That Night in Texas - Delores Fossen Page 0,17

though.

It was promising that she’d asked him to propose to her again. That meant she was at least thinking about saying yes. However, this call from the doctor might send her into an emotional tailspin no matter what the test results.

In the distance, Harley heard the sound of sirens, and he cursed. Sheriff Leyton Jameson was obviously on the way. The threat of a fight seemed to be gone. For now anyway. But they wouldn’t just be able to send Leyton on his merry way without giving him some kind of explanation as to what was going on. That meant slogging through all the messy details of Nadine and Marty’s affair when Harley didn’t care a rat about it. Not with what Amelia and he could be facing.

“Thank you,” Amelia murmured into the phone, barely loud enough for Harley to hear.

She ended the call, turned slowly back around, and her gaze zoomed right to him. That was all Harley needed to hurry to her. He definitely didn’t want an audience for this, and to the chorus of groans from everyone else in the yard, Harley led her back into his house. He couldn’t tell from her expression if the test had been positive or negative, but whatever the result, it could wait a few more seconds.

“Before you say anything,” he told her, “I want you to know that I’m in love with you.”

She’d already opened her mouth to say something, but Amelia paused, shook her head. “I’m not pregnant. The test confirmed it.”

Harley figured news like that would have caused some men to feel a whole lot of relief. He didn’t. And he thought Amelia was experiencing the same thing. He was almost positive there was disappointment in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. That was as far as he got because the sirens stopped blaring in front of his house, but the yelling started up again.

Hell. Judging from the cursing, threats and thuds, Marty and Patrick were now actually fighting.

“Let me take care of this, and then we’ll talk,” she whispered.

On a heavy sigh, Amelia went back outside, and Harley was right behind her. No way would he let her deal with this alone. Of course, there was no alone in this scenario since there were now even more people in his yard, including some guy with a camera. Probably the reporter that Amelia had spotted the day before.

Two of those people, Patrick and Marty, were indeed fighting. Or rather they were attempting to fight. There were punches being thrown, nearly all of which missed their targets unless Patrick was aiming at Marty’s elbow. Marty was mainly ducking, and considering there wasn’t a mark on him, he appeared to be doing a good job of it. Maybe he’d had lots of practice because Harley doubted this was the singer’s first experience with an irate husband.

“Stop them!” Nadine yelled.

Leyton was trying to do just that, and he got a punch on the shoulder for his efforts. A punch from Patrick that earned him a very badass glare from Leyton. Obviously, the sheriff had had enough, and he latched on to the back collars of both of the fighters’ shirts.

“If either of you tries to hit anybody again, I’ll bash your heads together,” Leyton warned them. “Then I’ll arrest you for being stupid.”

That stopped the attempted punches, but it didn’t cool tempers one bit. Marty and Patrick stood there, glaring and with their breaths snorting out like angry bulls.

“Now, using your inside voices and keeping the cursing to a minimum, tell me what’s going on here,” Leyton said, and despite his calm tone, no one in the yard mistook it for anything but an order from a cop.

Patrick went first. “She cheated on me.” He flung a finger at Nadine. “With him.” The finger got flung at Marty that time.

Nadine also got in on finger flings. She aimed hers at her husband. “He’s divorcing me.”

“Who are you people?” the reporter asked, earning him glowers, narrowed eyes and some cursing from everyone but Marty.

“They’re just some fans of mine,” Marty said. The man was smooth as spit, and he smiled at the reporter. “And you are?”

“Dan Deavers.” The reporter couldn’t have been more than twenty, and he grinned in a proud way that proved he was also an idiot. There was nothing about this situation that warranted a grin. “I do freelance work for a couple of magazines.”

In other words, a paparazzo out for a story. Sadly, he’d gotten one.

Proving that he was