by L. M. Pruitt
“I can’t eat....” Tammy trailed off when I shot her a look over my shoulder. “I mean, I don’t like the tomato sauce Sally uses. It gives me heartburn.”
“I hope you understand why part of me thinks you’re lying but I’m willing to take you at your word, provided you still eat something.” Shifting my gaze to Kitty, I said, “Are you okay with pizza?”
“Oh, absolutely, yes, ma’am.” Her eyes went super wide, seeming to swallow her face, her ponytail bouncing as she bobbed her head enthusiastically. “I’m perfectly happy with whatever.”
“I really hope you get comfortable around me soon because all the ‘ma’am’ing is going to get old quick.” Opening the door, I slid out, wincing as Dolly stepped on my foot in her haste to climb out. “Conway, Dolly, pizza?”
“We like pepperoni.” Dolly scampered around to the back of the car, waiting patiently until Abraham joined her and unlocked the trunk. “Do we have to put everything up before we can eat dinner?”
“I don’t see a point when we’re going to be moving in a couple of days anyway.” I’d spent the better part of an hour on the phone with the contractor but he’d promised the house would be move-in ready on Friday. In contrast, it had taken all of ten minutes to book the movers mostly because people didn’t really move in Cotton Creek and if they did it was almost never in the height of summer. I’d gotten the impression old Mr. James was more than eager for the business. “Just stuff it all in a corner of the living room. We can take it over to the new house either tomorrow or the next day.”
“Why don’t you kids start working on hauling in all your loot while I have a quick work with your aunt?” Abraham didn’t wait for a response, instead grabbing my elbow and dragging me a few feet away, his vice like grip at odds with the lazy smile curving his lips. When we were apparently far enough away to suit him, he yanked me against him and whispered, “What did I do now?”
“What?” I stared at him for a moment before forcing out a laugh. “Abraham, honestly, for someone so successful and so gorgeous, you’re amazingly insecure. I’m tired. I’m pretty much always tired these days. You don’t need to take it so personally.”
“You’ve barely talked to me since we woke up this morning and when you have it’s been with the same level of warmth I’d get from my dental hygienist.”
“I was actually invited to my dental hygienist’s wedding so....” I trailed off, pursing my lips and letting out a short whistle when he ground his back teeth together. “Okay. Clearly, you’re not in the mood for jokes.”
“I said I’m willing to wait, to take what you give me when you give it to me, but damn it to hell and back, Jeannie.” He banded one arm around my torso, grasping my chin with his other hand and squeezing. “When you give me something, you don’t get to take it back. Not something like this.”
“I’m sorry I’ve bruised your ego by not showing an appropriate level of devotion.” It was a struggle to keep my voice cool and calm but somehow I managed it. “In the future, I’ll make sure to hang on your every word and fawn over you at every opportunity.”
“See, now you’re just saying shit to piss me off.” He squeezed my chin harder, the pressure a step below bruising. “In case you’re wondering, it’s working.”
“Well, all my dreams have come true now.” I fluttered my lashes, pushing a breathy note in to my voice. “Whatever will I do with the rest of my life?”
“Let me be honest here, folks—I’m not sure if I should stick you in separate cells for the night or tell you to take it inside to the bedroom and lock the door.” Sheriff Underwood’s lazy drawl had all of the sobering effect of a bucket of cold water. When I would have jerked away from Abraham, he only pulled me tighter against him, his features shifting in to firm, unyielding lines. Sheriff Underwood glanced from me to him and back again. “Jeannie. We have a problem here?”
“Only if you consider mortal embarrassment something requiring police intervention.” When he simply continued to stare at me, I sighed and shook my head. “We’re just having a conversation, Sheriff. No need to break out the handcuffs and the rubber hoses.”
“I try and save the rubber hoses for special occasions.” The Sheriff tucked his thumbs in his front belt loops, rocking back on his heels for a moment before saying, “Abraham. Think you might want to ease up on the girl a bit so she can draw a breath or two?”
For a minute, I thought Abraham would tell him to mind his business or some more colorful variation of the same sentiment. Finally, he let his arms drop to his sides, taking a step back at the same time. “Didn’t realize I needed the Sheriff’s permission to hold my girlfriend.”
“Didn’t say you did.” The Sheriff inclined his head toward the trailer, lifting his brows a fraction of an inch but it was enough to convey surprise. “Might want to go help the little one with that bag he’s toting. Thing is nearly as big as he is.”
Abraham’s only response was to brush a kiss over my temple before turning and striding across the lot to help Conway, who seemed bound and determined to carry all his stuff in at the same time. I watched them for a moment before turning back to the sheriff. “Something tells me you didn’t drive all the way out here just to crack jokes.”
“Didn’t know you were dating Abraham Hansom.” He pulled a pack of gum out of his shirt pocket and offered me a piece, shrugging and taking one for himself when I declined. Returning the pack to its place, he popped the little square in his mouth, chewing for a few seconds before continuing. “Boy always did have a thing for you. Guess he decided it was finally time to make a move.”
I shoved that little bombshell away to be digested later, saying, “I don’t know if you could call it dating. We’re... spending time together.”
“Word of advice from an old married man—anybody who willingly takes a carful of kids across the state and endures what looks like hours of shopping is looking to do more than ‘spend time’ with you.” He smacked on his gum for another minute or two before saying, “But that’s something for a different conversation. I need to talk to you about Kitty.”
“Oh, hell.” Suddenly exhausted beyond measure, I ambled over to his cruiser, leaning back against the hood and crossing my arms. “I had permission from the judge to take her out of the county so I sure hope you’re not going to try and threaten me with kidnapping charges again.”
“No, no, nothing like that.” He pulled his hat off, running his fingers over the brim and I steeled myself for whatever bad news he was about to drop on my head. “Had the social worker out there yesterday, along with the judge. Then they both went and spoke with Kitty’s doctor.”
“I know I’m not an expert on these kinds of things but don’t they usually move slower? The wheels of bureaucracy and all?”
“In a larger place, they probably do, but this is Cotton Creek, Jeannie.” The Sheriff shook his head and sighed. “Sometimes that’s good and sometimes that’s bad.”
I waited a beat and then said, “Well. Which one is it this time?”
“Guess it depends on which side of the line you’re standing on.” He slapped his hat against his thigh a few times before continuing. “I won’t go in to details—can’t, really, since it’s an open investigation and all—but I will say Kitty didn’t tell us even half of what those vermin did to her.”
“If that’s the truth, I don’t think I want to hear.” Whatever was bad enough to have Pete Underwood calling someone ‘vermin’—spitting it out, even, as if the word left a rancid taste in his mouth—must be very, very bad indeed. Uncrossing my arms, I ran one hand through my hair, tugging on the ends to try and clear my mind. “So what does that mean for Kitty?”
“Right now, it means the social worker, who cried as if she was at a funeral when she left that hellhole, is willing to let Kitty stay here while they sort things out. I know you were pushing for her to go the emancipation route but if we’re being honest, she doesn’t meet even half the qualifications.” He perched the hat on his head again, ad
justing the brim until it sat perfect. “Neither the social worker or Judge Hawkins have a problem with you taking over guardianship and custody but like I told you before, there’s going to be home studies and reams of paperwork and all sorts of other crap.”
“I don’t mind wading through a little crap if it means that girl doesn’t have to live in a fucking jail.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, longing for a shot of tequila, a couple of aspirin, and a solid ten hours of sleep. “Now, I’m going to say something which is probably not going to go over very well but it needs to be said anyway.”
“I’ve never known you to bite your tongue before. Don’t expect you’d start now.”
“She hasn’t given me a definitive answer one way or the other but she’s acting as if she wants to keep the baby.” I dropped my hand to my lap, tapping my fingers on my knees. “If she does, she’s going to petition to receive child support from the father.”
“Don’t have a problem with that. After all, he did his part in making the baby, he should do his part in supporting it.” The Sheriff pulled another piece of gum from his pocket, making me wonder where the first one went, popping it in his mouth and chewing for a minute before continuing. “Now, normally if the boy is paying child support, he’s entitled to visitation rights.”
“The court can work that out but I’d be willing to bet that same court doesn’t look kindly on individuals who abandon their children before they’re even born.”
“You’re probably right.” He shifted his gaze to some point behind me, chewing silently for a few minutes before speaking again. “Your sister was awful proud of you, you know. Bragged about you all the time. She had copies of all the print editions you did of your magazine—at least until Harold got pissed off and burned them in a trash bin one night.”
I swallowed down the sudden lump of tears, simply nodding.
“She’d be happy to know you were getting the kids out of the trailer park. That you were getting Kitty out, too.” He reached over and squeezed my shoulder, resting his hand there for a few seconds before stepping back. “I’m going to wander down and deliver the restraining order to the Havertys—covers you, Kitty, and all your sister’s kids.”
I nodded again, waiting until the echo of his footsteps faded away before giving in to the urge to drop my head in my hands and cry a little. Not a lot—I couldn’t afford a good crying jag and it would only make the headache worse—but I just needed a moment or two to grieve my sister. I hadn’t really had time, not with the way she died and then all the paperwork with transferring guardianship and custody... and then the house...and then Kitty... and then Abraham.
I just needed a minute. Just one.
“Hey.” A second later, Abraham gripped my shoulders, pulling me off the car and wrapping his arms around me. “Hey, what’s wrong? Is it something with one of the kids?”
“Just... be quiet for a few minutes, okay?” Even though it was stupid and would only tangle the already sticky web we were flailing around in, I leaned in to him, returning the embrace. “Just stand there and hold me and be quiet for a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay.” He rested his cheek on the top of my head and after a few seconds, our breathing synched up. My heart, which felt as if it had been going a million miles a minute, slowed down to something a little less stroke inducing. My blood settled, seeming to grow thicker in my veins. When he spoke again, his voice was so low my bones seemed to vibrate. “Better?”
“Some.” I closed my eyes and pressed my face to his shirt, breathing him in, which was stupid and I knew it but if I was allowed to grieve and miss my sister for a few minutes I was allowed to be stupid about the boy I’d had a crush on in high school. “I’m tired, is all. It’s been a long month.”
“I imagine for you it has been.” He stroked his hand down my back, pulling me tighter against him. “You know you can lean all you want. I don’t mind the least little bit.”
“Hmm.” There was no point in telling him I’d been standing on my own two feet for so long I wouldn’t know how to lean if somebody stuck a gun to my head. It would only start a fight and something told me we hadn’t really made up from the last one. “The kids get everything inside?”
“Yeah, and Dolly and Conway are passed out on the living room, snoring like grumpy old men. The two older girls are huddled up in Tammy’s bedroom, probably planning first day of school outfits.”
“Knowing Tammy, she’s probably planning first week of school outfits.” I sighed and stepped back, shoving my hair out of my face. “What with moving this week and school starting next week, I don’t know when I’m going to find time to see you again.”
“We can grab lunch Thursday afternoon before I have to open the bar.” He gave my nose a gentle kiss, smiling when I scowled at him. “I’m sure by then you’ll be annoyed enough with the kids to want some adult company.”
“Either you have a very low opinion of those kids or you have a very high opinion of yourself.” Before I could talk myself out of it, I rose up on my toes and pressed my lips to his. “By the way, warn me the next time you plan on referring to me as your girlfriend.”
“Maybe you should just assume that’s always how I’m going to refer to you.” He started walking backward, flashing me a sunny grin. “Told you—been wanting to say it for a while so I think I’m going to say it as often as I can.”
“You’re an idiot.” I laughed and shook my head, lingering by his door as he opened it and slid into the driver seat. “I’ll see you Friday.”
“Wear a dress.”
“Why?” I held fast to the door when he tried to close it. “Abraham—why?”
“You’ll see.” He nipped at my fingers, laughing when I jerked away. “Trust me, Jeannie Jackson.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I was probably twenty shades of stupid but I did what he asked and wore a dress to the steakhouse which, it turned out, was officially called Morton’s. Who the hell Morton was and why he’d been important enough for somebody in Cotton Creek to name a restaurant after him was a question for another day. At the moment, I was wondering where Abraham was and why he’d been so insistent on me wearing a dress.
I was also wondering why one of my new hires thought I was honestly going to let her write a piece on ways to get free food from restaurants. I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume this was a one-off bout of stupidity. If it happened again... well, there was a reason I always insisted on a sixty-day trial period.
“Hey, there, Jeannie.” Lynn’s too bright tone was forced and strained enough to break through the daze I tended to descend in to when working and I glanced up, frowning. She smiled, saccharine sweet, and I mentally resigned myself for whatever supposedly cutting remark she was preparing to deliver “You should know, we’re not hiring right now. All full up for the season.”
“First of all, Cotton Creek isn’t some sort of tourist mecca so there really isn’t a ‘season’, Lynn.” I turned my attention back to my phone, already finished with the conversation. “Second, I haven’t needed to bust my ass waiting tables in a good number of years. Nothing wrong with it, mind you, but I’m past that point in my life.”
“I didn’t know you were a server.” Abraham crossed the tiny lobby, dropping down next to me on the bench before leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. “Did you have to wear one of those kitschy uniforms with a frilly apron and heels?”
“I was a server, not a cocktail server.” I saved the email draft on my phone, shutting off the device and sliding it in my purse before turning to face him. “When you’re working in a place that does close to two hundred guests in one hour and you’ve got eight tables, the last thing you want to do is hobble around in heels.”
“I suppose the blisters would take away from the cute factor.” He grinned, taking my chin in one hand and tilting my face up to his. The kiss this time was longer and just intimate enough to make me hope nobody other than Lynn was watching us. Drawing back, he mur
mured, “Missed you.”
“We spent two hours on the phone last night.” Which had started with me complaining about the photos for the center spread on food trucks not being colorful enough and ending with some of the dirtiest phone sex I’d ever had. If I was being honest, it was really the only phone sex I’d ever had but I didn’t think Abraham needed to know that. He was already far too proud of his sexual prowess. No need to build up his ego any higher. Turning my face to the side, I whispered in his ear, “Are you going to tell me why I’m wearing a dress?”
“Because you’re beautiful and you have amazing legs and looking at them makes me happy.” He stood, pulling me up with him, his smile fading as he glanced at Lynn. “Two, please. Somewhere private.”
“Of course.” Lynn ground the words out between teeth clenched so tight my own jaw ached in sympathy. Pausing at the hostess stand to grab two menus, she led us through the dining room straight to a booth in the back corner, tucked out of sight from the rest of the room. Setting the menus down and stepping back, she clasped her hands at her waist and said, “Your server will be right with you. In the meantime, can I—.”
“No, thank you.” Abraham nudged me in ahead of him, dismissing Lynn without so much as a glance. “We’re fine for the moment.”
I waited until Lynn stalked off before saying, “Do you remember the conversation we had about not treating the wait staff like second-class citizens?”
“I do and I hope you remember I was perfectly cordial to every server we encountered during our little jaunt to Savannah. But not Lynn.” He pulled something out of his pocket, keeping his hand under the tablecloth and out of sight. “Trust me when I say I’m rude to her not because she’s a server but because she’s... well, her.”
“Still.” I frowned at him when he slipped his hand between my knees, working his way up my thighs while still managing to keep the hem of my dress in place. “What are you doing?”