by Ava Miles
The memories of that time together, feeling his mouth and hands on her, made her sway closer to him. She wanted to be kissed again. Right now. He seemed to know it from the way his eyes detoured to her mouth, but he shook himself.
“We should go.”
The distance he was putting between them made his intentions clear. Clayton might have admitted he cared for her, but his steely control remained intact. She could tell he was fighting the urge to take her, to claim her…in more ways than one. And she could intuit why—he knew the first time they made love would be her first time ever. It would be powerful and special, and he didn’t want to rush it.
And that made her love him all the more.
Chapter 19
The restaurant Clayton chose was more of a run-down country store called Mather’s. Gas lanterns illuminated a front porch whose paint had long since peeled away, leaving the natural wood. A fleet of worn white wicker rocking chairs danced a merry tune in the wind. The windows might be old, but they were sparkling. And when Clayton held the door open for her, she stepped onto old hardwood floors that were equally immaculate.
“I told you it wasn’t anything fancy,” he said, his hand warm and comforting on the small of her back, “but this is the best place for old-fashioned Southern comfort food I know.”
White, paper-covered tables were balanced with shims under their legs. None of the chairs seemed to match, but the effect was charming rather than chaotic. There were old posters on the walls from other eras advertising anything from war bonds to powdered grits.
“It’s lovely,” she responded, gazing over at him with a smile. “It seems to be a popular hangout.”
“Yeah, the place is more often packed than not. Fifty years ago, this place closed its doors as a general store and was converted into a restaurant. The locals have kept it busy ever since. This was my daddy’s favorite place to eat, so my mama kept bringing me here. Now it’s my favorite too.”
A server hurried over to them and exchanged a friendly greeting with Clayton, who introduced her by name to Amelia Ann. Soon they were sitting at a small corner table by a window overlooking a swamp. The sickle moon hung low over the trees, and the muted sound of trilling frogs washed over them.
“It must be nice to have this connection with your daddy,” she said, edging carefully around the topic. She knew he had trouble talking about his daddy.
He didn’t pick up one of the plastic menus propped between the antique salt and pepper shakers, probably because he knew everything that was on it. “It is. Mama’s been trying to get her fill before she moves, so she’s been coming here once a week for the last month. Florida won’t have anything like this.” His gray eyes dimmed a bit then.
“You’re going to miss her terribly, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Now let me tell you what’s good here.”
He ran her through the menu, everything from the gigantic hamburgers to the catfish, saying it was the best she’d ever taste. She took his advice and ordered it along with a side of collard greens and hushpuppies. Fried food wasn’t her usual, but this was an occasion worthy of splurging. Clayton ordered the hamburger and fried pickles.
“How is it Rye has never taken me here?” she asked, setting her menu back in its place.
He shrugged and took a drink of his beer. “Maybe he didn’t think you’d like this place.”
Given their upbringing, that was possible. He might think this place was too low-country for her tastes. Well, she was expanding her horizons, wasn’t she?
“Maybe my brother’s memory of the girl I was has kept him from seeing the woman I’ve become. I told him this morning that he needs to stop seeing me as his baby sister and let me make my own choices.”
His eyes shuttered, like he had a suspicion how that topic had come up. “Rye can’t help wanting to protect the women in his family. Some men are wired that way.”
Clayton was clearly one of them. She knew it, and what was more, she believed him capable of protecting her if there was ever a need. It was why she’d texted him at Jasinda’s apartment.
“You women give out mixed signals,” he mumbled, kicking back in his chair. “You want us to talk about our feelings, but you still want us to be macho and take a shot at anyone who threatens you. It’s not easy.”
She took a moment to form her answer. “It’s not easy for us women either, you know. Even in law school, there are times when I feel like I’m fighting against this good-old-boy Southern network. I need to fight that, overcome it, or I’ll never get anywhere. We want to be women, but we sometimes need to act tough to get what we want, which can be construed as too aggressive or mannish. So much for the path to independence.”
She made a face when he remained silent.
“But at Jasinda’s…I knew I wasn’t any match for her husband. I can’t always promise to know when I need to bring in…the muscle…but sometimes it’s painfully obvious. Thank you again for coming.”
“Anytime, princess,” he said. “Although don’t expect me to be overjoyed you’re still planning to work there…and make home visits.”
There it was. The root of a conflict she knew would rear its ugly head time and time again with him, with her brother. “I have to do it, Clayton.”
“I know you do. I even respect it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. How are Jasinda and the kids?”
Hearing him ask about them brought tears to her eyes. “Sorry, I’m more than a little emotional about them. I saw them yesterday. They’re doing okay. We filed the protection order, and given the immediate danger to Jasinda and her kids, a judge immediately signed it. You should have heard her when Felicia and I called her with the news. She couldn’t stop sobbing, and then she just kept thanking us.”
He reached for her hand.
She took it and swallowed thickly. “Jasinda’s agreed to press charges against Damon, which will help her case as we move forward. It’s going to take a while for the law to process everything, but they’re on their way. In the meantime, they’re safe…and that’s more important than anything.”
“I know we haven’t talked about it much because…heck…I didn’t want to upset you, but I kept your car for evidence in case Jasinda decides to involve the police. Destruction of property may not be much alone, but tacked onto everything else this Damon asshole has done, it establishes a clear history of violence. You can talk it over with Felicia and see what you’d like to do.”
That he would think like a lawyer in this case, just like her, made her feel another bond to him. They were using the law to fight for justice together.
“That was smart of you. I’ll let you know. Thank you again…for taking care of the car.” And oh God, she honestly hoped she wouldn’t have to see the damage herself.
His thumb rubbed her knuckles in a soft caress. “I know you told me not to say it, but you’re a miracle worker, Amelia Ann. You truly are. I was happy to do what little I could.”
She could only nod because her throat was closed with messy emotion. Seeing Jasinda and her two kids safely settled in the woman’s shelter was one of the greatest blessings of her life, and she was humbled to have played a part. And he had as well.
The server brought their food, and their conversation lapsed into silence as they ate. The catfish was seared to perfection. The restaurant’s cook was a master when it came to deep-frying because there wasn’t a trace of oil, and the breading was divine. The collard greens were filled with smoky bacon and a dash of vinegar. Clayton offered her some of his fried pickles, so she shared her plump hushpuppies. That exchange made her smile on the inside for the rest of the meal.
When he drove them back to his house, butterflies took flight in her stomach. She wanted him. He wanted her. Was she ready to give herself to him this intimately? Knowing herself as well as she did, she knew she’d be crushed if he stepped back afterward, and everything was too new between them for her to know how he would respond.
Once he was parked at the house, Clayton
came around the truck and opened her door. “Do you want me to follow you back to your place to make sure you get home safe, or would that be too overly protective?”
So, he’d already made the decision for them. Had he done it for her or for him? She decided to find out. “What if I asked to stay tonight?”
His hand took her elbow and led her to her BMW. “You aren’t ready for that, and if we’re being honest, neither am I.”
Her gaze flew to his face as hope burst in her heart. “But you…”
“Yes, but this would be different, and we both know that.”
A huge pocket of air rose in her chest at his words. He was waiting for himself too, not just for her. Oh, this was too dear. “Will you at least kiss me goodnight?”
“Oh, Amelia Ann, what am I going to do with you?” he asked, framing her face with his hands.
They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment before his mouth lowered to hers. His lips caressed hers, but soon it wasn’t enough. She opened her mouth to let him inside, and her belly tightened as their tongues danced around each other. Her breasts grew heavy, and she wanted more than anything to have his hands on them again. But soon he was kissing her cheek and holding her close, and she knew he wasn’t going to allow anything more tonight.
“Goodnight, Amelia Ann,” he whispered against her hair and then reached over to open her car door.
She nuzzled his chest and inhaled his scent of leather, musk, and wood smoke one last time, something she could remember as she fell asleep in her bed alone tonight. “Thank you for the most marvelous day.”
He pulled away and stood there, strong and steady in the dark night. “You’re welcome. Text me when you get home.”
Oh, how she liked hearing that. “Okay. Can we do dinner in the city sometime this week?” she boldly asked.
His fingers tapped on the car door like he was struggling with himself again. “All right. Let me know when you’re free.”
She leaned up to kiss his cheek one last time. “I’ll see you soon.”
Those gray eyes were filled with heat when she pulled away. “Get in the car, Amelia Ann.”
The order was said in the most husky, rough voice she’d ever heard him use, and oh the things it did to the places south of her belly button. “Good night.”
“Night.”
The whole way back to town all she could do was replay their time together. When she parked her car in front of her townhouse, she immediately dug out her phone and texted him.
I’m all safe and sound. Thanks again for a wonderful day.
His reply was immediate, and her heart burst at the thought of him waiting for her text.
I’m glad you’re home safe. Sweet dreams, princess.
Somehow the nickname he’d used for her for so long had turned from sarcasm into sweetness.
Though she knew better than to tell him, or anyone, she loved him.
And after today, she thought he just might be falling a little in love with her as well. Why else would he say he wasn’t ready to make love with her when she knew it wasn’t his usual response?
For once, everything she wanted seemed to be falling into place.
Chapter 20
Clayton texted Amelia Ann the next day to see how she was, telling himself he was only checking up on her. She worked at a dangerous place. Then he laughed at himself. It was Sunday. She would be having dinner with her family.
He was in a sorry state, all right. It had been the right decision to send her home last night instead of making love to her. If he was like this now, he’d be hung over the moon once he’d loved her like he dreamed of doing.
Amelia Ann answered his text immediately and said she was having a great day so far and would be sending him her top ten choices for the charity concert in an email. Her work on the media features had been incredibly efficient and timely. He knew Susannah McGuiness was working on the in-your-face collage as he liked to call it, but he’d been told not to expect to see it until she was done. That had almost made him laugh. Amelia Ann had a decided way of giving orders, but instead of putting him off, he rather appreciated it.
He found himself fantasizing about laying her down on his desk as he unveiled the soft skin hiding under her professional business attire.
He reined in his thoughts as best he could. Rather than doing some chores of his own, he waited by his computer for her email, and when it came, he immediately dug in. Her passion for these stories was another key to the many rooms that made up Amelia Ann, and he was eager for the opportunity to peer into her soul.
He only made it through the first two women’s stories before he needed to take a break to scrub his face. It was impossible to continue entertaining his fantasies about Amelia Ann after reading such horrifying tales. It amazed him that she had been strong enough to hear stories like these, to look into the bruised faces of the women who’d survived them. And it made him consider the impact Susannah’s collage was going to have on him…on everyone at the concert. He suspected no one would be the same afterwards.
The first two candidates for the feature had been beaten nearly every day by their husbands for over a decade apiece until they’d summoned the courage to leave with their children. Both had left with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
Their paths had not been easy. Martha’s husband had burned all her things in the parking lot of their apartment complex. Winnie’s husband had violated the protection order and beaten her nearly to death until he was arrested, found guilty, and put in prison. But after that rough start, each had pulled together a new life for herself. They’d gotten jobs—Martha as a waitress, Winnie as a checkout clerk at the nearby grocery store. They’d pulled extra shifts whenever possible, cut coupons, and put their kids’ education before everything.
And rather than just surviving, they’d thrived. Martha now managed the restaurant and was known for remembering the name of every person who walked through the door, providing that Southern charm for which Nashville was famous. Winnie had become a bookkeeper at the grocery store, and ten years later, opened a small accounting firm serving mostly single moms or divorced women on fixed incomes. Now she was on the board of one of Nashville’s biggest women’s shelters as the treasurer.
Both women praised the legal clinics that had supported them throughout their ordeals. They didn’t name any names, so Clayton wondered if they’d been served by Community Legal.
Having seen Amelia Ann’s passion and grief over helping these women, he wondered if she’d cried while reading these stories. The thought of her like that—so vulnerable—made his chest swell with emotion. That feeling didn’t go away as he read the remaining eight stories. Once he was through, he sat back and let the feelings stew inside him. How was he supposed to only choose three women for the concert when each one of them was so compelling? How could he turn down any of them after all they’d been through?
Well, Amelia Ann might have a sense about that, so he texted her again and asked if she wanted to meet him for dinner to discuss the features. She didn’t respond immediately, which made him restless. Maybe she’d already gone to her family dinner. When his phone chimed, he fought the urge to lunge for it.
Hey there! I’m glad you had a chance to read their stories. Amazing, right? And as for dinner, please tell me we’re mixing business with pleasure.
His first thought was to reply that pleasure should come first, but that was too bold. Wasn’t it? He sat on the edge of his desk, filled with self-doubt, and hit his cold coffee cup with his hip. He watched it spill coffee all over his papers in slow motion.
“Shit,” he cried out, diving to pick up the papers and shake the coffee off. The rest of the mess was running on the floor.
Great. He’d become a lovesick fool.
After cleaning everything up, he eyed the wet and now stained documents on his desk. He’d have to reprint the women’s stories now. No way was he about to explain to Amelia Ann why he’d upended cold coffee onto them. It wa
s mortifying.
He stared at his phone for a few minutes. Typed a few words and then erased them. He was acting like he was writing the Declaration of Independence or something.
This had to stop.
But he didn’t want them to have dinner and talk about only business. He wanted to hear her laugh. Hell, he wanted to kiss her again and feel her in his arms.
Dinner with you sounds mighty fine. How about Rolf and Daughters?
That was better. Not too eager. But pretty plain in its intent. The Germantown restaurant was one of Nashville’s finest, and he’d have to call in a few favors to get them a table on short notice. But she deserved the best, and he would give it to her. His belly gripped with lust at the mere thought of being with her again, of kissing her. He had to remind himself for the thousandth time to take it slow. She was a virgin, for heaven’s sake, and she deserved better from him.
She replied right away, making him smile.
How about 7:30 tomorrow night after I finish at Community? Can’t wait to be with you again.
Funny, but he couldn’t wait either.
Me too.
She added three smiley faces and then wrote:
The clock can’t move fast enough.
Smiley faces? When had anyone ever sent him smiley faces before?
As he finished cleaning up the mess he’d made, he realized he was humming. They were going on a date. It was time to be honest with himself.
This was getting out of hand, and part of him couldn’t be more delighted.
His phone beeped again, and he lurched for it, eager for more smiley faces. When he saw it was Megan calling, he shook himself.
“Hello, Megan. Good to hear from you.”
“Hello, Clayton,” she said, and there was fatigue in her voice. She didn’t have good news for him.
“What happened?”
“Clayton, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Gunner finally told me that the paper’s internal policy on anonymous sources is to keep them oral. They decided to do things this way eight years ago when a judge compelled them to turn over their files in a defamation suit. After that, they stopped writing the names down. I suspect I’ve done all I can do. It’s time to call this off.”