And there he stood, smack in the middle between Lynnette and the Hot One. His head turned a couple times back and forth slowly.
“Usual, Sam?” Cora saved him.
“Yep. Coffee. Blueberry.” Cora knew that. He handed her his travel cup. She smirked at him.
“Sam Grayson, meet my second cousin, Kelly. Ain’t she somethin’?” Myrtle gave the Hot One a small push in his direction.
Yeah, she was something, all right. Sam stuck out his hand. “Hey, Kelly, I’m Sam.” Oh, brilliant.
Her hand came toward him slow and easy. Her eyes never left his. They were like cat’s eyes: hazel green, pale, and huge. When their flesh came together it was like he’d touched her bare breast instead of her hand. Pure heat whip-cracked between them. Hurricane Kelly.
“Sam.”
Her voice was velvet. Smooth black velvet. Twenty-year-old scotch velvet. He wanted to drink her.
Why did the universe torture him this way? What had he ever done to deserve this? He should be getting the big bone over Plaid Skirt Lynnette. She’d wash his underwear and cook peach frikkin’ pie and keep his kids’ noses wiped. She would.
This one would only break him. She’d run up his credit cards. She’d be incredible in bed and toy with his…affections. She was probably hiding out from the mob. She had tattoos. Right up her leg. And a toe ring.
“Sam.” It wasn’t Velvet Voice. It was Cora handing him a paper bag and his travel mug full of coffee. He let go of Kelly’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Kelly, are you staying in town long?” Witty repartee. Translation: Can I just take you to my place and get this out of my system right NOW? Sam fumbled with his cup and bag. He dove into the hazel green cat’s eyes again. What a swim.
“She’ll be shacked up at my place if you’d like to pay a social call, Sammy.” Myrtle put her arm around the Kelly girl. Myrtle had on a bright orange jogging suit. They looked very Halloween together. Orange and black.
Sam felt two holes burning into the back of his neck. He turned. Lynnette had hands on hips and a quirky look about her. Time to get outta Dodge.
He nodded to Kelly and Myrtle and steeled himself as he bravely walked past Lynnette. She moved her elbow like a turnstile as he passed.
Her eyes never left him, which took quite a head twist. No translation available.
Man, that was one good-looking small-town hunk. He was probably wearing the only suit in town. He probably owned the only suit in town. Kelly thumped down on a counter stool, shaken.
“Coffee, please.”
Myrtle joined her. “Make it two, Cora,” she said.
Kelly watched him push the glass door open as he exited. The blonde chick in the red plaid started to follow him out, then changed her mind, turned, and stood by the pie case. Both Kelly and the blonde watched Sam’s handsome figure go past the window outside.
“Would you like that to go, Kelly?” The lady behind the counter started laughing real hard. Myrtle did, too.
“Naa, we’re gonna play hard to get on this one.” Myrtle slapped the counter and laughed the no-sound laugh.
“Listen…Cora”—Kelly had cocked her head and read the embroidered script sewn on the pink and white waitress uniform—“and Myrtle. I’m not interested in Mr. Wonderful. I’m sure there’s some nice local girl just up his alley.”
“That would be me, Miss…I didn’t catch your name?”
Kelly hadn’t noticed the blonde come her way.
“Kelly A-A-A-Applebee.” Oh, good one. She really was Myrtle’s cousin now. Crabtree and Applebee. Sounded like a jam and jelly company.
“Just so we’re clear on this, Miss Applebee, Sam and I have been dating since high school. Why, we even went to the senior prom together, if you get my drift.”
“And I should know this because why?” Kelly knew a controlling, crazy bitch when she saw one. She might be dumb on men, but women were clear as glass. She couldn’t let this catfight go by.
Blondie bent forward toward Kelly. Kelly saw a crazy glint in those steel blue eyes. Her words came out one at a time with great emphasis. “Because-he’s-mine.”
Cora rattled a thick white cup and saucer onto the counter in front of Kelly. Kelly’s eyes broke contact for a moment. The cup had thin green stripes around the top. “Cream and sugar?” Cora’s face was pink with suppressed glee.
Kelly moved her gaze back to Psycho-Blonde’s face with a very big, very fake, smile. Her stare never wavered from those slightly too-close-together blue eyes. “I’ll have it all, please.”
“Run along, now, Lynnette, Cousin Kelly and I have some catchin’ up to do.” Myrtle turned to her coffee and started pouring in sugar from the glass container with the chrome spout that Cora slid their way.
Kelly watched Lynnette turn about as white as her blouse. She straightened up stiffly, turned, and marched herself out the door with her ponytail swinging like the tail of a mad cat.
Kelly drank her coffee with some kind of weird satisfaction. It went down smooth and smug.
“Damn, that girl is nuts, Myrtle,” Kelly said.
“Yup,” Myrtle replied.
Cora leaned in close. Her hair was cornrowed on each side and probably dyed dark brown to hide the gray. No doubt some of Myrtle’s handiwork. Her brown skin was still pretty and smooth. She must have been about sixty-five and was still beautiful, really beautiful. She reached across the counter and refilled Kelly’s coffee.
That refill came with dirt on the side.
“When Sam got engaged to that girl in Philly, Lynnette climbed up on the high school water tower in her baby-doll pajamas and tried to scrub their initials off with Comet. Sheriff had to pull her down. Most excitement we’d had around here for a long time. Course, Sheriff Tom’s been in love with her since they were juniors at Paradise High, y’know.” Cora put her free hand on her hip and smiled.
That was one big-ass, streaming video piece of gossip. Small towns were great that way. “No shit? Oh, pardon me,” Kelly said.
“You are pardoned, dear,” Cora continued. “Then she went after Sam like a bitch in heat when he got back in town a few months ago. We all figure he turned her down, ’cause she’s been prowlin’ around him ever since, but he acts like she’s a case of the measles.”
“Who the hell is Sam, anyhow? Besides the best-looking man I’ve laid eyes on in ten years?” Kelly slurped up some coffee and dished with the gals. She reached for a donut off the plate Cora had left on the counter at some point. It was still warm.
Myrtle waved a spoon in among the three of them like a witch stirring her cauldron. “He’s the son of two of Paradise’s best people. His father has had a law practice here for thirty years. Sam came back and joined the firm.”
So what the hell was a vital, handsome guy like Sam doing back in this stuck-water town? Inquiring Kelly wanted to know, but that’d be rude. It was their stuck-water town, too. She dipped her donut into the steamy coffee, which Cora seem to refill magically without her even seeing. Man, the food in this town was good.
Myrtle answered Kelly’s question before she had a chance to ask it. “His fiancée in Philly, they broke up. Then she got into some kind of trouble and ended up in court, and he ended up defending her, but she went off to jail for a few months anyhow. I think he just got fed up with city ways and came back here to have a wife. Oh, a life, I mean.”
Myrtle’s eyes kind of rolled around to Cora. She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, hiding a grin that Kelly could see quite well. Cora straightened up, nodded meaningfully at Myrtle, and went on down the row filling coffee cups.
“You should hear that woman sing.” Myrtle changed the subject.
“I know what you’re up to, Myrtle,” said Kelly. “Let us not forget a few minor details. One, I’m still married. Two, I’m so not in the mood to be anyone’s wife. Most likely if I’m attracted to a man, he’s got some secret personality flaw that will rear its ugly head as soon as I say those two fateful words—I do. So I don’t. Are we c
lear on that, Mrs. Crabtree?”
“Clear as mud, Miss Applebee. ’Nuther donut?”
“Don’t mind if I do. Chocolate sprinkles, please.”
“So you’re attracted to Sam?”
“Quit it, Myrtle.”
The smell of perm solution drifted up to Kelly’s second-story bedroom and woke her. A decidedly unaromatherapy kind of thing. She was getting used to it by now. Just for fun she and Myrtle had draped tropical mosquito netting dotted with silk plumeria blossoms from the ceiling. Kelly pushed it aside, then scuffed her feet into a pair of rubber thongs.
She’d had a hell of a fun week. Myrtle was a shoo-in for mother replacement. Kelly’s own mother had never done much of a job of it anyway, even when she was sober.
Myrtle said Kelly was the daughter she never had, and the cosmos sent her so Myrtle could finally pass down all her life secrets to someone.
All this week she’d luxuriated in the tub at night with lavender bath oil and a good book. Myrtle supplied her with every beautifying, smellifying product under the sun. It’d started to take the edge off of her life, all that warm water and fragrance.
Kelly showered and shimmied into her new red three-quarter-sleeved crop top and its matching spandex skirt. Finger-combing her gelled-up hair into its usual crazy style, she caught a glimpse of herself in the dressing table mirror. Still too thin, but damn, she looked good in red.
Kelly had a new job. In less than a week she’d gotten a job. Try doing that in L.A. Palmer’s Emporium needed sales help. She suspected Myrtle pulled a few strings, but that was fine. New job, new town, she was almost…happy. She put on her red Carmen Miranda’s Hot Date lipstick. After this she wanted to get a job naming lipstick. And paint. She’d painted one wall of the beauty parlor Tickle Me Pink when she couldn’t sleep one night earlier in the week.
Red sandals. Who’d have figured Yeackle’s Shoes for red sandals this cute? She slipped them on and walked downstairs to the beauty shop to pour herself a cup of Myrtle’s famous mud coffee. Every chair was packed. The big Saturday crowd.
“Mornin’.” She was even getting the town accent down.
“Mornin’, Kelly girl. Hey, grab some of that apple cobbler there. Dottie Williamson baked a bunch for the church social tonight. That there is our personal supply.” Myrtle said all this with her mouth full of perm pins. She was unrolling Dottie’s perky gray curls.
“Thanks, Dottie. Your apple cobbler smells divine. Isn’t this about the third fattening thing you’ve brought in this week?” Kelly asked.
“Trying out recipes, you know.” Dottie smiled and pointed to a colorful baking dish full of delectable hot apple-and-cinnamon cobbler. “You’ve all been my guinea pigs this week.”
“I’m not going to fit into my clothes if I keep this up.” Kelly got closer to the pan. Her mouth watered. “On the other hand, I don’t care.” She grabbed up a small plate off the stack and cut herself a big square.
She picked out her favorite cup, bought brand-new at Miller’s Hardware; a Fiesta ware pink number. Kelly sat down at the little table on the far end of the shop that doubled as a sterilizing station and coffee break area.
“Honey, you look so much better than when you got here. You were so skinny you looked like one of them high-fashion, high-strung models from the big city,” Myrtle said.
Kelly hadn’t even thought about L.A. in the last few days. Everyone seemed satisfied with the sketchy background she’d given them. No one seemed to be asking too many questions. She felt a darkness come over her as she thought about it.
There were a few details she needed to clean up. It helped that Myrtle had gotten her a new ID from some mysterious connection, and laundered all the traveler’s checks into cash, which Kelly deposited in her new-name bank account at Paradise Savings and Loan.
That woman was amazing. She and Myrtle had done a lot of talking. About Raymond, about her life before Raymond, about this man Sam Myrtle said the cosmos had picked out for her.
Sam Grayson, the most eligible bachelor in town. Probably the only bachelor under forty-five, more like it. Kelly was curious, but, after all, she was still married and would have to do something about that—a concept that always confused her whenever she thought about it: how to get a divorce while living under an assumed name.
Then there was the briefcase full of money under her bed. Kelly had actually forgotten about it until this moment. She still wasn’t sure what to do with the money except sleep on it—literally.
What she needed was a lawyer. Legal advice. Yep. Oh, Mr. Grayson, I’ve got a couple hundred thousand dollars or so under my bed and don’t know what to do about it. Can you give me some advice?
She raised an eyebrow at her own absurd thinking and ate the last bite of apple cobbler with gusto.
“You better run along, hon, it’s already eight-thirty. Mrs. Palmer will be wanting her scones,” Myrtle reminded her. Kelly got up, startled out of her thoughts. She put her dish under the table in the dishpan they kept for party cleanups. It seemed like every day was party day at Myrtle’s.
Kelly grabbed her black leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She gave Myrtle’s cheek a kiss as she passed by, pushed the screen door open, and stepped out on the stoop.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t forget to go over to Dottie’s house after work. You promised her help loadin’ up for the social.”
“I remember. See you later, Mrs. Williamson,” Kelly called back through the screen door as it snapped shut behind her.
“Do you think this will work, Myrtle?” Dottie Williamson looked up into the huge round mirror at the reflection of Myrtle standing behind her with a comb.
“Them two just need a little help. They’re like two ducks that keep swimmin’ around the pond at the same time, goin’ in circles. We just gotta get one of ’em to stop long enough for the other to run smack into ’em.” Myrtle brandished her blue rattail comb dramatically over Dottie’s head.
“Do you really think so?”
“Dottie, hon, I’d say you can start quiltin’ up the weddin’ quilt anytime. Them two is destined. It’s in the stars.”
“Oh, Myrtle, that’s sweet. Maybe I’ll put stars on it.”
“You do that, Dottie. Stars.”
Myrtle put the finishing touches on Dottie’s coiffure and reached for the hair spray. Something was afoot in Paradise. Them stars were offkilter, and she wasn’t sure exactly why. She’d do her cards later and see what came up. Nothin’ a little female ingenuity couldn’t overcome, of that she was sure.
Kelly knew the little daily task Mrs. Palmer had so politely asked her to take was for the sole purpose of throwing her in the path of the extremely good-looking Sam Grayson, who, she’d been carefully told, stopped at Cora’s every morning for coffee and a bear claw, whatever that was, at exactly 8:45 A.M.
She hummed as she turned toward the main section of town. Three blocks down, she crossed the street and passed Red Miller, smiling as she passed, handing out his usual g’mornin’s. She’d gotten one every morning for three days now.
And there he was, rounding the corner headed straight toward her on his way to Cora’s. He waved at her. She waved back, plowing smack into Mr. Miller, who steadied her, laughing a deep short laugh. Sam was really exceptionally handsome in his slate gray suit, white shirt, and arty tie.
“Why don’t you two just get it over with and talk?” Mr. Miller asked, continuing his sweeping.
Kelly realized what a total idiot she was being. She steeled herself and marched down the street, pushing Cora’s steel and glass door open. Sam was standing at the counter with a newspaper and a white paper bag in his hands. Fabulous. Tall. Structural. She was being a very, very shallow girl. She tried to feel bad about it, but he was so yummy.
He turned to look at her when she entered.
“Hello.” Sam smiled at her.
“Hi.” That was it, huh? Date with destiny. She sat down and asked Renee, Cora’s number one waitress, for Mrs. Palmer�
�s scones, unable to face Mr. Destiny without her speaking ability.
Sam got his coffee and slowly walked by her, with a very odd look on his face. After he went through the door, she thumped her head on the counter facefirst. Renee set the bag of scones down beside her.
“Lost something?” Renee started to giggle.
“Yes, my mind, and stop that! I know what a fool I am already.” Kelly started to laugh, and so did about three other people close by. Renee set down a white to-go cup of coffee with a sugar packet on the lid.
“I already put cream in. It’s on the house, honey. Invite me to the wedding, will you?”
“Sure, sure. Thanks, Renee.” Kelly made as graceful an exit as possible, as the whole counter full of people said in unison, “G’bye!”
Oh, brother. Group humiliation was always fun. The joke about the wedding—that was a good one. Particularly with the luck she had as a bride. Oh, yes. Which reminded her, she was definitely going to have to call someone and see about divorcing Raymond. He’d probably already drawn up a divorce and just didn’t know where to send the papers. If she were even going to think about this Sam character, she’d have to deal with that first.
If Sam could just figure out what it was about Miss Kelly Applebee that drove him crazy, he could ignore her and live a normal life. This Kelly girl just seemed to derail him from his steady track. Part of him had danger signals going off like emergency bells inside his head. The rest of him wanted to grab her up on his horse and ride bareback together into the sunset, find a field and…caution be damned.
Okay, just because she appeared to be trouble didn’t mean she was. Appearances could be deceiving. Maybe underneath that wild hair and that tight red skirt and those luscious…oh, shit, he was screwed.
Chapter 4
PALMER’S EMPORIUM was painted in black letters on the plate-glass windows of the double storefront. Kelly pushed the swinging door open and stepped inside.
Several people were already hard at work, and the fans were running to keep the temperature cool. She shivered in the breeze, pulling her coat around her. The last swallow of the coffee warmed her up.
Talk of the Town Page 4