by Lyla Payne
He reaches out and squeezes my hand, just once, but the heat of his skin, followed by its absence, leaves me feeling cold. Not unsatisfied, and for some reason the brief interaction, tinged with sadness, gives me hope that we’re going to figure this out.
“You’re welcome.”
We head into Westies, and my step feels a bit lighter at having told him about Glinda. I know he’ll tell Mel, and that’s okay. That will make four people who know and believe me.
The cuts and scratches on my legs sting in the humid morning, but the gush of air-conditioning from inside the coffee shop soothes them. I breathe in deep, giving thanks to the gods of caffeine, and step to the counter.
It’s not until I order and turn to ferret out a table next to an outlet that I see Mel staring at me. At us, really.
She’s sitting by the window, a textbook open on her lap and a cup of what’s probably decaf tea steaming on the table in front of her, her belly really starting to show. It seems likely that she saw Will and I pull up together and watched the encounter as he helped me from the SUV, and by the expression on her face, she’s less than thrilled.
The tears gathering in her eyes burn in my chest like acid. I start to make my way across the coffee shop when the barista calls my name. By the time I grab my drink, say thank you, and turn back around, she’s gone.
I see the back of Will’s head slip through the front door, and can’t help watching as he catches up with her in the parking lot. They exchange some heated words but then climb into his truck and drive away, leaving me with an aching heart heavy with the worry that I’ve taken two steps back as far as mending fences in Heron Creek.
Chapter Seven
“Where on God’s green earth have you been?” Amelia snaps, not bothering to look up from the ancient computer that sits on the library’s front desk.
“Oh, you know, just making new friends up in the hills in case we ever have a moonshine emergency. The usual.”
She does glance up at that, and her eyes widen as they take in my disheveled appearance. She leaps to her feet and rushes over to me, her hands going a mile a minute over my injuries. “Grace, you know what happens when you mix with nature. There’s no way you’re not waking up with poison ivy tomorrow.”
“I’ll have Doc Jones give me a steroid shot on the way home.” I raise an eyebrow. “Did you not hear the part about moonshine?”
“It’s you, so I figured you’re just being colorful. Wrong?”
Fatigue tugs me toward the desk, and I flop into the chair she just vacated. “Wrong. Turns out Glinda’s been leading a double life for the better part of a decade. Bootlegging moonshine.”
“And you know this how?” Millie inquires, grabbing a rolling chair and easing down into it.
“Leo told me, and then this morning Glinda herself—well, at least a shade of herself—decided to show me her dead husband’s cabin in the woods, where I was greeted by a couple of lovely, gun-toting stereotypes.”
“Grace. Seriously. What on earth possessed you to drive out into the middle of nowhere and go for a hike on other people’s land? I swear, sometimes it seems like there’s not a single piece of gray matter between your ears.”
“I don’t know, okay? I was thinking that if I could figure out what Glinda wants from me then she’d go away and my life could resume. What’s left of it.”
“You’re turning moping into an Olympic sport. You’re dating a totally hot guy who seems to enjoy that you’re a kook, you’ve got a great new job with tons of freedom and the best housemate a girl could ask for.” She pins me with a look that says she’s had about enough of my whining. “So you’re being haunted. Deal with it.”
That cracks us both up, and laughing with Millie feels pretty awesome. Like with Will, being with Amelia reminds me of not only the girl I used to be but makes me feel as though becoming the woman I’d dreamed of being hasn’t turned into an impossible goal.
Maybe the bumps along my road—losing my mom, losing Grams and Gramps, stupid David cheating, and yes, the ghosts—are just challenges to get over or around. There has to be something on the other side, and although it feels like daring the universe to think this, it doesn’t seem as though it could be much worse.
Once Millie’s giggles are under control, her gaze falls to the Westies to-go cup in my hand, and she raises an eyebrow.
“What, the hillbillies wore you out so you needed to stop and grab a coffee even though you were already two hours late for work?”
Her sarcastic comment brings back the scene in the coffee shop, and the memory of Mel’s stricken look, her tears, kills what’s left of my mirth over the ridiculous turn my morning took.
Dread builds in my stomach and reaches tendrils into my limbs as I relay the rest of the day’s exploits, ending with Mel seeing Will and I get back into town together. Amelia’s expression goes through myriad changes during the tale—shock at Will showing up with a gun, awe that there are things about his life we don’t know, and sympathy over Mel’s untimely presence at Westies.
It occurs to me now that pretty much nothing about Clete and Big Ern—or anything else that happened in the woods—should amuse me. Not to mention they now know my name and that I’m from Heron Creek—where I live with my pregnant cousin.
Amelia’s voice knocks me out of the fear spiral that’s snacking on my higher brain function. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think Mel’s reaction was just because of you and Will showing up together.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re having money problems. He was out of work for almost a month after the whole being-stabbed thing, and you know she’s finishing up school, which is costing a fortune. They’re barely making ends meet right now, and that, combined with baby hormones, plus her insecurity over you being back in town—” She holds up a hand to cut off my protest. “It’s stressing her out, that’s all.”
“He works for the state, for Pete’s sake. Didn’t they give him disability?”
“It wasn’t enough, I guess. This is South Carolina. We don’t have any money.”
“And her mom won’t help?”
“I didn’t ask, but surely they’ve at least considered that option.”
The bells over the doors tinkle, tearing my thoughts from Will and Mel. My heart hurts that they’re struggling, that life can’t be easy for them after the summer’s upheaval. It sucks that he didn’t mention it today or that Mel hadn’t confided in me. More proof that our friendships are nowhere near back to normal.
Whatever that means.
“Good Lord above, Graciela. I leave you alone for three days and you do battle with nature again. What on earth have you done to those sexy legs this time?” Even though Beau’s shaking his head at me, the way his eyes rove my body from head to toe makes me hotter than the August sun.
“Mr. Mayor, it’s lovely to see you, as always,” Millie says. “I’m going to entrust my troublemaker of a cousin to you and go prepare for story time.” She strides from the room, a small, sad smile playing on her lips.
It’s crossed my mind more than once that watching my budding, if reluctant, romance with Beau might be hard for her, given the demise of her own marriage.
I turn to Beau, unable to stop a smile from stealing over my face despite the worry over my cousin. It’s like his presence can hold the bad feelings at bay, even if it’s impossible to make them disappear altogether. “Hey, handsome. I’m fine, just a few scrapes and scratches. Have a good story for you, though.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
He moves toward me, glancing over his shoulder at the front doors once to make sure we’re alone, then sweeps me up in his arms. Our mouths connect, his tongue parting my lips hungrily before diving in to taste me. One hand tangles in my hair, and the other tips my chin up while I cling to his neck for dear life.
It’s hard not to explode. It’s hard to stand up while the world spins, while the sweet taste of syrup and man coats my tongue. My lips tingle
when he pulls back, and the stars at the edge of my vision stick around for a good twenty seconds.
“My, you know how to kiss a woman,” I say, my voice tinny and faraway.
“I know how to kiss a woman I’ve been missing like hell for three days. A woman who I’m about ten seconds away from ravishing on this desk.” Hunger brews in his eyes like a storm, and they undress me until I tremble.
I’m less than ten seconds from ripping off my clothes and demanding he make good on those words, but we’re in the public library and my cousin is a room away.
Actually, if I know Millie, she’s just around the corner eavesdropping.
“I’m not against that idea, but it’s going to have to wait until later,” I manage, my head spinning. “I doubt Mr. Freedman the Second would approve, and neither would 98 percent of your constituents.”
“Who are the other 2 percent?” he asks, swallowing and straightening his tie. It makes me want to rip it off all the more, to get my hands in that perfectly gelled hair and mess it up.
“Come on. There are at least that many perverts in Heron Creek. I may have undershot.”
“Are you included in that 2 percent?” he asks, more playful now but with enough of a sizzling undercurrent to keep my stomach fluttering.
I step forward, tugging on his tie until he bends down, then nipping his bottom lip with a quick kiss. “I think you’ll find out for yourself soon enough. But for now, how about you take me to lunch and I’ll tell you all about my morning.”
Beau groans, a beautiful, lusty sound, then threads his fingers through mine. “If we must. But it better be a good story.”
“You have no idea.” He pushes open the library’s front door, and I think briefly about telling Amelia I’m leaving her alone again, but I know she heard our whole conversation, anyway. “Oh, and can we stop by Doc Jones’ office on the way? I need a shot.”
The expression I earn for that offhand statement makes my day.
“Jesus’ tits, Gracie, are you even trying?” Leo squints, his racket hanging at his side.
“What do you want from me, Leo? It’s hotter than Hades out here! The devil himself wouldn’t have run for that shot!”
He grumbles something else from the other side of the tennis court, too soft for me to hear. It’s probably better that way since he’s been berating me for my lackluster energy since halfway through the first set. I’d managed to win four games in that one, at least, but he’s about to skunk me now.
Normally, my competitive streak would burst forth, but it’s been a long day and my mind is too far from the little green ball that keeps whizzing past me. Exercise works as a distraction sometimes, but between almost getting shanghaied by hillbillies and the enticing visions of a naked Beau that haven’t gone away since he deposited me back at work a few hours ago, it’s not up to the task today.
The shellacking ends two games later, with Leo kicking my ass 6–4, 6–0. It’s embarrassing, because tennis has always been one of the few things I do well, but the thing about Leo is that his overconfidence in all areas of life means he’ll give me as many chances to redeem myself as I want.
Sweat slicks my body from head to toe, beading on my legs and stinging the red scratches I acquired this morning. It feels like there’s more water in my lungs than air, and salty drops cling to my eyelashes, threatening to fall into my eyes. Leo’s not faring much better, with his gray T-shirt stuck to every inch of his chest, back, and shoulders and his hair so wet it looks as though he just hopped out of the shower. But it’s not so bad on a guy.
I feel disgusting, and he looks like he could star in a Nike campaign.
He flops onto the bench next to the court, landing too close to my side for comfort. Not because he’s gross or unwanted but because it’s so fucking hot.
“So, Glinda was involved in moonshining after all,” he comments, toweling off his face and neck.
I nod and gulp a drink of water, then hold the icy bottle against my forehead. “Looks that way. She wasn’t involved in the day-to-day nitty-gritty, according to Will, but she was definitely reaping the benefits.”
“I can’t believe you went out there by yourself.” He shakes his head. “You’ve always been a bit of an idiot, of course, but this really takes the cake.”
I purse my lips at the insult. “Who was going to tag along? You?”
“What were you even doing? You said you had questions about who might have killed Glinda, but when I suggested her side business might have had something to do with it I didn’t expect you to run off trying to solve her murder on your own.”
It’s a harder decision this time than the last time, but I still don’t say anything about her ghost. “Right now I’m the only suspect in her murder. I just thought if I could give Travis another option he’d back off.”
“Right, but why not just tell the cops what I told you? Why go out there yourself?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. He doesn’t like me.”
“I can’t see how that’s possible,” Leo says with a smirk that makes me want to whack him over the head with my racket.
“I’ve tried telling you for years that you’re not funny. At all.”
“There goes my plan to move to Chicago and perform at Second City.” He takes a swig of red Gatorade, wipes his lips, and starts putting away his rackets and towels. “What did you say Will was doing out there in the woods?”
“Surveying,” I reply a little absently, my attention on a family of deer grazing near the trees outside the courts.
“Hm.”
The way he makes the noise, as though I’m lying, steals my attention from the wildlife. “What do you mean, hm?”
“I’m saying it sounds like he knows an awful lot about what’s going on out there for a guy who’s just stalking birds and making sure people don’t step on the precious plants.” Leo slides a gaze at me, full of suggestions he doesn’t seem to want to actually say aloud.
“You’re saying you think Will could be involved in what happened to Glinda?” Disbelief pushes my voice at least an octave higher. “He’s, like, the most straight-laced guy ever.”
Leo shrugs. “I know you’ve always seen him that way, but when we look backward the lenses tend to be a little rose colored and blurry. I’m making an observation.”
“An observation that Will’s involved in murder?” I snap, still unable to grasp the concept.
“Not necessarily. But there are plenty of people who have been paid to look the other way when it comes to illegal activities, historically speaking. I’m sure half the cops in the county are on the take so that operation keeps running smoothly.”
That gives me pause. The memory of my conversation with Millie whispers in my ear, buoys Leo’s absurd deduction. The Gayles are having money problems, and if I know Will, he feels responsible even though what happened with Mrs. LaBadie wasn’t his fault.
I rub at the remnants of the sticky, smelly dirt on the cover of my tennis racket, using the time to think. There had been a clump of the stuff on the backseat of my car and I’d plopped the racket right in it this morning. I had left the windows down, hoping against hope to air it out. Maybe raccoons or some other varmint was dragging it about.
My thoughts dismiss the tangent quickly, returning to Leo’s insinuations about Will. I can’t see him breaking the law, but conversely, I can see him doing absolutely anything necessary to provide for his family. And looking the other way doesn’t seem like a big deal. He said himself, at least in so many words, that what Clete’s doing is none of his business. But he was talking about moonshining, not murder.
Wasn’t he?
Gracie, it’s not your problem who murdered Glinda. You’re not a cop.
Leo’s watching me, maybe sees me considering his idea, and the gut instinct to defend my ex-boyfriend emerges in a glare. “Will would never do that. Ignore their business, maybe. But take money for it or keep his mouth shut if he knows what happened to Glinda? No.”
“Fine,
have it your way.”
We pack up our tennis gear, stowing balls and towels in bags that are going to stink to high heaven the next time we open them. I’m walking home since my car’s at the mechanic shop where AAA left it. Leo’s ancient, rusted truck sits alone in the empty parking lot.
“Same time on Monday?” he asks, slinging his stuff into the truck bed with a clang.
We’ve been exercising together pretty regularly. I’m having trouble finding the motivation these days, and Amelia and Mel are both out as far as partners. And no way am I looking stupid in front of Beau, who’s in excellent shape.
Leo is easy company, and with little to no stake in my life or decisions, he doesn’t waste time judging them. The smile he gives me, one that lights up his bright blue eyes, gives me an idea.
“Maybe you want to go out to Glinda’s old place with me? Poke around?”
His smile flips into a frown. “Given what you’ve relayed about your morning, I feel like that would be unwise.”
“Maybe. But when has that ever stopped us before?” Leo’s a good choice: he’s tough looking and rough enough around the edges that the moonshiners might take him for one of their own.
“I’ll think about it. Let me see if I can get ahold of Winnie. She might be able to give us some dirt or know something that will help if we run into your new friends again.” He gives me a hard look. “Do not go out there again alone. Being your knight in shining armor isn’t Will Gayle’s full-time job anymore, and those guys aren’t caricatures on some television show. They’re real, and they’re mean.”
“Yes, sir.” I salute, giving him a smile.
There’s no reason for him to worry. I have no desire to confront Cletus Raynard again, but there has to be a way to steer clear of angering him and get Glinda off my back, too.
As with Anne Bonny, the hairstylist’s insistence is making me not only curious but sympathetic. If she’s sticking around Heron Creek after her death, there must be a damn good reason. But after Anne’s reason nearly got me killed, I’m determined not to get caught with my pants down this time around.