Page 15 of Heart of Dixie
She leaned away to meet my gaze, but her hand stayed put. “I have plans with Beth this week.”
“Beth’s at work. At least say you’ll share them with me.”
She lifted her arms to lock them around my neck. “I can think about sharing them, but I’m not sure sex is a good idea.”
I grinned. “Sex is probably abadidea.” Didn’t mean I couldn’t hope.
She seemed to give the idea some thought. “Remember, that’s all the time I have. I’m not extending, not coming back once I’m gone. I only have four days, Deke. You sure you want them?”
Four days. So far I was impressed with the woman Dixie had become. I liked her. She was smart and entertaining, and not too full of herself. It would be fun to hang out, get to know her evenbetter. It would undoubtedly be enjoyable between the sheets. I pretended to think it over, to weigh my options. But who was I kidding? I nodded. “Yeah, I want them.”
My heart leapt, and so did my dick. I’d need to put a leash on both. I had one long weekend, only ninety-six hours before Dixie Barnes waltzed out of my life again—and this time I wouldn’t let her blow it to pieces.
9
Deke
Dixie was parked in front of the vanity mirror, brushing her hair and manipulating it into some complicated braid. She had on last night’s dress and the same high-heeled sandals that buckled for several inches above her ankles. I dodged her elbows as I returned from my room wearing jeans. “Let’s fix breakfast; I’m starved.”
She tied off the end of her hair with a rubber band and shook her head. “Can’t today. I need to get to the city.”
“You didn’t mention anything last night.”
Her attention stayed focused in the mirror as she tucked loose strands into the plait at the back of her head. “It’s nothing important. Just an errand.”
“Fine. I’ll come along. What do you need to do?”
“I have to buy . . .”
She paused in fiddling with her hair and her arms sank to her sides. I waited for her to spit out whatever was so difficult to say.
She turned to lean her hip against the counter, cast her eyes to the side. “I have to buy a box.”
“We don’t have to go all the way to the city. Huntley sells packing boxes down at the hardware store. Or we can look at the market. They get shipments every day. I’m sure they—”
She held up her hand to shut me up. “No, not that kind of box. Something bigger.” She lowered her head and paid way too much attention to the deep red polish on her thumb. “I need something for Cooter.”
The fuck?“Dixie, do you mean acasket?”
She drew up her shoulders. “Well, I don’t know if there’s a law, but it’s what they suggested at the mortuary. Insisted, actually.” She took a deep breath. “I have his measurements. You know, so he fits.” She met my gaze with glistening eyes. “Not that I should care about his comfort after all the times—” She spun around and was out the bathroom door.
Bizarre. I followed her into the bedroom, where I yanked a shirt from the closet and pulled it on. “So, you need to pick out a casket. It’s no big deal.” Tears soaked her cheeks, so I plucked a tissue from the dresser and hauled her into my arms. “I don’t have classes today; would you like me to go with you?”
Using the silliest dabbing motion, she sopped up her face and then nodded. I sat on the end of the bed and pulled her onto my lap. All in all, not a bad position to be in, now that we were both dressed. I could handle Dixie as long as she wasn’t naked.
I snagged an edge of the bed sheet and used it to blot the rest of the moisture from her cheeks. “Color me confused, but it’s just a bo—” Jesus, she nearly had me saying it, too. “It’s a casket, Dixie. To bury a man you didn’t particularly care for.” An understatement, and ancient history, but the waterworks had slowed to a trickle; no use getting her all worked up again. “If you’re not up to it, we can put it off to another day. When is his funeral, anyway?”
“Tuesday. Late morning, and then I fly out on the red-eye. God, I hate the red-eye.” She rose and busied herself by yankingup the covers to make the bed. I rose to locate my shoes, just in case I was leaving.
She gathered the decorative pillows from the floor where I threw them the night before and gave one a punch. “The casket store—is that what it’s called, really? A store?—is closed on weekends, and Monday is out of the question, which means I’ve already put this off to the last day. That’s incredibly rude and insensitive.”
I paused from checking under the dresser. “Are you kidding? Short notice maybe, but not rude.”Ah, found the shoes. I sat on the floor to tie them since she was still pulling up the covers. “Why is Monday out of the question?”
She gaped at me as though I was a few cards short of a deck. “Have you ever bought a new pair of shoes the day of a party and then realized they pinched your toes but there was no time to exchange them? They were the perfect shoe for the dress you planned to wear, so you ended up wearing them even though they didn’t fit right?”
She lost me back at pinched toes. “Are we buying new shoes today, too?”
“Of course not! It’s why we’re not waiting until Monday.” She pounded the decorative shams with her fists, then straightened and rubbed the creases out of her rumpled dress. It didn’t make a difference.
