Vice

by L. M. Pruitt

  “Oh, you must have heard Jeannie bought the old Fisher place and is fixing it up.” Mrs. Neal, who was apparently the voice of the couple when her husband wasn’t preaching, beamed at me as if I’d done something more worthwhile than pour thousands of dollars in to a property solely to piss off the uppity people in town. “She’s staying here and raising her sister’s children, bless poor Loretta’s soul.”

  “No, I hadn’t heard that.” Abraham released my hand, his fingers slipping over my palm almost like a caress and I fought back the resultant shiver. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

  “Thanks.” I shifted Conway to my other hip, wincing when his doll dug in to my ribs. “Sorry to rush off but it’s lunchtime and you know how kids are.”

  “Oh, if you haven’t been to Cracked Egg, you should definitely go.” Mrs. Neal nudged Abraham toward me, all smiles and fluttering hands but with a gleam in her eyes which made me wonder how many other meet-cutes she’d tried to arrange in the past. “Abraham, take Jeannie and the kids to lunch. It would make your parents so happy to know you’re being part of the community again.”

  “That’s not necessary.” I started nudging Tammy toward the door, shooing Dolly behind her. I didn’t give a good damn if my attempt at escape was obvious—the last thing I wanted was to share a meal with my sister’s children and the man who’d given me multiple orgasms. “I’m sure Mr. Hansom has other plans for the afternoon.”

  “Not really.” Before I had chance to protest further, he reached over and plucked Conway out of my arms, setting him on his hip with a suspicious ease. Inclining his head toward the exit, he said, “After you, Jeannie Jackson.”

  Since any further attempts at refusal would have held up the line and caused more harm than good, I forced myself to smile brighter and follow Tammy and Dolly outside, doing my best to ignore the whispers already starting. Even knowing he was a good two feet away from me, I would have sworn I felt heat rolling off him in waves and I was sure more than a few ovaries went in to overdrive at the sight of him carrying a child. I was having a hard time controlling my own and I wasn’t even particularly fond of him or the idea of having children.

  Walking across the church lawn and parking lot felt like the equivalent of walking through the halls of high school naked as a jaybird and I was all but delirious with relief when we reached my car. Turning to face Abraham, I held out my arms for Conway and said, “I can take him.”

  “We’re fine.” As if to demonstrate his point, he bounced Conway, his lips curving upward when Conway laughed. “I’d appreciate if you opened the door, though. This little guy is sturdier than he looks.”

  “Right.” I fumbled with the handle, cursing under my breath while Dolly giggled and Tammy looked on with her usual pious frown. Wrenching the door open, nearly kneecapping myself in the process, I said, “There you go.”

  “Thanks.” He settled Conway in the car seat with more skill than I would have expected of an apparently single man in his thirties, glancing over at the girls. “If you two want lunch, you should probably get in and get buckled up. I have a feeling your aunt would have no problem leaving you if you decided to dawdle.”

  “No, she wouldn’t.” Dolly giggled again, covering her mouth with her hand but failing to conceal her dimples. “She like us.”

  “True, but she has the appearance of a woman desperate for coffee and I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.” He straightened, shutting the car door and leaning against it. He shifted his gaze to me, his smile taking a decidedly wicked edge. “She looks like a biter.”

  “Girls, car. Mr. Hansom, can I have a word with you, please?” Without giving him a chance to reply, I stalked a few feet away, crossing my arms as I turned to face him. Squaring my shoulders, I took a deep breath and said, “Look, I’m not sure what you’re trying to do here but—.”

  “At the moment, I’m trying to take you to lunch because if I don’t, the good Mrs. Neal will call my mother and tell her all about how I was unwelcoming and inhospitable and then I’ll have to listen to my mother sigh and wonder where she went wrong and why I can’t be the nice boy she raised.” His smile faded as he took a step forward, the faint breeze fluttering his jacket, the crisp cotton grazing my bare arms. For the first time, I noticed the absence of the eyebrow ring and the tightness in his jaw. “You’re not the only one living under a microscope, Jeannie Jackson, so maybe you could give a guy a hand.”

  “You’ve already gotten way more than a hand.” Even though it was stupid considering what had happened the last time we got too close, I shifted closer, dropping my voice to almost a whisper. “Did you know who I was last night?”

  “Yes.” He met my stare without flinching. “Are you telling me you didn’t know who I was?”

  “Not a single clue.” It was petty of me, I know, but I couldn’t help feeling a small spurt of glee when he blinked, his surprise obvious. “Why would I? I haven’t thought about you or this town in years. I’m willing to bet the only reason you knew about me was gossip.”

  His smile disappeared entirely as he pressed his lips in to a thin line. “I don’t listen to gossip.”

  “Right.” I shook my head and snorted out a laugh. “So you say.” Uncrossing my arms, I raked one hand through my hair and sighed. “Fine. We’ll go to lunch. I’m warning you now, no dirty talk or innuendo. Dolly and Conway might not pick up on it but Tammy is old enough to not only understand but disapprove.”

  “I tend to save my dirty talk and innuendo for after five p.m.” He gestured toward my car where the kids were waiting patiently—or at least as patiently as a fifteen year old, an eight year old, and a five year old could wait. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant. I’m sure Tammy knows the way.”

  “Fine.” Resisting the urge to yank the door open and slam it shut, I forced myself to at least look as if I wasn’t torn between annoyance and arousal as I slid in to the car and fastened my seatbelt. When Tammy cleared her throat, I said, “What?”

  “I didn’t know you knew Mr. Hansom. I just thought you went to high school together.”

  “I don’t know him.” I studied him through the windshield as he crossed the parking lot to a car which looked as painstakingly and lovingly restored as the building which housed his bar and was as far from an oversized, jacked up pickup truck as it could be and still be considered a vehicle. “I don’t know him at all.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Cracked Egg turned out to be in the location of the old corner store, which meant it was tiny and tight and almost painfully bright thanks to the floor to ceiling windows lining the walls. It also smelled like the best fried chicken I might ever have in my life so I didn’t protest when Abraham slid in the booth next to me, his thigh warm and hard against mine. The kids squeezed in on the other side, Conway in the center, Dolly pressing her nose to the glass and leaving smudges instead of looking at the menu.

  Tammy, of course, sat ramrod straight, her hands in her lap, her chin lifted imperiously. Or indignantly. With her, it was hard to tell the difference between the two.

  “Can we have waffles, Aunt Jeannie? And bacon?” Dolly bounced in her seat, still looking out the window at God only knew what. “And eggs? But no eggs for Conway. He doesn’t like eggs.”

  “They’re baby chickens.” Conway settled his doll on his lap, fussing with the skirt of the doll’s dress before looking up and meeting my gaze. “Nobody should eat baby chickens.”

  “Okay, then, no eggs for Conway.” I flipped open the menu, my sigh nearly orgasmic when I saw there was, indeed, chicken and waffles on the menu. If it tasted even half as good as it smelled, I would have to do a write-up for the magazine’s blog. “Tammy, what about you?”

  “Tammy’s on a diet.” Dolly plopped down in her seat, beaming at me with far too much innocence for my liking. “She says she has to lose ten pounds before school starts next month.”

  “Uh, no, she doesn’t.” I gave the menu exactly five more seconds of my time before closing it a
nd resting my hands on top of it, turning my attention to my oldest niece. “Why do you think you need to lose weight?”

  Dolly answered for her. “Because Tina Anne said her boobs were too big for her cheerleading uniform.”

  “Dolly!” Tammy hissed at her sister, her face twisting in a scowl. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  “Well, it’s true.” Dolly stuck her tongue out, Conway apparently oblivious to the argument happening literally around him. Turning back to me, she said, “Tina Anne is captain and what she says goes so all Tammy has been eating all summer is salad.”

  “Tina Anne? As in Tina Anne Owens?” Abraham glanced up from his still open menu, waiting until Tammy nodded before continuing. “Tina Anne had her tummy tucked and her butt lifted for her eighteenth birthday. She also had a nose job. And a chin job.” He closed his menu, tugging mine from under my hands and setting it on top of his. “Nothing on Tina Anne is real, including her hair color.”

  “Besides, as someone who’s been dealing with the same issue my entire life, you can starve yourself down to skin and bones and your breasts would still be too big for the prudes in this town.” Reaching across the table, I flipped open her menu and jammed my finger against the plastic cover. “Order something because we’re sitting here until you do.”

  “Fine.” Somehow, Tammy managed to lift her chin even higher and I found myself praying, rather unreasonably, that the ceiling wouldn’t spring a leak because she’d sure as hell get more than a few droplets up—or rather down—her nose at its current angle. “I can eat egg whites. And Canadian bacon. And dry toast.”

  “You can, although I don’t see how you’re going to enjoy it when we’re all eating waffles and other fried food.” I snuck a look at Abraham out of the corner of my eye. “Although I’m not sure about this one. He may be in to egg whites and things without butter.”

  “While I don’t have anything against the concept of egg whites in general, I feel as if I should load up on the carbs this morning.” Under the table, he rested a hand on my knee and squeezed gently, although I wasn’t sure if it was a warning or a promise. “I used up a lot of calories last night.”

  Before any of the kids could ask him what he meant, a girl who looked a few years older than Tammy bounced over, all smiles and dimples and dark hair so curly it would have made Shirley Temple jealous. She beamed at each one of us in turn, the wattage of her grin going up a hundred fold when her gaze landed on Abraham. “Hey, there, everybody—Mr. Hansom. Welcome to the Cracked Egg. Would you like to hear about our specials today or are you ready to order?”

  “I think we’re ready, Sue.” Abraham answered before I could, rattling off orders for all of us, including drinks. I wasn’t sure whether I was impressed at what had to be his mind-reading skills or annoyed at the presumptive nature. The server hadn’t even left the table before he turned to me and said, “Sorry if that was high-handed but if I didn’t step in she’d stand here all day trying to flirt with me and we’d never get any food.”

  “Uh-huh.” I shifted my gaze from him to Sue, her smile replaced by thin lips and red cheeks and flaring nostrils. “Honey, if one of those glasses of water lands in his lap, I’ll swear seven ways to Sunday it was an accident.”

  Some of the tightness in her face eased as she stuffed her pen and ordering pad in her apron pocket. “As satisfying as that would be, I’d be worried about getting some on your dress. I’ll be back with your drinks in a few minutes.”

  As soon as she walked away—with a great deal less pep than she’d arrived with—I twisted and turned until I was able to punch Abraham’s shoulder. “I know social movements tend to travel slow in this part of the state but I would have thought the concept of not being an asshole to people in the service industry would have made it here by now.” When Tammy scowled and started to open her mouth, I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. “And I’ve just about had it with you telling me to watch my language. I’m the adult and you’re the kid, so why don’t you keep that in mind before you say whatever you’re thinking about saying?”

  She snapped her teeth together hard enough for me to hear the resulting click, crossed her arms, and turned to look out the window.

  “Ooh, Tammy got in trouble.” Dolly didn’t quite sing out the words but it was damn close. Even Conway was smiling, although that might have been because he’d finally finished rearranging his doll’s dress and if there was only one thing I knew about my nephew it was the importance of his doll being absolutely perfect. My younger niece bounced in her seat and clapped her hands, giggling. “Tammy never gets in trouble.”

  “She’s not in trouble.” I did a quick backpedal when Dolly and Conway stopped smiling. “I’m annoyed with her and I’m hoping to God she stops trying to be a know-it-all but she’s not getting punished or anything.”

  That seemed to pacify Dolly, who grabbed the coloring sheet the hostess had given her and went to work with the same sort of attention Conway showed his doll. Conway stared at me a moment longer before tugging over his own coloring sheet, studying it with all the seriousness of an art critic analyzing a Warhol before selecting a single crayon and starting to color. Tammy pulled a paperback book out of her purse, straightened her shoulders and her spine to a stiffness which made my own bones ache in response, and proceeded to ignore me entirely.

  Which left me no distraction from Abraham or his hand, still warm and heavy on my knee.

  “So you bought—.”

  “So how long have you—.”

  We both stopped talking at the same time, an awkward pause settling between us for a few seconds before Abraham laughed and shook his head. “You first.”

  “How long have you owned the Watering Hole?” I shifted a few inches away so I was able to turn and face him, freezing when he tightened his grip on my thigh. Clearing my throat, I looked pointedly at his hand. “Do you mind?”

  “No.” He flashed a grin. “Do you?”

  “Hmm.” Since pressing the issue would draw attention from... everywhere, I decided to let it go for the moment. “The Watering Hole?”

  “Four, five years. Something like that.” He shrugged, as if it was absolutely normal for someone to forget how long they’d been a business owner. “After college, I tried a few things. None of them seemed to suit. This did.”

  “Right.” I stayed silent while Sue delivered our drinks, smiling when she set Abraham’s orange juice down with enough force to have more than a few drops slopping over the rim of the glass. When she marched off again, I said, “Your turn.”

  “You bought the old Fisher house.”

  “That’s not a question.”

  “You’re smart enough to know the question was implied, Jeannie Jackson.”

  “Why do you do that? Use my full name?”

  “Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”

  “Fine.” I took a sip of coffee, pleasantly surprised when it was smooth and rich instead of sharp and bitter. “I bought it because it was one of the few places in town large enough to suit my needs and still within walking distance of the school.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that wasn’t the only reason but I’ll accept it for now.” He mopped up the juice spill, folding the napkin in a neat little square before glancing at me. “You wanted to know why I use your full name?”

  “I’m waiting with bated breath.”

  “Because I like it.” He flashed me another grin, this one devilish enough I was thankful the kids weren’t paying us any attention. “Just like I like when you call me ‘Mr. Hansom’.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Ashamed at the breathy note in my voice, I took another, longer sip of coffee, hoping the singeing of my tongue would keep me from tripping over it. “Your question.”

  “What are you doing this afternoon?”

  “Excuse me?” I blinked, more to buy myself a few seconds than because I hadn’t heard him. “What?”

  “What are you doing this afternoon, Jeannie Jackson?” He leaned
toward me, apparently unconcerned with the number of people watching us with the sort of rapt attention usually reserved for car crashes, train wrecks, and other tragedies. Lowering his voice, he said, “There are a few things at the bar I didn’t get to show you last night which I’m sure you would find very... interesting.”

  “Right.” If my voice had been breathy before, it was downright feeble now. I had to clear my throat three times before I had enough spit to respond. “I don’t know. Packing, probably.”

  “We’re not moving for another two weeks.” Tammy didn’t glance up from her book so she missed the glare I shot her. “Packing now would be a waste of time because Dolly and Conway would just unpack everything and we’d have to pack it all again.”

  “Then do you mind watching the two littlest rugrats while I show your aunt the bar?” Abraham waited until she looked up, widening his smile when her face softened, no doubt in response to the charm he was throwing at her. “The Watering Hole does pretty decent but it’d be nice to get the kind of publicity your aunt’s magazine could provide.”

  “Sure.” Tammy turned her attention back to her book, a bright cherry flush creeping up her cheeks. “No problem.”

  “Abraham.” I leaned toward him, lowering my voice to just above a whisper. “Stop flirting with my niece.”

  “I’m not.” His surprised tone almost made me believe him. Almost. “Or at least not on purpose.” The open, innocent smile he’d given Tammy slipped in to something far too intimate for a family restaurant. “And I told you I like it when you call me ‘Mr. Hansom’.”

  “Give me a reason to.”

  He chuckled and slouched down in the booth. “I like a challenge.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lunch passed without incident, notwithstanding Sue continuing to slam Abraham’s plates down on the table. Since he’d earned the metaphorical slap on the hands, I didn’t mind in the least and if his smile was any indication, neither did he. The only moment of unpleasantness came when Sue dropped the bill on the table and Abraham and I both reached for it at the same time.