Blaze: A Texas Heat Novel Page 3

  “How is she?”

  “Going strong, thanks.”

  “Welcome home! I’ll let you off with a verbal warning.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Good to see you.”

  “Likewise.”

  He returned her license. As he walked away, Emerson couldn’t help but check out his fine ass in the rear view mirror. Damn! She thought. He pulled away from the curb in his squad car and waved. Women love a man in uniform. Well amen to that!

  Emerson picked up her cell and dialed.

  “Halloo darling,” she said.

  A booming laugh sounded on the other end of the line. “Hey sunshine, you made it home yet?” Harper asked.

  “Yeah, I was in town all of two minutes when I got pulled over.”

  “For what?”

  “My music.”

  “Oh that stupid noise ordinance. I swear the city council has collectively lost their ever loving minds.” Harper huffed. “They’ve passed a bunch of so called laws lately. I wanna bash them all over the head.”

  Emerson drove to one of three stop lights in town. “Hey, back to my cop, or should I say yours?”

  It took a second before Harper growled. “Thor?”

  “Yup, why didn’t you tell me how freaking gorgeous he is?”

  “Eew, take that back.”

  “Donavan McClain is fine as vintage wine.”

  “That’s it, you’re fired. I’m rescinding my friendship effective immediately.”

  Emerson wasn’t fooled. “Harper, when was the last time you really looked at him?”

  “When he yelled in my face just the other day, he’s a Neanderthal, a caveman, a f-ugly Viking!”

  Oookay. “Forget I said anything.”

  A siren blared. Harper was a paramedic on a twenty-four hour shift. “Oh, gotta go, see you babe.”

  “Bye sugar.” Emerson smiled. It’s a wonder Harper and Donavan haven’t killed each other yet.

  The giant poster of Dylan Chambers’ gorgeous face made her physically jump. Good Lord! It wasn’t the first time she saw that killer smile. Over the years she kept tabs on him through the girls in town and on social media. Emerson was guilty of checking his Facebook page once or twice like a stalker. She tore her eyes away and drove on. Ancient history Riley, she chided herself. Bet he doesn’t even remember your name.

  Dylan met his mother for lunch every Friday when he wasn’t taking care of town business or at the capitol building in Austin for political meetings. It was their tradition, lunch at The Dixie Pixie – chicken fried steak, biscuits and gravy, sweet iced tea and a slice of pecan pie. They sat in their favorite booth with a view of town square.

  Mom wore a prim ivory sweater set with a tailored black skirt and stripper heels.

  “Why do you wear those?” he nodded to the shoes.

  “It aggravates your father.” She seemed to live for that. Dylan didn’t want to think about his parent’s lifeless marriage. But he loved her too much to remain silent.

  “Mom, why don’t you and dad just call it a day? Divorce him already, go and be happy.”

  Ava Chambers averted her eyes. She never betrayed a shred of emotion where his father was concerned.

  “So, Lea Saint James?” Ava smoothly changed the subject. He let her.

  “Yep,” he said.

  His mother took a few small bites without further comment.

  “What? That’s it?”

  Ava shrugged a dainty shoulder. “Meh, she’s okay.”

  Dylan raised an eyebrow, surprised by that lackluster reaction. “Most mamas would crawl over broken glass to get Lea as their in-law.”

  Ava waved a manicured hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I see the appeal – wealthy, she looks like a supermodel, smart, blah, blah, blah.”

  Dylan grinned. “Blah, blah, blah?”

  “Yada, yada,” his mother said with another shrug.

  “Well she’s coming next weekend.”

  Ava stopped eating. A frown appeared between her brilliant blue eyes. “You really mean to propose?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t know why he suddenly felt defensive.

  “But you don’t love her.”

  Of all the reasons to object! “Love?” he said. “What does love have to do with it? It’s a career move, business, a piece of paper combining assets, like merging corporations and property, supporting mutual ambitions, negotiating the future.”

  The look on his mother’s face stunned him. The grief, rage, fear and overwhelming sadness screamed from every pore of her body. He took her hand in his. “Mom? What is it?”

  “I hoped…I just wanted more for you than this,” Ava whispered. “Marriage can be beautiful you know, at least it should be.”

  How the hell would she know? Dylan never heard her say such a thing in his life. Ava regained her composure. “When I think of Lea Saint James, she’s like gourmet cuisine – great presentation, rich, tasty but you’re still hungry after paying a hundred bucks for a tiny plate that doesn’t leave you satisfied. What you need is a juicy burger, a pile of fries and a sweet milkshake.”

  Dylan laughed. “So Lea’s not juicy enough huh?”

  Ava laughed too. The tension, only moments before, gave way to their familiar championship.

  “I’m just saying you need someone you can be yourself with. After a day of political theatre, I want you to have someone real and true to come home to, a woman who makes you feel…alive.”

  Dylan didn’t like where this conversation was going. It hit too close to all the reasons why he never thought seriously about marriage until now. Even though he achieved every ambition up until this point, sometimes, it felt empty.

  “I hear you’re up in the polls,” she said breezily. “I’m so proud of you sweetheart.”

  Dylan regarded her. His blond hair, blue eyed mother was such a beauty. She could find love again. Why didn’t she try? He asked her about her charity work. She brightened and talked for several minutes. A few patrons greeted him.

  “Hi Mr. Mayor!”

  “Mayor Chambers!”

  Dylan would nod or smile in acknowledgement. “Hmm, try the mashed taters,” His mom said, “To die for.”

  The jukebox chimed. Someone played Rod Stewart’s Downtown Train. Dylan felt the pull of nostalgia. He danced with Emerson Riley to that song. In ten years, he managed to avoid hearing it. He chided himself. Come on Chambers, it was a million years ago!

  The song conjured haunting images he’d buried long ago. The intrusion to his peace of mind irritated him. He had more self-discipline than this. It’s just a song. It was just a school dance and she’s just a girl he knew once. No big deal. As if on que. Donavan McClain walked in. The bell chimed over the door. The waitress, Miss Viola, waved a greeting. “Hey Officer McClain!”

  “Hey Miz Vi.” Donavan pulled up a chair to their booth, uninvited.

  “Good afternoon Mrs Chambers.”

  “Hi Donavan sweetie, how are you?”

  “Mighty fine.”

  “And your dad?”

  “Fat n’ sassy.”

  She smiled. “Give him my regards.”

  “Will do.”

  “Hey Mr. Mayor.”

  “Don, what’s up?”

  “Guess who I just pulled over?”

  “Who?” Dylan asked.

  “Oh, someone famous?” Ava chimed in.

  Dylan took a long sip of sweet tea.

  “Emerson Riley.”

  Dylan choked. Donavan pounded him on the back. “You okay bro?”

  “Who’s Emerson Riley?” Ava asked.

  “Nobody,” Dylan said a little too quickly.

  “Oh really?” Donavan drawled.

  Dylan flashed him a warning look.

  Donavan gleefully ignored it. “Well Mrs. Chambers, Dyl was crazy about this girl in high school.”

  “Amber what’s her name?”

  “Noooo,” Donavan said
, “Her name is Emerson, cute as a button but we called her bookworm.”

  Ava stopped eating. She looked at her son wide eyed. Dylan didn’t appreciate the close scrutiny, thank you very much. His friend grinned as if to say, anytime bro.

  “So nobody knew how Dylan felt about her until the senior prom.”

  Dylan glanced at his watch. “Will you look at the time? Don’t you have criminals to catch?”

  “Nope,” Donavan said pleasantly.

  Ava looked from Dylan to Don. “I’ve never heard of this girl before.”

  “There was nothing to tell,” Dylan said, his tone clipped. He shot another - shut the hell up - glare at Donavan.

  “I should’ve known though,” Donavan mused, “Whenever Emerson walked into class Dyl would stop breathing.”

  “Really?” Ava asked, clearly intrigued.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Shut.up,” Dylan said.

  “Dyl made all of us on the football team dance with Emerson’s nerdy friends just to make her happy.”

  Ava looked at her son quizzically. He shrugged as if to say, no big deal, it hardly matters now.

  “Your son dumped the prom queen and danced with Emerson Riley, the entire social structure of Aberdeen Prep imploded.”

  Dylan glared moodily out the window. He saw the park and the picturesque gazebo. That night, he sat beneath it with her, holding hands, sharing dreams. It was the best night of his life, to this day, nothing even came close. He had no idea the dormant yearning for her visibly showed. For a moment, Ava stared at him in shock. He knew his mom remembered that night and how it all made sense now. The panicked way he insisted on flying up to Boston for college, that very night. How he packed frantically and left town with grim determination, two weeks earlier than scheduled. Dylan couldn’t quite meet his mother’s probing eyes.

  He leaned over the table. “Don,” he hissed, “I’m going to throat punch you, that’s all the warning you’re gonna get.”

  “So you don’t mind if I ask her out?”

  Dylan’s blue eyes narrowed to slits. Jealousy slammed him in the gut. His jaw clenched.

  “Emerson Riley is all grown up and damn if she don’t look good enough to-”

  Dylan growled low in his throat.

  “Beautiful red gold curls, cute pixie face, juicy pink lips-”

  “Enough already!” Dylan snapped. He raked a hand through his hair, which always looked immaculate, never a hair out of place. Now it looked as wild as he felt. Ava stared at him in wonder.

  Donavan gleefully rambled on. “Remember how flat chested she was in high school? Not anymore, that girl’s got a rack you wouldn’t believe, huge tits.” Donavan held his hands out in front of his chest to illustrate. “And a luscious ass, now if I tapped that-”

  Dylan launched himself. Ava yelped as her son threw punch after punch at a local police officer, still in uniform.

  Pandemonium followed. Patrons gaped. Some of the old timers drew bets on who would prevail. The younger set whipped out their cell phones and took pictures and videos. Miz Viola rushed over and poured a pitcher of ice water on the two men, who came up sputtering. “There’s no brawlin’ at The Dixie Pixie!” she hollered.

  Dylan picked up the nearest plate of pie and smashed it in Donavan’s face. A piece of crust hit someone nearby which started the mother of all food fights. Globs of mashed potatoes, green beans and bread rolls flew across the diner like bullets.

  As word got out, Jordan, the campaign manager, went into crisis mode. He sprinted across the square with a cell phone pressed to his ear. Police cars pulled up with a screech of brakes and tires, sirens wailing and lights flashing. Within minutes, a news van appeared out of nowhere with crew in tow. An ambulance pulled up.

  Harper stood in front of the diner window, her mouth hanging open in astonishment. She called Emerson. “Hey, er, didn’t you leave senior prom with Dylan Chambers?”

  Emerson froze. “Yes, I did.”

  “Well he’s in the middle of a food fight at The Dixie Pixie.”

  “What?” Emerson asked, shocked, “Isn’t he the mayor?”

  When Donavan suddenly sprang up with noodles dripping from his hair, Harper burst out laughing until she cried. Donavan scowled at her and did the sign of the cross over his chest to ward off her evil.

  “Em, I gotta go.” Harper smiled wickedly. She held her cell phone and snapped a picture of him. Donavan cursed a blue streak. He did a slip and slide to the door. Harper took off running, jumped in her rig and hauled butt.

  The picture of Officer Donavan McClain dripping with noodles made the front page of the Aberdeen Gazette. The headline screamed – Mayor Chambers Attacks Police Officer and Starts Riot.

  The highest rated video blog in town was hosted by eighty year old twins, Penny May and Susie Q, spinsters with a flair for tech. They reported from the scene.

  “How does my hair look?” Susie Q asked.

  “Blue, like a fluffy cloud,” Penny May replied dreamily.

  Susie Q adjusted the video camera. “Is this thing on?” she tapped the microphone, cleared her throat and began.

  “Reporting live from the Dixie Pixie food riot and stampede!”

  Chapter 5

  Overnight, Dylan dropped six points in the polls. Jordan nearly had a coronary. Grandmother Menerva had an epic conniption fit. George Chambers was so baffled by the turn of events, he was rendered speechless. Dylan never lost control privately let alone publically. Ava said nothing as she quietly sought out the young woman who triggered it all.

  Dylan would have laughed but his ribs hurt too damn much. He leaned his head on the concrete wall of the small jail cell. He tried to make sense of his appalling lack of self-control. Emerson Riley. She didn’t fit in his world or life plan. What to do about her? He scrubbed a hand over his face. Dylan approached every decision with methodical analysis and logic. Emerson got under his skin in ways he didn’t understand. She’s just a girl, he told himself, a stranger – after all these years. Yet, the thought of her and Donavan made him want to punch something.

  “Brought you a roomie,” Sheriff Tate said. The old fart should have retired years ago. He was golfing buddies with Dylan’s opponent for re-election – Jessup Baldwin. The sheriff removed handcuffs from an older man and locked him in the cell. The lawman smirked at Dylan. “You ain’t going nowhere, pretty boy, see McClain ain’t pressin’ charges but I am. You assaulted one of my officers in broad daylight, while he was in uniform. I got ya for assaulting an officer, resisting arrest, disorderly conduct, destruction of private property, inciting a riot, the list goes on and on,” the sheriff said with a Cheshire cat like grin, “For once in your pampered life, daddy can’t buy your way out of this. On top of that, you gonna lose this election. See if you don’t. Folks don’t take too kindly to violence against our upstanding police force. Hell to the no.” The sheriff strolled off, whistling a jaunty tune.

  Dylan gave his retreating back the one finger salute. His new cell mate’s rusty chuckle drew his attention.

  “Mr. Hickman?” Dylan asked, surprised.

  “Mr. Mayor?” Arthur Hickman asked, equally shocked.

  The owner of the Trusty Rusty Hardware store sat gingerly on the cold metal bench. He was a staple of the small southern town. “What in the blue blazes are you doing here?” Mr. Hickman asked.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “You first young pup.”

  “I slugged Donavan McClain while he was on duty.”

  “You done lost your mind?” Mr. Hickman groused.

  “Apparently,” Dylan mumbled.

  “You’re mister calm, cool and collected, I’ve never seen you otherwise.”

  “Yeah, go figure.”

  Arthur chuckled. “Oh ho, only one thing makes a man act the fool, what’s her name?”

  Dylan remained stone faced. He still couldn’t figure out why the thought of Emerson with another
man made him lose his shit.

  “When a woman gets under your skin there’s no fighting it, son,” Arthur said sagely.

  Dylan stiffened. “I have obligations to my family, my political career, expectations, I just can’t throw it all away.”

  Arthur snorted. “If that ain’t a load of crap. You got one life Mr. Mayor, you betta live it.”

  Dylan scrubbed a hand over his face. “My life isn’t just about me,” he said, “If it was…” He would pursue Emerson, love her, claim her, everyone else be damned.

  Arthur regarded the younger man thoughtfully. “I take it Donavan expressed an interest in the young lady.”

  Dylan’s jaw set stubbornly.

  “You can’t have it both ways,” Arthur said, “If you think she’s not political wife material then she’s fair game.”

  Dylan closed his eyes. The old man’s right, logically he knew that. Yet the thought of Emerson and Donavan together made his blood boil and tied him in knots.

  Arthur chuckled. “Boy, you got it bad.”

  “No,” Dylan growled, “I don’t. I’m the Mayor of this town, I have a responsibility-”

  “To yourself,” Arthur chimed in, “You’re a man first, mayor second, n’ guess what? The man in you - wants the woman in her. You can’t win, give it up, ask her out on a date and be done with it.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Dylan said in a tone that didn’t invite further input.

  “I had a lapse in judgement, it won’t happen again.”

  “If you say so,” Arthur said doubtfully.

  Dylan sat, rested hands on knees. “What on earth got you arrested?”

  “You know I started a soup kitchen with the profits from my store?”

  Dylan nodded. He admired the older man for it.

  “City Commission just passed an ordinance. It’s against the law to feed the homeless outdoors in Aberdeen.”

  Dylan’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

  “Serious as a heart attack,” Arthur said, “My volunteers and I feed the homeless in town square park a couple of evenings a week, that’s now against the law.”

  Dylan listened with mounting disbelief.

  “I face a ninety day sentence and a thousand dollar fine.”