When the Stars Come Out--A Cottonbloom Novel

by Laura Trentham

  “Sure. You decide while I get ready. The boys will be here in a half hour.”

  Willa waited until she was alone to slip her feet into the high heels. She held on to the dress form’s shoulder for balance. Her legs were transformed. They were long and lean and sexy. Imagining the look on Jackson’s face was enough to tip the scales. Yes, they’d had sex, but they’d never been out together, and maybe it was silly, but she wanted their first date to be special. The night felt like the start of something important.

  She let go and took a few steps, her ankles wobbling a little. If Cinderella could cram her foot into an unbendable glass slipper, then surely Willa could manage an evening in a pair of heels.

  She practiced walking up and down the hallway and through the den until she was confident she wouldn’t do a face-plant. Sutton emerged from her bedroom in a form-fitting dark blue dress with subtle sparkles in the fabric. The neckline was high, but when she turned, her back was exposed nearly to her waist. With her hair pinned in a twist, she was subtly sophisticated in a way that had to do with more than just a dress. But for tonight at least, Willa was her equal.

  The sound of a car engine drew Sutton to the front window where she barked a laugh. Willa joined her. They had driven separately, Wyatt in an old Dodge two-door Dart that looked cheap next to Jackson’s cherished Mustang. Of course, as soon as Wyatt finished restoring his dream car, he would drive the Plymouth Hemicuda forever. The Abbott brothers were nothing if not committed and faithful to their cars.

  They parked along the edge of the driveway and emerged simultaneously, meeting between their cars and walking up the drive shoulder to shoulder. While they were fraternal twins and had different coloring, their build was identical as was the way they moved, graceful and almost feline. There was no denying which brother was the most compelling though.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off Jackson. He had shed his customary coveralls and jeans in favor of a dark suit. His white shirt emphasized his tanned skin, and his tie was a plain black. It was simple, yet fit him like it was custom made. He’d bought it for his father’s funeral. At the time, she’d tried—and failed—not to notice how handsome he’d looked that day. Now, she didn’t have to battle the inappropriateness of her feelings.

  Wyatt had similar dark slacks on, but no jacket, a white shirt, and a green tartan tie that was off-kilter. Not bothering with the doorbell, Wyatt stepped inside. His grin froze and took on shades of shock when he met her gaze. Jackson stepped in behind him, his expression serious and unchanging upon seeing her.

  A pang of uncertainty had her ankles and knees wobbling. Was it too late to change into flats?

  Sutton looped her arm through Wyatt’s. “Doesn’t Willa look amazing?”

  “Jesus! I mean, yes. I’m just … you’re just…” An easiness returned to his smile. “You look really pretty, Willa. Weird seeing you without your hat though. You sure you don’t have it stashed somewhere?”

  His teasing made things seem not so foreign. “Yeah, in my underwear. I’ll whip it out later.”

  “Are you seriously planning to wear that tie?” Sutton tugged on the length of tartan, her voice disbelieving.

  “Apparently not. You got something better?” He flipped the ends of the tie and grinned even wider.

  “Come on back.” She swept out and he followed, leaving an expanding discomfort between her and Jackson.

  Willa wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but a smile or even a compliment would go a long way toward soothing her nerves. She decided to throw him a bone. “You look nice.”

  He smoothed one lapel of his jacket. “It’s from Pop’s funeral.” His voice was rougher than normal.

  “I know.”

  “It’s the only suit I own.”

  “I figured. You still look nice.”

  Even a tepid so do you would have been welcome, but he didn’t respond.

  His reaction, or lack of, squashed her burgeoning excitement, and all she wanted to do was run like Cinderella before she even got a chance to go to the ball. Actually, to the hell with running, Prince Charming was going to get a piece of her mind. “Was this a mistake? If you don’t want to be seen with me then—”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Stop.” The simple word was all he could manage at the moment. Shock had zapped his heart into a rhythm that left him feeling like he’d crested a hill too fast in his Mustang. Scary and exhilarating.

  She didn’t look like his Willa. Not the girl who worked by his side and made him laugh and was his constant. Not even the Willa he’d discovered in his bed. She was a woman with an intimidating sophistication. He’d always felt more experienced and in control of whatever they were doing. For the first time, he wondered what a woman like her was doing with a grease monkey like him.

  His gaze didn’t know where to land. On sexily tousled hair that begged for his hands while he kissed all the gloss off her pink lips. On vulnerable eyes that had been outlined and mascaraed to emphasize the brown and gold. On the narrowness of her shoulders or her delicate-looking collarbones or her breasts …

  Lord help him but the strapless dress did something amazing to her curves. A primal need fired inside of him. He wanted to skip the stupid party and take her somewhere private. He wanted to run his hands under the skirt, peel the top down, and feast. He’d keep her in bed all night, all week—hell, all year. It was his New Year’s resolution.

  His legendary control was close to breaking. What was it about her? Or was it everything about her? Engines with all their moving parts and complications were easier to figure out.

  She propped her hands on her hips and the corner of her mouth pulled back in a look he recognized as the precursor for one of her barbs.

  “What is your problem, Jackson Abbott? It’s not like this was a blind date. In fact, you’ve seen more of me than … anyone, actually. If you don’t like it, then you can kiss my you-know-what at midnight.”

  He almost smiled. Her makeup and hair might be more stylish and her body rocking in the bombshell dress, but inside she was most definitely still his Willa.

  He stepped closer. She was almost as tall as he was. His gaze finally made it past her hips to skim her long legs and down to a pair of ridiculously high heels. His imagination went wild with possibilities. “My problem is that I’m a jackass.”

  She blinked, her mouth opening then snapping shut. When she spoke, her voice had softened into a whisper. “Not usually.”

  “An idiot?”

  “Maybe a little.” She glanced down and back up at him through her lashes. The gentle, flirtatious look hit him like a punch. This time his heart kicked like he might require someone to call 911. “Do I clean up good?”

  He knew what she wanted to hear and later, in the dark solitude of his bed, he’d tell her and, even better, show her. But, for now, he tempered his response, hoping to get a rise out of her. “Not bad.”

  She stepped forward and punched his arm. It might have stung if she hadn’t tipped to the side as her fist made contact. Her eyes popped wide and a little huff escaped. With reaction times honed on the racetrack, he wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her flush with his body.

  “You sure you know how to operate those shoes?” This time he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

  “They don’t require a license. And I was doing fine until you showed up.”

  Her admission made him feel slightly better. He wasn’t the only one who was off balance. Her body notched into his perfectly with the added inches the heels lent her. His focus dropped from her sparking eyes to her mouth. Maybe he’d kiss the gloss off them right now. His lips hovered an inch from hers. So close he could feel the ramp-up of her breathing. Or was that his breathing spinning out of control?

  “You two ready? Oh, sorry.” Wyatt strolled into the den, his hands shoved inside his pockets, his tartan suit tie replaced by a blue and gray striped bow tie. He didn’t look sorry at all. In fact, he looked like he was ready to burst into laughte
r.

  Jackson supposed this was payback for the time he’d nearly walked in on him and Sutton. He’d snuck out and let them get on with it though. Didn’t look like Wyatt was going to be as polite.

  “You look like an effing waiter,” Jackson said as he stepped away from Willa. Except he didn’t completely release her, only slipped his hand around hers and squeezed.

  “I know, but Sutton thinks I look hot, right, darlin’?”

  Sutton joined them, a wrap around her shoulders and a clutch tucked under her arm. Wyatt pulled at his collar and slipped his arm around her.

  “You know it, babe.” Even though her smile was directed toward Wyatt, Jackson could feel the radiating happiness.

  “That’s all that matters.” Wyatt kissed her nose. “Ready to roll?”

  Jackson opened the car door, and Willa slipped in with a smile that struck him as very un-Willa-like. It held different sorts of secrets. Sexy ones. The silence between them held a new quality. It wasn’t the comfortable silence they enjoyed in the shop. Working together under the hood of a vehicle didn’t require them to speak with words. They could read one another’s minds.

  He had no clue what she was thinking right now. Ever since they’d had sex … No, even before. Ever since he’d let himself see her as more than a mechanic, he’d wandered in blind confusion where she was concerned.

  Her face was turned toward the passenger window, and her hands were knitted together on her lap, the set of her bare shoulders tense. She acted more like she was waiting for a dentist appointment than headed to a party.

  “If it’s not fun, we can leave,” he said.

  “I’ve never been to a New Year’s Eve party.” She huffed a laugh. “I’ve never been to anything fancier than a kegger right out of high school. Sutton’s friends are doctors and lawyers and professors. It doesn’t matter what I wear, they’ll know I don’t belong.”

  He laughed, and she shot around to face him, the slightly pissed-off expression much more familiar.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “No. Yes.” He shook his head and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “You’ve probably read more books than everyone at this party put together. We don’t call you Encyclopedia Brown at the shop ironically. You know something about everything. I’m the one who should be worried.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I can talk cars and racing all night long. How far is that going to get me with this crowd?”

  “It got you pretty far with me.” A flirty promise was in her voice, and he whipped his head around.

  “Yeah, well, you’re special.” He tightened his hands on the wheel and stared at the tail end of Wyatt’s car.

  “Am I?” she whispered. She brushed the sleeve of his jacket, and although it was impossible, the touch of her fingertips seemed to burn through the layers of fabric to leave his skin tingly.

  The moment tipped into a potent intimacy. He wanted to pull over and show her how special she was to him, but he didn’t let himself. A dark part of him laughed at his attempt to control his feelings. The truth was deeper and more damaging. There was no “letting” himself do anything, it had happened. He had already fallen for her.

  He was saved by their arrival at the Mize mansion. Every window blazed with light and the columns in front were wrapped in twinkly white lights. Cars lined the drive and street leading up to the house. Wyatt gestured out his car window in a follow-me gesture, and they bypassed the parked cars to twin spots near the front.

  “It’s so pretty,” Willa said with her face pressed close to her window.

  He turned the Mustang off and reached for her wrist before she could open her door and climb out. “You realize that Sutton’s your friend now too.”

  Her smile held a hint of sadness. “I’m not sure what to do with a friend.”

  “You could try trusting them.” His voice came out harsher than he intended.

  Her eyes narrowed on him before she turned away and slid out. By the time he joined her, her face was bland and he couldn’t tell if the flash was anger, suspicion, or a figment of his imagination.

  After obtaining the information about her car registration from Gloria, he had made a resolution to keep it to himself, but he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to stay silent. The urge to confront her and excise the poison was growing every minute.

  He pressed his lips together and offered her his arm. She looped hers through his. He had to steady her twice on their walk over the uneven cobbled driveway to the front door. Sutton opened the door and a swell of soft music and the buzz of conversation enveloped them.

  Sutton’s parents greeted people in the large foyer. A wide oak staircase rose to a second-floor landing, dominating the entry. A chandelier threw crystal-fractured light into the nooks and crannies. A dining room off to the left had a table covered in food and a buffet stocked with drinks and manned by a tuxedoed bartender. To the right was a great room with furniture pushed against the walls and people milling around.

  Wyatt shook hands with Sutton’s father. A quick whispered exchange passed between them and Wyatt’s smile dropped.

  Sutton hugged her parents and waved him and Willa closer. “This is Willa, and you probably remember Jackson, don’t you, Daddy?”

  While Jackson shook Judge Mize’s hand, Sutton’s mother gave Willa’s cheek an air kiss then took her hands and held them up, examining her head to toe. “Lawsy, you certainly are doing Sutton’s dress justice. Very pretty.”

  Her blush was obvious even through the makeup. “Thank you, ma’am. Sutton is amazing, but I’m sure you already know that.” The sincerity and charm in the compliment turned Sutton’s mother into Willa’s champion right in front of him.

  Sutton and Wyatt drifted to the side to talk to someone Jackson didn’t know, their arms locked around one another. Jackson turned back to Judge Mize. “Thank you for inviting us, sir.”

  “Considering we’re soon to be family, I hope we’ll be seeing lots more of you. Is Mack coming?” He glanced over Jackson’s shoulder.

  “Later. For the meeting. Is Tarwater here?”

  “Not yet.” Troubles shadowed the judge’s eyes. “I certainly understand the motivation to confront him. Lord knows, I’ve wanted to take Andrew behind the shed a time or two for how he treated Sutton, but have a care how you approach him. He’s slippery.”

  That was a nice way to put it. “We’ll try.”

  It was all he could promise. The combination of Mack, Wyatt, and Tarwater with the added specter of Ford’s betrayal had the makings of a Molotov cocktail.

  The judge nodded absently at Willa, but his focus was on the next arrivals, and Jackson drew Willa into the great room, scanning for Wyatt, but he was nowhere to be found. In fact, Jackson didn’t recognize anyone. Crossing the river was like entering another world.

  “What are you thinking about?” Obvious nerves had her fidgeting.

  “I’m thinking how weird it is that I grew up a stone’s throw from most of these people but I don’t know them and they don’t know me.”

  “Not even from the garage? I see Ms. Vera across the way.” She smiled and gave a wave to a white-haired lady who looked vaguely familiar. He squinted in the woman’s direction, and Willa laughed. “The Olds 442?”

  “Ah, now I remember.”

  She turned until she was leaning against the wall between a couch and a painting of dogs on the hunt. “Do you see little car heads instead of people’s faces? And instead of names, do you label people as a make and model? Like, there’s Ford Taurus. I wonder how his mama, Toyota Corolla, is doing?”

  He smiled and propped a shoulder on the wall, his back to most of the room. The position put them close and lent a sense of solitude, however false. “Cars aren’t inherited like hair color or eye color or build or something. They’re an extension of a person’s personality.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What does my POS say about my personality?”

  He hesitated at graspin
g the opening she’d provided. What did it say that she’d taken a dead woman’s name and car? “It says that you’re desperate and scared and want help.”

  She straightened and turned to face him. The hardness in her eyes aged her years in a millisecond. “I’m doing fine, thank you very much.”

  God, she could turn as prickly as a blackberry patch, but the sweetness she protected was worth it. He reached for her cheek, but she jerked her head back. It didn’t deter him. He slipped a hand around her nape and held fast, her hair tickling his wrist. “I didn’t say you need help. You want it. I wish you’d let me help you do more than just survive.”

  Her neck relaxed and her head fell back, her lips parted slightly. This time he didn’t resist and dropped his mouth to hers for a kiss, brief but sweet. He knew better than to take her yielding as a surrender, but maybe he’d won another skirmish.

  Their eyes were still locked when Wyatt’s voice cut between them. “… here he is, but I doubt he’ll play.”

  Judge Mize probably wouldn’t take kindly to Jackson punching his future son-in-law for being a pest. He turned his head and ground the single word out. “What?”

  “You really don’t want this ray of sunshine on your team anyway, do you, boys?”

  Cade and Sawyer Fournette flanked Wyatt, and Jackson forced his jaw to relax even if a smile was beyond his ability at the moment.

  “Do you two ever stop recruiting for your team?” He raised his eyebrows at Sawyer. “I thought your wife had strong-armed you into playing for Mississippi anyway.”

  “She did. But I put my foot down and told her I was playing for Cade this season.”

  “Don’t lie. You begged her. Promised her all sort of favors to let you play for me.” Cade’s smile was sly.

  Sawyer’s arm came up behind Wyatt and he knuckle-punched Cade in the upper arm. Cade made an exaggerated ow sound and rubbed his biceps, while tossing a wink in Willa’s direction.

  “I’m Cade Fournette and this is my brother Sawyer. You a ’Sip or a swamp rat?”

  “Swamp rat, I guess, but I’ve only lived here a couple of years.”