“Do it now. I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay, baby.”
“I’m done with this guy,” he whispered.
Shit!
“Honey, please stay calm.”
“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.
His eyes were riveted to Buddy, his face set in stone.
I put my hand to his gut. “Gray, baby, don’t. Take a minute. Calm down.”
Not tearing his eyes from Buddy, he put a hand to my chest and firmly but gently shoved me back, growling to no one in particular but to everyone except Buddy, “Keep her away.”
“Don’t, Gray!” I cried frantically, following on a rush as his legs swiftly closed the distance between him and Buddy.
He ignored me and stayed on target.
“You called my woman a slut?” he asked Buddy on a low, rumbling mutter and no one but no one could mistake his fury.
Buddy straightened and faced him down, informing him of something he could not miss, “You got a police presence, Cody.”
Gray’s hand which never left my chest gave me another shove. It was not violent but it was forceful. Forceful enough for me to fall back three feet and then Gray moved.
Fast.
Before I could launch myself back at him, two iron arms clamped around me and I shouted, “Gray!”
But he was on Buddy, hands in his jacket powering him back through the snow. Buddy, for some insane reason, didn’t read the threat and was not prepared. Then again, he likely never would be. Gray was fury unleashed and, except maybe Hoot Booker, no one there had experienced anything like it.
Two feet from the corner where the porch met the house, Gray shoved him off and Buddy staggered back and slammed in between the porch and the house.
Gray instantly took those two steps in.
“You called my woman a slut?” he roared in Buddy’s face.
“Gray!” I shrieked, fighting the arms around me and I vaguely heard Hoot Booker whisper in my ear. “Still, beautiful, let your man do what he’s gotta do.”
I didn’t calm. I strained as I watched Buddy try to slide out from in front of Gray but Gray’s arm slashed out and shoved him savagely right back into the corner so Buddy’s body thudded into the house. Buddy recovered and tried the other side but Gray moved fast, shoving him back in so hard Buddy almost went down to the porch. Buddy quickly righted himself, again tried the other side and again Gray kept him pinned with another body slam into the house.
Then Buddy aimed an upper-cut to Gray’s jaw, I whimpered but, again, lightning fast but still almost casually, Gray lifted a forearm and deflected the blow before his fist even came close.