by Tina Leonard
Jake’s jaw clenched.
“I only scanned the other women’s tits, you know, because I was caught on Lucy’s, although I did peek at Ma ’cause I’d never seen old lady boob before. And they’re not bad, let me tell you, for old lady boob—”
Jake closed his eyes.
“But Sugar, just for the record, she could be Miss August, dude.”
Jake swallowed hard, opened his eyes, shut the cabinet door. There was no point in calling the Cassavechias. No one else would be on their roof. Unless Kel blabbed to their friends. Jake had a hard time seeing Big Bobby or Evert climbing his roof just for a glimpse of something in which they weren’t necessarily interested.
He refused the mental image of Sugar’s white and pink and maybe oiled breasts gleaming in the August sun, and grabbed a cold one from the fridge. His chances of ever seeing Sugar in the buff were nil and none.
Everything would be fine.
“Twenty more minutes is all you get, Maggie.” Sugar took a long drink of iced tea and flopped over on her stomach. The tubing lawn chaises she’d bought at the Five-and-Dime in town had been worth every penny. “And please put on more sunblock.”
“You shouldn’t be sunning your breasts anyway,” Lucy chimed in. “Just because you’re in remission—”
“What the hell am I saving them for?” Maggie demanded, turning over on her stomach beside Sugar. She resituated her floppy straw hat with a practiced hand. “The cancer was inside me, not out, and I need the vitamin D. Furthermore, I’m a beach babe, born and bred. If this is my new beach, I’m going to enjoy it. Thanks for the chaise, Sugar. It’s a great idea.” Her tanned hand idly stroked Paris, who cared more about Maggie’s fingers running through her shampoo-softened fur than the heat.
“I’ll get a wading pool next time. I saw some plastic ones for ten bucks.” Sugar was more concerned with Maggie’s smoking than her sunning. She didn’t smoke as much when she was busy outdoors with sunbathing or gardening, so Sugar tried to keep her busy.
They all looked up when they heard the doorbell ring.
“That is one loud-ass doorbell.” Lucy rose. “I’ll go. I won’t miss Pecan Creek Beach.” She took her bikini top and towel with her.
“She likes it here, Sugar. It’ll grow on her. Don’t worry.”
Her mother’s words didn’t entirely comfort her. Sugar told herself they were all suffering moving pains. Still, she was worried about Lucy, she was worried about Maggie, and sometimes, she worried about herself.
She’d had a lot of worries in Florida too, but surely here in Texas, a fresh start meant everything.
Lucy stared at the tall, broomstick-handle of a woman on the front porch holding a pie in her hands. “I remember you. You were one of the frigid old bats who was rude to my mother last night.”
Her visitor smiled. “I apologize for that, dear. We were totally caught off guard. We don’t do surprise well in Pecan Creek.”
“Surprise, surprise,” Lucy said, not feeling much pity for the lame excuse. “What do you want?”
“This is a welcome-to-Pecan Creek gift.” She extended the pie, but Lucy didn’t take it from her. “My name is Charlotte Dawson.”
“I’m not feeling it, Ms. Dawson, if you don’t mind.” Lucy started to close the door.
“Actually, I came to talk to you specifically, young lady, if I could have just a moment of your time.”
Lucy held the door open about a foot. She saw the elderly lady take in her askew bikini top, the polka-dotted bottoms, which fit like a glove and her bellybutton ring. Charlotte smiled at her. Lucy remembered that this woman was the only one of the group who’d bothered to stick up for Maggie, even if it had been a token effort. “Talk fast.”
“I wonder if you’d be interested in a job.”
“What kind of job?”
“A job helping me.”
Lucy began to edge the door shut. “I’m not up for being a companion or sitter. Thanks. And, not to be entirely rude, but I don’t think I’d be your type, if you’re looking for anything else.”
“I need help with my business,” Charlotte said, and Lucy looked into Charlotte’s bright eyes.
“What kind of business?”
“Come over to my house on Azalea Avenue sometime. You can see if you’d like to help me out. And if you don’t mind, please keep our discussion private,” Charlotte said. “My business is top secret.”
Great. The old woman probably had dead people in her basement like the dingbats in Arsenic and Old Lace, and wanted Lucy to have tea with them or something. Or help her make arsenic-laced wine. Lucy shuddered. “Sure. I’ll do that.” She grabbed the pie so Charlotte would go. “Mm. Smells good,” she said, surprised, and Charlotte beamed.
“Nobody’s apple pie beats mine, not even Vivian’s. I’m real proud of that. Come on by when you can. And remember, I’d appreciate your discretion. I’ll deny it if anyone asks me if I offered you a job. And no one would believe you.” She waved a hand at Lucy and strode off in her walking shoes, heading purposefully toward town.
“Well, la-di-dah, you rigid old bitch.” Lucy closed the door and peeled off a piece of flaky crust. “My God, that’s good.” The crust melted like butter in her mouth. She took the pie outside with paper plates and plastic forks. “Look what the wicked witch of the southwest brought us.”
Sugar sat up. “A pie? Is it poisoned?”
Maggie looked over. “Was it one of the women I met last night? I told you those were nice ladies!”
Sure, Lucy thought. And I’m going to start believing in unicorns. Like people wouldn’t kill you with kindness, if it suited them.
“This is delish,” Sugar said, and Maggie moaned with happiness as she snacked on the pie. Lucy pulled her top back off and stared at the white puffy clouds floating across a cerulean sky, not caring at all.
Thirty minutes later, Sugar had broken out a chardonnay, refreshed Paris’s water bowl and turned the sprinkler on nearby so they could get some cooler air when the breeze blew, which wasn’t often. Occasionally, water droplets landed on them, and Sugar thought this was about the most relaxed any of them had been since coming to Pecan Creek.
The doorbell chimed again, echoing through the open doors to the garden. Sugar put on her green bikini top. “I’ll get it this time,” she said, and Maggie said, “Hope they brought cheese straws this time. I’m in the mood.”
Lucy didn’t say anything, because she was sound asleep. Sugar went to the door, arranging a smile on her face, which slipped off the moment she saw J.T. Bentley hulking on her porch.
The rat. She tugged her top, making certain it covered everything she didn’t want his dark eyes viewing. “Yes?”
“Hi, Sugar.”
She raised a brow. He looked at the hat in his hands for just a moment, divining inspiration, then turned his chocolate eyes back on her. To his credit, he never glanced at her bikini top nor her bared belly, nor the towel she’d wrapped around her waist like a sarong.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said, and Sugar thought, Well, at least he’s the type to know when he’s been an ass. That’s a good start.
“I don’t understand what you were trying to do.”
He gestured with his hat. “Like I said last night, it was a mistake.”
“You’re right it was a mistake.” Sugar couldn’t help feeling bitter about the whole incident. “Maggie was hurt, Jake, deeply hurt.”
His whole demeanor was crestfallen. “Can I apologize to Maggie?”
“She’s asleep.”
A whoop and a squeal from the backyard as Maggie scored a direct hit with the hose on her sleeping daughter belied Sugar’s words. Jake looked at her, and Sugar shrugged.
“Another time, maybe.”
“Maybe,” she said, putting lots of when hell freezes over into her tone.
“Will you ask Maggie if she’d still consider being our mayor?”
Sugar blinked. “I believe your mother, and that coven of witches she rules, wasn’t in f
avor of Maggie being anything but thrown out with the town trash.”
He shook his head. “I have the last word on this one. And I want Maggie to be the mayor. She’s just what we’re looking for. Trust me on this.”
Sugar wanted to trust him. Past experience had taught her that trusting dark-haired, bedroom-eyed, god-bodied hunks was treacherous, a path for the giddy who’d never been burned. She’d been burned, it had hurt like shit, and she was only six months past a shitty divorce. “I don’t feel like trusting you. Sorry.”
He nodded, but the no one can resist J.T. Bentley cockiness she’d noted before was missing. He seemed sincere. “I understand, Sugar. I know trust has to be earned. I know trust isn’t something that’s talked about; it’s hard won.”
She shrugged. “It’s really Maggie’s call. But if you let those biddies hurt my mother again, I’ll come after you with a baseball bat, Jake. And my aim is pretty damn good.”
“I believe it.” He grinned. “Give my love to Maggie.”
She narrowed her gaze.
“I’m serious.” He put his hat on his head. “She’s just what we need here in Pecan Creek.”
“Better ask your mother if she agrees,” Sugar said, not caring how snarky she sounded. The wound was too fresh for instant forgiveness.
“I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.” Jake went whistling across the lawn to his truck. He had a great backside, a great frontside, a deep bedroom voice, and Sugar wished she wasn’t so attracted to wolves. Bad boys. The badder the better.
She was pretty certain J.T. Bentley rated up there with badder. “Thankfully, I recognize my worst nightmare this time,” she said and went to ask her family if they wanted to get dressed and head into town for burgers and maybe a shake. A nervous tickle haunted her stomach—it had started when Jake Bentley showed up on her porch—but a good hot burger and some fries would chase the uneasy feeling off.
For a worst nightmare, though, he sure was packing a great butt.
Chapter Five
The Bait and Burgers restaurant was no different than any other small-town greasy spoon, except that it was packed. Sugar guided her mother and sister inside and found some black-topped stools to perch on underneath a blaring television showing a baseball game in full swing.
“Wow, check out all the blue-hairs,” Lucy said. “One thing about Pecan Creek, it prides itself on being cutting edge.”
“I like it.” Maggie gazed up at the chalkboard menu on which chalk letters pronounced the available items. “Hey, there’s J.T.!” She waved enthusiastically at him, and he strolled over wearing his typical sexy smile.
Sugar’s body heat rose exponentially—and uncomfortably in the obscene Texas heat.
“Ladies. What a pleasure to see you.”
He was so smooth Sugar had an image of cool, dark satin sheets. She blinked the thought away, and moved her gaze from his broad chest and well-worn jeans. He hugged Maggie, who gave him a delighted smile.
“Hi, Jake.” Sugar glanced around. “Is this Pecan Creek’s hot spot?”
He nodded. “One of them.”
“Really.” Lucy looked around. “Are there any people in Pecan Creek who haven’t left their fiftieth birthday in the rearview mirror long ago?”
Jake laughed. “I’ll have to introduce you to my friends.”
Lucy sniffed. “You must mean Kel, Evert and Big Bobby. I met Curly, Larry and Moe, thanks. They came by to ask me if I wanted to watch them play shirts and skins. I told them I’d rather be dead, and we left it at that.”
Sugar looked at Jake. “My sister values the direct approach.”
Jake laughed. “So do the Three Stooges.” He winked at the ladies as a cute college-age waitress came over to take their orders. The tiny-waisted girl bounced with good cheer, in impossibly tight cut-off shorts and a tank top that read PC’s Best Burgers—Really!
Maggie glanced up at the menu. “I can’t decide. It all looks so good!”
“Well,” Lucy said, “you can have a hamburger, or a hamburger, or a hamburger.”
Sugar looked at her sister. “Lucy, don’t exaggerate. There are french fries too, and onion rings.”
“That’s right,” Jake said easily. “Truthfully, the burgers are what make this place.”
They all put in their orders for burgers and sodas, and then Lucy knocked her water glass over on Jake. He jumped, Lucy said, “Oh, I’m so sorry,” in a tone that Sugar knew was less than contrite, and Maggie handed him her napkin.
“Lucy,” Sugar said, taking the napkin and wiping water off Jake’s arm and the front of his denim shirt. Holy Christmas, he had a hard body. Hard as a rock. She rubbed a little harder than necessary on the soaked fabric, feeling tight muscles and a surge of desire that stunned her.
“It’s all right,” Jake said, taking the napkin from her. “In this heat, I’ll dry in less than five minutes.”
Lucy blew a big pink gum bubble, then collapsed it with a sucking sound. “I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“Lucy, it’s okay. It’s so okay that I’m going to tell Kel to comp your meals tonight.”
“Do you manage the restaurant?” Sugar asked.
“Not exactly,” Jake said. “I wouldn’t be caught managing much of anything.”
“That’s why you’re trying to stick our mother with the mayor gig, because you don’t want it,” Lucy said benignly.
“True,” Jake said easily. “Excuse me, ladies.” He gave Maggie a last fond hug, Lucy a level look and Sugar a devil-may-care grin. “Do you have a minute? I’d like to discuss something with you in private. Nothing I couldn’t say in front of you ladies, but I don’t want anybody overhearing.” He gestured to the people packed around them, laughing and chatting as they ate burgers and drank tall, frosty sodas.
“Sure.” Sugar slid off the stool.
“We’ll be right back,” Jake said, tipping his hat to Maggie and Lucy.
Lucy rolled her eyes, and Maggie waved them off. Jake took Sugar over to an open window area. Light country western music played, though not loud enough to drown out the conversational babble.
“So what’s up?” Sugar asked.
“First, about the other night.” Jake looked apologetic. “I didn’t think my mother and her friends would be so—”
“Stuck-up? Witchy?” Sugar leveled a stare at him that could have wilted lettuce before it ever hit a hamburger. “I think my sister is right. I think you did set Maggie up just because you don’t want to be the mayor. What is it you do exactly, besides rent houses that are nothing like their advertised descriptions to unsuspecting out-of-towners?”
He shook his head. “I’ll show you my deep, dark secret. Come on.”
Sugar followed him around to the back, and then down some wooden stairs that went deep underneath the rocking burger joint. “Wow, a dungeon.”
“Now you sound like Lucy.” Jake laughed. “Your sister does not like me at all.”
“Lucy warms up slowly.” Sugar felt compelled to defend her sister. “She’s protective of Mom.”
“And you. Obviously you.” He turned to face her in front of a pool table covered with red felt. “She practically snaps like an electrical fence hit by water whenever I get near you.”
“Cassavechias look out for each other. Anyway, your mom isn’t exactly a study in Southern hospitality.” She looked at the pool table. “Isn’t Brunswick a bit fancy to hide away in a dungeon?”
“Keep my secret. Even my mother doesn’t know this baby’s here.” He handed her a cue. “Do you play?”
“A little.” Sugar studied the room. “Why are we down here?”
“I told you,” Jake said, “I’m sharing my deepest, darkest secret with you.” He sighted down the length of the cue, nodding with satisfaction. “I own Bait and Burgers. This is my private office. None of this info is known by anyone except my partners who cover for me, so if you share, I’ll have to enact landlord penance on you.”
“Terrifying, I’m sure, consider
ing you’d probably never find another sucker to rent the lusty family domicile.” Sugar looked at him. “So this is your Bat Cave. Interesting.”
“You mean man cave.”
She shook her head and walked over to break. “My guess is you hide down here from the bats that inhabit Pecan Creek.”
He laughed. “Just keep my secret.”
“So you wanted me to know this so I won’t be mad at you for trying to dump your mayor’s job on Mom?”
“Yeah.” He leaned against the black vinyl bar and grinned, too sexy for words. “I’m a very busy man. This is your chance to have leverage with me.”
“Got it.” She broke the rack, and balls flew in every direction.
“Not bad.” He got up to study the table.
“Not so fast. Let me see if I can figure the subtext out.” She looked at him before leaning over the table to line up her shot. “The little red ball is going to go first, by the way.”
She made that shot, and went on. “So what you’re trying to tell me is that you’re not an absolute ass for shifting your responsibilities. You own a restaurant, and you rent the family home, and you don’t want your mother breathing down your neck all the time.”
He grinned. “Not bad.”
“Purple-striped ball is history.” She made that shot and moved to the opposite side of the table, near Jake. “Excuse me.”
He raised a dark brow. “Sugar, I think Maggie can handle my mother any day of the week. What are you protecting her from?”
Sugar leaned over. “Rats.”
He turned her toward him. “I honestly am not a rat. I’m not using Maggie.”
“Do not try to mess up my rhythm.” She pulled herself away from Jake with an effort. “Green.”
He waited until she made the shot, then he took her cue from her, setting it down on the table. “I get it. You’re nobody’s fool. You don’t want to be taken advantage of.” He kissed her, his lips warm on hers, but not demanding. Something hot and welcoming surged into Sugar, something she hadn’t felt in a long time, didn’t know if she wanted to feel now. She pulled away, resisting the urge to press her fingertips to her lips to feel the echo of his kiss.