Surrender To Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  The word What? formed on her lips, but never materialized. Was he actually suggesting she move to Texas and leave Noah behind? He couldn’t really think she’d do that.

  Daddy seemed to read her thoughts. “Nearest airport’s only an hour away. You could still keep your visits with Noah. Only difference is you’d be here in the meantime, not there, waiting on the sidelines and wishing your life away.”

  The only argument she could think of was, “All those plane tickets would add up.”

  “Then I’ll help.”

  The idea of leaving Minnesota chilled her to the core. She’d moved there at seventeen—it was nearly all she knew. And even though she couldn’t see Noah more than once a month, she liked being near him.

  “Sultry Memorial’s always looking for nurses,” Daddy went on. “Wouldn’t take long to get your license current.” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Just promise you’ll think about it.”

  She nodded. “I promise.” But she wouldn’t have to think very long.

  “I just wanna see you happy, Pumpkin,” Daddy said. “It’s all any parent wants.”

  She knew that. And how. Only moments ago, Noah’s happiness had filled and defined her. Her little boy was safe, content, and loved, which was all a mother could want for her child.

  So why did she feel empty?

  Chapter 8

  Leah propped a hip against the back of a wooden pew and admired the grouping of vibrant orange potted mums decorating the podium. No silk flowers today. The hospitality committee had upgraded to the real thing in honor of Daddy’s return to the pulpit. More than that, a certain enthusiasm charged the air; she could hear it in the exuberant chatter of voices and the eager bounce of dress shoes. It made Leah smile. Daddy’s flock had missed him—he was well-loved here. In fact, half the congregation still refused to meet her gaze as punishment for all the “suffering” she’d caused him.

  The organist played “Praise Him, O Praise Him” in quarter-time while suited gentlemen escorted their ladies into the sanctuary, some of them towing little girls in Mary Janes. A young boy dragged his loafered-feet down the aisle, tugging at his shirt collar. Leah couldn’t help but laugh under her breath. He reminded her of Noah, and as she often did, she wondered what he might be doing right now.

  He wasn’t in church—she knew that much. Longtime agnostics, the Ackermans had decided to raise Noah without the influence of religion. It was their right, but she wished they’d at least take him to services on Christmas and Easter. Just the bare minimum, so he’d know the difference between Madonna, the blessed virgin, and Madonna, the like a virgin. Of course, that wasn’t her decision to make, so she shouldn’t judge. Remembering Daddy’s advice on letting go, she tucked Noah’s image to the back of her mind and tried to live in the moment.

  She turned and spotted poor, puffy June filing inside ahead of Luke and Bobbi. Trey loped in a second later with a Latino teen in khakis and a white button-down polo. The boy wore his long, black hair in a low ponytail, reminding her of a young Colton. But she didn’t want to think about him. Four days had passed since the Sack-n-Pay incident, and she hadn’t caught a single glimpse of his russet face. It seemed he’d finally decided to leave her be, something that made her feel unexpectedly irritated, though she refused to ask herself why. Instead, she met June at the last row, closest to the rear entrance, where her group had begun to settle.

  Leah waved at Bobbi, but kept her distance. She didn’t like the way Bobbi studied her in that critical, journalistic way. The woman smelled a story; Leah could tell.

  Trey took a seat beside his wife and flashed a sunny, dimpled grin. He gestured to the teen at his side. “This is Carlo, my apprentice.”

  “Oh, cool,” Leah said, leaning over to shake the boy’s hand. “What trade?”

  “Building and repair,” came the reply. He didn’t elaborate, but he offered a smile every bit as infectious as his mentor’s.

  Luke clapped the boy’s shoulder. “Best guy on our crew.”

  Carlo shrugged away the compliment, his face beaming. “I’m glad your dad’s better,” he told her.

  “Yeah,” Trey added, “we’re not usually church-going folk, but we wanted to be here for Pastor Mac’s big comeback.”

  “I’m glad you came out.” Leah turned her attention to June. “Especially you. I’ll bet you’d rather be on the couch with your feet up.”

  She’d just bent to give June a hug when she noticed someone new step through the double doors—a tall, broad-chested man with raven hair brushing his shoulders. It took a few moments for her to recognize him as Colt, and even then, she didn’t believe her eyes. In his black suit, starched white shirt, tie, and sunglasses, he looked like one of the Blues Brothers, minus the fedora hat. She’d never seen him so dressed up before. Or inside a house of worship. What the apple fudge was he doing here?

  He slipped off his shades, dropped them inside his breast pocket, and fastened that jade-blue gaze on her. Her tummy did two double flips. Lord help her—she was toast.

  While she stood frozen in place, he strode over and placed an innocent kiss at her jaw, then pressed something into her palm. She glanced down to find an opened pack of Carnival Cotton Candy Bubblicious and twenty-six cents.

  “You left this behind,” he said in a smooth, deep voice that washed over her and settled low in her abdomen. “And you forgot your change.”

  She pocketed the coins and held up her gum. “There’s a piece missing.”

  He shook his head and told her, “Two,” before chewing a few times and blowing a wide, pink bubble.

  “Colt!” she chided, popping it with her index finger. “We’re in church.”

  “I know, Angel.” With a wicked grin, he sucked the deflated bubble into his mouth and asked, “Want me to testify?”

  “This isn’t funny—”

  Bobbi interrupted, “Is that Crazy Colt?”

  Leah gritted her teeth. She was getting really tired of hearing that nickname.

  “Well, lookie here,” Colt said, turning toward Bobbi, who stood and inched her way along the pew to give him a hug. “It’s the Bodacious Gallagher.”

  “It’s the Bodacious Lewis now,” Trey corrected from his seat.

  Colt and Bobbi embraced, holding on a bit too long for Leah’s comfort. From the look of Trey’s creased forehead, he wasn’t pleased either. When they parted, Bobbi took Colt’s face in her hands and said, “You look great. How’re you feeling?”

  “Fine,” he replied, but Leah knew better. She’d noticed his careful footsteps and the way he sometimes kneaded his lower back with the heel of his hand.

  Bobbi sat back down, and Colt nodded at Carlo, extending one fist for a bump. “Little Hammer,” he said, snickering in what was clearly an inside joke. Then Colt noticed June for the first time, and his eyes went wide. “Whoa,” he said, pointing at her mammoth belly. “Any day now, huh?”

  June’s narrowed gaze said she wasn’t amused. “I’m not due till the end of January.”

  “What?” Colt leaned to the side to study her more closely. “Is it twins?”

  You could cut a tomato on the sharp edge of June’s voice. “No.”

  “You sure?” Colt asked. “’Cause those ultrasounds don’t catch everything. I’ve heard one baby can hide behind the other.”

  Luke swept a protective hand over his wife’s tummy. “It’s not twins, dickhead.”

  “Language!” June hissed with an elbow to Luke’s ribs.

  Luke rolled his eyes and crossed himself, never mind that none of them were Catholic, and Leah decided to break up the mini-reunion before anyone came to blows. She waved good-bye and threaded one arm through Colt’s, tugging him away from the group.

  “Okay,” she whispered, “you should go before the—”

  Without letting her finis
h, he interlaced their fingers and led her down the aisle to a middle row with two vacant seats on the inside. He half-ushered, half-shoved her in, then followed and sat down, trapping her between his massive body and that of his step-grandma, Prudence Foster-Bea, whose knees touched the pew in front of her. If Leah wanted out, she’d have to climb over Colt’s lap, and the smug, smiling jerk knew it.

  Colt patted the oak beside him. “Looks like the service is gonna start soon. You’d better settle in.”

  “You’re really staying?” she asked.

  “I didn’t get all spiffed up just to bring you a pack of gum, honey.” He rested his ankle on the opposite knee and stretched an arm along the back of the pew, making himself right at home. And leaving very little space for her. But if Colt thought he’d manipulate her into an impromptu cuddle fest, he had another thing coming. She lowered to the pew’s edge and sat straighter than a schoolmarm, managing not to make contact with anyone.

  That’s how she sang the opening hymn, and afterward, bowed her head for the invocation. It’s how she made her offering when the collection plate came around, and clapped her hands to congratulate the new baptisms. It’s how she listened as Daddy thanked the fellowship for their prayers during his recovery, and detailed the upcoming Bible Study social. But by the time Daddy began relaying the story of the Prodigal Son, Leah’s unnaturally stiff posture had given her a backache. Her muscles trembled, her thighs burned, and she was forced to admit that she couldn’t keep this up much longer.

  Faking a yawn and a stretch, she snuck a glance at Colt, who never took his eyes off the pulpit. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was actually paying attention. As slowly as she could stand, Leah slid her tushie to the rear of the bench and rested against the seatback, silently groaning with relief. She relaxed against Colton one muscle group at a time—first her shoulder against his chest, then her leg pressed to his thigh, and finally her neck molding to the strong arm wrapped around her from behind.

  Just as she’d feared, Colt was warm and solid and smelled of bold aftershave. He seemed to relax into her, too, tipping his head a little nearer and stroking her hair with his fingertips. Mercy, he felt so good. Even the brush of his trousers against her bare calf made her all twitterpated.

  She had to get it together if she stood any chance against Colt’s wiles. Leaning forward a moment, she gathered her hair to one side so he couldn’t play with it. Not much, but at least it was a start.

  “…my own sweet Leah…”

  She flinched at the echo of her name though the speaker system.

  “…who returned to me a couple of weeks ago,” Daddy said. “And like the man in the parable, I welcomed her home with wide-open arms and a joyful heart—because a father’s love is eternal. I know that my Father will receive me into the Kingdom of Heaven with that same spirit of forgiveness, because His love is eternal too.”

  Leah stared at her folded hands, feeling the weight of a hundred gazes on her shoulders.

  “But the elder son didn’t share his father’s enthusiasm,” Daddy went on. “He resented his brother for leaving, and refused to pardon his sins. He let moral superiority keep him from true happiness, and that’s a sin in its own right.” Daddy gripped the lectern and fell silent for a few seconds. “Brothers and sisters, aren’t you glad the Lord doesn’t hold grudges like that?”

  Leah understood what her father was doing—sending a clear message for his sheep to play nice and accept her back into the fold. She wondered if his desire to keep her in town had something to do with this, but she quickly criticized herself. Daddy loved her and wanted her to be happy. He didn’t have an ulterior motive.

  “Whose actions will you emulate?” Daddy asked the congregation. “The older son, hardened by bitterness and anger, or our Father, who’s willing to wipe the slate clean for all of us?”

  At those words, Pru reached over and gave Leah’s hand a hearty pat, a message of acceptance that was likely the first of many to come. She expected Colt to do the same—to use any excuse to touch her—but he pulled his arm free and leaned forward, resting both elbows on his knees. His withdrawal left more than just the back of her neck cold.

  He pulled a donation envelope and mini-pencil from the rack in front of him and sat back to scrawl a message, keeping it covered so she couldn’t see. When he’d finished, he tossed the envelope into her lap.

  The preacher got me all inspired. Guess I’ll forgive you for the other night.

  What? He’d forgive her? What an arrogant jackass! She snatched a pencil of her own and replied, I don’t think so!!! I’ll forgive YOU for the other night! She passed it back.

  A moment later, he wrote, Awesome. Now that we’re all made up, let’s have dinner. When she stared at the paper without responding, he yanked it back and added, Friends have dinner all the time. It’s no biggie.

  She knew better. Dinner with Colt would send the wrong message, so she told him, That’s a bad idea.

  No, it’s not, he argued. Drunk, naked cow-tipping is a bad idea, especially when there’s a bull in the field. (Not that I’d know, or anything.)

  Her mouth twitched in a smile. No.

  Colt shrugged and folded his arms, then focused on the sermon. Or pretended to.

  After the benediction, Daddy made his way down to greet them. He extended a hand to Colt, who gave it a firm shake.

  “Nice to see you here, Sheriff,” Daddy said. “I don’t think you’ve made it to one of our services before.”

  “No, sir,” Colt answered. “But I reckon I’ll come around next week too.”

  Daddy rocked back on his heels, pleased at the prospect of a new convert. “How’d you like to join us for supper?”

  Leah’s brows shot up her forehead. “I’m sure Colton has plans.” She locked eyes with him. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Not at all.” A shit-eating grin curved Colt’s mouth, pardon her language. “I’d love to come over, especially if Leah’s cooking.”

  “She sure is,” Daddy told him. “Chicken and dumplings, with angel food cake for dessert.”

  “Angel food?” Colt’s grin grew impossibly wider. “That’s my favorite kind.”

  She had a feeling he was referring to more than cake.

  “Great,” Daddy said, patting Colt’s arm. “See you at six.”

  ***

  Colt could get used to this.

  He finished his second bowlful of chicken and pastry, then pushed back from the table to help Leah clear the dishes. She’d changed from her Sunday skirt and blouse into a pair of loose cotton pants and the same oversized Vikings sweatshirt she’d worn to the station last week. She looked so dag-blasted cute in her little socked feet and her hair up in a ponytail. It made him want to snuggle with her on the sofa to watch football. Or better yet, peel off her clothes and make love on the sofa with the game playing in the background. Oh, yeah. That was perfection, right there.

  In that moment, he glimpsed a snippet of their future together—a thousand lazy Sundays just like this—and he liked what he saw. If he could only get her to share that vision…

  Leah pulled a couple of tubs from the refrigerator and asked him, “You want strawberries and whipped cream on your cake?”

  He wanted whipped cream on the nipples hidden beneath her sweatshirt, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say so. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Me too, Pumpkin,” the preacher said from his spot at the table.

  Colt pulled three dessert plates from the cabinet while Leah sliced the angel food cake. She kept sneaking sideways glances at him while she ladled diced berries and Cool Whip onto each serving. Her gaze wasn’t spiteful, but it wasn’t too kind, either. More like curious. He wished he knew what was going on inside that pretty blond head.

  She slid her daddy’s plate across the tabletop and sat down to eat. Colt joined her
and dug right in. His first bite didn’t disappoint. Between the cake, berries, and cream, it was the perfect mingling of tangy and sweet, much like Leah herself.

  He toasted her with his iced tea. “I forgot what a good cook you are.”

  She lit up at that, though she tried to hide it. “Did I ever cook for you before?”

  “Sure.” He slipped off his suit jacket, then loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar. When Leah’s eyes found the patch of skin at the base of his throat, he undid a couple more buttons and watched her cheeks flush. He’d bet his bottom dollar she remembered every morsel she’d ever fed him. He decided to test his theory. “You made cranberry-almond cookies for me when I moved to town. And when I got mono, you brought me chicken noodle soup.”

  “Turkey and wild rice,” she corrected, proving him right.

  Colt bit back a smile. “No, I’m pretty sure it was chicken noodle.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Sure about that?”

  “Of course. I don’t make chicken noodle. It’s too pedestrian.” To clinch it, she added, “And it wasn’t mono. You had strep.”

  “That’s right.” He lightly slapped the tabletop. “I remember now. My throat was on fire, and that soup felt real good going down.”

  She gave a satisfied nod and licked a smudge of whipped cream off her top lip.

  “Well, Angel, you put half the cooks in the county to shame.”

  “Amen to that,” her daddy said. “If I had my way, we’d do this every Sunday.”

  Colt shot the preacher a questioning look.

  “I’m trying to convince Leah to stay on,” the old guy explained, “instead of going back to Minnesota at the end of the month.”

  Colt practically gave himself whiplash turning to face her. “That’s a great idea. The hospital’s understaffed. They’re always looking for good nurses.”

  Her daddy pointed at him. “That’s exactly what I told her!”

  Leah tried shutting them down with a flash of her palm. “I said I’d think about it, nothing more.”