The Professional Alibi

Chapter 18: Quit Being An Idiot

Tex's smile widens, if that's possible, and he inclines his head, tipping his baseball cap to me. "The one and only."

"C'mon in. Wade is in the kitchen."

Wade pokes his head around the corner. He has garlic in one hand, and a knife in the other. "Hey, man!"

Tex brushes past me, a little closer than necessary. He turns, stopping in the doorway, with our chests touching and his hands at my waist. He smells earthy, mixed with soap and citrus. Tex looks down my shirt, then locks eyes with me, grinning. His voice takes on a southern twang and deepens. "So you're my girlfriend, huh?"

Something akin to revulsion mingled with fear, trickles down my spine, then settles in my stomach, leaving a nasty taste in my mouth. I remove his hands from my waist and step away from him. "Not yet I'm not."

I stride to the safety of the kitchen where Wade is cooking. Tex chuckles behind me.

"Need any help?" I ask Wade.

He looks up, glancing at Tex, who is now man-spreading in the middle of my couch with both arms stretched wide over the back of the seat. Then Wade glances back at me. "Something wrong?"

I refuse to give Tex the satisfaction of catching me looking at him. "I'm not sure yet."

Wade darts another glance at Tex then nods. He shoves a freshly washed head of lettuce and a bowl over to me. "Can you tear this into bite-sized pieces for the salad?"

"Absolutely." Making salad is a small price to pay to avoid being alone with Tex.

"Tex, why don't you set the table?" Wade motions to the table with his chin. "There's an extra chair in the closet by the front door."

Tex grumbles something I don't understand, gets to his feet, then saunters to the closet and grabs the chair, bringing it to the table. Then he walks up behind me and rests his hand on my waist again, precariously close to my butt.

I stiffen. Wade notices Tex's hand and his nostrils flare, but his face remains neutral. "The plates and cups are in the cupboard behind me. Silverware's in the drawer next to the sink."

"What are we having?" I ask, breathing in the scent of garlic and chicken. "It smells delicious."

Wade's gray eyes rest on mine again. "Tuscan chicken and a green salad. I hope you like it."

I pull in another lungful of the scent and groan. "Not a problem. My mouth is already watering."

A smile tickles his mouth. He wets his lips with his tongue. "Thanks. I like to cook. It relaxes me."

"Seriously?" I say, my brows rising. "If you ever need to relax you are welcome at my place anytime. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, or dessert. I'm especially fond of desserts."

Wade chuckles and he looks up at me again, his eyes taking in my face. "I might take you up on that. Though I'm not good at desserts. That's more of Xander's thing, but don't tell him I told you. I'll deny it to the death."

"Who's Xander?" I cock my head, cataloging the names and profiles I've memorized so far. I nudge my bowl full of bite-size lettuce back to him. "Is he new?"

"He'll be here soon. He needs to tie up some loose ends first." Wade pulls several items from the fridge and the cupboard, tossing them into the salad until he has a colorful masterpiece filled with several kinds of veggies, bacon bits, and croutons.

"Mmmm," I say, rubbing my hands together, then grabbing the bowl and cradling it against my chest. "What are you guys gonna eat?"

Tex finishes setting the table and drapes an arm over my shoulder, plucking a crouton from the bowl in front of me, precariously close to where the glass touches my chest. He pops it in his mouth. "If I didn't know that Wade's Tuscan chicken is to die for, I might offer to wrestle you for it. But you're off the hook tonight."