Hotter than Texas (Pecan Creek)

by Tina Leonard

  As the crowds gathered on the stairs, patiently waiting their turn for a look at the infamous room, Lucy appeared at the top of the staircase, dressed in her white flapper dress, Bobby German at her side.

  “Sugar! Maggie!” Lucy exclaimed. “We made it! The FOB is now a rousing success!”

  Jake pulled Sugar close. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think your sister and Bobby were going to give the real show.”

  Sugar gasped. “What show?”

  “We’re getting married!” Lucy squealed with delight and tossed a hot-pink bouquet of roses to her sister. “Free nuts for everyone!” She slid down the banister, and Bobby followed his chosen bride to thunderous applause.

  Lucy threw her arms around Sugar and Maggie. “Thank you for everything you ever did for me. I know I wasn’t the easiest kid to raise, but I definitely had the blessing of you. Thank you, thank you, for everything.” She looked at Sugar. “Your turn is coming.”

  Bobby nodded and pounded Jake on the back. “Your turn is coming, man. Just let it happen. Once you’ve had a Cassavechia, you won’t ever want anything else.”

  “Wise words,” Jake said, and Lucy and Bobby ran out the door, tossing tiny bags of Hotter than Texas Nuts to the people waiting in line for a peek at the notorious room.

  “How about it?” Jake said to Sugar.

  “How about what?” Her heart jumped into her throat as she stared into his eyes.

  “How about we follow in their footsteps? Feel like making a scene?”

  Sugar laughed, tugging Jake to her for a kiss. “No,” she said. “I’m not a scene-making kind of girl. Couldn’t you tell by the new name on my float?”

  “Why did you change it?” Jake asked, grabbing another smooch.

  “Because I love you,” Sugar said. “I want to stay here and be part of your life. And our kids will be able to tell everyone their parents sell Hotter than Texas nuts, and won’t offend their teachers and friends’ parents. It seems important.”

  “I see,” Jake said. “PC is damn lucky to have you here.”

  “So if we follow in their footsteps,” Sugar said, “it’s going to have to be a little traditional. An elopement is Lucy’s style. I’m much more—”

  “Father of the Bride. Old version.”

  “Exactly.” Sugar stood on tiptoe and kissed him, getting the same enthusiastic applause Lucy had.

  “That’s some room,” a reporter said as he went by. “Looks like Audrey Hepburn’s bedroom. If there was a dead body up there, he didn’t die from the décor. Probably just had a garden-variety cardiac arrest.”

  Sugar smiled at Jake. “We like to tell people the poor man had a heart attack because of all the good sex going on.”

  The reporter sniffed. “I don’t know about sex. But can I make a reservation? The wife would love staying in this house.”

  “No reservations,” Jake said, smiling at Sugar, melting her heart. “This is a family home. But thanks for coming to Pecan Creek, the Most Honest, Proper Town in Texas.”

  “There’s no story here,” the reporter said.

  “Oh, there’s a story,” Jake said, “we’re just not telling.”

  “No, we’re not,” Sugar agreed, laughing, and they walked outside to the pecan grove, with Paris waving her plumy tail beside them, enjoying the very good life in a small, honest town in Texas.

  Epilogue

  Dear Journal,

  It wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t tell you how everything turned out.

  Maggie married Lassiter at the old church in town. She was the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her. She deserves Lassiter. He is a prince among men, and their happiness is inspiring. They live out at his horse ranch, but sometimes, they stay in the cabin on his property. Maggie says it’s peaceful there. They sip whiskey and listen to the wind blow and watch the moon hang in the sky surrounded by stars. Lassiter never goes off anymore; his “ways” changed. He says Maggie makes him happy.

  Lucy and Bobby are deliriously in love. Bobby says my sister drives him mad, and he’s never been happier. I can tell he means it from the bottom of his heart. Bobby surprised Lucy with a trip to Tiffany’s and bought her a ring, and Bobby said Lucy screamed so loud that the manager threw in a discount. He said she’d given good word of mouth, which Bobby said was appropriate, given the recent circumstances in Pecan Creek.

  Of course you know that Cat and Evert got married. They’re expecting a baby now, which has everybody dropping all kinds of hints to Jake and me. Evert never mentions his messed-up kick anymore, but he says he can’t wait to teach his son or daughter how to kick footballs and soccer balls.

  Averie’s dating the new high school football coach. It’s a match made in Texas. Gossip in town has it that Averie and the coach christened the fifty-yard line of the new football field, but I couldn’t tell you if that’s true or not. You know how gossip is—a good story just seems to take on a life of its own.

  As for Kel, well, Debbie happened to see the billboard on the day of the parade as she was driving into town. People said she shrieked like mad and practically ran Kel over in her excitement. They say it’s like the old days now. Let’s just say Kel can’t keep chickens. He says they’re afraid of his wife, and for some reason, that makes him grin.

  Jake knows why it’s so funny, but he says it’s buddy talk, and he’ll never tell any of the really good stuff on his military brothers. I’m just glad Kel and Debbie are happy again. She really is a nice woman, and her kids aren’t ugly at all. I don’t understand why Jake says they’re ugly, but it seems to be something Kel gets, so that’s all that matters. Men have a weird sense of humor at times. I can tell you that Kel’s oldest daughter recently was voted Princess Pecan Creek for the Snowball Dance, and that Facebook pictures of her in her gown caught the eye of a New York modeling agency.

  The Pillars’ businesses have gone wild. I had no idea those women were such amazing raconteurs and entrepreneurs. I’ve learned a lot from them. They love Maggie and recently installed her as Jake’s assistant mayor. Maggie says she doesn’t do anything but greet the people who are thinking about moving to Pecan Creek, but the Pillars say Maggie’s a born charmer, and they respect that. Everyone loves Maggie.

  The parade was such a success that Jake moved us all into Pecan Fanny’s. The kitchen is large enough for all of us—Dodie, Minda, Charlotte, Vivian, Lucy, Maggie and me—to work in comfort. Lucy runs the order data base, and Maggie takes the orders by phone. Lucy’s just about too busy to help anymore. After the reporters swarmed the town and discovered Pecan Creek, and everybody heard about the family life here, we’ve been swamped with newcomers. Thanks to the Breakfast at Tiffany’s tour of the Sex Shack, Lucy’s in huge demand for interior design. All the new people in town want her sense of fun and élan in their homes. Jake says, best of all, we’re in compliance with the health department now. He seems really proud of that. My pecans—Maggie’s recipe—are selling beyond my wildest dreams, and Jake had a sign made to replace the Pecan Fanny’s sign. It’s neon, it’s huge, and it says Hotter than Texas in big red letters that light up at night. I think it’s a bit much, but I don’t tell Jake that. The Pillars say it’s perfect, and they’re the definitive word on “proper” in this town.

  Jake and I are getting married in June. We want a traditional wedding with all our family and friends around. But don’t tell, Journal—we’re already married! We took a quick trip to Hawaii after Christmas, and because I didn’t want to be too traditional, we got married there. It was the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me in my life.

  And then Jake made love to me on the beach.

  It was like that love scene in From Here to Eternity, only much, much more magical.

  Even when we’re just floating on the creek or driving the blue Oldsmobile down country roads, it’s magical. When we sleep at night in the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas room, Jake holds me tight, and it’s like nothing I ever dreamed I’d have. Even Paris loves living in Jake’s family
home, never more than when she’s swimming in the brand-new pool Jake put in the backyard, always heated to a perfect ninety degrees Fahrenheit for those winter days when he feels like making love to me. Which is just about any day that ends in Y.

  At night, I can see the pecan trees sheltering the grove, and I’m so thankful for my mother’s recipes that brought us here. That was the real journey, wasn’t it? It really wasn’t ever just about the pecans. It was about us being together, being a family.

  Thanks for everything, Journal. I always knew you were there for me, in case I ever needed to talk to someone. I guess that’s what journals are for: to chronicle the journey, the starts, the stops, the downs and the ups.

  But I don’t need you anymore. I’ve got Jake.

  And he’s got me.

  How’s that for a happy ending?

  Love always in Texas,

  Sugar Cassavechia Bentley

  About the Author

  USA Today bestselling and award-winning author Tina Leonard decided to become a writer when her grandmother told her she should be the next writer in the family. Sixty-seven projects later, Tina writes what she loves with humor, sexiness and fun. With 2.6 million books sold, Tina plans to keep writing the books her readers enjoy.

  Tina received her undergraduate degree from the University of Tennessee. With two children in college, Tina is fighting off the urge to go back for a master’s degree. Happily, her writing schedule keeps her busy with independent, adventurous heroines and heroes in the truest sense of the word.

  When not writing, cooking or working out, Tina loves going out with friends, reading and spending time with her family. After living in many states over the years, Tina calls Texas home.

  You can visit Tina at www.tinaleonard.com, and www.facebook.com/tinaleonardbooks. She loves to hear from readers!

  Look for these titles by Tina Leonard

  Coming Soon:

  Hotter than a Summer’ Day

  Danger comes packaged in bulging muscles…and a codpiece.

  The World is a Stage

  © 2012 Tamara Morgan

  Games of Love, Book 2

  Highland Games athlete Michael O’Leary is famous for his ability to charm a woman right out of her pants. Maybe a little too famous. When he’s sidelined with a knee injury, his wingman pounces on the chance to take full advantage of Michael’s idle time.

  Trying out for the local adult-themed Shakespearean production seems simple, but there’s a catch. Michael must woo the notoriously demanding lead actress, Rachel Hewitt, thereby freeing his friend to pursue a courtship of Rachel’s sister.

  Rachel hates the thought of handing over the lead role in her admittedly scandalous troupe to someone so wholly uneducated in the ways of the Great Bard. But she’s in a bind, and the only one who can step up is a man who looks way too good in a codpiece—and knows it.

  To add insult to injury, he refuses to take the role until she agrees to take his place in some barbaric warrior race. She’ll do it, but not with a smile. Unfortunately, the hardest part isn’t antagonizing her Scottish foes. It’s resisting the one man who seems determined to line and cue her heart—forever.

  Warning: This book’s half-naked Shakespearean actors are not approved of or acknowledged by people with actual literary merit. Neither are the dirty limericks.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The World is a Stage:

  When Rachel returned to the theater, Michael took one look at her face and got to work. Her expression bounced between a heavy-browed, murderous gleam and the wobbly smile women always got when they were trying hard not to cry.

  He wasn’t sure which one was worse.

  “Oh, good. You’re back,” he called, drawing Rachel’s attention before she could run over poor Jillian, who was doing her best to scatter back toward the light rigs. He’d settled comfortably in the director’s chair near the back entrance to the stage, a sort of lordly position that let him see most of what was going on. Dominic had already told him to get out of that chair five times, but it was cozy, and he pretended he needed it for security purposes.

  Mostly he just wanted to keep an eye on all the entrances.

  “Why is that good?”

  There was a hesitancy to her voice that didn’t sit well with him, so he laid the charm on extra thick, just the way she liked it. “Well, it just so happens I have a proposition for you.”

  “I’m surprised you even know what that word means,” Rachel replied, her back bristling up within seconds, the murderous gleam taking a clear lead over tears. Good girl.

  “Proposition. Noun. A fancy way to tell a woman you want to see her honey pot.”

  “You are not seeing my honey pot.”

  “Now, now,” he chided, wagging his finger. God, she was easy to rile up. “We’ll get to that question when we come to it. What I was really asking was if you’ll do me the honor of coming to my house next week.”

  “No.” She stalked halfway across the backstage area before stopping. “Why? Do you have some secret underground lair or something? Is that your new plan?”

  He raised a brow. “You mean a sex room? As in, nipple clamps and ball gags and thirty-one flavors of lube?”

  The vein near her temple throbbed a warning, so he put a hand over his heart and winked. “Not yet, Red. But you say the word, and I promise to dig you one with my own two hands.”

  “You’re disgusting,” she said, though Michael noted she didn’t actually move away. He launched right ahead.

  “See, what I figure is you owe me. I’ve been doing some thinking, and I decided how I want you to make it up to me. And you’ll be happy to know it doesn’t involve honey or the pot it comes in. Or nipple clamps. Yet.”

  She pokered up even more, so much that a light wind would have caused her to go crashing to the ground. Michael was man enough to admit that it turned him on. Big-time. A magnificent redhead, magnificently angry. If he could wind her up with a few breezy words, just imagine what some intense, one-on-one face time would lead to. Rolling. Pinching. Slapping. Teeth.

  His cock stirred, and his balls shifted. God bless those boys of his.

  “I’m aware of…of a debt of gratitude,” she’d said stiffly. “But if you think I’m going to—”

  “You have no idea what I’m talking about. I’ll have you know that director in there offered me the male lead for this naughty little play of yours.”

  “You’re lying. He wouldn’t dare.”

  Michael went smoothly on. “Oh, he did dare. And for your sake, I turned him down. I know how much it would kill you to stand opposite me up there every day—there are sex scenes in this story of William’s, right? Or is it just kissing? Maybe some heavy petting?”

  Her eyes grew wide, the color in her cheeks mounting. He knew it must be costing her to remain silent and still.

  “Well, the point is, I thought about how you might react to such news and said no. I hate to cause a lady’s head to explode. It’s one of my Ten Rules to Live By. Do you want to hear the other nine?”

  “No. I don’t want to hear another word out of your stupid, oversized mouth.”

  He held up one finger. “Rule Number One. A gentleman always sleeps on the wet spot. Rule Number Two. A really good gentleman does his best to ensure that there are, in fact, nothing but wet spots. If you know what I mean.”

  She was unmoved. “Can you be a little bit less revolting for one second? Are you or are you not telling me you turned the role down?”

  “Of course I turned it down. I’m now officially the Antony Understudy, unlikely to ever see the lights of the stage. And you are so overcome with joy that you will, obviously, say yes to coming to my party. I could probably even make some good headway on our underground love nest by then.”

  “Wait a minute—you’re using my career to blackmail me for a date?”

  “Well, shit. I guess I am. A fancy date too—meat and beer at my house, three o’clock. My cousin Jennings will be there, though, and he’s sl
ightly off. I’d wear pants if I were you.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “And then we’re even?”

  “As even as my sword of truth.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” she muttered. “Fine. Just text me the address later. And for the record—I’m not promising to have fun.”

  “With Michael O’Leary, baby, the fun is guaranteed,” he said solemnly, the twitching of his lips ruining an otherwise stone-faced remark. “You can always count on that.”

  “I have never met anyone so unjustifiably enamored of himself than you.” Her words were biting, but there wasn’t a whole lot of energy behind them.

  “I do my best,” he said, shrugging. “Oh, and Rachel?”

  “What now?”

  “My dad was the same way. For years, all while I was a kid, I was up there, walking the tightrope with him. It sucks, you know?”

  She stared at him for a full minute. “Yeah. I know.”

  “What’s the Welcome Home banner for?” Rachel looked up at the decorations—correction, decoration—and did her best to swallow her smile. She was not here to have a good time, and she certainly wasn’t going to admit how welcome an afternoon away from her mother’s house, where the whole happy family lived together, actually was.

  But that didn’t mean she was above taking delight in the fact that Michael O’Leary was hosting an outdoor barbecue in the melting spring of the first weeks of April. Or that he lived on a working lentil farm, in one of a pair of twin Airstreams parked at random angles at the top of a hill.

  Not that she’d had expectations, of course, but this—this went beyond ridiculous. The Mule couldn’t even be bothered to live in a house. She would have bet her life savings that the family toilet lay somewhere off in the distance, between a patch of trees in a hole dug just for the purpose.

  “Maybe he just got back from a long trip,” Molly suggested. “I think it looks nice and festive. You’re going to be nice and festive too, right? You promised.”