Keep It Together (13 page)

Her worn and comfy harvest-gold upholstered chair beckoned, and she listened. It was her thinking chair and her heartbreak chair and her read-a-fantastic-book chair and her sip-tea-and-work-on-something-to-give-back chair and her find-herself chair.

She should have gone to take a shower, but she just wanted to sit for a few minutes. She’d get up in a bit to head upstairs. She had some engraving projects that needed to be finished, and she had several afghans to tie off and tuck the ends in on before she could take them to the shelter on her way to work the next day. For the moment though, she’d just set a spell, as her grandmother used to say.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and realized she missed Colt.

Chapter Nine

Chrissie pulled up to her parents’ home. It was a mansion, really. The official mayor’s residence in the historic district of Pembroke was not anywhere near as grand, and her mother had chosen to remain in her own home. Chrissie’s father hadn’t cared one way or the other.

She didn’t know how two people who were seemingly so different could make each other so happy, but somehow, her parents made it work.

Chrissie had wanted for nothing growing up. Her mother was strict and highly opinionated, and her father spoiled the hell out of her. She’d had the best of both worlds and knew they loved her unconditionally.

“I wondered if you were going to make it for lunch.”

“Told you I would, Mama.”

“Yes, you did. You’re running a little late is all.”

“I’m always running a little late.”

“Did you bring the afghans for the shelter?”

Chrissie walked around to the passenger side of her truck. “Of course.” She pulled a box off the seat. “I have eight.”

“That’s more than enough. There will be some extras. You wore a dress.”

“You said dress nice.”

“You don’t always listen to me.”

“True, but I’m not going to embarrass you in front of the garden club, Mama. I know how important these occasions are to you.” Chrissie followed her mother up the grand staircase out front and into the house. Not quite revival and not quite antebellum, the Browning mansion sat atop a small hill in Pembroke, overlooking the quaint little town. A manicured lawn, a formal rose garden to the side, and in back there was a beautiful pool area where Chrissie has spent many summer days and evenings. Most of the rooms were furnished comfortably since the Brownings did a lot of entertaining.

The garden club luncheon would be held out on the back patio where overhead porch fans kept a comfortable breeze blowing at all times. It was a fitting setting for the group of ladies who would be in attendance, and her mother loved to show off the garden when it was in full bloom. Thankfully, it was a clear, mild day that hadn’t become oppressive with heat and humidity. Yet.

For a moment, Chrissie lost herself in the memory of carefree days. She’d had a good childhood. Strict on one end and much more forgiving on the other. Unlike Colt’s parents, hers loved each other deeply, and from all the stories she’d heard, had from the moment they met.

That thought made her smile. Love at first sight. It was a fable for most people, but maybe for a chosen, lucky few, it was a reality. And she couldn’t help but think of Colt in terms of such things. Had she met him before meeting Russ, would they have hit it off immediately? Would there be tales to pass down of love in an instant? She might be a tomboy, but she was also still a girl with fairy-tale dreams. She—

“Appearance is everything, Christina. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I know, Mama,” she said absently when her mother’s words invaded her thoughts and brought her back to the present. To her mother, appearance was everything. From the way one looked to how one reacted to what came out of one’s mouth. “Will Daddy be coming home early today? Joining us ladies for lunch?”

“No. He has several meetings today. He’s meeting with the historic preservation committee right now.”

“Aren’t you part of that committee?”

“I am, but I am here. Honestly, Christina. I can’t be in both places at the same time.”

Chrissie bit back a smile. “No, Mama, I know that.”

“This luncheon was planned well before the historic preservation meeting.”

“Why did you want me to come?” The invitation had arrived yesterday afternoon, and Chrissie still wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t attend any event her mother planned; however, for her mother to call and ask her to come was a little out of the ordinary.

“I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“We talk weekly, Mama. You know how I’m doing.”

“Seeing and talking are two different things. You only live thirty minutes away, though one wouldn’t know it based on how little we actually see of you. Are you still working that job?”

“Yes, Mama.” The lowly retail job selling guns and ammunition bothered Myrtice Browning to no end. She didn’t think her daughter should be working at all, much less at a job meant for a man. Chrissie loved her mother, but the woman’s old-fashioned view of things didn’t always fit in the modern world.

And she would ignore the little guilt trip at not coming home to Pembroke often enough.

“You’re never going to meet a man working in that store,” Myrtice continued.

“You never know.”

“Not a good man, at least.”

“Depends on your definition, I suppose, Mama. Daddy shops in a store like that, and you’re married to him. He’s a pretty good guy.”

“That’s different, and you well know it.”

“Yes, Mama.” It wasn’t different. Not really, but it was better for Chrissie to agree with her mother than argue with her. No one ever won.

“Pick up that tray there and bring it out on the patio. The ladies will be here any minute, and I want everything ready when they get here. No one should have to wait for a beverage in this heat.”

Chrissie shook her head and smiled. She picked up the silver tray with a pitcher of lemonade and a pitcher of tea on its gleaming surface. She walked across the black-and-white checked marble floor, her small kitten heels clicking as she made her way toward the outer doors, and once more marveled that she’d grown up in this huge place.

The walls were painted twice a year. A pretty yellow in the spring and a pretty burgundy in the fall. At the moment, it was yellow and bright and happy. It also seemed to match her dress. Or maybe her dress matched the walls. Chrissie wasn’t sure. Either way, she could almost blend in.

The patio tables were decked out in shades of pink and yellow. Flowers sat in the centers, and each place setting was elegant in china and silver on top of yellow and white or pink and white linen tablecloths with matching napkins.

A buffet table sat against the wrought-iron railing. Tiers of tea sandwiches and crystal bowls of salads sat at equal distances so as to maintain symmetry, a testament to her mother’s obsessive-compulsiveness.

“It looks lovely.”

“It does, yes. Are you seeing anyone?”

The question was tossed in casually. Chrissie looked over at her mother, who stood at the edge of the patio. The dress she wore, white with brilliant springtime flowers, looked like something someone would have worn in the ’50s. Her graying blonde hair was done up in a French twist, and her jewelry was elegant as always. Studs in her ears, pale pink pearls this time, and a simple strand of matching pearls around her throat. She was always so gorgeous, Myrtice Browning, a woman out of the past with past ideals living in the modern world.

It wasn’t that her mother was out of touch, though. There was a certain way she was accustomed to living, to behaving, and she believed it would suit everyone else best if they lived the same way. Including, and especially, Chrissie.

Chrissie knew her mother loved her, but there was also disappointment. She never picked the right man, the right college classes, the right place to live. She definitely hadn’t picked the right job or the right hobbies.

And now, how would Chrissie explain about the man whose bed she’d left a little more than a week ago?

“Yes, I am.” She wondered how Colt would like spending time here in Pembroke, at the mansion, on a summer weekend? Would he enjoy the quiet solitude and lazy afternoons by the pool? Or would he rather be in Savannah, downtown with crowds of people?

She loved the bars and timeless mansions and quaint shops as much as anyone. Savannah had a particular charm that never got old, despite the city’s actual age. There were many places she hadn’t seen, hadn’t toured, many delights she hadn’t yet tasted and there were treasures around every corner. Old movie theaters, old-fashioned soda shops and ice cream parlors. In Savannah, the past was as alive as the present and mingled side by side and walked hand in had with it.

They were surrounded by history, both inside and out. She truly did love the area she’d grown up in and around, and couldn’t see herself living anywhere else. But what would Colt think as far as long term? And should she even be thinking long-term? Lord knows she shouldn’t.

“Anyone we know?”

“Yes,” she answered automatically. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him in the days since he went back home to Texas. He called her once but hadn’t insinuated that he’d been thinking of her in quite the same way. They didn’t talk about Russ coming over, though they probably should. They’d simply talked about his good flight and her job and the rest he hoped she’d gotten. He’d said he’d talk to her again soon, but that had been days ago. She didn’t know what he was feeling or wanting, if he even still wanted her in the ways he’d said he did. She only knew she wanted him and couldn’t get him off her mind, couldn’t erase the memory of his hands on her.

“Well, don’t be stingy with the name, Christina.”

Chrissie turned. She needed to get her head in the here and now instead of continuing to daydream. She looked at her mother. “It’s Colt, Mama.”

“Colt?”

The confused smile on her mother’s face was pretty familiar. When she wasn’t sure or when she disapproved of what was being said, that smile was always in place. Chrissie thought it was probably the former but it could be the latter. “Colt Fisher. Russell’s brother.”

“Oh, honey.” Myrtice clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You shouldn’t be dating him.”

“Mama, please.” Confusion and disapproval both. Chrissie was on a roll today.

“Oh, don’t you ‘Mama please’ me. You know it’s not right.”

“Right or not, Mama, I like him.” More, much more than liked him.

“What about Russell? How will he feel about it? Have you talked to him?”

“Actually, I have. I saw him several days ago, and we talked things out. He knows that Colt and I are seeing one another, and he’s all right with it.”

Myrtice shook her head again and frowned. “I still don’t like this, Christina.”

“I know, but it’s my choice.”

“You know, Russell’s mother didn’t care for us very much. Will you be meeting Colt’s mother?”

“No. She left him and Amber when they were kids.” Nothing more was said for several moments. Chrissie watched as the most put-together woman she’d ever met fought to digest that little tidbit of information. If there was one thing Myrtice Browning valued above putting the best face forward, it was family. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you speechless, Mama.”

“Well, I just… I don’t understand how women can do that. You simply don’t do that. You don’t leave your kids behind. No matter what.”

“People do it all the time.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s right. You marry and have children, you stay with them. End of story.”

“I love you,” Chrissie said as she walked toward her mother and hugged her.

“Careful, Christina,” Myrtice admonished. “Don’t wrinkle us both.” But she wrapped her arms around Chrissie anyway and gave her a tight squeeze. “Maybe that young man just needs the love of a good woman.”

“Yes, Mama. Maybe he does and whatever opinion Russ’s mother has of us, or we of her, she raised Colt well.”

When they parted, Chrissie’s mother was once again composed, but before either could say anything, the doorbell chimed. “She should have done a better job with her own boy,” she murmured. “Let’s keep this quiet for now, Christina. We don’t want gossip. You know I hate that kind of thing, and after that near disaster in December…”

“You can say it, Mama,” Chrissie said softly. Even though the Brownings employed several servants, when it came to parties and other social events, they preferred answering the door personally. Chrissie actually liked the gesture and welcome it provided, each person being made to feel at home as they walked in the door.

“Just smile for our guests, Christina.”

“I always do.”

* * * *

“Did I wake you up?” she asked softly when Colt picked up the phone.

“No, you didn’t. I’m finishing up some work because someone kept me up all night.”

“What did they keep you up doing?”

“Screwing like bunnies.”

“You should learn to control yourself.” His laughter on the other end of the line warmed her insides and melted her like jelly.

“I probably should, but in this case, it’s more like I should learn to control my lover. She was insatiable. She kept waking up and touching me.”

“If you weren’t so gorgeous, maybe she would’ve been able to control herself a little more and keep her hands to herself.” And touching him had been something she couldn’t seem to get under control. He was right about that. But then, as soon as her fingers would do no more than hover over him, he was awake and kissing her, fondling her, eating between her legs.

“You think I’m gorgeous?”

“The secret is out. I only want you for your body.” Then there was the memory of him on her tongue, embedded deeply within her mouth, the head of his cock touching the sensitive tissue at the back of her throat. He was rigid, silk and steel. When he got so close to orgasm and he tried to tug her off, she had held fast and worked him as though he were a drinking straw. She was still wondering how his shout hadn’t woken whoever was in the room next to his.

He’d felt so good and right sleeping next to her, and waking up with him? She’d really like to wake up with him a whole lot more. He was warm and solid, and it had been so long since she’d slept with anyone that she’d thought at first it might take some getting used to, or feel awkward, but no… No, he’d wrapped himself around her, and she’d felt as though she belonged in the curve of his body.