Heart of Dixie (Moreover #1)

by Ruthie Henrick

  He was mad about that? I jumped to my feet. “I don’t mean your car! I’m talking about your life! It was always about your life!”

  He curled his lip in a snarl. “There’s nothing wrong with my life!”

  I stood my ground. “Of course there’s not. Now. But take a good look at it, and then imagine if you had stayed here. Do you think you’d still have that high-powered degree? Would you have spent all that time developing high-tech automobile systems? Working side by side with the movers and shakers?” I ignored his glare, took a step forward until we were nose to nose, and let my voice go quiet. “I don’t suppose those snooty patents you’ve made so much money from mean anything at all, do they?”

  Deke’s eyes lost their Arctic edge. One corner of his mouth tilted up in a grin. “So. You been checking on me, Dixie?” I rolled my eyes.

  “That’s what happened when you ran late this afternoon. I had time for a five-minute Google search.”

  His smile flattened out. “You wanted to know if your little social experiment worked, didn’t you?” Ouch. Harsh. But his scowl hadn’t returned.

  “My leaving—my leaving you—was never meant as an experiment of any kind. You were meant for great things. Greater than you would have ended up at the local community college.” Deke took a step back and proceeded to pace the area between the blanket and the sandy bank.

  “Come on, Deke. You can’t argue with that. One of us had to be strong enough to let go. Someone had to make that decision.” It wasn’t important who made the decision, only that it was made.

  His strides became less aggressive, more contemplative. He stopped altogether when he came near. “So, what if I agree you were right? What if we both needed to cool it when we were kids and go our separate ways? Why didn’t you ever come back?”

  Shame. “I was busy.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Beth was always happy to meet me for vacations. I had no desire to visit Cooter.” You weren’t here. “There was no other reason to make the trip.”

  The silence stretched between us again, easier this time, until Deke’s eyes lowered, raked down my body slowly enough to make me squirm. He eventually met my gaze again, and his whole face showed amusement. “So, you think you’re the strong one?” He took one stalking step forward.

  “What?”

  Another step closer, stalking me, motioning his finger to demonstrate his meaning. “Between the two of us. You think what you did was right?”

  What was he up to? I took a step back. “Of course it was right. Look at you. You’re the definition of success.” Not to mention he’d morphed into a god, but I wouldn’t claim that, too.

  “And what about you? Was it the right decision for you?” He took a step and backed me against the fender of the car.

  One more step and he’d be on top of me. “The food!” I ducked around him to point out the paper bag still waiting to be emptied. “We should eat before everything gets cold.”

  He grinned. “Nice try, Dixie, but it’s already cold food—fried chicken and coleslaw.”

  “Ruby’s coleslaw?”

  “You saw the bag.”

  My taste buds were already watering. “She hoards that stuff like gold. I can’t believe you got her to part with it.”

  “I didn’t. But it was what I wanted.”

  I drew my head back and narrowed my eyes.

  “I ordered meatloaf sandwiches.”

  I only hoped the deepening furrows in my forehead didn’t become permanent. Deke reached up to smooth them out. His hand stayed nearby to smooth my hair off my shoulder in one long stroke. “Two things have always been true in this town.” My eyebrow winged upward.

  “Surely more than two.”

  He grinned. “The two most important are that Ruby cares about you, and her meatloaf sucks. She would never serve it to you. I just made sure she knew the food was for you.”

  Oh, he was good. I turned my cheek into his palm. “Devious, Deke. I like it.”

  He gave me a pat—a pat!—and removed his phone and wallet from his back pockets. “As much as you like swimming?”

  What? “Swimming? No. No swimming.” I held out my hand to ward him off even as I bobbed under his arm and scuttled around to the far side of the car.

  He pulled his shirt up and over his head and sent it flying. It landed on Lucy’s radio antennae. “Are you sure? It’s a nice, warm day.” He swiveled his head toward the quietly moving water, then took several steps in that direction. “Looks refreshing. Oh, Dixie! Look what I see.”

  His taunting tone had me craning my neck to see. The shrubbery lining the bank blocked my view so I tramped back around the car even as he followed the shoreline closer to the ancient cottonwood and the rope that dangled from an overhanging limb. “You remember this?”

  My heart sped in my chest at the memory. The exhilaration of flying through the warm air and then the thrill in the short fall and the splash of cool water. “Yes, I remember. I admit I used to enjoy swinging on the rope. I also used to wear my hair in braids and skate down Paulson’s Hill on roller blades.”

  He laughed even as he moved closer, tested it with a couple of strong tugs. “Bullshit. You want on this swing more than I do. I can see it in your eyes.” He drew up a knee, untied his shoe and let it drop. Did the same for his other foot. “What’s holding you back, Dixie? No suit?” He dropped his jeans to the grassy carpet at his bare feet. “I just shot down that excuse.”

  “I . . . I . . .” I took a moment to clear my throat. Deke standing in nothing but snug fitting boxer briefs left nothing to the imagination. And my resourceful imagination seemed to be short-circuiting my ability to speak. I moved to sit on the picnic blanket, fully dressed. Getting wet with Deke had warning buzzers going off in my brain. “I haven’t been on a rope swing since high school. I’d probably slip off and break my neck.”

  “I believe your memory’s hiding with your courage, Dixie. Back in the day, you squawked if you weren’t first in line. Where did that girl go?” On that question that felt vaguely like a dare, he ran with the rope, then arced out over the water and dropped in with a well-executed plop. He broke the surface and swam to shore with a quick stroke.

  “You’ve been practicing.”

  “Of course. I’m the cool uncle. I bring Cody out here as soon as there’s no threat of hypothermia. Kid took to the rope like a spider monkey when he was four.” He pointed toward the bucket near my foot. “Toss me a towel, would you?”

  Like a mutt, he gave himself a full body shake that sprinkled me from head to toe. I yelped. Then I pulled at the tail hanging over the edge of what must be a truly bottomless pail and threw him the towel. “So, it’s not a rumor. I never knew for sure.”

  He finished toweling himself off. “What’s not a rumor?

  I let my finger direct his attention to where there had been a bulge in his boxers. “Shrinkage. I’ve heard stories, jokes, but I’ve never seen it in action. It really does disappear when it gets cold, huh?”

  His eyes lowered to where the front of his undershorts sagged and he barked out a laugh. “Like a fucking turtle.” He dropped to all fours beside me and held my eyes in a searching gaze. “I have a few ideas for warming him up.” Droplets landed on me from his damp hair, and the soggy cotton of his boxer briefs seeped through the denim of my jeans and caused me to shiver. Hovering over me, he tested, tasted with the warmth and wet of his tongue as he swept the pad of my lip. With a slow smile, he covered my mouth with his and captured it in a searing kiss.

  I was nearly overheated already, and none of it could be blamed on the waning sun. “I’m sure I can help you with that.” It had been only a handful of hours since I kissed him, yet those stabs of pleasure between my legs caught me by surprise. His lips traveled lower then, to my jaw, and then lower still down the column of my throat until he changed direction and zeroed in on the sensitive spot just below my ear that nearly had me bucking.

  He rolled to his side, drew up his foot
to widen his legs and drew me into the cradle he’d made. With our lips fused and throwing off sparks, I let my hand travel the length of his thigh to his knee, the flesh firm and warm and lightly sprinkled with crisp hair, then reversed my stroking until my palm cupped his crotch. He already filled my palm. He covered my hand with his, squeezed, then drew me closer with his hands on my hips and let me feel his rapidly growing cock at the apex of my thighs. The slut within me was already unzipping my jeans. I had no complaints.

  When the weight of Deke’s hand shifted upward to slide under the hem of my shirt and found my breast, images of the Deke and Dixie that Beth pined for flashed behind my closed eyelids like a slideshow. Or a warning strobe.

  When the short beep of a siren sounded from not far down the rutted track, the warning wasn’t an imagining at all, but the deputy, in the flesh and coasting toward us—with her hand covering her eyes.

  “Beth!” I groaned and scrambled off Deke’s lap as she parked her truck several yards away and climbed out.

  Deke rolled up to sit with his back to the truck. He tugged me closer and yanked the sides of my blouse together with a smug grin. I rolled my eyes and slapped his hands away. “Make her go away.”

  He wasn’t the only one with a giant ache. But his had taken on physical proportions. That erection in his boxers would need a little convincing to go away. “Just think of supermodels . . .” at his incredulous stare I laughed and patted his cheek. “With back hair, babe.”

  I proceeded to fasten the closures on my blouse as Beth minced closer, peeking between her splayed fingers. “Ruby mentioned you were headed out here with a mess of her fried chicken. I got a supper break so I thought I’d join you.” She cast an accusing glance my way. “Y’all should have warned somebody that picnic was code for sex.”

  Deke returned from the creek bank where he’d retrieved his jeans. “Apparently, picnic’s not the code for anything. You can open your eyes, deputy. I’m decent. So far, there’s been no sex—he glared at her now that her eyes were uncovered and she could catch the heat of it—and there’s been no picnic, either.” He snatched the dinner sack and dropped it in the middle of the blanket. “Would you care to join us? You know Ruby; there’ll be plenty.”

  Beth smirked. “Well, I don’t know. Such a gracious offer . . . I believe I’ll just head back—”

  “Damn it, Beth. You cannot cock bl—” Her eyes widened and the sarcasm in his invitation evaporated in a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t get your panties in a wad. Now, sit.” He swept his arm in a grand gesture.

  She sat.

  I’d watched their entire exchange silently from my corner of the blanket, but as Beth dug into the sack for a paper plate and plastic utensils, and Deke withdrew the container of cold chicken, I rose and made my way to the front seat of the car.

  Two pair of eyes lifted and followed me as I passed them. “Dixie? You okay?” I waved off Beth’s concern.

  “I . . . I just need something from my purse. I’ll be right back.” I dug around in the bottom of my bag and found what I needed: a clean tissue to catch the tears burning my eyes. I took another couple of minutes to collect my thoughts and my churning emotions. The familiar exchange between the two people who used to be my best friends hit me at first with a combination of amusement . . . before it unexpectedly changed to melancholy. The notion hadn’t occurred to me yet that while I left each of them when I moved away—they hadn’t left each other.

  Life was destined to change for all of us over the past ten years, in different ways and to varying degrees. It was up to us to decide what we made of ourselves and who remained involved. It was shaming to realize I was the one to distance myself from the two I’d been closest to. I dabbed my eyes again, then dropped the visor to check my makeup in the mirror. It was time to stop feeling sorry for myself; time to stop feeling left out. Deke wasn’t the only one who owed Beth an apology. And a few trite words wouldn’t work for the girl who had my back since we were youngsters. Beth was a nurturer. And Deke . . . I still hadn’t worked out how Deke figured in my life, but I’d already shared how I felt about leaving him, and after the last couple of days, I felt his loss. If they wanted me present in their lives, my friends deserved what made them happy.

  I stepped out of Deke’s now dusty classic car, gave the door a shove to close it. As I neared, I reached into Deke’s magical bucket for bug spray, tossed it to Beth as she was the one slapping at mosquitoes. Then I handed Deke a rubber band from his stash in the car as his was the hair I’d just been jabbing my fingers through and tousled. I dropped a kiss—a kiss that melded love and apology—on both their cheeks and took a seat between. Reached for their hands to hold, to connect us. “There may not have been much to love about my home while I lived here, but I always had you. You were reason enough to keep in touch, to come back, and I didn’t.” Their gazes were steady and open, and assured me I was still welcome as a part of their club, not apart as I’d consigned myself. I abandoned their hands and gathered them both up in my arms for a group hug. “From now on, I do.”

  Late that night I flopped from my stomach to my back on the queen-sized mattress. The glow of the moon cast shadows on the cabin’s far wall and seared the insides of my eyelids. “Argh!” I thrashed at the covers and resisted the urge to relieve the ache brought on by my memories of today. The parts of me that had been neglected far too long and recently teased were clamoring in the back of my brain, reminding me I didn’t have to lie awake and squirming. I could drive over and knock on Deke’s door. Surely he’d let me in. A night rustling under the covers with him would be infinitely more pleasurable than fighting off fantasies for hours on end. No! I forced myself to abandon the insanity.

  Because that’s just what that idea was—insane. And even though I more or less agreed to a weekend hookup, I could pull out a list of reasons as long as my arm why it was a crazy stupid idea. Topping the list was the fear that the man I’d been spending a good amount of time with was already working his way into my heart. Which made me wonder if he ever really left.

  With so much on my mind it was little wonder I was up before the sun. Back in LA, I would have tied on my runners and headed up to the gym on the top floor of my building. Moreover’s little Tumble Inn boasted seven private bungalows, each homey and with covered parking, but it did not offer treadmills. It didn’t have Wi-Fi, either, I discovered when I tried to log on and get a little work done. Silly me.

  Beth had mentioned at our picnic that the previous night was her last night shift for a while. A quick glance at my phone verified the time—she’d be off work soon and wasn’t due back at the station until Monday. This was as good a time as any to check out of the revered lodge and start our girl time together. Maybe I could talk her into breakfast first, especially since my stomach was already rumbling. A quick text let her know what I had in mind:

  Me: Hungry. Ruby’s in 30 minutes. You in?

  Her response was nearly instantaneous:

  Beth: Bet I beat you there!

  Sounded as though she was hungry, too. I shoved my clothes into my suitcase and searched the room for anything I may have forgotten. My phone beeped with an incoming text:

  Beth: Hurry!

  I let my thumbs fly on the keyboard:

  Me: Checking out. See you there!

  My phone rang as I gave the room a final glance. I stabbed the button to talk. “Sheesh, Beth! You must be starving. I’ll be there in a minute!”

  “Dixie? Dixie!”

  Damn it! I dropped my suitcase to the floor. “This had better be good, Drew.” It was practically the middle of the night in Colorado; what couldn’t wait until morning?

  “Dixie, what the hell did you girls get me into?”

  Girls? Girls? Whether he knew it or not, Andrew Michaels had just flipped my bitch switch. I suppressed a sigh—far too unprofessional—and plopped on the edge of the bed. Suck it up. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Denver happened! My ears
hurt. My chest hurts. They expect me to run.”

  My eyelids slid shut as I massaged my forehead. Drew’s professional baseball career had tragically been cut short with his latest concussion, but his griping could easily cause a throbbing headache to brew. I didn’t have the time nor energy for him and his conniption, though. Not before my first cup of coffee. I reached down deep and found the take-no-prisoners attitude that had served me well in the past. Compassion could come later, after he remembered how to be a team player.

  “You read the script, Drew. You’re playing a cop! Occasionally cops chase the bad guy.” I pulled the phone from my ear as Drew gave me a fresh piece of his mind. One that had apparently gotten more than the few hours’ rest I was operating on.

  “You tell that agent of mine I deserve top billing in that new thriller. It’s slated to be a blockbuster! It should be me shooting in Italy with Madison DeMarco and driving a Ferrari!”

  His voice had risen an octave over the course of his tirade—and didn’t everyone want their leading man to squeal like a twelve-year-old girl! The air conditioner unit cycled on and blew a gust of cool air across my cheek. I tucked back a loose strand of hair that flew with it. Drew continued on about the hardships of living in a hotel—five-star, he forgot to mention—while on location, of having to get to make-up—in a limo—each day, of the endless crap the caterer piled on the buffet—provided at his specific request, and at the expense of the studio—and the lack of alcohol—well, that part was true.

  “Why am I even here, playing a mountain man like fucking Jeremiah Johnson? My co-star isn’t even a human, much less a Hollywood goddess. And do you know what I’m driving, wonder girl?” He didn’t even pause in his rant to give me time to guess. “I’m cruisin’ a fucking Jeep!”

  Most wannabe actors—even has-beens searching for a Plan B—knew enough to show deference to their agent and their manager. Right now I’d gladly strangle Madelyn—who was Drew’s agent—for dodging his calls. After all, what was a celebrity without a public fiasco recorded and offered up for the entire universe to scrutinize and share? His just happened to end with him wearing a plate of pasta carbonara, compliments of a furious date.