All I Need (Hearts of the South) (16 page)

“Oh, that’s sweet.” Amy glanced in the crib and motioned toward the door.

It was sweet. And normal. And totally not something he had to include Savannah in. She didn’t expect him to. The fact her feelings were a little dented that he hadn’t annoyed the heck out of her.

Because that communicated something about her emotions that she didn’t want to look at too closely.

“So why are you put out about it?”

Savannah injected the right amount of scoffing into her light laugh. “I’m not.”

“Sure you are.” Amy settled on one end of the plush couch. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“I am not bothered that he’s having dinner with his mom.” Savannah took the other end of the sofa and leaned her head back, gaze on the ceiling. She frowned. “I’m bothered that it bothers me that he didn’t ask me along, which is totally ridiculous.”

“It really is.” Amy’s voice held wry humor.

“You’re not helping.”

Amy leaned over to poke Savannah’s shoulder, harder than necessary. “You want to be his girlfriend.”

“That is so not what I want.” She brushed her sister’s hand aside. “Why do I talk to you?”

“Then what do you want?”

“I don’t know.” The benefit to talking to Amy was that she could admit that. She folded her arms over her chest. “I brought him over here the other night. I’m taking him to Mama and Daddy’s this weekend.”

“And it bothers you that he’s not giving you the same place in his life.”

“No.” She scowled, still staring at the ceiling. “Yes. Kind of.”

“Maybe it’s not about you and him.” Amy tucked one foot under her. “Maybe it’s about him and them. Not everyone has the same kind of family relationships we have.”

“It irks me that I care about this, Ames.”

“I know.” Amy pulled one of the throw pillows into her arms and fiddled with the embroidery on it. “It’s good that you care, though. You haven’t cared about much of anything for a long time. Maybe it’s time you did.”

* * * * *

Shortly after five, Emmett parked on Moultrie’s courthouse square and scanned the surrounding sidewalks. He spotted his mother quickly, peering into the window display at Lazarus, the popular clothing store on the square, and his gaze lit on the familiar figure with her.

She’d brought Landra.

Warmth shot through him, followed quickly by a buzz of annoyance.

He shoved the door open. Part of him was happy to see his sister after months of silence on her end because, hell, having Landra ignore him when he called or texted hurt. The rest of him didn’t want to deal with the aggravation she always brought with her. Tonight, he decided to let happy-to-see-her win. Damn, but he’d missed her, pestering, hassling, and all. With the truck locked behind him, he glanced both ways and jaywalked across the street.

“Hey, Mama.” He caught her in an embrace and leaned down to kiss her cheek. Once he’d released his mother, he enfolded his sister in a bear hug. “Landra.”

Landra winced and pinched his side before disentangling herself. “You look good.”

“Thanks.” He wasn’t going to say anything about her ignoring him. He draped his arm around his mama’s shoulders. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing her, Mama.”

“She was probably afraid you’d say no if she did.” Landra laughed aloud and patted his cheek. “Thought you were going to get all the limelight to yourself, didn’t you?”

“Nope. Thought maybe I’d get a peaceful dinner.” Easy teasing, that was the name of the game tonight. He loved his sister, but she had a way of getting under his skin that was unbelievable. The hell of it was, he wasn’t even sure why. And she didn’t look good—circles under her eyes, a tightness to the skin around her mouth.

Something was not right here.

“All Mama had to do was say we were hitting Market on the Square, and I was in.” Landra curved a hand around her belly, gently rounded in her fourth month of pregnancy, news of which he’d gotten secondhand from his mama. “Besides, getting to watch you get fitted for a suit? Uh, priceless.”

“Speaking of, we should get to Feldman’s.” Their mother steered him toward the menswear store down the street.

“Who is this friend anyway, that you have to have a suit?” Landra frowned, her wheels obviously turning. “What’s wrong with slacks and a dress shirt?”

“Nothing.” Heat touched his cheekbones. “My chief deputy suggested I might need one for court in the future, so it seemed like a good time to kill two birds—”

“You’re blushing.” Landra narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re dating someone. Like dating for real, not the browsing you usually do.”

“I’m not—”

“Are you really?” His mother stopped dead. A smile bloomed on her face. “That’s wonderful. Who is she?”

“Mama, we’re not…I mean, I’m not…”

“And you’re stuttering. Oh, my God, Mama, there’s a woman he’s serious about.” His sister’s wide grin could only be described as biscuit-eating. He swallowed a groan. Now he was really in for it. Landra smacked his chest. “Spill it, Emmy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Is it her baby being baptized?” Landra’s eyes widened. “It’s not
your
baby, is it?”

“No.” Oh, yeah,
this
was why she got under his skin. “It’s our investigator’s baby.”

“She had a baby with your investigator?”

“
No
.” Dear God. He jerked a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

“Emmett Isaiah.”

“Sorry, Mama.” He glared at Landra, who glared right back before her smile appeared once more.

“You are not making any sense at all, Emmy.” Landra shook her head. “She either had a baby with the investigator or she didn’t.”

“She didn’t have a baby with anybody. Our investigator and his wife just adopted a baby.” He spoke slowly, through clenched teeth. “I need a suit and a gift for that, okay?”

“Okay.” A triumphant smile bloomed on Landra’s face. “Now who is she?”

Why couldn’t he have been an only child? He cast a beseeching glance at his mother. “Mama, make her leave me alone.”

“Sorry, sweet boy.” His mother nudged him toward Feldman’s door. “I want to hear the answer to that question too.”

Obviously, his mother had forgotten his stubborn streak. He wasn’t going to divulge anything he didn’t want to, and right this second, he didn’t want to. Thankfully, they backed off him while he tried on multiple suits in various cuts and colors, until his mother finally decreed a trim basic black was the one.

The clothier held up a white dress shirt in fine-weave cotton. “Let’s try the jacket over this instead of your polo.”

He tugged the department shirt over his head and turned to hand it to his mother. Landra whooped. “You’ve got a hickey.”

He cringed and swallowed an oath. He’d forgotten about the little love bite on his neck, hidden by his collar, but visible now above the edge of his undershirt. Savannah had left the small bruise, sinking her teeth into him while her body had clenched around his fingers in a strong climax.

Landra grabbed their mother’s arm. “I cannot wait to hear about this.”

She could wait all she wanted. Closing his eyes, he shrugged into the dress shirt, buttoned it, and let the clothier slip the jacket up his arms and over his shoulders.

His sister gave a long, low whistle. “If you weren’t getting laid before, you damn sure will once she sees you in that.”

“Landra.” Their mama’s soft warning held a note of laughter.

Emmett shot an irritated scowl over his shoulder at Landra while the clothier measured the arm length and his inseam. She didn’t react, but swept a considering look over him. “Basic black tie too, Mama. A color would mess that up.”

He restrained himself from rolling his eyes. She’d been trying to dress him and otherwise control his life since Mama had brought him home from the hospital. Sometimes, it was like having two mothers.

He hadn’t missed that part of their relationship over the past year.

After he’d almost had to arm-wrestle his mother to gain the right to pay for his own purchases, he hung the suit bag in his truck and escorted them around the corner to Market on the Square. He didn’t even try to convince them to head straight to the baby items, knowing they would have to hit each vendor booth and peruse the clothing, jewelry, and household décor. Hands in his pockets, he wandered behind them, listening to their chatter.

Something about Landra’s was too bright, too cheerful. A frown tugged his brows together. She was always up, always smiling when he got the rare chance to see her, but this evening, her forced good cheer reminded him of times he’d rather forget. His nape prickled. Simply more proof she wasn’t with Mama by chance tonight.

She was as stubborn as he was, though, so all he could do was let it ride until whatever the truth was came out.

While they rifled through a rack of colorful tops and dresses, he spun the small jewelry rack on the glass countertop. A pair of opal drops set in gold caught his eye, and he let one rest atop his fingertip. The opal glinted and sparkled with a classy elegance in the modern setting.

“They’re pretty.” Landra rested an elbow on the counter next to him. “Do they look like her?”

This close, he could better see stress and sleeplessness in the fine lines around her blue eyes, a shade closer to hazel than his own. If he wanted the truth out of her later, he knew he’d have to give up something now.

“Yeah, they do.” He let the earring fall back into place.

“Buy them.”

If he bought Savannah jewelry, she’d be out the door before he could formulate a protest. His mouth tightened and he shook his head. “We’re not…it’s not a good idea.”

Landra rolled her eyes. “Then buy them for later when it is a good idea.”

There might not be a later. He couldn’t say it aloud because he didn’t want to acknowledge it. Landra must have seen the reality in his face, though, because she covered his hand with her own cool one and squeezed. “Trust me and buy them. Sometimes you need something to look at and hope.”

He slanted a look at her. Man, he hated how well she knew him. He dropped his gaze to the curve of her belly. Was that what she was looking at and hoping?

“Besides.” She pinched his side. “If it doesn’t work out, you can always give them to Mama or me for Christmas.”

“That…shit, Landra.”

She laughed, and he reached for his wallet.

In the end, they spent the least amount of time in the infant section. Landra barely glanced at the items and didn’t touch anything, sending his suspicions into overdrive. His mother helped him select an incredibly soft hand-crocheted blanket, and once he’d stowed the purchases in his truck, they walked across the street to the Blue Sky Grill.

Inside, his mother requested a booth in the bar area and insisted he take the inner seat so she could sit with her favorite boy but still watch the bartender at work. He didn’t remind her he was her only boy and therefore her favorite by default.

They ordered, and light catching-up conversation hovered over the table. The inanity grated on Emmett’s nerves when he knew something lurked beneath the surface. That was the story of their lives, and it drove him as crazy as it always had.

“So tell us about her.” Landra sipped her water.

He stretched his leg out beneath the table and rubbed away an itch at his incision line. He hadn’t hurt for days, but the tension tonight activated all the normal physical irritations. “Nothing to tell.”

Brows arched, Landra pinned him with an exasperated expression. “Really?”

He frowned. “Why are you here?”

That took her aback, and visibly flustered, she brushed her bright blonde hair behind one ear. With the action, her blousy sleeve fell above her elbow, and he glimpsed the red-purple finger marks.

Fury exploded in his chest, and he wrapped a gentle hold around her wrist. With his other hand, he pushed the sleeve further up. The fresh bruises turned his stomach. “
Fuck
.”

His mother didn’t correct him.

Landra pulled her arm from his suddenly lax clasp.

“That son of bitch put his hands on you.” He tried to breathe, to think through the red haze fogging his brain. “I’ll kill him.”

“Emmett.” His mother covered his hand where he was gripping the varnished edge of the table. This was why they were out in public, why she’d put him in the corner, so he’d have to keep his voice down and the rage under control, so he’d have to get through her to get his hands on Frank Washburn.

“This is the reason you’re together.” He managed to get some oxygen to his brain. “Why you wanted to meet me.”

“I needed an excuse, and you gave me one.” Landra’s mouth trembled in a small smile. “I’m going to go home with Mama.”

“No, you’re not. You can’t.” He shook his head, struggling for logic. Frank was smart and wily, so Emmett had to be smarter and wilier. “He’ll show up at Mama’s to get you, and Dad—”

He bit off the words. A new thread of suspicion ran through his head, foreboding settling in his gut, and he turned to their mother.