Home at Last Chance

by Hope Ramsay

  Bill laughed. He was working beside Hettie, pulling down kudzu like a he-man. She turned toward him in time to see him trying to smother his grin. “I heard that,” she said. “And what do you think is so funny?”

  “Guess I’m off the hook,” he said as he tugged on a stubborn vine. Laugh lines flashed for just a moment on his left cheek.

  He was devastatingly handsome, all the more so dressed in worn secular garb that fit his body well. He was a little bit sweaty and didn’t look at all like a preacher in that T-shirt. But then, Hettie was hardly dressed like a Queen Bee.

  Something about the casual clothing made the moment feel naughty and forbidden.

  She turned away and tried to collect her wits. She needed to put distance between herself and Bill Ellis. It was simply not right to find the pastor of Christ Church so attractive. She picked up the heavy lopping shears and cut the vine he was tugging.

  He tossed the severed vine into the debris pile, then captured her attention with his 3,000-watt blue eyes. “Don’t be so shocked, Hettie. I live in Last Chance, and you can’t live in this town without knowing about Miriam Randall’s various matrimonial projects.” The corner of his mouth quivered as if he were struggling to keep a straight face.

  “Well, it would appear she’s gotten it wrong, for once.” Probably because Miriam had made the whole thing up. But Hettie wasn’t about to give away Miriam’s secrets.

  Bill looked over his shoulder at Sarah and Tulane. They had just stepped apart, but anyone with eyes could tell the two of them were burning up for one another.

  He looked back. “Well, I don’t think I’d want to get between those two, right at the moment, regardless of what Miriam might have to say. Besides, Sarah is not the woman for me. She’s way too corporate.”

  Hettie pulled the brim of her big, floppy hat down so Bill couldn’t see the relief that probably showed on her face. Feeling relief was not a good thing. She should be trying to find Bill a proper wife, like all the rest of the Ladies Auxiliary.

  He turned back to the vines and started pulling down another one. “I guess I’ll have to continue to deal with Lillian Bray’s matchmaking,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “Although, to be honest, Hettie, she’s got very high standards for me. I’m afraid she’s unhappy about my relationship with Jenny Carpenter. I gather Jenny being a Methodist puts her completely out of the running.”

  A wave of adrenaline hit Hettie’s bloodstream. “Are you serious about Jenny?” The words jumped right out of her mouth.

  He shook his head. “What, Hettie, have you got a problem with Methodists, too?”

  “No, it’s just that…” She clamped down on her thoughts and took a deep breath. “I guess I was just surprised.”

  “Well, the thing is, Jenny is a real good cook and she doesn’t have anyone to cook for now that her momma is up at the nursing home. And I have a weakness for homemade apple pie. The truth is, Jenny is lonely. And I am, too, sometimes. So I let her cook for me. Jenny and I are just friends.”

  “Uh-huh. I’ve heard that one before.”

  “Well,” Bill said, “I know how it sounds when I say that Jenny and I are just friends. But it’s true. I go over there every couple of weeks and she cooks a dinner for me and we talk about books. I see you more often than I see Jenny. After all, you sit on the church board of directors, you’ve roped me into being an advisor to the Committee to Resurrect Golfing for God, and you come to the church on a daily basis. I enjoy your company. But we’re just friends, too.”

  Hettie’s heart leapt to her throat and she looked up, past the brim of her hat, into his serious blue eyes. His gaze was far more direct and eloquent than his words had been.

  She took a deep breath, collected her scattered emotions, and asked, “Do you think I should cut back on my church activities, then?”

  He dropped another vine onto the debris pile and then turned back toward her. His smile was kind and gentle, as it always was. He was a friend. A very good friend.

  “I would never dream of telling anyone to cut back on activities at the church. You can come to church as often as you like or as you need. I know something is troubling you very deeply. But I’m not the answer. I’m just a priest who can guide you, but not much more. The answer you’re seeking lies in your faith. Trust in the Lord and He’ll show you the right way. I’m worried about you.”

  She turned and looked up at the giant statue of Goliath. “Sometimes I’m worried about me, too,” she finally said.

  “Do me a favor, then.”

  “What?”

  “Pray about it. I’ve been praying a lot for you recently.”

  She turned back. “Have you?”

  He smiled. “Every day. But please, dear friend, remember that this town is a gossip mill.” One of his brows inclined just a fraction.

  She met his stare straight on as something wonderful and awful blossomed in her mind. “And you’re saying I’m not the only one who could get hurt.”

  He nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  After they helped the garden club, Tulane took Sarah to the Red Hot Pig Place, where they discussed the Deidre problem over hush puppies and pulled pork. They came to absolutely no conclusions, except that getting passes for next week’s race for Haley and the rest of Tulane’s family wouldn’t do any more damage than had already been done.

  That would appease the Dragon Lady for a few more days while they tried to figure out a way to rehabilitate Tulane’s reputation and save Sarah’s career.

  It wasn’t his reputation that Tulane was thinking about, though, as they sat there in that seedy barbecue place off Charleston-Augusta Road. Nope, all thoughts about his reputation took a hike the minute Sarah took her first bite of hush puppy and let go of a groan of pleasure that was triple-X-rated.

  It was hard to think about anything after she made that noise. He wanted to reach across the table, take that stupid clip from her hair, and pull her up into his arms.

  He’d been having random thoughts along those lines for most of the day. He was about to explode from those random and utterly immature thoughts.

  Although, in truth, he had to admit that the lust he was feeling for her was overlaid with something else entirely. Something really complicated.

  The fact was, he liked her. He liked her even though she’d managed to wrap herself around his life and his family and his hometown. He liked her because she didn’t laugh at his folks. He liked her because she loved Golfing for God. He liked her because she treated Daddy like he was a human being and not some joke.

  He liked her. A lot.

  They finished dinner and walked to their separate cars. It was time to say good night. She gave him a lame little smile and told him she’d see him around the office.

  He smiled back, got into his car, and followed her onto the Charleston-Augusta Road heading east toward Bamberg and Route 78, and the two-hour drive back to Florence. But when he got to the exit off I-95, where he should have turned off to go home, he kept following her car’s red taillights.

  Was it immature to want Sarah Rhodes?

  He didn’t have an answer. But he sure knew what Pete would say. Pete would tell him that if he cared about Sarah, he needed to let her know. Up until this moment, Tulane had been dodging that bullet, mostly because he hadn’t been sure.

  But he was sure now. A day watching her with the Last Chance Garden Club had pretty much sealed the deal.

  He followed her into her complex’s parking lot and parked beside Sarah’s nondescript rental car. He got out of the Mustang and intercepted her between their cars.

  “I thought you were going home,” she said. “I sure hope you didn’t follow me because you thought I needed protection. Because I’m a big girl, you know.”

  He jammed his hands into his front pockets and screwed up his courage. “Yeah, I know. And that’s why I was wondering…” His mouth lost steam. Man, this was as awkward as that time Old Man Nelson had aimed a shotgun at
Tulane to protect his granddaughter’s honor. Tulane had only wanted a little kiss that time. He wanted more than that tonight.

  He looked around the suburban parking lot. No hillbillies seemed to be lurking in the shadows. The coast was clear.

  He started again. “Uh, look, Sarah, about that thing you said this weekend.”

  “What thing?” She pretended ignorance, but she knew exactly what he was talking about. A little fire ignited in her hazel eyes, and it didn’t have anything to do with the complex’s security lights.

  He stepped a little closer. “You know. That thing you wanted me to do for you.” His heart ricocheted off his rib cage. He was going about this all wrong, and he suddenly knew it.

  He should start over and tell Sarah that something had changed during the flight last night when she’d held his hand. But he wasn’t brave enough for that.

  She looked up at him, wide-eyed, kind of innocent. And then she bit her lower lip and something clicked in his head.

  He leaned in, bracing himself on the car. He caged her between his arms. She didn’t try to get away, so he wasn’t being like Kenny. He didn’t ever want to hurt her like Kenny had.

  She thought she was easy, but he knew better. She’d been playing that part, and he’d ignored her. But he had just changed his mind, because he knew he was never going to hurt her. And he was ready. Somehow he knew he was ready for this.

  He pulled in a deep breath. “You know, Sarah, I’m thinking we need to do this. I know I’m trying not to break rules and be mature and all that, but—”

  “We can still be mature and do this,” she said.

  “Really? You think so?”

  “Absolutely. This is about you giving me an experience I need. We can set some clearly understood ground rules before we start.”

  His heart slowed a fraction. What was she talking about? “Ground rules?”

  “Well, you know, we just need to understand that it’s a onetime thing. And then we’ll be over it and I’ll have had my experience and no one will be any worse for the wear.”

  He stood there leaning into the car, her warm curvy body so close, her scent messing with his mind.

  He wanted her on every level a man could want a woman.

  And she wanted a one-night stand?

  He almost turned away. But something kept him there, glued to the blacktop as he stared down into her pretty, freckled face.

  She had no idea of her power over him, did she?

  If he turned and walked away, or got angry, she would misread his intentions. And she’d think she had done something wrong.

  If he cared about her, he had to get her beyond that kind of foolish thinking.

  But standing here discussing it maturely was only going to confuse things. It would be simpler, all the way around, if he could just show her how he felt. And then tomorrow morning she would understand.

  That seemed like a perfectly legitimate plan of action. So he put on his most earnest voice and said, “Okay, honey, I think ground rules are good.” Of course, he never said that he was going to agree with her ground rules. He had his own set of rules. Sarah would discover them soon enough.

  She straightened her prim little shoulders. “All right, I’m glad we understand each other clearly. Because, well, our bosses would kill us if they found out we were… you know…”

  “No, I don’t know. What?” He was having fun teasing her now. What was it about Sarah that made teasing her one of life’s greatest pleasures?

  She rolled her eyes and blushed. “You know…”

  Boy, she was adorable. And she was in for the surprise of her life. “Okay. I think we’re all clear with one another.” Not.

  She stood there, kind of frozen. She was scared. But he was going to take care of her. He was looking forward to the moment her fears disappeared. Like that time in the river, before he decided to be mature and walk away.

  What an idiot he’d been that night.

  “So, can I come up? See your place?” he asked.

  She let go of a deep sigh. “You mean you want to do this now?”

  “Strike while the iron is hot, you know.” He had trouble keeping the grin from his face. It was just so much fun to call Sarah’s bluffs.

  “Uh, yeah, okay.” She looked like a deer staring down headlights.

  He needed to break the ice, so he dipped down and gave her a little kiss on the mouth that soon became a middle-sized kiss and then escalated to something that was hotter than the hottest day in July. And, boy howdy, did she ever taste like barbecue and summer heat. His whole system went haywire.

  They stood there for a good five minutes, just kissing and not much else. It was so much fun—like being a teenager all over again and learning how to make out.

  After a while he finally drew back. “So, we going upstairs?”

  Sarah took off toward the entrance of her building, her heart beating so fast she could hardly get her breath. She didn’t look back to see if Tulane was following her. She was going to get hurt if she let this happen, wasn’t she? On the other hand, if she chickened out now, she would regret it for the rest of her life.

  She opened her front door, turned on the lights, and let Tulane into her apartment.

  Tulane sauntered into her living room and studied the place for a long moment as Sarah did battle with her inner Puritan.

  Her living room was decorated in shades of burgundy with a neutral carpet, floral couch, and utilitarian blinds at the balcony doors. The place was sterile—a temporary home for someone who didn’t plan on staying too long in Florence, South Carolina.

  Somehow the temporary nature of her home underscored the temporary nature of what she was about to do. Well, things never lasted forever, did they? She could deal with the heartbreak of her decision, especially since she was going into this clearheaded and with the rules well established.

  Tulane strolled to the stereo on the bookshelf and studied her small collection of CDs. “Ah, this will do,” he said as he pulled one from the stack and popped it into the CD player.

  A moment later, the soft sounds of Norah Jones’s unique and sexy blend of jazz-soul-folk filled the air. “If you’d had Barry White, I would have put that on. But Norah is almost as good for making out.”

  Sarah stood by the couch while her stomach clutched. Suddenly, this scenario was looking like something that should be filed under the heading of “Be Careful What You Ask For.”

  “I… uh… maybe we should… um.”

  Her sudden confusion elicited the sweetest smile from Tulane. It curled up both corners of his mouth and folded laugh lines into his cheeks and around his eyes. He crossed the room to stand right in front of her. “So, you want me to stop?”

  Her voice didn’t seem to want to work, but Tulane seemed to understand about that. He ran the back of his finger across her cheek. The touch, even as gentle as it was, generated a contrail of fire across her skin. She closed her eyes.

  “You like that, don’t you?”

  She didn’t say anything as his finger traveled across her cheek, and over her jaw, and down her neck to her collarbone, where he played with the little crucifix she always wore. Obviously he didn’t find the jewelry any obstacle to the seduction he was planning, because in the next instant he said, “Let’s find out where your erogenous zones are.”

  Her eyes flashed open, and she found her voice. “Erogenous zones? Uh, aren’t they kind of obvious?”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

  “No?”

  As if in answer, he stopped playing with her necklace and reached for her right hand. He cradled it in his much larger palm for a moment, sending little shocks of reaction running all along her arm wherever his rough skin abraded hers. And then, like a courtly gentleman, he brought her hand to his lips.

  He brushed his mouth across her fingers, and his lips parted just enough for the tip of his tongue to lave the back of her knuckles right in the crease between her first and second fingers.

>   Sensation curled around her insides and bubbled right out of her in the form of a groan. His lips retreated. “Nice,” he murmured.

  Tulane placed her hand on his shoulder, and then he pulled the clip from her hair. Her tresses spilled down to her shoulders, and he let go of a long, vocal sigh. “I love your hair down.”

  He brushed her hair away from her face at the same time as he pulled her closer, his fingers running across her neck and up into her hairline.

  Tension coiled in her belly the minute his lips found the flesh of her neck. He nibbled at her skin, sending heat shooting through her like a supernova. But that sensation wasn’t anything like what happened when his tongue found the lobe of her ear.

  Once again, something unspeakably exciting bubbled right out of her in the form of a noise that should have embarrassed her, but didn’t, because the minute she made that noise, she heard Tulane make a noise of his own.

  And that noise did something wicked to her soul, and her body, and her mind. It occurred to her that he might have a few erogenous zones of his own. She could touch him back if she wanted, and she wanted to touch him everywhere. She wanted to feel him next to her in a way that had become suddenly urgent.

  She shoved her hand up into his hair and the hard contours of his skull, and then she let her fingers travel back down across his powerful shoulders. He was trembling.

  She had made Tulane tremble? How had she done that?

  Just as that thought registered in her brain, Tulane moved off in search of yet another one of her zones. His right hand traveled over her shoulder and down to her rib cage, and then back up to her breast. Even through her T-shirt, things were starting to heat up.

  Suddenly, Tulane wasn’t nearly close enough. She wanted to feel him, not just his hands and his lips. She wanted his…

  She didn’t know what she wanted. She just knew that she wanted something more.

  She sagged back a little and managed to look up into his face. What she saw there sent her up in a column of flame. He appeared drugged, aroused, and excited. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she registered Norah on the stereo singing about “the nearness of you.” Tulane wasn’t anywhere close enough.