Baby, Don't Go

by Stephanie Bond

  Marcus squinted. “Hmm?”

  “Our snoring,” Kendall prompted. “It never bothered you before.”

  “Well, it does now. When are you two idgets going to get your houses built so you can move out of the bunkhouse?”

  His brothers exchanged glances, then squirmed.

  “Soon.”

  “We’re going to break ground sometime after Homecoming weekend.”

  Marcus nodded, keeping his doubts to himself. He took another deep drink from his cup, hoping the caffeine would kick in.

  Looking back on last night, Alicia had been the one who’d pulled him into her room. And considering her stash of condoms, the woman probably had many lovers. It would explain why she’d been so skilled at drawing him out afterward. She’d sounded interested in what he was trying to do here. For a while, he’d actually considered telling her how much pressure he felt to meet the federal deadline and to make the town succeed. Until she’d made it sound as if he was trying to start his own cult.

  “That young girl, Betsy Hahn, is doing a great job on the website for Homecoming,” Porter remarked.

  “She says we have over three thousand friends on our social media page,” Kendall added.

  Marcus shook his head. “I have no idea what that means.”

  “It means we need to be prepared for a bigger crowd than we expected,” Porter said.

  “Amy and I are going to stake off more areas for parking along the road leading into town,” Kendall said. “I’ll peel off a crew to start clearing the lots. Oh, and Porter has good news.”

  Marcus looked at their younger brother. “What?”

  “The fabricated pieces for the church will be here today.”

  Porter’s tone didn’t exactly connote good news, but Marcus assumed he was preoccupied with a pending proposal. “Good. Did you extend a contract to the minister?”

  “Yes…and he accepted on the spot.” Porter made a rueful noise. “I hope we’re not making a mistake.”

  “Because of the stuttering thing?” Marcus asked.

  His brothers nodded.

  “I’d hate to see Emory and Shelby’s vow renewal ceremony turn into something awkward,” Porter said.

  “Seems to me the most important thing is what Emory and Shelby will be saying to each other,” Marcus offered.

  His brothers shot him surprised expressions.

  “I’m just saying.” He lifted his cup for another drink and frowned. Now he was parroting Alicia?

  A woman who’d hinted he was a chauvinist pig? Just because Alicia Waters didn’t plan on getting married didn’t mean she had to pass judgment on an entire town because the current living arrangements were a little traditional for her tastes.

  “Refills?”

  At the sound of Alicia’s voice near his ear, Marcus jumped. He looked up to see her standing there, wearing a tight apron over shorts and a tank top, holding a coffeepot and extending a group-encompassing smile.

  Just as if nothing special had transpired between the two of them yesterday.

  “Sure,” Porter said, scooting his cup closer. Kendall did the same.

  “Tony’s doing a great job,” Alicia told Kendall, nodding to where the boy vigorously bussed a table across the room. “He’s a joy to have around.”

  Kendall looked pleased at her praise for his son.

  She turned to Porter. “And Nikki was a dear to look me over yesterday after I had a little accident here in the diner.”

  Porter beamed with pride. “She’s a gem. Hope you’re feeling better.”

  “Oh, yes, thanks. It was just a bump.”

  After she topped off their cups, she leveled her gaze on Marcus, her brown eyes wide and innocent. “Refill, boss?”

  He set his jaw. “I’ll pass.”

  “Don’t mind him,” Porter offered. “Marcus didn’t get any sleep last night.”

  One delicate dark brow arched. “Really? That’s too bad. Everything here is under control if you need to go take a nap.”

  Porter snorted into his cup, and Kendall bit back a smile.

  Marcus frowned up at her. “I don’t take naps.”

  “No?” She gave him an artless smile. “I feel like I get to know you better every day.” She flapped her big long eyelashes, then flitted to the next table.

  Marcus realized his brothers were watching him. “What?” he barked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Just enjoying my fresh coffee, bro.”

  He lifted his cup for another drink, but it was empty. He set it on the table with a thud. “How are things at the city hall site?” he asked Kendall.

  “Ready to break ground today,” Kendall said, then he snapped his fingers. “That reminds me, Marcus—don’t forget the ribbon-cutting ceremony this afternoon for the opening of the bank.”

  “I’ll leave that to you,” Marcus said. “I’m going to hang the Homecoming banner like I promised Rachel, and while the fire truck is out, I figure it’s a good time to set fire to that burn pile in the meadow.”

  “You going to get Alicia’s help with that one?” Porter asked.

  Kendall grinned at Porter. “Good one.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “You two are a riot, you know that?”

  “Any word from the D.O.E. rep?” Kendall asked.

  “Nothing yet,” Marcus said. “He should be here any day.”

  “The diner will get high marks this time,” Porter said, looking around the bustling place.

  “I’d feel better if we had a dedicated cook,” Marcus said. “Will one of you ask Regina Watts to place an ad?”

  “Will do,” Kendall said, then checked his notes. “What else can we tick off today?”

  Marcus tapped his finger on the table. “Could you ask Dr. Devine to recommend the best environmentally safe way to treat the boardinghouse for pests?”

  Kendall blinked. “Since when are you interested in anything that goes on at the boardinghouse?”

  Marcus shifted in his chair. “I heard they might have a scorpion problem.”

  Kendall nodded slowly. “Sure, I’ll look into it.”

  Porter pushed back from the table. “I’d better get to the church site.”

  “Before you go…” Marcus looked back and forth between his brothers, then he leaned in to keep his voice low. “Do you think Sweetness has a patriarchal culture?”

  Kendall stared, and Porter looked utterly bewildered.

  “I’m outta here,” Porter said, then he fled.

  The way Kendall was looking at him, Marcus was seriously regretting saying anything. “Forget it.”

  “You okay, bro?” Kendall asked.

  “Just tired.” Marcus rubbed his eyes.

  “You’ve been working too hard. Why don’t you take a break sometime today and see if anything’s biting at Pop’s fishing hole?”

  Marcus nodded. “I might do that.”

  “Good,” Kendall said, eyeing him with concern. “I’m worried about you.”

  Marcus waved him off. “I’m fine.”

  When Kendall walked away, Marcus angled another glance toward Alicia. She was laughing at something one of the male customers at the counter had said, and looking way too sexy for her coffeepot.

  Marcus ground his teeth. He was fine…he was always fine.

  21

  Alicia laughed at a comment made by a man sitting at the counter, but she was having a hard time keeping her mind on work this morning because Marcus crowded every corner of her brain.

  “What’s your name?” the man asked. He was nice-looking—bald and muscular. And he had a friendly, refreshing vibe.

  “Alicia Ran—” She stopped herself just in time. “Er…Waters. Alicia Waters.”

  “I’m Clancey King. Nice to know you. Are you from around here?”

  “The Northeast,” she said vaguely. “You?”

  “Atlanta. I read about Sweetness on the internet, thought I’d come up and take a look around. How do you like living here?”

&nb
sp; Her mind raced. It was probably best not to say she desperately missed gourmet coffee, hot yoga and intellectual stimulation. She forced a smile. “It’s simple here.”

  He pursed his mouth. “I could go for simple.”

  Alicia left him to his pancakes and perused the morning diners. Scott Bloom had returned today and thankfully no scuffles had broken out. Teri seemed to have won the wishbone because she was gushingly attentive while a red-eyed Gina ignored the couple. Alicia felt sorry for her, but was determined to observe and not interfere.

  At the end of the counter, Rachel Hutchins took a seat and pulled what looked like a bundle of mail out in front of her. She smiled at Alicia expectantly. Alicia glanced around for a waitress she could send to take the woman’s order, but they were occupied. She’d gone out of her way to avoid Rachel, but at the moment she had no choice but to be friendly.

  Alicia excused herself and made her way down the counter. “Hi,” she offered to Rachel. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Grapefruit juice would be great,” Rachel said, then she squinted. “Your eye looks bruised.”

  Alicia smiled. “I fell yesterday—no big deal. I thought I’d done a good job this morning covering it with makeup.”

  “You did,” Rachel said, still staring. “I’m just very observant.”

  Alicia managed to maintain her smile. “I’ll get your juice.” She walked to the chilled pitchers and poured the woman’s drink. “Observant” Rachel Hutchins made her nervous.

  And when she returned to set down the drink, her pulse shot even higher. Rachel was unrolling the current issue of Feminine Power magazine. If she turned to the Undercover Feminist column and noticed Alicia’s picture and byline, she might recognize her and realize why Alicia was in Sweetness.

  Alicia wanted to kick herself for not using a different first name.

  “Thanks,” Rachel said, picking up the juice glass. “And a bowl of oatmeal with fruit.”

  “Coming up,” Alicia said.

  While she supervised orders and chatted with Clancey King, she kept one anxious eye on the blonde, who seemed to scrutinize every page of the magazine. She even produced a yellow highlighting marker and underlined passages.

  Great, Alicia thought—the magazine’s most devoted reader lived in Sweetness, Georgia.

  Was it her imagination, or was Rachel giving her curious looks?

  To make matters worse, Marcus walked by and Rachel flagged him down. Soon the two of them were immersed in conversation, with Rachel doing most of the talking. Alicia tried not to stare, but more than once, she caught Marcus’s gaze over the blonde’s shoulder. Then he walked away from Rachel and made a beeline for Alicia.

  Perspiration beaded her hairline. Had Rachel figured out who she was, and shared her revelation with Marcus? Was she about to be outed?

  Marcus stopped. “Could we have a word in private?”

  Her throat convulsed—he didn’t look pleased. “Sure,” she said, then turned and walked into the kitchen.

  Tony was mopping the floor, and Marcus asked him to take a bucket of scraps to the compost bin. Alicia gnawed on her thumbnail—noticing how badly she needed a manicure only made her more antsy. When Tony was gone, Marcus turned back to her. “Something just came to my attention.”

  “Oh?”

  He reached into a folder he held and removed what looked like a computer-generated message. “Your social security number was kicked back as invalid.”

  Was he leading up to exposing her? She put on her best mask of incredulity and reached for the piece of paper. “That’s impossible. Oh, wait—two of the numbers are transposed.”

  After what seemed like an interminable pause, he nodded agreeably and gestured to the computer. “Will you fix it in the payroll system when you can and resubmit it?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, exhaling deeply when she realized her cover hadn’t been blown after all.

  “And…” He shifted from foot to foot, then withdrew a small bottle from his pocket and handed it to her.

  Alicia squinted at the homemade label. “Cedar oil?”

  “It’s supposed to repel scorpions. A local man, Riley Bates, makes his own concoctions. Kendall is looking into having the boardinghouse treated, but until then, I thought it might make you feel…better.”

  Surprise flowered in her chest, flustering her. “Thank you.” She unscrewed the lid and sniffed the aromatic contents. The scent was pleasant, if a little strong. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

  “Rub it on,” he said, then his face reddened. “I mean, like perfume, if you don’t mind the smell.”

  She replaced the lid. “This was nice of you.”

  He lifted his hands as if to deny her description of nice. “I just want everyone in my patriarchal town to feel safe.”

  She smirked, but gave him credit for good humor. The man confounded her. Hadn’t she been furious with him just last night…and angry still this morning? How did Marcus Armstrong manage to make her feel so many conflicting things at once?

  “I’d better get going,” he said. “I promised Rachel I’d hang a banner across the street today, and I need to take care of some other things to get ready for Homecoming weekend. But I’ll be around if you need me.” He balked. “I mean, if anything goes wrong.”

  Before she could respond, he was gone.

  The exchange left her feeling sideswiped…and strangely privileged, as if she’d seen a side of Marcus Armstrong that few people had been privy to. For all his swagger and sway, the man obviously struggled with expressing himself.

  Was the cedar oil his idea of a peace offering for their tense words last night?

  Alicia bit her lip. She was starting to rethink the blog entry she’d sent to Nina this morning, with her brittle appraisal of the town leader’s opinion of traditional male and female roles. True, he was old-fashioned, but the man had redeeming qualities.

  She fingered the cloudy bottle. Its labeling and appearance were downright primitive when compared to the pots and jars from exclusive cosmetic counters that littered her vanity at home. Yet it seemed special…

  Alicia gave herself a mental shake and tucked the bottle into her apron pocket. She couldn’t lose sight of why she’d come to Sweetness in the first place—and that she’d be leaving as soon as Nina felt she had enough material. Leaving to return to the fast-paced urban lifestyle she enjoyed.

  And she’d never set foot in Sweetness again.

  With new resolve, Alicia walked back into the diner and eyed Rachel at the end of the counter, still poring over Feminine Power magazine. Any minute now the woman might turn to the Undercover Feminist column and make the connection.

  While Alicia’s mind raced, a slender bespectacled man whom she recognized from the clinic as Dr. Cross walked up and lowered himself onto the stool next to Rachel, giving her an adoring smile. But it was clear from Rachel’s body language that she didn’t welcome the doctor’s company. Alicia surmised the woman was still dating the hunky scientist. She felt sympathy for Dr. Cross, but she was hopeful he’d keep Rachel distracted for a few minutes.

  Alicia ladled oatmeal into a bowl and picked up a side dish of fresh fruit. Then she walked to the end of the counter and set it down, giving the glass of juice a nudge in the process. “Here you go—oh!”

  The sticky liquid rushed over the magazine and counter. Rachel jumped up to spare her summer dress, raising her arms. “Ugh!”

  “Are you okay?” Dr. Cross asked. But in trying to right the glass, he managed to toss the rest of the juice onto the front of Rachel’s dress.

  Rachel shrieked.

  “I’m so sorry,” Alicia said, grabbing a handful of paper towels to mop up the mess.

  “Me, too.” Dr. Cross removed a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the front of Rachel’s dress, but his well-meaning hands were promptly slapped away.

  “I’ll do it! Go away.”

  Alicia watched as the man relinquished his handkerchief, the
n slunk away, crushed. Feeling complicit, she squashed a pang of guilt, then scraped the saturated magazine and towels into a waste can. “I’ll replace your magazine. And of course breakfast is on me—as well as the dry cleaning.”

  Rachel gave a rueful laugh. “We don’t have a dry cleaner, but thanks.” She looked longingly after the magazine, then smiled. “It’s okay. Now that I’m in a relationship, I don’t like that magazine as much anyway.”

  Alicia blinked. “Why not?” Then she caught herself. “I mean…what kind of magazine is it?”

  “It’s one of those strident, man-hating women’s magazines, but they have great business articles.”

  Alicia bit her tongue to keep from blurting the virtues of all aspects of the magazine she worked for. Instead she carried the waste can to the office, gratified that at least Rachel wouldn’t be able to identify her.

  She chatted more with Clancey, who planned to spend the day in Sweetness, hiking to the water tower and taking photographs. He said goodbye and hinted that he’d probably stop by again later. When he left, Alicia couldn’t help but think a little piece of sunshine had gone with the likable man.

  After that, even though she got the chance to talk to customers and gather more material for her blog, the day seemed to drag. She ruefully admitted that she missed jockeying for space at the grill next to Marcus and learning more about him, even though the man revealed himself one monosyllable at a time.

  After the lunch rush, she walked into the kitchen to find the juice-stained issue of Feminine Power magazine lying on a counter.

  Teri saw her do a double-take and offered, “You know how strict we are about recycling around here. Someone fished it out of the garbage and set it out to dry before it goes into the paper bin.” She nodded toward the large blue recycle bin brimming with newspapers, cardboard and paper plates from yesterday’s stopgap measure when the dishwasher had broken down.

  Noble, Alicia acknowledged, but she couldn’t risk someone else flipping through the magazine. When Teri left, Alicia skimmed the table of contents and turned to the page with her column that had sustained almost no damage. Even though she was wearing her hair differently, anyone would know it was her.

  She tore out the page and glanced around the desk looking for a paper shredder, but didn’t see one. She did, however, spy a box of matches that someone had left lying on the counter. And the empty waste can under the desk was metal. Alicia looked over her shoulder then carried the wastebasket outside. Considering her history with fire, no way was she going to start one indoors.