Delores Fossen - Texas On My Mind

Claire nearly confessed that she’d already tried that, but she decided to watch and see how this played out.

Livvy tugged off one of her shoes, wiggled her toes and put the van right next to all that wiggling.

“Van Gogh!” Ethan squealed.

Claire laughed.

But Daniel huffed. “How does that help him, giving him a clue like that?”

“Seriously? It helped because he got it right.” Livvy put her shoe back on, plucked another car from her cleavage—a candy-apple-red Mustang—and gave it to Ethan. “Here’s your prize for guessing right.” That brought on more squeals of delight, more giggling.

More huffing from Daniel.

And a bitchy look from Trisha. “What else do you have in there?” Trisha tipped her head to Livvy’s boobs.

“A picnic basket.” Livvy stood and patted Trisha’s arm, and Claire could almost feel the condescension coming. Livvy looked at Trisha’s breasts, which were impressively sized but looked more like fried eggs when compared with Livvy’s. “Maybe you can try growth cream on them or something. Then you’ll have a place for a Lunchable or maybe just some Goldfish crackers.”

Time for some interference since Trisha was no doubt gearing up her bitchy-response generator. Claire looped her arm around Livvy’s waist. “Livvy and I will get some iced tea.”

Trisha must have taken that as a call to arms because she followed them, leaving Daniel and Ethan on the porch.

“Are you falling for Riley again?” Trisha asked the moment they were out of Daniel’s earshot.

Claire kept moving toward the kitchen. “That’s an are-you-still-beating-your-wife question. Because you’re assuming I’ve fallen for Riley before.”

Claire had, but that wouldn’t help her win this argument, and if she started losing too much ground, Livvy would step in and try to win the argument for her. It could turn into a catfight. Not an actual one, but there’d be some name-calling and shouting. Something that Claire didn’t want Ethan to hear.

“Riley won’t be as good with Ethan as Daniel,” Trisha added as if it were gospel.

And, of course, if Riley was indeed with Ethan and her, then he wouldn’t be with Trisha. That’s really what this was all about, but Trisha skittered out of there before Claire could remind her of that. Trisha probably hurried so she could tell Daniel he needed to watch his back, that he had some competition.

Livvy unscrewed the wine bottle, dumped a generous portion into a glass measuring cup that she took from the drying rack in the sink. “You want a side of backbone to go with that slice of milquetoast?”

Claire didn’t have to ask for clarification. Livvy was talking about Daniel’s and Claire’s reactions, or Claire’s lack of reaction, to each other.

“I can’t imagine you ever having sex with that guy,” Livvy added.

Claire skipped a glass and drank right out of the bottle. “Daniel’s really good-looking.”

“So is that painting by van Gogh. Doesn’t mean it’d be great in bed.” Livvy downed half a glass of the wine in one long swig. “Was he ever a great?”

“Of course.” Claire had more wine. Figured she’d regret what she was about to say but said it anyway. “If I grade it on a curve.”

Livvy leaned in and lowered her voice to a real whisper. “Never grade a fuck on a curve, Claire. Never.”

And with that screensaver-worthy advice, Livvy gave a satisfied nod.

Probably because Livvy knew she was right. Still, there were other things more important than sex. Like being with a man who hadn’t had a hole blown in his shoulder. A man who would go back for another hole-blowing as soon as he could.

Gosh, that was a dismal thought. One that ate away at that safety net she’d spent too long building around herself.

Since it seemed as if Livvy was about to dole out more advice, Claire went on the offensive. “How are things with the albino? Did his pinkeye clear up?”

Livvy had more wine before she answered. “It didn’t work out. He said my tits were hard as rocks.”

“They are.” Claire went to the fridge, took out the pitcher of iced tea, a juice box for Ethan and some glasses. “Hugging you comes with risks. I think you inverted one of my nipples once.”

“Ha-ha. I’m not arguing with you, but he said my tits bruise his chest when I’m on top.”

That wasn’t an image Claire wanted in her head. Too late. It was already there. “So, you’re not going to see him again?”

“Nope. I have another date next week. I’ll call you afterwards and tell you all about it. Come on. Give them their tea so they’ll get the hell out of here and we can have a good visit.”

Livvy helped her with the glasses, and they made their way back to the porch. Trisha and Daniel were having a whispered conversation, but they broke away as if they’d just been caught picking their noses.

“Is there a problem?” Claire asked.

Daniel cleared his throat. “I thought you’d want me to correct Ethan. I told him not to keep crashing the cars.” He paused, gently put his hand on her shoulder. “Because it might bring up old memories for you.”

Maybe it was the rush of sugary wine to her head, but it took Claire a moment to make the connection. He was talking about the accident that’d killed Riley’s parents. “Uh, I know the difference between a toy car crash and a real one.”

And thankfully Ethan seemed to get that, too, because he kept playing his crashing game, which pretty much shot that theory about boys listening better to men.

Maybe that’s what put Daniel in such a sour mood, but Claire was betting it had to do with the gossip floating around about Riley’s visit to her place. And the other five-hundred-pound elephant on the porch—gossip about why Ethan looked so much like the man whose name her son loved to squeal. Whatever it was, it caused Daniel to slip his hand in Claire’s and maneuver her to the other end of the porch. Away from the metaphorical elephant. Away from Livvy and Trisha, too.

Of course, since Livvy and Trisha weren’t actually talking to each other, and the porch was only about ten feet wide, this likely wasn’t going to be a private conversation.

Or one that she especially wanted to have.

“Look, Daniel, Riley will be going back soon, so there’s really no need for us to discuss him.” There. She’d gotten that order of backbone after all, and it felt good.

“I don’t want to talk about Riley. I know you’re not interested in him and haven’t been since high school.”

Oh, if only that were true.

Claire didn’t mention that, though.

“Besides,” Daniel went on, “if he was Ethan’s father, he would have manned up and told me that he’d stabbed me in the back by sleeping with you. Riley’s got a lot of faults, but lying isn’t one of them.”

And he stood there, clearly waiting. Claire didn’t have to guess what he was waiting for. This was the part where he wanted her to tell him who Ethan’s father was. One way or another, it came up every single time they were together. After a dozen or so interrogations in which she hadn’t confessed, Daniel had let her know that he forgave her for being with another man. Since, after all, they’d been in an off phase at the time it’d happened.

Claire didn’t confess today, either.

She wouldn’t.

Because a confession would only lead to a second confession and an admission that Daniel was not going to want to hear.

“I thought you’d have made up your mind about us before now,” Daniel went on. Of course, he smiled, but it was brief and strained. “I mean, you know how I feel about you and know I’d love Ethan as my own. I’m good for you. I know what you need.”

God. Not another proposal, and she didn’t have time to stop it. Daniel took a box from his pocket and dropped it into her hand.