm, which she handled with surprising ease. As she walked past, she flashed both of them a raised eyebrow.
Cal exhaled, collapsing back against his chair. “For a minute there I thought I was hallucinating.”
Pete drained his bottle, then reached for another beer. “An evening of surprises, Calthorpe. At least some of them are pleasant.”
A series of guitar chords, rhythmically hypnotic, came over the sound system. Docia jumped to her feet. “Come on, ladies, let’s do it,” she called, heading for the concrete slab. Allie trooped behind her, as Janie turned to beckon to Bethany.
“Oh, Christ,” Cal murmured. “Here we go.”
“Here goes what?”
Cal shook his head. “You’ll see.”
The song had something to do with a red dress. Pete managed to get his brain to register that much. The singer seemed to be upset because his girlfriend was wearing a red dress he didn’t recognize and he figured she was playing around.
The slow, sensuous rhythm of the guitar and bass filled the air and the four women moved their bodies more or less in unison, like some cowgirl chorus line.
Pete glanced at Wonder and saw him swallow hard as he watched Allie.
Then he looked back at the women again.
Janie Dupree moved in a graceful swaying motion, her eyes closed, as if she were dancing for herself alone. She raised her arms above her head and moved her body back and forth, the most elegant bump and grind he’d ever seen.
Every muscle in his lower body went on high alert. “They do this a lot?” he managed to ask.
Cal’s gaze was locked on Docia. “Only when they’ve had a couple of margaritas. And when the right song comes on. My guess is Docia made sure the right song would come on this time.”
“I don’t know what you’ve got goin’ on…” the singer crooned. The four women gyrated harder.
Pete’s blood roared in his ears.
“Did we ever remember to send James McMurtry a thank-you note for that song?” Wonder croaked.
“Thank you note, nothing. Let’s bring him to town and buy him a beer. Or a case. Or maybe the whole Dew
He watched as her small white teeth nipped a bit of beef off her fork. His groin tightened.
Right. Knock it off . Clearly this whole thing was getting way out of hand. Competing with Friedrich was one thing, but pursuing Janie Dupree was something else entirely. If he hurt Janie, even inadvertently, Docia would mutilate him, with good cause.
Music boomed over the sound system Billy had installed around the pool—Willie Nelson and “Yesterday’s Wine”. Pete wasn’t up on country music, but he recognized the basics. Billy and Reba waltzed enthusiastically on a concrete slab at the other end of the pool. Reba threw back her platinum head and laughed.
“Dance with me.”
Pete turned to see Sherice standing over Lars, hands on hips. She’d changed out of the minimal strips of cloth that had passed as a bikini into a halter top and pair of shorts that stopped just below her butt cheeks. She wasn’t smiling.
Lars tipped his head back to look at her. “I’m eating,” he said in a flat voice.
“You can finish later.” Pete noted a significant firmness in Sherice’s jaw.
Lars waited a moment longer. Long enough, Pete suspected, to piss her off even further. Then he pushed himself up from his lounge, extending a hand in her general direction. The music shifted to a woman singing a song Pete didn’t recognize as Lars pulled Sherice stiffly into his arms.
Pete glanced at Cal.
“Not good,” Cal shook his head.
“Nope.”
Pete concentrated on his mushroom, half-listening to the music until he heard Cal’s sharp inhale. He looked up to see Billy Kent waltzing carefully with Mom. “Holy crap!”
He and Cal leaned forward in unison, bodies taut. The dance would either be terrific or disastrous, depending on how Mom felt about the whole thing. As the music ended, Billy gave Mom a quick twirl under his arm, which she handled with surprising ease. As she walked past, she flashed both of them a raised eyebrow.
Cal exhaled, collapsing back against his chair. “For a minute there I thought I was hallucinating.”
Pete drained his bottle, then reached for another beer. “An evening of surprises, Calthorpe. At least some of them are pleasant.”
A series of guitar chords, rhythmically hypnotic, came over the sound system. Docia jumped to her feet. “Come on, ladies, let’s do it,” she called, heading for the concrete slab. Allie trooped behind her, as Janie turned to beckon to Bethany.
“Oh, Christ,” Cal murmured. “Here we go.”
“Here goes what?”
Cal shook his head. “You’ll see.”
The song had something to do with a red dress. Pete managed to get his brain to register that much. The singer seemed to be upset because his girlfriend was wearing a red dress he didn’t recognize and he figured she was playing around.
The slow, sensuous rhythm of the guitar and bass filled the air and the four women moved their bodies more or less in unison, like some cowgirl chorus line.
Pete glanced at Wonder and saw him swallow hard as he watched Allie.
Then he looked back at the women again.
Janie Dupree moved in a graceful swaying motion, her eyes closed, as if she were dancing for herself alone. She raised her arms above her head and moved her body back and forth, the most elegant bump and grind he’d ever seen.
Every muscle in his lower body went on high alert. “They do this a lot?” he managed to ask.
Cal’s gaze was locked on Docia. “Only when they’ve had a couple of margaritas. And when the right song comes on. My guess is Docia made sure the right song would come on this time.”
“I don’t know what you’ve got goin’ on…” the singer crooned. The four women gyrated harder.
Pete’s blood roared in his ears.
“Did we ever remember to send James McMurtry a thank-you note for that song?” Wonder croaked.
“Thank you note, nothing. Let’s bring him to town and buy him a beer. Or a case. Or maybe the whole Dew
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