Steamy: A Romance Anthology That Sizzles

by Johnson, Cat

  “Mama!” Laney chastises, but then she turns those big eyes on me and frowns. “She might be right.”

  “Come and see. She’s got it in a pot! On the porch!” Sassy heads up the stairs and I follow her, trying not to get too much of a show as her gauzy nightgown rides up her thighs.

  “Take a look.” Laney gestures toward the pot and I get distracted by the freckles on her bare shoulders.

  I squat down to look at the plant. It’s only been a week, but already the tomato’s suffering under her care.

  “You’re giving it too much water.” I wince as I say it. Sassy isn’t right, but she isn’t wrong either, and I know Laney’s trying. Now that I’m here I can see she’s doing so much more than trying. She’s drowning as much as this poor tomato.

  “But shouldn’t it be in the ground?” Sassy asks, hands on hips. “You can’t get enough tomatoes for a sandwich from one measly plant, especially if it dies before we even get any blooms. We need a patch. A real garden.”

  “How many sandwiches are you planning on eatin’, Miss Sassy?” I laugh.

  “As many as I can.” She looks at me, exasperated. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Matt Sullivan, ma’am.”

  Sassy’s eyebrows raise to her hairline. “My daughter Laney used to know a Matt Sullivan. Played baseball. Went to the major leagues.” She leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “Laney thought I didn’t know she was in love with him, but nothing gets by Sassy King.” She gives me a nod and a wink. “Are you kin, do you think? You should stay for lunch.”

  5

  Laney

  I am mortified.

  There’s no other way to describe how it feels to have Matt show up and catch Mama and me looking the way we do. Acting the way we are. Confusion steals over Matt’s face again and again, but there’s no way to explain without potentially upsetting my mother. She convinces him to stay for lunch, the date with teenage me long forgotten, and sends me into the house to put together something for us to eat.

  That hot shame still licks at my belly as I rummage quickly through the contents of the ancient refrigerator, hoping to find something suitable for company. I’m wary about leaving my mother alone with Matt, especially since she’s so chatty today. Her revelation that she’d known all along about my feelings for him has me worried about what other secrets she’ll share. Of all the days for her to be social, this is turning out to be an exceptionally inconvenient one.

  I’ve tried not to think about Matty Sullivan. I’ve got plenty on my plate without wondering why he’s not wearing a wedding ring, why he’s living in Mint Springs, and why on Earth he hasn’t gotten less handsome. It took me a long time to bury those memories of his hands on me. I know letting him in even a little bit is playing with fire. Hell, it’s burning down the whole damn house.

  I put together enough bits and pieces—blueberries from the farm down the road, some of that pimento cheese and crackers, a little of the ham I’ve been able to get Mama to eat a few times—and bring it out onto the wrap around porch. When I make it to the round table where I left Matt and my mother with their sweet tea, only their glasses sit under the breeze of the ceiling fan, still completely full.

  “Mama?” I call out, hoping she hasn’t dragged Matt far.

  “We’re out here. Just leave the lunch.” I can’t see her from where I am on the porch but I can sure as hell hear the dismissal in her voice. Just leave the lunch, my ass. I’m not the help.

  I march out to where they are on the lawn, ready to give both of them an earful. Matt can’t just show up unannounced and Mama can’t keep treating me the way she has been, even if she does think it’s 1995.

  I stop dead when I see them. Mama’s got one of her skinny arms tucked into the crook of Matt’s muscular one. He’s patting her hand and she’s looking up at him and smiling the way she did back before she forgot who she was. He’s smiling down at her, acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world to end up chatting with a crazy lady in her nightgown about whatever they’re talking about.

  “Your mother was just telling me about how she’s going to put a garden in over here.” Matt looks at me over the top of Sassy’s head.

  I walk farther until I’m on her other side but she doesn’t pull away from Matt.

  “For tomatoes,” my mother says like she’s reminding me, not telling me for the first time.

  “I don’t think we can handle a vegetable garden, Mama.” I can’t take care of even one more thing. I look to Matt to help me shut this down.

  “Mr. Sullivan here can help.” My mother gives him a pat on the chest and I notice the way his pecs fill out his T-shirt. The sooner I can get him out of here the better.

  “Let’s talk about that while we eat.” I try to herd them back up onto the porch.

  “But we need to talk about the specifics,” Mama argues, digging her heels in. “We need to get going on this before it gets too deep into summer. We don’t have time to waste on lunch.”

  “I tell you what,” Matt begins, giving my mother’s hand another pat. “Why don’t I get back to the nursery and get started on the planning? I’ll see what I’ve got on hand and what I need to order. You think about the layout you want, Miss Sassy. Maybe Laney can help you with that after you eat some lunch.”

  “That’s not Laney,” Mama doesn’t bother to whisper. She’s got zero filter these days and it doesn’t matter who’s around. “Laney’s vibrant. Laney sparkles; she shines. I don’t know who that lady is.” She gives me a twist of her lip, but releases Matt’s arm.

  Hot, angry tears burn my eyes. Her insults hurt, especially since I know them to be true. I’m not the Laney from before, and caring for my mother isn’t doing anything to bring that girl back.

  Matt manages a big smile for my mother before he turns to me. “Walk me to my truck.” It’s not a request. “Nice to see you, Miss Sassy. I’ll let you know what I’ve got for your garden as soon as I can.”

  6

  Matt

  “Laney, how…” I can barely get the words out. “How long has she been like this?” Sassy King was a force of nature—strong and lively in the same way I’d always seen Laney. No one’s mentioned anything to me about Sassy having trouble, let alone this. But why would they? Mint Springs may be small, but there’s no reason anyone would tell me the latest gossip about Laney’s family. No one knows our connection.

  Our former connection.

  “Leave it alone, Matt.” Laney doesn’t make eye contact as she walks along beside me, careful to keep her distance.

  “I don’t think I can,” I confess. “You need help here, Laney. This is too much for you to do alone.”

  Laney stops so abruptly I have to take two steps back. “And what should I do? I can’t leave her by herself and this town isn’t exactly a mecca of in-home health professionals. I’m doing the best I can.” She puts her hands on her hips.

  “I’m not judging. I just—”

  Laney cuts me off with a wave of her arm. “Oh, you’re judging. Anyone would. But I’m the only one left to take care of her so that’s what I’m doing.”

  “But what about New York? Your work? Your husband?” I ask the last question even though I know I shouldn’t. I can Google as well as the next guy. I’m well aware Laney’s been married for years to a man I would never have picked for her. But that was part of the deal; I don’t get to do the picking when it comes to Laney. “We both have to promise,” she’d said and I’d agreed, afraid to ever have Laney regret what we’d become.

  Laney laughs but not in the way I’m used to, not like she did when we were younger and I’d say something funny while we were snuggled up in the back of my father’s truck, tucked away off one of the dirt roads Mint Springs has in abundance.

  “The husband’s gone. It was over a while ago but this didn’t help. And the work’s going to have to wait. I thought maybe I could paint out here, but that’s impossible. So there’s no reason to be in New York, anywa
y. There’s your update. Now, I need to get back to my mother.”

  “What can I do?” I move closer to her but she takes a step back. “Laney, let me help you.” Instinctively I open my arms and wait for her to step into them. I ache to pull her against me and comfort her the way I used to.

  “Get in the truck, Matty,” she spits. “You can’t rescue me from this. No one can.” And then she turns so fast I don’t realize she’s walking away until she’s almost back on the porch.

  7

  Laney

  “Oh, hell no.” I set my coffee cup down on the porch steps. You have got to be kidding me.

  Matt’s truck comes snaking up the driveway, one of his muscular arms hanging out the open window. He has the audacity to lift his hand in a wave as he gets closer.

  I leave the first moment of peace I’ve had all morning and walk toward him. Already I can see the back of the pickup is loaded with things I’m not going to like.

  “No,” I say before he can even get fully out of the truck.

  “No?” The start of a smile he had on his face slides right off. “You don’t even know what I’m doin’ here.”

  “I can guess. A man who drives up with what looks like half the merchandise from Sullivan’s less than twenty-four hours after promising my mother a garden is probably one I should tell to take a hike.”

  Matt looks back at the bed of his truck and shrugs his giant shoulders. “We can talk about that in a minute. Let me get the important part out of the way before you throw me off your property.” He smiles and I falter. “Two minutes, Lane.”

  I sigh, but I’m not going to fight him. He’s too hard to resist, especially now that he’s the only person I’ve seen other than my unpredictable mother. And he’s the worst person for me to be seeing since he’s all I think about during the lonely nights here. We’re moving into the early part of summer that always makes me think of Matty Sullivan and the way his eyes met mine over the bonfire at one of those boozy summer get-togethers. The way he had looked a little too long. The way the corner of his mouth had hitched up a touch, just enough for me to know he was interested.

  “Here.” He reaches out a big hand, holding a business card between his fingers. ”I found you someone.”

  I take the card but remember too late to make sure those fingers don’t brush mine. Even that little bit of contact has us both pulling back fast.

  “What’s this?” I try to regain my composure and ignore how close I’ve gotten to Matty. If I look up, I’ll be able to stare directly into his face, see the whiskers of his beard, the tiny lines I’ve noticed around his eyes I’m sure he’s noticed around my own.

  “A nurse, basically. She helped over at the Allens’ when they needed an extra hand. She’s reliable, affordable, and available. I checked. You can go and call her while I get started on Sassy’s tomato patch.” Matt’s mouth quirks up, daring me to tell him no.

  “We don’t need a garden.” I look at the card in my hand and hope Matt’s right about the woman whose name and number’s embossed on it.

  “You might not need it, but Sassy wants it, and I’m happy to do it for her. I’m just gonna put in a raised bed—four plants. Nothing fancy or difficult. I promise.”

  I know Matty Sullivan keeps his promises. This is something I’ve never had a reason to doubt.

  “They’ll grow better this way than in the pots. They need to be able to put down roots. All you’ll have to do is water them—just a little, though. We’re not makin’ soup.” He gives me the same look he used to when he’d suggest skinny dipping in the river or “borrowing” a bottle of his daddy’s whiskey. How can I say no to that?

  “Fine.” I roll my eyes. “Mama will love you forever…” If she can remember you long enough.

  “She’s not the one I’m concerned about.” His blue eyes bore into me.

  My cheeks heat. For the love of all things holy, I’m actually blushing. “I’ll… I’ll just go inside and make this call. Mama won’t be resting for long.” I nearly run up the stairs to put some space between us before I remember my manners. “Thank you for this.” I allow myself one last look at him. Then I go back inside the house where I’m determined to stay until he’s finished.

  And he had better keep his shirt on.

  * * *

  Matt does not keep his shirt on. He spends the morning sweating in the sun, first putting together the wooden frame and then filling it with soil. By the time he gets to planting the tomatoes, he’s streaked with dirt, bits of it clinging to the hair on his chest.

  “That man needs lemonade.”

  I jump and move away from the window. “Jesus, Mama.”

  “Just a suggestion,” she says before going back to her favorite chair. Today she’s dressed, but only if you count the fact that there’s something on her top and her bottom. She’s barefoot as always, which makes the choice of a long flowing skirt and one of Daddy’s old button downs look almost bohemian. At least she’s made use of the buttons, covering herself up all the way to her neck.

  When the aide comes later that afternoon, I try to be vigilant and ask tough questions, but the thought of any help at all clouds my judgement. She’s about my age, I think, but looks older in her sensible shoes and cardigan. She’s worked with dementia patients before, dealing with the meds, the confusion, the craziness. It’s all I can do not to run out the door when she says she can start immediately.

  “Right now?” I ask, the desperation obvious.

  “If you’d like. I can stay a few hours. You could run to the grocery store or somethin’. Take a little break. It can be a trial run.” She smiles and I don’t care if she robs us blind while I’m gone so long as I can leave the house without guilt and worry. I rush to grab my keys before she can change her mind.

  But I don’t go to the Piggly Wiggly, or even to Bootlegger—the only real bar in town. I drive around aimlessly for a bit, letting the music from the radio fill the empty space between my ears. Eventually, I’m turning into the gravel lot of Sullivan’s Nursery as the sun starts to set. I put the car in park, rest my head on the steering wheel, and let myself cry for the first time in weeks.

  8

  Matt

  Laney nearly jumps out of her skin when I tap on the driver’s side window. I hadn’t been trying to sneak up on her; I’d been damn near stomping through the gravel until I realized it was her hunched down like that. A car parked in the empty lot of my business usually only means trouble even if it’s only teenagers making use of the dark for a make-out session. Lord knows Laney and I met in this parking lot enough times for me to understand the allure of this out-of-the-way location.

  Her hand flies to her chest and then she’s frantically wiping her cheeks. My own face is reflected back at me in the window—a trick of the evening light—and our faces melt into one for a brief second, almost like we’re kissing through the glass.

  “Roll down the window.” I gesture like it’s an old hand crank. She tries, but since the car’s off, the glass stays up between us. “Can I get in?”

  It’s not something I’ve thought through, being this close to Laney. I realize this once I’m in the passenger seat, close enough to smell her, close enough to have to think about not touching her. Doesn’t sparkle? Laney’s nothing but shine.

  “I’m sorry. I thought no one was here.” Her face is swollen from crying, eyes red-rimmed and glistening.

  I want to ask her what I can do, how I can make this better, but I’m afraid to open my mouth. My heart’s beating in my chest in a way it has no business doing, and what I’m likely to say is only going to muddy things up.

  “I saw you play,” Laney whispers, soft enough for me to almost miss it.

  “What?”

  “When they moved you up to the majors. I saw you play.”

  “Oh.” I try to keep the surprise out of my voice. “On TV?”

  Laney shakes her head. “In person. I flew to Atlanta. Blew my grocery budget for three months and had to pick up e
xtra shifts at the restaurant where I was waiting tables, but… I couldn’t miss that, Matty. When you came out of the dugout I was crying so hard the poor people around me didn’t know what to do. I had to tell them it was because I love baseball so much.” Her voice trembles and I have to fist my hands to keep from reaching for her.

  “You hate baseball.”

  She shrugs.

  “You were there? Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve gotten you good seats.” I could’ve looked for you in the crowd. Truth be told, I’d been wishing for Laney there in the stadium though I’d never tell anyone that.

  “Not part of our stupid deal.” Laney smiles at me over the center console, her hand coming dangerously close to mine. “But every time you were in New York I came to those games, too. I cheated quite a bit.”

  “Huh.” I take a long look at Laney—the dark eyes I’ve missed looking into, the full mouth I’ve missed against mine, all those freckles still scattered along the bridge of her nose. “Come with me.” I open my door and jog around to her side, pulling the handle before she has a chance to think of a reason to tell me no. I reach my hand out and she takes it, fitting her fingers against mine like it’s been five minutes, not twenty-five years since I’ve held her hand.

  I lead her through the nursery, past the rows of plants shimmering in the barely there light of the moon. I guide her through the registers and the garden equipment, back to the far end of the building and open my office door.

  Laney flinches when I flick on the light, blinks for a second as her eyes adjust to the brightness. She scans the walls in front of her, her mouth slightly open.

  “I cheated too.” My confession bounces off the office walls. Walls covered in Laney’s paintings. “I’ve got more at home. The big ones wouldn’t fit in here, obviously.”