Leave the Night On

by Laura Trentham

And … there it was. He winced as if the words held some physical power over him.

  She continued. “You bear the name of a great man. A general in the Confederate army. Try to live up to it.”

  Pointing out that his ancestor was on the wrong side of moral history and was spoken about less than kindly by the darker-skinned branches of their family tree wouldn’t help his cobbler cause. “The gossip is exaggerated. It’s true that Sutton and Tarwater have ended their engagement, but I played no part in it. I assure you, I haven’t brought disgrace to our family name.”

  “Are you acting a gentleman?”

  “I have acted totally and completely a gentleman.” The scorching kiss aside, by walking away last night, he could claim the title with nary an eyebrow twitch.

  The tension in his aunt’s face eased, the crinkles smoothing, even as her color remained high. “How in the world did your paths cross?”

  “That cherry-red Camaro in the parking lot.”

  “It would be over a car. When’s the last time I saw you at church, young man?”

  At least she hadn’t invoked his full name again. “Easter?”

  “There are all sorts of nice girls at the First Baptist I could introduce you to.”

  “Sutton is a nice girl.” The words popped out with a defensiveness he hadn’t had the chance to mask. His aunt’s gaze sharpened like a set of ginsu knives hawked on her favorite channel—the Home Shopping Network.

  “I see.” Curiosity and speculation dripped from the two words. She didn’t question him further yet didn’t break their stare either.

  The sweat prickling his neck had nothing to do with the heat. Even as familiar as he was with her methods of obtaining confessions, he broke. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but please don’t stoke the fires more.”

  “It’s all my Bible study will want to discuss.”

  “Isn’t there some Bible verse about the sinful nature of gossip you can throw out?”

  His aunt’s eyes took on the light of a religious zealot. “Keep your tongue from Evil, And your lips from speaking deceit.” Hyacinth could spout scripture from one side of her mouth while tippling moonshine with the other.

  Wyatt put his arm around her shoulder for a quick squeeze. “Sounds perfect. Where’s Aunt Hazel?”

  “Giving Ford the what-for. Although I doubt it will do any good. It’s like talking to a termite-riddled tree stump.”

  “I didn’t realize he was back.” Wyatt was torn between dread and glee. There would be hell to pay once Ford found out about the loss of the Camaro job, but watching his diminutive Aunt Hazel lay into Ford was something not to be missed. He waggled his eyebrows. “Let’s go see how he’s faring.”

  “So unchristianlike,” she muttered, but followed close on his heels, potential lightning-strike be damned.

  He shuffled up next to Jackson as their aunt Hazel said, “Ford Jubal Abbott, have you forgot your raising?”

  Suppressing a snicker, he elbowed Jackson who didn’t look over but the corner of his mouth twitched enough to flash his dimple. Hazel had a temper that was difficult to rouse but once awakened was legendary.

  Ford stood over her with his hands fisted in the front pockets of his khakis. “What raising? All Pop cared about was the garage.”

  Mack stepped forward. “That’s not true and you know it. Pop worked hard to keep us clothed and fed. He turned this place into a business that we could all be proud of.”

  Ford’s muttered obscenity had Hyacinth performing a faux pearl clutch. Any residual humor leaked out of the situation like oil from a blown gasket.

  “You’d best apologize. Then get your butt under a hood and earn your keep.” Mack jabbed a finger toward Ford. No one doubted or questioned Mack’s authority on the shop floor. Except for Ford.

  “I inherited a quarter of this place just like you. I got my degree and came back to help build the restoration side of the business. Don’t you think I want it to succeed? Except you don’t trust me, do you?”

  Mack’s silence was answer enough. Not that Wyatt blamed Mack, because Ford wasn’t exactly a model employee, but he was their brother. And, damn, his feelings looked genuinely hurt.

  While Wyatt didn’t particularly want to play Ford’s champion, he found himself stepping forward anyway. “We appreciate what you’re doing, bro.” He ignored Mack’s side-eye and clapped Ford on the shoulder. “Did you make any headway in Mobile?”

  “I didn’t get anything signed, but—”

  Mack’s harrumph squirted lighter fluid on the combustible situation.

  “What if I sold my share to a stranger? What would you do then?” Ford and Mack squared off like two alphas.

  Wyatt sucked in a breath between his teeth. That kind of talk was traitorous. Instead of threatening to string him up by his toenails, Mack remained calm. Too calm. “This is a family business and it’s going to stay that way.”

  “Is it? I’ve got someone lined up that’s willing to pay me more than my share’s worth. I’d be a fool not to take it.”

  Wyatt’s stomach fell away as the ramifications swirled.

  “Ford, you can’t mean that.” Hazel reached for his hand, but Mack beat her, grabbing Ford’s shirt and hauling him within reach of his other fist. Hyacinth pulled Hazel to the periphery of what was turning ugly.

  Mack’s control had snapped like a rubber band stretched too thin. “Who is it?” When Ford didn’t answer, Mack shook him, and said, “I should—”

  A clatter sounded from the bay door and everyone turned. Sutton Mize was bent at the waist, righting a portable jack.

  “Hi.” She waved a hand that was painted with a line of black grease. She was in a blue-and-white polka-dot dress and heeled sandals.

  A shock of pleasure blew hot in his chest but morphed into worry. She was avoiding his gaze like he had cooties. Had she gotten back together with Tarwater?

  Mack gave Ford a slight warning shove on his release. “Miss Mize, you must be here for the car. Let me get the keys.”

  “The car?” Her confusion in turn confused Mack.

  “Your fiancé, I mean, Tarwater’s Camaro,” Mack said. “That’s why you’re here, right?”

  “Oh, that car.” As if surprised it was still there, she glanced over her shoulder where the chrome bumper of Andrew’s car was visible under a protective cover in the parking lot. Clearing her throat, she finally met Wyatt’s eyes. “Actually, that’s not why I’m here. Sorry I interrupted your … discussion, but I was hoping to borrow Wyatt for a minute.”

  Wyatt took a step toward her, already determined to give her whatever help she needed.

  * * *

  The logical plan Sutton had hatched at midnight after spending hours tossing and turning in her bed qualified as delusional and borderline crazy in the face of so many stares.

  No one had even noticed her drive up or step inside. The tension in the garage was palpable. If she hadn’t knocked over some metal arm-looking thing on her shuffle backwards, then she might have made an escape to live another day instead of dying of embarrassment. The glance she shot toward Wyatt sealed her fate. She flushed as if he’d telepathically triggered the memory of their kiss.

  “I’ve got some calls to make.” Mack cleared his throat and retreated, his gaze pinging between her and Wyatt.

  Ford’s smile seemed genuine. “Sutton. A pleasure to see you. I hope these boys are treating you and that pretty little Camaro well. Andrew’s going to love his surprise.”

  Her face heated. Ford must not have heard about her and Andrew. Or her and Wyatt for that matter. That only made things worse in a way. She wasn’t sure she could stomach repeating the news over and over.

  “Nice to see you too, Ford.” She flapped the neck of her dress to counteract her heated anxiety.

  Jackson had slid under a car, leaving only his legs in view, but a woman in baggy coveralls and a ball cap pulled low kept one eye on the unfolding drama. Two older ladies who looked nothing alike yet seemed to go together lik
e salt and pepper shakers were also not-so-subtly eavesdropping.

  “Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday to get things settled, but I’ve been down in Mobile drumming up business. Andrew’s a lucky man snagging a woman willing to overhaul his Camaro.” Ford shifted and waved his hand toward the parking lot. “Willa, why don’t you move it into a bay?”

  Willa didn’t move or speak, reminding Sutton of a trapped animal. This was likely to be the first of many awkward moments, as the news filtered through town. She held up her left hand and wiggled her bare fingers as if presenting exhibit A in a trial. “Andrew and I are not together anymore.”

  “Not together?” His voice was incredulous, and she braced herself for probing personal questions, but instead he asked, “What about the Camaro? Are you cancelling the contract? You can’t do that.”

  “I … I…” She had signed something but hadn’t read the fine print. Was she obligated to pay a penalty? After all the trouble she’d put Wyatt through, she should pay something. She already owed him more than she could repay. Again, she questioned her sanity in coming.

  “Come on, we can talk out back.” Wyatt ignored Ford, and his warm smile helped order her jumbled thoughts. When he held out his hand, she grabbed hold as if it were as natural as the birds singing at dawn or the lightning bugs coming out at dusk in the summer.

  “Sorry.” She sent Ford a tight smile and wondered what he was thinking about her.

  Actually, the exchange was a perfect example of her issues. She cared too much about what people thought. Always had. Had she been born that way or conditioned by parents who made decisions with consideration of their place in Cottonbloom society? The age-old question of nature or nurture.

  Wyatt traced the same path to the barn they had taken the previous morning. This time, though, she was more determined than devastated.

  “You want something to drink?” He moved to the small fridge that hummed in the corner.

  “Iced tea if you’ve got it.”

  He returned with two red Solo cups filled with ice and tea. She took a sip, buying time to figure out how to present her plan, but he beat her to the punch.

  “Not sure how much you heard or inferred, but please ignore the family drama.”

  “Sorry I interrupted. I was trying to ease back out before I hit that thing with the arms.” She rubbed at the grease on her palm with a finger, smearing it.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up before you ruin that pretty dress.” He pulled a disposable wipe out of a canister and took her hand in his.

  The cloth was cool and damp against her skin and smelled faintly of lemons. He wiped long after all traces of black were gone, his thumb glancing over her fluttering pulse point before letting go. Her hand hung suspended in the air before she came to her senses and pulled it to her side.

  “That thing was a car jack, by the way.” At her shrug, he asked, “Haven’t you ever had to change a flat tire?”

  “It’s only happened twice, and I called Aaron’s Garage.”

  He clutched at his chest. “Darlin’, that hurts. Aaron is barely qualified to operate a car jack.”

  Her lips twitched despite her mounting nerves. “He’s perfectly nice and capable.”

  “Not as capable as me.” The intonation in his voice made her think of things other than simple mechanics, and she swallowed past a sudden lump.

  She stuttered out a few words that made no sense together and ended up nodding and taking another sip of tea.

  “Next time you have a flat, you call me.” He leaned against the back of the couch and crossed his feet at the ankles, a repose of casual confidence. “Or better yet, I’ll teach you how to do it yourself.”

  “That sounds fun.” Silence fell between them. The kind that made heat rush up her neck and into her face. “Listen, about what Ford said, do I owe you something for pulling out of the deal?”

  “Naw.” He dropped his gaze and stomped on a raised nail in the flooring.

  She did owe them, but he was too nice to make her cough up the money. “Be honest, Wyatt, is this going to leave the garage in a fix? Financially, I mean?”

  “The money was decent, but we hoped the Camaro would bring us more high-end restorations from your side of the river. Don’t worry about it, we’ll find another foothold.”

  She shuffled to the open barn doors and gazed over the woods, her mind spinning. His admission had given her the leverage to work her plan into reality.

  With her father’s reelection campaign in full swing and the gala approaching, her social calendar was exploding. Instead of being the object of condemnation, poor, spurned Andrew would garner sympathy, and Sutton would be forced to wear her Scarlett Letter.

  If she showed up alone, people would assume either she’d had a one-night stand with Wyatt and gotten caught by Andrew, or she’d made the entire thing up. Which she had. The practical part of her insisted on taking the high road. Let the drama play out with a faked serenity. Except the petty, humiliated part of her wanted the opposite.

  “You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” she said.

  “You don’t need a reason to stop by the garage.” He bit at his lower lip. “By the way, my aunt Hyacinth’s Bible study down at the First Baptist is hot on the trail. I managed to put her off with a partial truth, but I couldn’t outright lie.”

  The gossip about her and Wyatt had legs like a Louisiana jackrabbit. While she was surprised how quickly word spread to this side of the river, the fact he couldn’t lie to his aunt poked both her guilt and relief into life. “I feel terrible about putting you in this position. I’ll bet you rue the day I walked in your garage.”

  “Rue the day.” He repeated the phrase with a dark, dramatic flair, then chuckled. “That sounds unnecessarily dire. Anyway, technically, you drove into my garage.”

  She wished she possessed the confidence he had in his little finger. Instead, her courage frayed. Through the pounding of her heart and a tight throat, she said, “I want to make a deal.”

  “Does this have something to do with Tarwater? Has he been harassing you?”

  “I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of him.” Agitation prodded her into a pace, and she held her cup so tightly that the plastic caved in and made a crinkly noise.

  She set it down and forced her hands still. “It’s actually more like a business arrangement.”

  A wariness tempered his sympathy. “Go on.”

  She debated the merits of running back to her car, heading home, and burying her head under the covers for the foreseeable future. Instead, she launched into the little speech she’d practiced in the shower. “I know that we didn’t get along as kids, but it seems like—”

  “Hold up.” He raised his hand. “Why do you keep saying that?”

  Veering off script this early scrambled her already exhausted brain. “Because it’s true. You picked on me constantly and wouldn’t leave me alone. You threw a snake on me. An honest-to-God snake.”

  “It was a baby garter snake. Not more than six inches long. And I didn’t throw it exactly. It wiggled out of my hands.” His wide-eyed innocence was ruined by a mischievous half smile. “I thought girls loved baby animals.”

  “Yeah, fuzzy ones. Cute ones. Not slimy poisonous ones.”

  “Garter snakes aren’t venomous. Or slimy, for that matter. Now if it’d been a salamander—”

  “It was not cool.” She pressed her temples. “Did you interpret my scream as one of delight? And how about the time you followed me into woods and scared me so bad, I fell into the river? My dress got ruined.”

  “To be fair, my plan was to make you laugh. I had no idea you were that clumsy. But I jumped in after you. I wouldn’t have let anything bad happen to you. That’s why I followed you. To keep you safe.” Although he retained a slight smile, his eyes had grown darker and stormier.

  She wasn’t sure how to marry their differing memories of the same events. “Whatever. That’s all in the past. It’s the here and now that concerns me. Lo
ok, I need to be able to hold my head up in this town.”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “In reality, no, but instead of Andrew being the bad guy, people are assuming that he broke up with me because of something you and I did.”

  “So?”

  “So? Everyone thinks it’s my soul needs praying for on Sunday morning and not his, dangit.”

  “Someone actually said that?” His lips twitched, and in a few years maybe she would see the humor in the situation. Today was not that day.

  “Not outright, but I’m surprised lightning hasn’t destroyed half of Cottonbloom with all the faked piety that was shoved at me this morning.” The unusual amount of foot traffic in the shop from Junior League members and churchgoers had set off alarms. All of them had attempted to work the conversation around to her and Andrew and Wyatt. Especially Wyatt. “Your reputation doesn’t help matters.”

  His twitching lips fell into a frown. “What reputation?”

  “People say you know how to have a good time and tend to—” Sleep around wasn’t exactly accurate, but he’d left a string of broken-hearted women in his wake. “Not commit to one woman for very long.”

  If she had to quantify his expression, it looked like hurt feelings. “You should know better than anyone not to believe everything you hear.”

  “Of course I don’t believe it.” From the look on his face, her denial registered as weak at best. And, to be honest, she was counting on his casual attitude when it came to dating. Or fake dating.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactly do you want from me?”

  She had offended him. The Sutton of a day ago would apologize, tuck tail, and retreat. But she wanted to be someone different. Someone bolder. “What if I asked Daddy to talk up the garage amongst his friends at the country club and drum up projects that would get you attention to make up for the Camaro?”

  “That’d be great, but since you’re posing this as a business arrangement, I assume you require something in return.” For the first time with her, he was guarded and distant and slightly intimidating.

  She took a deep breath. What’s the worst that could happen? She’d already been humiliated and everyone was talking about her already. If he laughed, she would walk out with her head high and avoid him the rest of her life. “I want you to take me out. Not real dates. Fake ones.”