Sweet Southern Bad Boy

by Michele Summers

  “First of all, Walter needs to lighten up,” Inslee said, referring to Katie’s dad. “Personally, I don’t know why you keep working for him. Listen, doll, the only way you’re going to be your own person is by getting out from underneath Daddy’s thumb.”

  “Easy for you to say. He’s a hard man to say no to.”

  “Only because you’ve allowed it. You’re twenty-eight. A grown woman. Quit acting like the understudy or like you’re never going to get the main role in your own life, for chrissakes. Take charge. Be the star of your life.”

  What life? Katie had been living in her parents’ world and listening to their dictates since the day she was born. Their strong will and influences had impacted her life on so many levels that she had no idea who she was anymore. Her past kept crowding her present. She hated being a wimp, and she hated not living life on her terms.

  “And second of all, Tad is a class A jerk who has to check his balls at the door every time he goes to work. He’s such a kiss-ass. Even Sam calls him a suck-up. I told you to ditch him months ago. Forget him and focus on Vance da bomb, not Tad the butt nugget.” Inslee always made it perfectly clear where she stood on any given issue, and she didn’t take crap from anyone.

  Katie passed a grove of trees and came upon a clearing where an old farm-like house stood about a football field away. The brown weathered boards had been patched, and the tin roof appeared to be rust-red. In its dilapidated state, it had a picturesque quality with the low afternoon sun casting a pink tint. The photographer in Katie couldn’t wait to capture it with her camera.

  “…besides, what do you have to lose?”

  “Excuse me?” Katie hadn’t been listening to Inslee’s explanation.

  “Go for it. You’re on the other side of the country, living with a very hot, eligible, extremely hunky-dunky guy. Take advantage of what he’s offering. No one knows you there. And no one will find out about it here. My lips are sealed. Even to your adorable brother.”

  Katie hesitated. What Inslee suggested sounded slutty and tawdry and completely depraved. And Katie had never been more tempted. “I don’t know. I’d feel like Hailey the Hussy, remember her?”

  “Hailey’s a B actor at best, and a ho who slept with the entire cast and crew of Pretty Little Backstabbers. She even tried to seduce Sam. You’re not trying to sleep with the entire town of Harmony. Are you?”

  “No. Only its most famous resident, besides Keith Morgan, the professional tennis player. He’s pretty hot, too, but he’s married.”

  “Seducing a married man in a small town probably isn’t a great plan. However, seducing a married man in LA is a common occurrence. Think your dad has ever been seduced?”

  Katie gave an involuntary shudder. “Stop. That’s not something I even want to consider.” It didn’t seem likely, but maybe that was why her mom tried so hard to turn back the clock.

  “Sam doesn’t think so either. Anyhow, live a little. You act like an old spinster, and you dress like one too.”

  “I do not. That’s ridiculous—”

  “Even Sam agrees. Come on, Katie…now’s your chance,” Inslee said in a tempting lure-you-to-the-dark-side voice.

  “Well…maybe—” CRACK! Katie jumped about a mile in the air. Struck with heart-stopping fear, she jerked her head, scanning the surroundings. “Inslee? Somebody’s shooting, and looks like I’m the target. I’m outta here! Later.”

  “Sonofa—Go! Call me back when you’re safe.”

  Katie shoved her phone in her pocket and started to sprint back in the direction she’d come.

  “Hold it right there!” She skidded to a halt at the gravelly voice. Her heart thumped like a bass drum, pounding in her ears. Shaking like a pathetic leaf, Katie had only one thought: She’d been to church on the last day of her life. Thank the Lord.

  “Who are you, and what’re you doing trespassing on my property?” The gravelly voice had drawn nearer. Afraid of whom she’d face, Katie turned slowly and got the second shock of the day. A tall man with thick gray hair and black eyes cradled a shotgun/rifle/machine gun—she had no idea—across his arms. He wore a crisp khaki shirt, belted inside new jeans, and a deep don’t-mess-with-me scowl on his face. Katie recognized him from his pictures: General Kerner…Vance’s father.

  “Speak up. I asked you a question,” he barked in an authoritative tone. The sudden urge to straighten her shoulders and salute came over her.

  “K-Katie McKnight, sir…General Kerner, sir.” His dark eyes narrowed like his son’s, but whereas Vance’s never frightened her…his dad’s were a different story. And the big, scary gun full of bullets didn’t help.

  “Katie McKnight, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing trespassing on my land and how you know my name?” he all but growled.

  “Yes sir. Um, I’m sorry about the trespassing thing. I didn’t know this was your land.” Katie gave a nervous glance over her shoulder. Now would be the perfect time for Vance to come sniffing after her, like the horn dog that he was. “I’m working, er, helping with your grandkids”—she motioned with her hand—“over at Vance’s house.” Something flickered behind his dark eyes. “I, uh, recognized you from the photos.”

  Moments that felt like hours passed before either spoke. Katie drew a long, unsteady breath. The general’s rigid stance relaxed, and he finally broke the silence.

  “You like iced tea?” General Kerner lowered the gun in his arms.

  “Excuse me?” Katie’s mind stuttered. Was this a trick question?

  He shrugged and turned. “Come with me.”

  Katie nervously glanced around. The strumming banjo music from Deliverance started to play in her head. Where was Vance when she needed him?

  Suddenly General Kerner faced her, making Katie jump in her skin. He held his hand out, palm up. “I’ll take your phone and camera. You don’t need to contact Vance and tell him where you are.”

  Katie hesitated. “You do realize you’re scaring the bazooka out of me, don’t you?”

  A small smile curled the corner of his firm lips, and Katie caught a glimpse of Vance in that smile. “You’ll be all right. Hand over the phone and camera.”

  Katie fumbled with the phone in her pocket; with shaky hands she placed both phone and camera in General Kerner’s large, rough palm. “I’ll get them back?” Without answering, General Kerner strode toward the dilapidated house Katie had admired earlier. She had to skip to keep up.

  “You’re not planning to kill me and bury me in the woods, are you? Because I’d like you to consider—”

  “Kill you? What gave you that idea?” He stared as if she were the dumbest woman on earth. “I’m simply inviting you inside for something cool to drink. I was hoping you’d be good company.”

  Katie’s mouth dropped open. Good company? She lifted her head and leveled her own scary look, maybe not strong enough for the military, but she’d scared her fair share of nine-year-olds when she taught school. “Your gun for starters. And your delivery could use some work. Instead of scaring the poop out of me, you could’ve introduced yourself and asked nicely.”

  General Kerner surveyed her for a long moment and then tossed his head and laughed. It sounded rusty, as if he didn’t do it very often, and in that moment, he reminded her of Vance. She gave a tentative smile, unsure of his change in tactics.

  “You’re going to be real good company, I can tell,” he said between hoots. He stuck out his hand. “Chuck Kerner.”

  Katie paused and then shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Gen—”

  “Call me Chuck. I’m retired now. Come on.”

  Not knowing what to expect, Katie stepped over the front-door threshold and froze. Judging from the outside, you’d think the interior would be rustic, rudimentary, and downright creepy, but not so. Inside, Chuck’s home was warm, inviting, and the perfect cozy hideaway.

  “Have a se
at.” Chuck gestured to a black Windsor-back barstool in front of a large kitchen island. He retrieved a pitcher of iced tea from the stainless steel refrigerator and pulled down two glasses from the open shelving. “Tea’s sweet. Hope that’s okay. I can tell you’re not from around these parts.”

  Katie leaned her elbows on the butcher-block island top. “Sweet tea sounds great.”

  Chuck handed her a glass and held his up as if to toast. Katie clinked her glass with his. “What are we toasting?”

  “Good company and pretty girls,” he said, smiling, and then took a long drink.

  * * *

  Katie strolled back through the fields and woods to Vance’s house with a slight frown playing around her lips. She’d spent almost two hours visiting with Chuck Kerner, and she’d really had a nice time. He’d been the perfect gentleman, after scaring years off her life with the whole sinister/Texas Chainsaw/Ted Bundy thing in the beginning. But once inside, over tea and pimento cheese sandwiches—her first ever…not bad—they’d had an interesting conversation. More like she did all the talking, and he did all the asking.

  When she told him about his grandkids and babysitting for Vance to allow him to finish his third book, Chuck had gotten real quiet. He didn’t open up about his relationship with Vance. At. All. And Katie didn’t ask why he hadn’t visited his grandkids. But when she’d explained about using Vance’s house for the miniseries, he’d gotten that over-his-dead-body look, just like his son. Katie sighed as she bent to pick some wildflowers, knowing she hadn’t gained an ally for her cause, but left his home feeling as if she’d gained a friend.

  As she approached the back of the house, she drew near the beautiful outdoor living space, equipped with fire pit and cushioned sofas. The back door slammed hard, as if someone was trying to break it. She glanced up, and Vance was coming straight for her in an all-black pirate rage. What the…? Twice in one day, Kerner men scared her gray. Katie stumbled over a rock, catching herself before falling, when Vance was on top of her in two seconds flat.

  “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick. Don’t you answer your phone?”

  “I was taking—humph—”

  Vance snatched her off her feet and rocked his mouth over hers, kissing the California avocados right out of her. Katie wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life. The kiss was rough and demanding and punishing, and Katie loved it, but then his lips softened and lingered and toyed with hers, and she loved that even more.

  “God, I’d thought I’d lost you,” he murmured against her mouth. Katie nibbled his lips, enjoying the texture and taste, when he suddenly let go and dropped her back to the ground.

  “Where’d you go? What were you doing?” His angry voice flared again. She straightened her shirt, along with the confusion inside her head.

  “Taking pictures.” She folded her arms across her chest. “What’s your problem?”

  “For three hours? You’ve been taking pictures for three hours?”

  That and talking with your dad. But Chuck Kerner had made Katie swear she wouldn’t tell Vance about meeting him.

  “You didn’t think to text or call or anything?” Fear, rage, and something Katie couldn’t quite identify flashed across Vance’s fierce face.

  “I’m sorry for leaving you with the kids. I know you need to write. I didn’t think—”

  “The hell with the kids. I thought you’d left. Run off.” He pushed his fingers through his tousled hair, giving him a dark avenging angel appearance.

  Katie blinked. “Without my car? Why would you think that?”

  “I thought I’d scared you off.” She wondered if he knew his entire heart controlled his voice. She’d really shaken him up. In all of her twenty-eight years, she couldn’t remember anyone ever being distraught over her whereabouts to this degree. Except for the time when she’d been seven and wandered off at some movie premiere. She remembered her dad’s anger at her carelessness more than his fear of losing her.

  Chuckling, she tried lightening the mood. “Scare me off? Not a chance, Pirate Man. You still have a contract to sign.” Vance brushed the backs of his knuckles down her cheek in a gentle caress. Odd that he could make her feel cherished in such a short period of time.

  “Uncle Vance! Mom’s on the phone.” Donald stood by the kitchen door, holding Vance’s cell phone.

  “I’m hungry,” Dover said, jumping down the back steps. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Pixie! Pop!” Danny tumbled from the steps, chasing the cat and the barking dog.

  “Oh Lord,” Katie sighed. “I’ll get the kids. You answer the phone.”

  * * *

  Vance stood upstairs in the loft, looking out the window onto the backyard. It was almost ten o’clock, and the kids had been fed and put to bed an hour ago. Katie had managed to get dinner on the table, save the kitten from a near-drowning in the toilet, and catch Dover as he slid down the stairs on a cardboard box. Vance had been very quiet during dinner, still reeling from the afternoon he’d spent pacing and cursing and knocking his head against a brick wall for running Katie off like a scared rabbit. Until he discovered she’d been wandering aimlessly, snapping pictures and picking wildflowers. It took every ounce of control in his body not to haul her over his shoulder and lock her away in his loft for safekeeping. This surge of lust, hunger, need, at least on his part, was starting to piss him off. He’d never felt this way about anyone before. Why now? With a woman he’d met less than thirty hours ago?

  He stared down at the outdoor fireplace where Katie sat on one of the cushioned sofas, sipping her mug of coffee. Temperatures had dropped, and Vance had lit a few logs for her. The outdoor space had been built at the same time he’d added the master suite, equipped with small bar, flat-screen TV, reading lamps, and ceiling fan. Vance enjoyed the amenities during the fall and winter months.

  He wanted nothing more than to share the comfortable sofa with a soft Katie, holding her close and never letting go. He ached for this woman. Surviving the next four weeks with the sweet, pretty, and enchanting Katie McKnight would be his biggest challenge. She didn’t make this shared attraction easy. She kept fighting him and herself. Vance placed his palm against the cool glass, creating a handprint, just as Katie’s handprint had touched his heart. He hadn’t expected this connection, but it existed in all its tumultuous glory, and he couldn’t deny it. Didn’t want to. But the speed at which it had happened scared the living crap out of him.

  The blank glow from his computer screen caught the corner of his eye, taunting him. Telling him to get his head out of the clouds and back where it belonged, writing the next bestseller. The bottle of Jim Beam sitting on his desk with its amber liquid lured him into believing everything would be fine with one more belt.

  His phone buzzed, pulling him away from the window and his thoughts.

  “What’s up?”

  “Vance, my friend, we are onto something big. We’ve been in touch with McKnight Studios, and the word is Walter’s very interested in your series,” Mike, his agent, said.

  “That’s good.”

  “No, that’s great! This could be huge. We’re talking film rights, not movie-of-the-week or TV rights. Now do I have your attention?”

  “Absolutely. Who writes the screenplay?”

  “Not sure. Usually they use their people.” Vance’s grip tightened over the plastic cover to his phone. If his dad wouldn’t read his books, maybe he’d be tempted to watch the movie. And for that reason, Vance didn’t want his story mucked up by some Hollywood screenplay-writing hack. “We’re still in the infant stages. I might know more tomorrow,” Mike said.

  “Sounds promising. Thanks. I’m very interested.”

  “How’s the book going? And more important, how’s Katie McKnight? That wonderful daughter of Walter? You haven’t scared her off?”

  Not yet. Almost. Remembering
this afternoon caused anxiety to ride up and grab him by the throat. “She’s here and seems to be content to babysit the monsters.”

  “I bet that’s not the only reason she has agreed to hang around.” Mike laughed at his innuendo.

  “Considering I haven’t signed her damn contract, I’m thinking she isn’t going anywhere until I do.” He hoped and prayed that was true for completely different reasons.

  “Whatever it takes. We want Katie and her daddy real happy, because we want to turn your bestsellers into blockbusters. It’s a good day to be alive,” Mike said, and Vance could practically hear him rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

  Right. Vance needed that reminder.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, Katie dressed, fed, and loaded the kids in Vance’s truck for school. First stop, Harmony Elementary, where she dropped the boys, and then the Methodist Church, where Danny attended preschool. Vance had shown up at the breakfast table looking like he’d slept in his rumpled clothes…or not, with bloodshot eyes and a two-day growth of beard. Instead of speaking, he grunted his hello, poured a huge mug of coffee, and disappeared back to his loft to continue the difficult task of writing his next book. Katie couldn’t imagine the stress of being under the gun to produce another bestseller. She experienced stress trying to live up to her parents’ expectations, but not the entire book-reading public. That had to be huge.

  After delivering Danny to her classroom, Katie ran into Bertie Morgan in the church parking lot. She’d dropped off her three-year-old son as well.

  “Hey there. How you holding up?” she asked Katie.

  “Fine. It’s only been two days, but so far, so good.”