He blinked. At least, he hadn’t laughed. Yet.
She continued before he could flat turn her down. “I need to buy some time for the rumors to settle down. The gala is our busiest time of year besides prom. Part of why women come to Abigail’s is because they trust me. If I lose their good opinion, they could easily take their business to Jackson or Baton Rouge.”
“I feel real bad for you, I do. But—”
“And, my father’s up for reelection.” Her next argument came out with more desperation. “I can’t stomach going to fundraisers or dinner parties alone when Andrew will be there, maybe with Bree. I just can’t.”
“Sutton…” He shook his head and she had to look away from the pity she saw in his eyes.
“This is all my fault for wanting to get revenge or whatever.” She ran a hand through her hair. “And I dragged you in as an innocent party.”
“Innocent might be overstepping a tad.” His chuckle brought her eyes up to his. “The kiss on your front porch was my idea.”
Her mouth dried at the mention, and she dabbed her lips with her tongue, the memory potent enough to rule her dreams the night before. His gaze dropped to her mouth. If she was being a hundred percent truthful, a small part of her hoped for another soul-scorching kiss. Just for show.
“This would be a short-lived agreement,” she said.
“For how long?”
Her mind whirled. She hadn’t expected to get this far. “The League gala is in less than three weeks. We could go together and that would be it. Our last date.”
“Fake date.”
“Exactly.” She wasn’t sure what to make of the sarcasm in his voice. “The gala would be a great opportunity for you to meet potential clients for the garage.”
A whistle sounded, and Wyatt pushed off the couch. “That’s my cue. Come on and I’ll walk you to your car.”
He hadn’t given an answer, but her gumption level was nearing empty. Eyes tracked their walk back through the garage and out into the parking lot. Wyatt didn’t pay them any mind. Why couldn’t she do that?
He stopped and kicked a rock. It skidded all the way to the side of the road. “All right.”
“All right, what?”
“I’ll fake date you in return for some good word of mouth for the garage on your side of the river. Although I’m not sure what you expect. Country club dinners? Golf outings?”
“Nothing so formal. You know, dinner, drinks and stuff.”
He propped a hip against the trunk of her car. “It’s the stuff I’m getting hung up on. How physical do you want to get?”
Very. The word popped through the filter of her brain. Luckily, she didn’t actually say it aloud. “People need to believe that we’re actually dating.”
“You’re saying you want plenty of PDA?”
Yes, her body screamed. Her voice cracked, her mouth as dry as the Mojave Desert. “Nothing crazy. Hand holding and maybe the occasional kiss.” At his raised eyebrows, she rushed to explain. “We’ve already kissed, right? What’s a few more times?”
How pathetic had she sounded? Lord help her, even the thought of kissing him again had left her needing a fan and smelling salts.
His dancing eyes calmed and narrowed slightly. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re feeling vulnerable and hurt and I don’t want to add to that.”
Behind his concern lurked another message, one that resurrected her pride. “You think a couple of your kisses will make me forget I was cheated on and fall for you or something? A little full of yourself, aren’t you? I mean, the gall to think I would faint at your grease-covered boots over one little kiss and—”
“You’ve made your point.” Instead of getting mad or defensive, he grabbed her hand and tugged her closer. “But you can’t deny you enjoyed that kiss on a purely physical level.”
Her wounded pride commanded her to jerk out of his hold, but her hand rebelled and curled around his thumb, her finger tracing a callus. “Yeah, well, you enjoyed yourself too, mister.”
“Why do you assume that?”
Lightheadedness came over her, and the possibility of fainting at his grease-covered boots became a real possibility. Unable to stop herself, she glanced down to the bottom of the zipper on his coveralls. “Because I thought I could feel it. You, I mean.”
She followed the track of his zipper up with her gaze to meet his eyes. A flush stained his cheeks.
She continued. “I’m not looking for a rebound. Whatever we do is purely for the sake of our agreement.”
“How about I meet you at Abigail’s after work on Friday? We can grab a pizza and hash out the details while being seen together.”
Her relief was a physical thing, untying the knots in her stomach. “Good plan. Fridays at the pizza place are busy.”
He took a step toward her, and she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.
A spark of tease returned to his face, quirking the corners of his mouth. “Is everyone loitering in the open bay watching us?”
She shifted to see over his shoulder. “Ford and Mack and two older ladies are.”
“Those are my aunts, Hyacinth and Hazel. Twins, just like me and Jackson.”
“The ones with the gossipy Bible study?”
“Exactly. Should we start convincing people right now with some practice PDA? I can guarantee word will circulate through the ladies’ church groups on both sides of the river.”
“A kiss?”
“Isn’t that what you want?” He looped an arm around her waist.
Her life had careened off the rails, but as a return to the straight and narrow seemed unlikely, maybe she should stop thinking so much and go for it. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, settling them first on his lower arms then his chest. Nothing felt natural. He took one of her hands and linked their fingers.
“What should I do?” she whispered.
“Whatever you want to do.” Was the challenge in his eyes real or a reflection of the battle raging inside of her?
Be bold. The dictate came like twin arrows from her brain. She obeyed, pitching closer and touching her lips to his. His soft hum encouraged her to wiggle closer and drape her arm on his shoulder.
Like the night before, everything outside the two of them fell away. The heat of the morning sun couldn’t compete with the heat they generated. Her dreams hadn’t done him justice.
His mouth parted and as if dancing, his head shifted one way and hers the other. She touched her tongue to his. The knot of desire that had remained tangled since the night before grew in her lower belly.
A recklessness came over her, so foreign and powerful she couldn’t control it. She wound her hand in the hair at the back of his head and forced him even closer. All the while his tongue and teeth were doing delicious things to her mouth. His hard body made her want to wrap her legs around him and beg him for more. Maybe a no-strings-attached rebound was exactly what she needed.
Her hand in his stopped her. Their fingers had remained tight around each other and grounded her in something that wasn’t purely physical. It was honeyed and gooey and a little bit scary.
She pulled away first. His lips followed, skimming over her jaw to nip her earlobe. Somewhere she located the good sense to let go of his hair and push against his chest. Her elbow turned to rubber when he trailed his lips down her neck to suck gently.
“Sweet Jesus,” she said in a breathy moan.
“I want to hear you say my name like that someday.” His voice was gravelly, his breath against the hot place on her neck inciting shivers.
But another kind of shiver went down her spine. A warning. She twisted out of his arms and dropped his hand. Already she missed their hold on each other. “That’s not … we’re not…”
He blinked as if the same blinding fog that afflicted her during their kiss had enveloped him as well. “No, of course not. Just practicing in case someone was to overhear us.”
“Yeah, good idea.” She peeked
over his shoulder again at the crowd of his family witnessing their kiss. At least Wyatt’s back had provided a certain amount of privacy.
Under the desire and embarrassment, a confidence that had been absent so long she barely recognized the feeling coursed through her.
He had agreed to her harebrained scheme, and they were going to see each other again in a few days. Cool. She should play this cool. She had a feeling the smile on her face was anything but. It felt more like a kid-on-Christmas-morning grin.
“I’ll see you Friday after work?” she asked.
“It’s a date,” he said with a smile.
Chapter Seven
Friday came and went so slowly, Wyatt was convinced the shop clock needed new batteries. But the sun in the sky didn’t lie, and the workday stretched to forever. He tried to squash his eagerness to see Sutton, but it welled up through the alarms his logic issued.
“Any word on Tarwater’s car?” Jackson asked as they cleaned up the pit and sorted tools back in the box.
“Not yet. I’m surprised he hasn’t stormed out here to pick it up himself. I’ll ask Sutton tonight.”
“What are y’all going to get up to?” Although Jackson’s tone veered casual, Wyatt knew better. His brother was attempting, in his stoic way, to impart a message.
“Grabbing a pizza over the river. What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.” They continued with their work, the clang of the tools into drawers filling the expectant silence. Wyatt waited his twin out. Jackson closed the drawer and turned back to face Wyatt.
Wyatt was the anomaly looks-wise amongst the brothers with his almost-black hair and gray eyes. Jackson had inherited the Abbott brown hair and hazel eyes, but he’d gotten something from their mother too. A streak of wildness ran deep beneath his calm, quiet exterior. People thought Wyatt was a risk taker, but watching Jackson dominate a dirt track wasn’t for the faint of heart.
Still, he could be counted on to keep his cool under the stress of family drama and gave good advice—whether you wanted to hear it or not. The problem was Wyatt had a feeling Jackson’s advice would be in direct opposition to what Wyatt wanted.
“Sutton Mize was engaged as of earlier this week,” Jackson said.
“Yep, but she’s not anymore.”
“I heard the jabber about why, and I saw the tail end of that kiss you shared in our parking lot. But I also know you weren’t seeing her before she brought Tarwater’s car in, so what gives?” Jackson planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest.
Lying to his twin wasn’t only inadvisable, it was impossible. They had a way of seeing past each other’s bullshit that was sometimes welcome, sometimes annoying. “Short story is that Tarwater is a dick and was cheating on Sutton with her best friend. She broke off the engagement and to save face insinuated that she and I had been a thing for a while.”
“You and she are going to keep up the charade to make Tarwater feel bad?”
“Something like that.” Wyatt turned away and picked up the dirty, blue, shop towels.
Jackson grabbed Wyatt’s arm and forced him around. “You like her.”
“Everyone likes her. She’s nice.”
“I mean, you like like her. You have since we were kids—I’ve not forgotten how you walked around with cow eyes around her—and that kiss out front wasn’t pretend. You two nearly melted the asphalt.”
Jackson’s twin powers had veered sharply annoying. “I maybe, sort of like her. What’s wrong with that? She’s single; I’m single.”
“She’s been single for less than a week. She’s using you.”
“I’m using her too. In return for me squiring her around, she’s going to get her judge daddy to talk up the garage at the country club. Send some more projects our way to make up for the Camaro.”
“That kiss was all a selfless act for the garage?” Jackson’s sarcasm was not appreciated.
Wyatt had to look away from his brother’s gaze which prompted a muttered curse from Jackson.
“Do not fall for this woman, Wyatt. Whether she means to or not, she’s going to rip your heart into little pieces and feed it to the gators before she goes back to her old life.”
“We’re not getting serious. In fact, we agreed that after I take her to the gala, it’s over.”
Jackson didn’t look pleased with the news. He looked worried. “As long as you don’t delude yourself into thinking it’s anything more than that. She’ll be back with Tarwater or someone like him by Christmas.”
Because the thought had already burrowed into his chest, Wyatt’s reaction was knee-jerk and defensive. “Someone like him?”
“You know, sophisticated. Worldly. Rich. Well-connected. Well-groomed.”
“Fuck you,” Wyatt shot back, but there was little heat to it. Jackson was right. “I’ve been told I clean up real nice.”
Jackson’s smile revealed his dimples. A rare sight since their pop had died last year. “Doesn’t count if it’s from a female relative over the age of sixty.”
“Sutton and I are putting on a show until the gala. That’s when it ends. No need to worry yourself over me.” They finished tidying the pit and took up posts on opposite sides of the open bay door. The sun trekked toward the horizon and threw orange and purple across the sky like a finger painting by a three-year-old.
“You ever think about the family curse?” Wyatt finally asked.
“What curse?”
“The one about Abbott twins never getting married.”
“I’d call it more a blessing than a curse. And I don’t even want to know why you’re worried about it all of a sudden.” Jackson sent an eye roll in his direction and headed toward the office where Mack worked on spreadsheets.
Thankful for the privacy, Wyatt headed to the loft to clean up, taking time to scrub the grease from under his nails. Jackson’s warnings reverberated in his head. He might not be invited to the governor’s mansion anytime soon, but Hyacinth and Hazel had taken it upon themselves to domesticate them after a fashion. He knew enough not to fart in public or eat with his fingers. He could even manage a credible two-step on a dance floor. He was plenty sophisticated enough for either side of Cottonbloom, dammit.
Wyatt might not be rich like Tarwater, but the garage provided a good living. And as their reputation grew in classic car restoration circles, they might even pull business from bigger cities like New Orleans or Jackson, Mississippi. Unless things nosedived into the swamps.
It didn’t matter. Jackson was right about one thing. Whatever he and Sutton were doing was temporary. The milk in his fridge had a longer expiration date than their fake relationship.
Instead of grabbing the first available clean shirt, he flipped through his closet and waffled between two different plaid button-downs, finally settling on the green-and-blue because Aunt Hyacinth had told him once it brought out his eyes.
Although he hadn’t invoked it in a while, temporary and fun would be his mantra until it stuck. He would enjoy the PDA and her company and that’s all. It shouldn’t be an issue considering he was a certified expert in temporary and fun.
Wyatt grabbed the keys for the Hornet. The growly engine rattled the restlessness and worry out of his bones. He rolled down the windows and enjoyed the gloaming through the pine trees that lined the two-lane road into town. The scent was earthy and familiar and comforting.
The last streaks of the sun were fading when he crossed the steel-girded bridge and turned onto Mississippi’s River Street. In a fit of pique or spite or maybe idiocy, the road that paralleled it on the Louisiana side was also called River Street, making giving directions and mail delivery a crapshoot.
He parked down the street in an isolated spot to avoid the possibility of a flung-open truck door marring the Hornet’s paint job. Several couples and families were out enjoying the common area by the river. Children played tag, their squeals and laughter carrying over the soft background of the flowing river.
He hesitated at the corner. A
bigail’s Boutique was the first business on the street that ran perpendicular to River Street. He was a few minutes early. A shadow moved in the store.
He approached the door and rubbed his hands down the front of his jeans. A line of headless mannequins displayed a variety of clothes from a simple sundress to a floor-length beaded gown. A crimp in his stomach so unfamiliar that it could only be nerves made him hesitate. He resisted the urge to lurk outside and forced himself inside the shop.
The first thing that hit him was the attractive feminine scent. The next was an unfamiliar woman looking at him like he was there to rob the store.
“Uh, hi.” He held up both hands where she could see them, waving one, and tried on his most charming, non-threatening smile. She continued to stare.
“I believe this is the one you’re referring to, Ms. Eckert.”
Sutton’s voice drifted from behind a curtained room at the back of the store a second before she emerged. Her flower printed skirt rippled as she brushed by the curtains, her torso obscured by voluminous fabric that reminded him of a giant peach.
“Wyatt.” Surprise lilted her voice high and for a moment, he panicked.
Did he have the day wrong? Or had she not really wanted to get together? Maybe she regretted their deal and hoped he’d crawl back into the greasy pit from whence he’d come. Or even worse, maybe she and Tarwater were back together. A lot could happen in three days.
“Do you mind if I finish up with Ms. Eckert? Come on back and I’ll find you somewhere to sit.” She hung what turned out to be a peach-colored dress with a very full skirt in a dressing room. “Actually, we could use a man’s opinion, if you’re up for it.”
“I’ll give it a shot.” The relief that chased his panic away made his voice veer way more enthusiastic than he’d ever felt about ladies’ clothing—unless it was on his bedroom floor.
He weaved his way through the racks of clothes to where a counter flanked in weird tree-like structures draped in jewelry and scarves faced two dressing rooms.
Leave the Night On Page 9