***Please note, this is a continuation of an old story in the Erotic Couplings section. It is also Book 3 of Trouble Texas Style series which included Night Walker's Woman and Tight Fittin' Jeans. These stories make more sense when read together.***
Laura folded the tiny white scrap. But it was difficult seeing anything as more moisture gathered in her eyes. She laid it on top of the growing stack and lifted her trembling hand to brush the tears away. She had not expected this — a baby shower.
But her sisters and mother had pulled one together nonetheless. Women from the warehouse where her mother worked, a few stalwart patrons of the town library that her baby sister ran, and even a few tight-lipped women from her middle sister's church.
It was not that Laura needed the gifts they had brought for the baby. She was not that desperate, not yet anyway. In this case, it really was the thought that counted. In her almost two decades away from this place, she had forgotten that there was some good to be found in Sebida, Texas.
She sighed as she leaned back in the rocking chair that had been one of her first purchases. Her hand caressed the cyclopean mound that had once been her relatively flat abdomen. The baby was quiet. After four and a half months of gymnastics, dance, and Olympic training in there, the past couple of days, her daughter had been exceedingly well-behaved.
So much so that she had twice called her curandero to make sure that nothing was wrong. The first time the older wise woman had made the half an hour trip fully laden with gear to check up on her client. It only took a moment with the fetoscope to quash all her fears. Her daughter was very much alive. All would be fine, Guadalupe assured her.
The bebita was merely finding her position, getting ready for her entrance into the world. That could not come soon enough for Laura. Her back hurt. She had not slept in months. She simply could not find a comfortable position.
Not that she was not eternally grateful for this little blessing. Especially now. When she had felt lost and adrift for the first time in her life, this baby had given her existence purpose and meaning.
She knew too how incredibly lucky she had been. Most women her age took months, years to conceive. She had managed it in a single night.
She shook her head as she lifted a cup of the nasty herbal tea that Guadalupe had recommended she drink to help her body prepare for this birth. There was not enough sugar in the whole state of Texas to make this stuff palatable. Maybe she would discuss that metaphor with her shrink at their next video session.
Her life had changed so much in the last nine months. None of this was how she planned it. Which was why she had gone back into 'therapy.'
She looked around her small, but neat little wooden frame house. Who would have ever thought she would be back here? Sebida, Texas. When she graduated high school two decades ago, she had run so far and so fast from this place. And until nine months ago, she had never looked back.
It was incongruous the twists that her life had taken. She fought back those tears once more, swallowing the bitter bile that rose in her throat every time she thought about him. Ryan Ranger. Her baby's father. Backstabbing, supercilious, duplicitous bastard.
But would she have done any different? The woman that she had been then, anyway. That hardened, career-driven, self-sanctimonious bitch was a far-sight from who she had become these past few months.
That morning played like some bad movie in her mind. His only answer had been, "It's just a job." Whether that was his justification for his actions or some paltry offer of condolence, she never knew.
Laura had gathered her composure along with her personal laptop and the few belongings in her temporary office. She had been able to fit them all into the over-sized purse she carried. With her head held high, she had left the building without another word to the man or a backward glance. She had gone back to her hotel room and packed. She had opened her laptop to book a flight to Houston.
Then, she realized there was nothing back there for her. She had no job. No apartment. She could not even count the few people, who had kept in touch over the past few months with likes, emojis, and the occasional comment on social media, as friends. She had even gone so far as to sell her car before this temporary move. Nothing and no one was tying her to the city that she had called home for two decades.
But where did she belong? What would she do next? And the most pressing question at the time, where did she go?
As she sat on the plane for ten hours, a plan had begun to form. By the time she stepped off it at George Bush, she knew exactly what she was doing. For the next week anyway.
She had rented a car, found a Mexican restaurant, and stuffed her face as full as her stomach would allow. Even though it was after nine by the time she finished, she drove straight through. It was only a couple of hours after all.
It was almost midnight when she drove up to the small trailer just outside of town, on the wrong side of the train tracks. Her courage had faltered then. She questioned what insanity had pushed her to come back to this place. Of all the places on the earth that she could have gone, why here?
She was just about to start the car and drive off again when her baby sister, wearing a ridiculous t-shirt style nightgown that said 'Book Boyfriends are the best,' appeared on the front porch. Mercy had squealed, and her mother had come running in an equally outrageous nightgown that proclaimed 'Life is what you make it.'
The die was cast. That was how Laura found herself back in Sebida, Texas. Well, sort of.
She leaned her head back against the cushion that her mother had sewn for the antique rocker. Her hand still resting on her baby mound, she closed her eyes and welcomed the brief respite of a nap. Even if it were filled with lustful fantasies of the man, she should hate, but could not bring herself to do.
***
Ryan sat behind the wheel of the rental SUV. Less than eight hours ago, he had been comfortably ensconced in a safe house, deep in the woods of Vermont. Waiting there for Gerald McBride and the rest of his cronies to go to trial would be no hardship.
What he was going to do with the rest of his life was another matter altogether. He had been in hiding for two months as the agency built its case against the men. He had nothing to do but fish and ponder his future. He had not had much luck at either.
In all those weeks, he still had not managed to get her out of his mind. In one brief night, Laura Valeria Garcia-Reynolds had gotten under his skin in a way that no woman ever had. She was in his blood, and as scary as it was to admit, his head and heart too.
So, when his handler from the agency began to ask questions about just how much the woman might know about the money trail they had been unable to trace fully, Ryan had been more than happy to volunteer to find out those answers.
Now, that seemed like a bad idea. Their parting had been anything but ideal. What made him think that the woman would share anything she knew with him? If she knew anything, at all.
A one night stand, followed by being the hatchman who destroyed her dream career, hardly engendered him as someone she would trust.
But Ryan would take any opportunity he could to see her just one more time. He had been seeking a way to renew their acquaintance for weeks. His every dream filled with memories of that night, fantasies of the things they had not done, but would.
Though, he had been careful to avoid too close an examination of the other - whatever that other sense had been. Ryan dealt with facts, theories, and practicalities. Not in some sixth sense, other-worldly shit. He left that stuff for Grandfather and his cousin Rex, their natural, or more accurately super-natural side, gave them a much better perspective on such things.
But warm, fuzzies aside, that night had been unforgettable. And he had tried. Every single day - and night - for the past nine months. He still could not get her out of his mind or heart. It was as if in the short space of a few hours, the woman had stolen some part of him. Of his soul - if such a thing existed.