by Ava Miles
“People can’t stop talking about the gardens, Tammy.”
Yes, and she’d dropped hints that she was starting her own business. A few of the people who’d loved her work had given her their business cards, making her toes dance inside her shoes.
“Thank you, John Parker. That’s kind of you to say.”
He shifted on his feet, drawing her attention to his muscular legs. She forced herself to look away.
“I didn’t want to ask you before, what with the wedding and all, but now that it’s done, I was hoping you might be willing to look over my property and design something like you did here for me.”
Her breath rushed out. Of all the people at the wedding, she wouldn’t have expected John Parker to be interested in flowers and gardens. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I am. I like to be outside, and now that you’ve worked your magic on Rye’s place, my own has started to look pretty plain in comparison. It’d be nice to have something more interesting to look at.”
She wondered if it was a ploy to spend more time with her, but she was so delighted, she didn’t care if he had ulterior motives. He was Rye’s friend, and while he watched her with an intensity that gave her goosebumps, he hadn’t made a move on her…nor would he any time soon. For which she was glad. Yes, she was glad. She’d just shed one man, and while she found John Parker devastatingly attractive, sweet, and compelling, she wasn’t anywhere near ready for another.
This was her time to discover who she really wanted to be, and nothing was going to interfere with that.
“Well, I am starting my own gardening business,” she confessed.
“You are? Well, that’s wonderful. Do you have anyone else signed up?”
“Ah, no. I mentioned my plans to a few of the guests, but I’m going to set things up more officially after the wedding.”
Rye and Tory were leaving tomorrow for a short honeymoon in Memphis before starting his summer concert tour, which meant Tammy and the kids would be alone at the house for months. While she would miss her brother and sister-in-law like crazy, she was looking forward to having more time to devote to her business.
“I’d love to have the first official spot on your calendar. I can bring by a check this week for whatever you consider a reasonable down payment.”
“That would be…wonderful,” she said, trying to keep her cool as her heart did a twirl. Her second paying client, and this one wasn’t a relative.
“Exchanging money is a form of a contract in my legal mind.”
“We can work out the money once I give you an estimate.” The official nature of it made her want to take a deep breath and grin at the same time. “It’s a bit late in the season to be starting a project like this though,” she forced out.
He waved a hand. “Don’t worry about that. I know it will work out just fine.”
If they watered all of the plants and trees with clock-work precision, it should be okay, she decided. “Then consider yourself my first priority.”
“Good. We can set a time for you to swing on by. Once we discuss your ideas, we’ll draw up the contract.”
Now they were in more official territory. She and Daddy needed to get her incorporation papers finished pronto. “Perfect.”
There. She sounded like a confident businesswoman. Of course, she’d need to create a pricing strategy, but she’d read books about that as well. She had never handled her own money, and she’d put off learning about finances, afraid she might not be up to the task. Mama had never encouraged her and her sister to excel at math when they were in school, saying ladies didn’t need to worry their little heads about such things.
A couple careened a bit too close to them then, and he drew her back to prevent a collision.
Oh, how his hands felt on her skin. So shocking and forbidden and delicious.
“I know you probably have plenty of help from your daddy, but if you need any business or legal advice in passing, just ask me.”
“That’s brilliant of you,” she said, happy for all the help she could get. It seemed as though she came up with three new questions for each hour of business research she did. Everything from calculating overhead costs to figuring out how to pay taxes as a small business.
“I’m a brilliant guy, or hasn’t Rye mentioned it?” he teased.
He was brilliant. That much she knew. He and Rye had gone to law school together at Vanderbilt. Rye had dropped out just weeks shy of graduation to pursue country music, breaking with family tradition…and up until recently, his family. John Parker had continued with the law, even though he was also in demand as a songwriter for the country’s top artists, including her brother. That man had more left and right brain action going on than should be legal.
Rye appeared beside them, swaying to the country music playing over the speakers. “How are my two favorite people in the world?”
“We’re wonderful,” she responded, her voice soft. She loved seeing him this happy. “But I’m surprised Tory’s not in your top two.”
“Aw, sugar, you know she’s in a category all her own,” he drawled.
She gave him a smile and said, “And how are you faring on this fine day?”
“Better than I ever imagined I could be,” he said, his grin contagious. “You two need to dance.”
When Rye’s hip bumped hers playfully, her mouth twitched. She’d grown more at ease with her brother’s sometimes outlandish behavior and his emotional intensity. She imagined the same current ran through them both, as strong as the current in Dare River, but she hadn’t tapped into hers yet. She’d dammed her feelings up so tightly the water had grown still and stagnant. Even so, she could feel something shifting inside herself, and she was afraid of where all that emotion might take her if she let it run its course.
So she was only planning to open one gate of the dam at a time.
“This music isn’t quite my style,” she responded, knowing it wasn’t wise to dance with John Parker. His touch was too electric by half.
Rye swung an arm around her shoulders. “Do you want me to see if they can play something from our ol’ cotillion days, honey?”
She knew he meant it in fun, but her stomach tightened. Images of white dresses and gloves swam in her head. She’d been thinking way too much about Mrs. Augusta today, particularly when she’d promised herself to shut the door on such unhelpful habits.
John Parker removed the champagne flute that was now clenched so tightly in her hand it was in danger of shattering. “Perhaps if we can find something you like, you’ll let me have a dance. Don’t the maid of honor and best man always share a dance?”
In her old circles, they certainly did. Weddings had an order to them—they followed tradition. Even if it made them suffocating, like her own had been.
As she watched her family, she realized they, at least, were cutting loose. With the exception of her mama, of course. Tory was laughing with gusto while Rory twirled and wiggled his little hips in time to the music.
Thank God Tory was not one to follow convention. Just watching her was like having a front row seat in a whole new class about life.
“Tory looks so free and happy,” she murmured.
Rye’s grin stretched even wider at the mention of his bride. “Isn’t she beautiful? I mean, I used to sneer at all that sweet talk, but seriously… J.P., have you ever seen a more beautiful woman?”
Her brother was right. With her black hair, porcelain skin, and petite figure elegantly displayed by a simple long white wedding dress, Tory made a stunning bride. Tammy and her sister had helped her pick out her gown, and it had been a special day for all three of them. Of course, the dress only accentuated Tory’s happy glow.
John Parker nodded. “You’re a lucky man, Rye. Rhett, Clayton, and I are all breathing easy now that you’re settling down. We won’t have to worry about any of your wild antics anymore.”
“Hey, Rhett,” Rye called out to his friend, who was dancing with Abbie, the love of his life. �
��J.P. here says you don’t think I have any more wild in me.”
“That’s about right,” Rhett shouted back and dipped his woman, causing her to laugh and clutch his jacket.
“Tame as a pussycat, am I?” Rye leaned into John Parker. “You should see the sexy apron I got my wife for the honeymoon,” he whispered, but not quietly enough. Tammy heard every word.
Mrs. Augusta’s advice flashed to mind: When men are being inappropriate around you, ignore them.
John Parker cleared his throat and glanced at Tammy like he knew it was totally inappropriate to talk that way in front of a lady. No doubt he did. “Well, you did originally meet when she became your cook. I still can’t believe she agreed to cook for you again on your summer tour.”
“We didn’t want to be apart. Plus, she loves it. Now that she’s newly graduated with her PhD, she can use the time to finish her cookbook like she’s always wanted.”
“She’s going to make a mint with that cookbook,” John Parker said. “No one cooks better than that girl.”
“Don’t I know it?”
John Parker set his beer and Tammy’s champagne on a silver tray as a waiter went by. “Tammy’s going to design some gardens for me.” And he winked at her, making her heart do the quickstep.
“You don’t say,” Rye said.
She caught the look they exchanged, something male and secretive.
“That’s wonderful, especially since she’s starting her own business,” Rye continued. “And hey, your place sure could use a facelift. The man’s got nothing but grass, trees, and bushes. Boring. Right, Tammy?”
“Trees and bushes can give a garden structure, but you need to include variety and color for all four seasons.”
Rye’s mouth twitched as he nudged John Parker with his elbow. “Variety and color? Did you hear that, J.P?”
His friend elbowed him back hard like they were two brothers fighting for no good reason. “Yes, I heard. Now about that dance, Tammy…”
Rye put a gentle hand on her back. “My friend here’s a great dancer, and being a preacher’s kid, he’ll respect the three inches between partners rule we grew up with. Remember how Mrs. Hays used her ruler to measure the space between couples?”
“She never had to with me,” Tammy told him.
John Parker laughed. “I’ll bet you pushed that line, Rye.”
“Every chance I got. I always said I didn’t know how much three inches was. Now go on and dance, honey. You’ve been working too hard.” He pushed her forward a few steps.
The dance floor was packed with guests, some twirling, others doing a simple two-step cheek-to-cheek. When John Parker crooked his arm gallantly at her, Tammy had no choice but to slide her arm through his. Okay, she did have a choice, she reminded herself. She just didn’t want to be rude and say no.
Rye darted over to the band, and suddenly the music changed to a dreamy, romantic number.
Her handsome companion pulled her closer and fitted one hand in hers while wrapping the other over her shoulder blade in a nice ballroom frame. She didn’t—couldn’t—raise her eyes when she placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. She could feel the muscles there and smell his cologne of forest and spice.
The first chords of a waltz rolled over her, and John Parker led her effortlessly. He was such a good lead she closed her eyes for a moment as the magic of the music, the familiar steps, and the comfort of her new life washed over her. Dancing on a cloud must feel this way.
His gaze was heated when she finally opened her eyes and looked up at him, and she struggled to think of something to say.
“You’re awfully good at this,” she managed to say, her throat parched now.
“I was always my sisters’ practice partner.”
His intense blue eyes had her pulse tripping. She missed a step, and his hold tightened, moving her closer to his body.
Sometimes she felt a spurt of life inside her, something raw and wet and new, when he looked at her that way…
“They’re all lovely, John Parker.” She’d met his sisters in passing at a BBQ at his house once before. They were full of piss and vinegar, as Granddaddy Crenshaw would have said.
“Yes, they are, when they’re not giving me grief. But you know how siblings are.”
When the band transitioned to another dreamy waltz, Rye’s doing, she suspected—yes, she was learning something about siblings and mischief—she and John Parker continued to move together effortlessly. A comfortable silence fell between them, and she let herself enjoy the feeling of his strong body against hers as they swayed to the music.
Ms. Pinky glided by with her partner then, sending Tammy an ugly smile, vacuuming up all her happiness with one look.
It was time to do something about that. The gossipers and loud mouths would forever talk about the tabloid story if Rye continued his search for the leak. It was time to let it all go, to stop inviting more speculation.
“John Parker, I have something I need to ask you. Something I don’t want you to tell Rye.”
He didn’t miss a step although his gaze darkened. “Before you ask me, you should know two things. You can ask me anything. Always. And count on my help.” He led her into a twirl. “But I can’t promise you I will keep it from Rye. He’s my best friend. And I’m his lawyer.”
“I know that, and I wouldn’t ever come between you two, but I want you to stop looking for the person who leaked details about my divorce to the papers. Rye is obsessed with finding out the truth. I initially went with the flow because…” It had been too overwhelming to do otherwise, and Rye’s anger was, well…overwhelming as well.
John Parker’s eyes turned a steely blue. “I can’t do that, Tammy. The person who’s responsible needs to be held accountable.”
“But it’s my life, and I need to move on.” Ms. Sunshine twirled past them next, a rather brightly colored omen that she should press on. “The talk is never going to stop unless you stop poking the hornet’s nest, looking for the leak.”
He pulled her even closer, now acting in utter defiance of the three-inch rule. She missed another step.
“You know, it’s not just Rye’s wish to find this person, Tammy. I want him to pay for what he did to you and your family. We all do. And he will. I promise you that.”
No one ever listened to her when she said how she really felt, what she really wanted. It was like everyone around her wore permanent ear plugs.
“But that’s not what I want,” she protested.
“I’m sorry the talk has been tough for you.” His sigh was long-suffering. “You have to trust us, Tammy. We can’t let people think they can get away with something like this. You were…”
When he didn’t finish the sentence, she pushed back a bit. “No, please finish. I was humiliated. Isn’t that what you were going to say? And you’re right. That’s why I want you to put a stop to this. No good will come of it. Even if you find out who did it, it will only lead to more talk.”
“Did someone say something to you here? You tell me who, and I’ll escort them out right this moment.”
She’d never seen his face this tense—his jaw tight, his eyes focused with laser-like intensity. “You look intimidating. I used to think you were too nice to be a lawyer, but now I see it.”
“I don’t want you to be intimidated by me, Tammy. I only want to protect you…like Rye does.”
Men. She’d heard that from them all her life, and they hadn’t protected her from anything.
“How can I ever stand on my own if the men around me treat me like I’m made of glass?” she burst out, unable to stop herself. “I’m tired of men thinking they know what’s best for me.”
“Tammy, that’s not—”
“Mama!” Annabelle interrupted, twirling close to them in her granddaddy’s arms. “When are you going to dance with me?”
“Soon, precious. I promise to dance the next song with you.”
“Annabelle, you save a dance for me too,” John Parker said.
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Her daughter threw up her arms. “Yeah! John Parker’s going to dance with me.” And she chanted it over and over as Hampton spun her away from them.
She glanced over at Mama, who was, of course, watching them. As far as Tammy could tell, she’d spent the entire day searching for the slightest thing of which to disapprove. Her perfectly lined, lipsticked mouth was slightly pinched, but Tammy was probably the only one who noticed. When you were raised not to reveal your emotions even through body language, you had to zero in on the slight tells. She knew her mama’s. Had always feared them.
“That’s why we have to protect you, Tammy,” John Parker said finally, bringing her back to the present moment. “There’s more innocence than just yours in the mix. We have to think of the kids too.”
Her throat squeezed shut. Hadn’t she protected them as much as she could? Even so, it hadn’t been enough. “I’m not innocent anymore, John Parker.”
His hand kneaded the rigid muscles in her back. “Of course, you are, honey, and that’s not a bad thing. Frankly, it’s one of the things I like most about you.”
Good manners failed her, and she pushed him back even further than the appropriate three inches. “You make me sound like a dumb child.”
“Tammy, you’re the furthest thing from dumb I’ve ever met. And you’re no child. You’ve fought against everything you were raised to be to give yourself and your children a better life. Where I’m from, that’s called courage—and you have it in spades.”
She prayed he wouldn’t notice her eyes tearing up. Courage? Her? “You’re wrong,” she whispered. “There are times when I’m still so afraid.”
“Put your head on my chest for a moment. I want to tell you something—just between us.”
So much for the three-inch rule. Still, she leaned in, her eyes zooming in on the rich fabric of his coat jacket before she nestled her cheek against its softness. There it was again—that spicy, exotic cologne. She hadn’t been this close to a man in years, not since Sterling had changed, the veil of his charm and handsomeness torn in two, and all the love she’d fooled herself into feeling for him had faded.