Dogwood Days (5 page)

Charles would be bringing Uncle Sherman in a couple of hours, after he had a much-protested lesson with the nurse on using crutches, and Jefferson wanted the study set up before he arrived. A strange truck was parked by the driveway, forcing Jefferson to park by the curb.

He carried the bag of blog madness back inside and hurried into the study to see what he needed to rearrange. Everything. Before he could lament the amount of books he’d be lugging around, someone knocked on the front door. He opened it to find a very sweaty, very delicious Beau Granville standing on the front porch.

“Well, hey there, Beau.”

Smooth, Jefferson. Real smooth.

“Hey, Jefferson Lee. Mary Caroline told me you were in town. How’s Mr. Davis?”

“He’s doing great. Coming home this afternoon.”

Damn. The man was so hot. Red hair, just enough scruff to make him lickable. Jefferson wanted to ride him like a pony.

“That’s great news,” Beau said. His smile made his eyes sparkle. They actually sparkled.

“Yeah, it is. He had me worried there for a minute.”

God, those muscles. All of them. Bulging arms beneath an old flannel that had seen better days and a pair of jeans that fit like a second skin.

“I bet. I stopped by to check on his roses. I knew he’d worry if they were unattended.”

“That was nice of you, Beau. I know he’ll appreciate it. You look like you could use a drink. How does some iced tea sound?”

“That sounds real nice.”

Jefferson held the door open, and Beau walked into the living room. Screw rearranging the furniture. Maybe Beau wouldn’t mind giving him a different kind of workout. He could sure use some stress relief at the moment, and from the way things were going, it would be a while before he had another opportunity.

Beau followed Jefferson into the kitchen and waited while he poured them each a glass of tea. Jefferson nearly choked when Beau tilted his head back for his first long swig, his throat muscles working overtime as he swallowed.

“Oh holy hell.”

Beau lowered the glass and looked at him. “What was that?”

Jefferson cleared his throat. “Uh, nothing.”

How to put the moves on him? Jefferson normally wasn’t awkward. He was a good-looking man. He knew it. Dirty-blond hair and decent hazel eyes, but he had a nice body and could normally charm the pants off anyone he really wanted. Something about Beau sent his sex drive haywire and all the blood rushing south. It left none for his brain to function.

Beau stepped closer, and Jefferson got a whiff of him. Just sweaty enough to make Jefferson want to hump his leg. Beau reached out a hand and cupped Jefferson’s cheek. He dragged his thumb over Jefferson’s lower lip, then tugged him a step closer.

And someone knocked on the damned door.

“Dang it,” Jefferson snapped.

Beau stepped back with a smirk.

“Hold that thought. I will be right back.”

Jefferson ran down the hall and jerked the front door open, ready to send his interruption packing.

Worst timing ever.
“Hey, Clover,” he said to the woman standing at the door with a covered dish in hand.

BEAU LEFT
Uncle Sherman’s approximately three point five seconds after Clover’s arrival. Jefferson only whimpered a little as he walked out the door. Clover carried the casserole into the kitchen, giving Jefferson a disgusted look when she caught him drooling over Beau’s ass as he went out the door.

“Seriously, Jefferson Lee? Beau Granville?”

“What? Have you seen him?”

“Why yes, I have. And you can do better.”

“Oh please. Don’t tell me you would kick that man out of bed unless he wanted to do it on the floor.”

“Jefferson Lee!”

“Gimme a break, Clover. That whole bat your lashes innocent look doesn’t work on me. I know the skeletons in your closet. Well, I know that Joey Weaver made you scream so loud you lost your voice for two days. Same difference.”

“Shut up. You were never supposed to mention that ever again! You promised.”

“No, I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. I never said I wouldn’t hold it over your head for all eternity. You know better.”

“True.”

“So what brings you by?”

“I brought you a tuna noodle casserole.”

“Ew. Really?”

Clover shrugged. “For some reason your uncle loves them. I also brought him my blackberry cobbler. Did you know he bid seventy-five dollars for one at the church’s blind auction? How sweet is that?”

“Well, it
is
good cobbler.”

“I know. Anyway, I heard Uncle Sherman was coming home today, so I wanted to bring something by for him.”

“How the heck did you hear that? They just told us like two hours ago.”

She grinned. “Oh, Jefferson Lee. You’re so lucky you’re pretty.”

Jefferson gave her shoulder a gentle shove before taking the casserole dishes and putting them in the fridge. “Why are we friends again? I can’t remember when you say things like that.”

“Because I’m amazing and so are you. There are so few of us we have to stick together.” She stuck out her tongue at him before pushing him out of the way and grabbing the kettle off the stove.

“What are you doing now?”

“I’m making myself a mug of tea. You got a problem with that?”

Jefferson sighed. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“I really don’t like you.”

She laughed as she finished filling the kettle with water and placed it on the stove. “Yes, you do. Most days.”

“Yeah, I do. Most days.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Jefferson Lee. I’ve missed you.”

“Aww.” Jefferson gave her a hug that turned into her clinging to him for a long moment. “You okay, Cloverberry?”

“Don’t call me that ridiculous name.”

“But why? I like it.”

She wrinkled up her nose. “It’s silly.”

“And so are you. So it fits.”

She huffed. “And yes, I’m fine.”

“Really? ’Cause a little birdie or twelve told me you’ve turned into Holly Creek’s version of a mean girl. What’s that all about?”

“Are you kidding me? Did that twit really think she could dump a drink over my head and face no consequences?”

“Oh, you mean that time when at her
wedding reception
you said that her husband of
five minutes
could do better? That time?”

“Shut up, asshole.”

Jefferson gasped. “Clover Crofton! Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. I’m awesome. You said so yourself five seconds ago.”

She huffed as the kettle began to whistle and walked over to get two mugs out of the cabinet. She added a tea bag to each before pouring the hot water into the mugs.

Jefferson waited until she finished, then stepped up beside her. “So really, why are you being such a bitch to Mary Caroline?”

“Because she has
everything
, Jefferson. Quincy and I had been broken up for five minutes—”

“Two years, actually.”

“Shut up! Then he comes home with Mary Caroline Granville of the
Greensboro
Granvilles and what do I have? A fucking rose garden. That’s it. Every damn decent man in this town is gay. Even Maxim Delgado, and he’s a murderer.”

“Oh yeah. Maxim is hot. I’d hit that.”

“You are such an asshole!”

“I do like assholes, Cloverberry. It’s sort of part of the whole gay thing. Not sure if you’re aware….”

“Oh my God. Don’t be disgusting.”

“What? It’s true.”

“That’s not the point, Jefferson Lee.”

“No, the point is that you have a lot more than a rose garden, Clover. But really, who wants to be around a woman who acts like you are? No one. Is it really making you feel better to be an überbitch to her?”

Clover shrugged. “A little.”

Jefferson huffed and swiped one of the mugs from the counter. He tossed the tea bag into the trash and went into the dining room. Clover followed him, her own mug in hand.

“So what you’re telling me is that you desperately need to get laid.”

Clover slammed the mug down on the table so hard the tea sloshed over the side. “I will slap you,” she snarled before walking into the kitchen to grab a paper towel. She wiped up the tea before dropping back into her chair and glaring at him.

“What? I’m trying to figure out what’s gotten into you! And it sounds like what
hasn’t
gotten into you lately is the problem.”

“Oh my God! Shut up already,” she screeched.

“Uh-huh. Classic denial. You need some nookie.”

“If you don’t stop, I’m leaving.”

“Oh, you think it’s too late to call Beau back? Things were just getting interesting when—”

“Where’s a knife? I need to kill you.”

Jefferson grinned and took a sip of his tea. She’d made him his favorite blackberry blend.

“So let’s talk about me for a minute here,” he said, after a moment.

“Oh sure. That’d be great. How wonderful is your life in the big city, Jefferson Lee? Do rub it in.”

“Well, I got fired this morning.”

Clover paled, and she plopped the mug back on the table. “What?”

Jefferson shrugged. “Got fired. I’m unemployed after finding the one shit reporting job in the state.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Clover sighed. “I’m such a bitch. I’m sorry, Jefferson Lee. What can I do?”

“Nothing. I’ll figure something out.”

“You always wanted to be a big reporter. From the time we were little you were always watching the news and reading the paper. I swear, I’ve never seen anyone else read the newspaper from cover to cover, but you even devoured the
Holly Creek Herald
.”

“It’s interesting.”

“To you, maybe.”

“Yeah, well, apparently I’m one of only a few. I could go into broadcast journalism I suppose, but that’s not really what I wanted. I don’t know, Cloverberry. I guess I’m on the wrong path, maybe? I keep getting bitch-slapped.”

“At least you’re here for a bit. That’s a good thing, right?”

Jefferson reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “That’s a great thing. I do love this town, even though it is totally crazy.”

“Crazy is as crazy does. Or something.”

“Or something. So you want to help me rearrange the study for a hospital bed? They’re delivering one this afternoon because Uncle Sherman can’t go up and down stairs for a while.”

“Will it mess up my manicure?”

“Probably.”

She sighed. “I suppose. But, just so we’re clear, I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Uncle Sherman.”

Jefferson grinned, and they stood to go into the study. “You know, you’re the only person who isn’t family who he lets call him Uncle Sherman.”

“Really?”

“Really. He’s kinda funny about it. Thinks titles are for family members only. Except you. You he lets get away with it.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yep.”

They walked into the study, and Clover eyed the room for a long moment. “You know, if we just moved that love seat somewhere else, there’d be enough room in here. Maybe we could rearrange the living room a bit and squeeze it in there.”

“Ugh. You gonna pick out floral print pillows next?”

“That’s the plan. This place could use a feminine touch.”

“Oh please. Have you seen Uncle Sherman’s collection of Civil War glass? Come on.”

She snickered and dragged him across the hall to the living room. “Of course, I’ve seen it. I got him a lovely piece for Christmas.”

“Of course you did. Suck-up.”

“Fat lot of good it did me. He wouldn’t bash Beau Granville on the blog, even though that asshole deserves it.”

“Welcome to Petty, population Clover Crofton.”

“Have you seen her yard? Take a look and call me petty again.”

“It’s a
yard
, Clover.”

“That was professionally landscaped. I work my ass off on my own. I don’t bring someone in to do all the heavy lifting!”

“Uh-huh. Speaking of heavy lifting, if we move the couch over to that wall, we can float the love seat here in the middle, and they can flank the fireplace.”

Clover laughed so hard she had to sit down on the couch. “Oh my God. You should have been an interior designer! That’s where it all went wrong.
Flank the fireplace
. Oh my God. You said that. You really said that.
Float the love seat.
I can’t breathe.”

Tears ran down her face, and Jefferson decided not to tell her that her mascara ran with them. Fortunately he was saved by yet another knock on the door.

“I hate you,” he grumbled before he went to answer it.

“No, you don’t,” she called out after him, still laughing hysterically.

The sheriff stood on the front porch, holding his hat in his hand. “Jefferson Lee,” he said in greeting.

“Hey, Sheriff. Arrest Clover, would ya? She threatened to stab me with a knife.”

“Did you deserve it?”

“He sure did,” Clover said as she walked out of the living room.

“Sorry, Jefferson Lee. I can’t arrest Clover. Mr. Burkey told me she bought a mess of blackberries this morning, and we both know that means cobbler, so she’s safe. You on the other hand….”

“Ha. Well, I currently have possession of said blackberry cobbler, so you can both suck it.”

“Language, Jefferson Lee. You shouldn’t speak that way in front of a lady.” The sheriff winked at Clover, and she began to laugh again.

“Are you both done?” Jefferson grumbled. “Because I have a cobbler to get to right after I rearrange an entire house-worth of furniture.”

“Don’t mind him, Sheriff Zane. He gets cranky when he has to do manual labor.” Clover wiggled her eyebrows and smirked. “Now since you have a big strong man to help you, I’m going to save my manicure and get going. I have more lives to ruin today, you know, since I’m such a petty mean girl.”

“Truth hurts, sister. Truth hurts.” Jefferson swooped her up against him when she tried to pass. “You better now?” he asked quietly.

“I am. Thanks, Jefferson Lee.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Enjoy the tuna casserole.”

“Gross. I’m going to starve. You must really hate me.”