by Cathie Linz
“Not as many as I used to,” Hunter replied. “A lot of them have moved away. Now there are only about fifteen or so left.”
“And I thought I came from a large family,” Gaylynn murmured with a shake of her head.
“I’m the odd one in the clan, without any brothers or sisters.”
“But you’ve got enough cousins to make up for that, and then some.”
“Did you notice the family resemblance?”
“I didn’t talk to them long enough to see if they were as full of blarney as you are,” Gaylynn retorted with a sassy grin.
“Is that any way to speak to a lawman?” he demanded.
His grin was as lawless as they came. Dressed in a light blue shirt and black jeans, it was easy for her to forget what he did for a living. Instead, she let herself be charmed by the humor in his eyes as he teased her about getting cobwebs in her hair while cleaning.
Three hours later, the cobwebs were all gone. After the worst of the dirt and grime had been taken care of, the front and back doors to the building had been left open to air the place out. The Ladies Auxiliary League had brought enough buckets and wood soap to transform the hardwood floor into a gleaming showpiece. The bookshelves had been likewise washed down and were ready for books. Vinegar had been applied to the glass windows until they shone.
“It’s starting to look good,” Gaylynn noted approvingly.
“I’ll tell you what’s looking good,” Darlene replied from beside her. “Hunter.” He and one of his young cousins were moving a bookcase on the other side of the library. Since the sun was heating things up considerably, both men had taken off their shirts. “If I weren’t a married woman.whew!” Darlene drew her arm across her forehead. “Lordy, Hunter has this sexy laid-back attitude that just about makes your insides melt, y’know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Gaylynn agreed, fanning herself with a paper towel. A second later she rubbed her itchy nose, no doubt caused by all the dust they’d stirred up today.
Seeing her, Darlene said, “Your nose bothering you? You know they say that an itching nose means you should expect company.”
Gaylynn was hoping she’d have company real soon—Hunter’s company. As if granting her wish, when the announcement came from outside that lunch was ready, Hunter tugged his shirt back on and joined her in line.
The picnic tables out front had been transformed into a veritable smorgasbord. Everyone had brought something—a hot covered dish of chicken and noodles or beef stew, homemade corn relish, sugar-cured ham, sausages, tomato salad, jugs full of freshsqueezed lemonade and at least five pies—three of them peach. Gaylynn noticed that Bo Regard had positioned himself beneath one of the picnic tables so that should any tasty morsels drop down, he wouldn’t have to move much to eat them.
While the volunteers ate, someone brought out a dulcimer and started playing it. The music, the everpresent mountains, the lush greenery lit by dappled sunlight, the sweet scent of flowers and freshly mowed grass, all conspired to create a scene of utter perfection. These people might not have all the latest conveniences or gold credit cards, but they had a strong sense of community and a love for the land that had gone sadly lacking in too many other places. Gaylynn had to blink away sudden tears. But they were happy tears, not sad ones.
“You okay?” Hunter asked, putting an arm around her shoulder as he scooted closer on the picnic bench they were seated on.
Gaylynn nodded. “You know I’ve heard bagpipers in Scotland and zithers in the Alps and now the dulcimer in the Blue Ridge—”
“And a fiddle,” Hunter said as Floyd picked up a lovingly battered-looking instrument and started to play.
“And each time I get a lump in my throat at the sheer beauty of it,” Gaylynn stated.
“Must be a girl thing,” Hunter decided.
Her elbow was in his rib cage before he knew what hit him.
“Sorry,” she said with a sassy smile that made him want to snatch her in his arms and kiss her. “You were saying?”
Hunter decided that, discretion being the better part of valor, he wouldn’t risk repeating his earlier comment.
He was rewarded for his prudence by having her ask him, “What are you doing tonight?”
“Working,” he replied. “Why?”
“How about tomorrow evening? Are you working then?
“No. Why?”
“I thought maybe I’d invite you to dinner at my place. A special dinner. Your favorite fried chiclen. What would you say to that?”
“Are you only maybe as in possibly-it-could-happen inviting me? Or is this a real, bona fide, honest-togoodness invitation?”
“The latter,” she replied.
“In that case, I accept.”
“Good,” she said briskly. “Come by at seven.”
By six fifty-five the next evening, Hunter was striding up the steps to her front door. Hell, he’d already killed ten minutes back at his own cabin by changing his shirt three times. He’d never been so flustered in all his life.
Which was ridiculous. It was just Gaylynn, he reminded himself as he straightened his tie before knocking on the door. “I’ll be right there. Hold on a minute,” he heard Gaylynn shout.
He shouldn’t have come five minutes early. He sat down in the rocking chair on the porch and tried to calm himself. It didn’t work. He watched the second hand on his watch ticking off the seconds and waited for Gaylynn to open the door.
What was going on? Getting up, he knocked again. “I’m coming!” she claimed.
A few seconds later the door opened and his jaw fell!
Eight
Gaylynn had been rushing around all afternoon, trying to prepare for this novel occasion. Little had gone right. She’d planned a special meal, but her first attempt at preparing it had gotten sidetracked when Blue had stolen a chicken leg off the table.
Unfortunately, the rest of the chicken—which Gaylynn had been trying to fry—had practically gone up in flames when she’d somehow gotten too much flour into the hot skillet. It had been all she could do to prevent the fire from spreading before she’d smothered it with a lid. As it was, she’d burned two kitchen towels to a crisp. There was no saving the chicken.
In all the commotion, it was only natural that Gaylynn forgot all about the pie that was in the oven. By the time she realized where the rest of the smoke was coming from, it, too, was a goner.
By then the cabin had smelled as badly as if it had gone up in smoke instead of the hapless meal. Gaylynn had thrown open all the windows and hastily waved her large sketch pad in the hope of creating a breeze. As luck would have it, the stiff wind of yesterday had completely disappeared.
Frantic now because she had nothing else to cook for dinner, and she’d promised Hunter fried chicken, Gaylynn had called the Lonesome Cafe and Hazel’s Hash House to see if they had take-out fried chicken. The former was closed on Sundays and the latter only served chicken on weeknights. But Ma Battle always did up a batch of fried chicken on Sundays they’d told her.
A call to Ma Battle had confirmed that. Desperate, Gaylynn had offered to buy the dinner, but Ma Battle had insisted on donating it “to the cause” as she put it.
Her hair still in rag curlers—because there hadn’t been time to mess with a curling iron, and besides, she’d left it back in Chicago—Gaylynn had hopped into her trusty red car. only to have it stall on her twice on the way down the hill.
Then she’d had to wait at the one-way cement bridge while some idiot tried to fish off it. Recognizing “the idiot” as Boone Twitty, she impatiently beeped her horn to hurry him along. With a grin and a wave, Boone just kept right on reeling in the fish he’d caught.
She’d finally made it to Ma Battle’s and even managed to load all the goodies for dinner without spilling anything.
“You might try waving the platter of fried chicken in the air a few times to make the place smell like you’ve been cooking up a storm,” the older woman suggested with a t
winkle in her eyes.
“It already smells like I’ve been cooking up—a firestorm,” Gaylynn replied in exasperation.
“And mess up the kitchen a mite to make it look like you slaved in it all day.”
“Trust me, the kitchen is already messed up,” Gaylynn declared. “I’m just lucky it didn’t burn to a crisp the way my dinner did.”
“Now don’t you worry none, that happened to me on more than one occasion when I was young,” Ma Battle said. “You just do what I did, smile sweetly and rub a little chicken grease behind one ear. Here’s the last of it,” she said, handing over a bowl of mashed potatoes. “I wrapped everything in aluminum foil to keep it hot for you.”
“But what are you going to eat?”
“Now don’t you worry about me none. I aim on eating the rest of the ham I made last night.”
“Thanks,” Gaylynn said, giving the woman a grateful hug. “You’re a real sweetie to help me out this way. You’re sure I can’t pay for it. ?”
“Nonsense. You and Hunter have a nice time.”
Gaylynn made it home by six-forty five. The dinner was safely covered on the counter; the cats were sacked out on the bed, their little and not-so-little tummies filled with a can of tuna fish.
Now it was time for Gaylynn to replace her work clothes with a very special outfit. The button-front jacquard dress was the essence of romance, or so the salesclerk had told her when Gaylynn had bought it last year. The tea-rose color suited her, while the cap sleeves and full, ankle-sweeping skirt made her feel elegant and confident.
Actually, she had no idea how the dress had ended up in her suitcase. It wasn’t something she’d planned on bringing, but somehow it had shown up in the tumble of casual clothes she’d tossed into her bag. Maybe it was destiny. Or even a bit of Rom magic. Whatever, the dress was perfect for what she had in mind for this evening. Seduction!
She’d barely tugged the dress over her head when she heard a knock at the front door. Oh, no, Hunter was early!
“I’ll be right there,” she called out. “Hold on a minute.”
Gaylynn had done her makeup before leaving for Ma Battle’s, thank goodness, but she still had those darned rag curlers wrapped up in her hair. Working at the speed of light, she undid them, letting her hair fall into curly disarray. Yanking up her long skirt, she dashed into the bathroom to check her appearance. It would have to do, she decided while hastily brushing her hair as best she could. The natural look was in, right?
Another knock on the door. “I’m coming,” she said.
As she passed by the Rom box, Gaylynn paused to open it and remove the medallion from inside. Feeling the need of a little courage, she pinned it on her dress for good luck before taking a deep breath and opening the door.
Hunter stared at her. Instead of looking at her with that customary gleam of humor in his eyes—which often made her wonder if he was laughing at her or trying to seduce her—his expression was one of astonished wonder.
Her heart sank. Had she gotten too dressed up for the occasion? Was she making a total idiot of herself? Were her intentions written all over her face as boldly as the lipstick she’d had to reapply four times before she’d gotten it on right?
Well, too bad if Hunter was astonished, she decided. She wasn’t about to back out now. Not after all the trouble she’d gone to!
Taking him by the arm, she tugged him inside—just in case he got any ideas of taking off. “You’re early.”
“You’re gorgeous,” Hunter said huskily, his mountain drawl even more apparent than usual.
Instead of being flustered by his compliment, Gaylynn gained courage from it. “Thank you,” she replied.
“Something smells good,” he added.
“The fried chicken?” she suggested hopefully.
“No, this smells more like.” He paused to sniff.
Don’t let him say burnt embers or charcoal, she prayed.
“Peaches,” he stated triumphantly.
“It might be the pie.” Ma Battle had added a peach pie along with the dinner.
Stepping closer, he murmured, “No, it’s your hair.”
Gaylynn had almost forgotten the peach shampoo and shower gel she’d used earlier. Apparently, it worked better on Hunter than Ma Battle’s suggestion of a little chicken grease might have, she noted with silent humor.
Seeing Gaylynn’s secret smile, Hunter was hardpressed not to yank her into his arms and kiss her senseless. She looked all peaches and cream in that dress. Her skin was slightly flushed, her lipstick glossy and wet—making him long to see if she tasted as goodas she looked.
But she was already bustling away toward the kitchen. “Dinner is ready now, if you’re ready to eat?” she asked.
“I’m ready,” Hunter muttered hoarsely.
She got the impression he wasn’t talking about eating. Good! Judging by his initial reaction to her appearance, step one in her seduction plan had worked. She’d made an impression, or at least the dress had. She’d deliberately left half the buttons on the dress’s full skirt undone, allowing her to flash a great deal of leg as she sauntered back and forth from the kitchen to place Ma Battle’s excellently prepared meal on the table.
“Is that everything we’ll need?” she asked, trying to remember if she’d forgotten anything.
Draping a paper napkin over his lap, as much to hide his reaction to Gaylynn’s shapely thighs as for etiquette’s sake, Hunter tried not to stare at her partially undone dress.
Should he mention the fact that half the buttons were unfastened? Was that his fault, because he’d surprised her by showing up a bit early? If so, he wasn’t about to point it out. She might take it into her head to button up those buttons, and frankly, he was enjoying the view much too much to have her do that at this point.
“Would you prefer a thigh or a breast?” she asked.
His eyes went from Gaylynn’s shapely legs to her equally shapely chest. The dress’s sweetheart neckline gave him a partial view of the shadowy valley between her breasts. His nostrils flared at the scent of peaches drifting from the warmth of her skin.
“Thigh or breast?” she repeated.
“Both look great,” he replied, his gaze remaining fixed on her body and not the food she was offering. “Downright mouthwatering, in fact.”
“I’m so glad you think so,” she said with a smile before bending over to slide two pieces of chicken on his plate—one breast and one thigh.
The possibility that she’d purposely left those buttons undone was definitely starting to occur to him. Was this her way of showing her appreciation for the way he’d supposedly helped her? Gaylynn had never been one to let a debt go unpaid.
“How’s your chicken?” she asked him.
He had to sample a bite before replying. “Fine. Great!”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Tastes remarkably like Ma Battle’s fried chicken,” he said appreciatively. “And she makes the best fried chicken in the state.”
“Does she?” Feeling as if she was getting into slippery ground, she changed the subject. “So how was work today?”
“Fine. We had a little excitement last night, but then that’s to be expected on a Saturday night.”
Her heart sank. “What happened?”
“There was a call about a disturbance, a bunch of guys had a little too much to drink. They were in the middle of the street, shouting and arguing. Most of them dispersed when I showed up and told them to go on home, but one guy was being a real pain in the butt. The disturbance was in front of his house, so basically all he’d done was go stand in his front yard and keep yelling. I told him to go inside or I’d arrest him.”
“And then what happened?”
“He went inside, only to open the downstairs window, lean out and begin shouting obscenities again. Bragged about how he was safe because he was inside his house and no one could do anything about it. He was raising all kinds of Cain, waking all the neighbors up. Finally I’d had
it.”
“What did you do?”
“Walked up to the guy, grabbed him by his shirtfront and dragged him out through the open window. ‘Appears to me you’re outside now,’ I told him, before arresting him.”
“Isn’t that illegal or something?”
“No, it’s happens once a month with this guy. It’s like a ritual we go through. It’s Bobby Ray’s idea of entertainment.”
Not knowing what to say, Gaylynn just smiled and fingered the medallion she wore. Her actions drew his attention once again to the sweetheart neckline of her dress. Touching the medallion lessened her uneasiness and increased her sassiness. Discreetly throwing back her shoulders, she leaned forward and huskily asked, “So, would you care for another breast?”
Hunter wondered what she’d do if he just reached out and caressed her breast. before cursing himself as a mannerless fool. She hadn’t fingered that strange pin she was wearing on purpose, had she? To get his attention? She was just being polite. Wasn’t she?
There was a certain gleam in her eye that made him wonder.
After dinner, she served coffee and slices of peach pie on the coffee table in front of the couch. She’d put a blue-and-white gingham cover over the piece of furniture, which made it look downright cozy. Despite that, there was no denying the fact that the center cushion was dented, rolling Hunter and Gaylynn toward each other. But for once she was glad of the couch’s strange idiosyncracies.
With every minute that passed, Gaylynn felt more and more confident about her decision to seduce Hunter. He was the man she’d been saving herself for all these years. In light of the embrace they’d shared in front of the library the other day, and his reaction to her tonight, she decided there was a darn good chance that he was attracted to her, as well.
Brushing her shoulder against his as she leaned forward to replace her coffee cup on the table, she was delighted to feel the heat of his body and the slight quickening of his breath.
She was getting to him! Hallelujah!
The distant sound of thunder reverberating across the mountains echoed the pounding of her heart.