Simple Gone South (Crimson Romance) (13 page)

“Absolutely,” Missy said.

Lucy laughed. “No. I think Aunt Annelle is kind of excited about what she is calling a ‘quiet, elegant, little celebration.’ She’s printed some recipes off the Internet for smoked turkey and wild mushroom bread pudding and pumpkin crème brulee.”

Missy sat up. “You can’t eat that! Not on Thanksgiving. It’s not traditional.”

“If you can eat canned cranberry sauce and dry turkey in a restaurant, I can eat whatever I want.” Plus there would be excellent wine, classical music, and they would dress up for the meal. She was rather looking forward to it. “And let’s not forget that we will have fabulous traditional Missy Bragg Iron Bowl party food two days later.”

“That’s true.” Missy nodded. “And best of all? Brantley will be there this year.”

Oh, joy. He’d been there last year too; he’d come unannounced. And she’d gone out the back door as he came in the front. But she was done running from the runner. Probably.

Missy was about to say something else when her cell rang.

“Sorry,” she said, and answered. “Oh? Well, can’t you—Okay. Yes. I’ll be right there.”

She turned her phone off and got to her feet. “Lulu is pitching a fit. I think she’s cutting a tooth and apparently Harris, Luke, and Nathan have done everything they can think off.”

“I’m sure Nathan was a great help,” Tolly said. “What did he want to do? Toss her around like a football?”

“Harris sounded just frantic enough to try it.”

Lanie was also on her feet. “I’ll go too. I rode over with Missy.”

“You don’t have to,” Lucy said. “I can take you to Missy’s to get your car and your family later.”

“No.” Lanie was putting her shoes on. “I’ll get my gang out of there so Missy can deal with Lulu. I would bet in all that excitement, Emma and Beau are wound up. That never helps anything.”

While Tolly was seeing Missy and Lanie out, Lucy gathered up the dirty dishes and took them to the kitchen. Tolly had used her good china and crystal. It shouldn’t go in the dishwasher so Lucy filled the farmhouse sink with warm soapy water.

“Well, that was short lived.” Tolly entered the kitchen carrying trays with the leftovers. “Will you take some of this food home with you? Nathan is not impressed with what he calls ‘tea party food.’”

“No,” Lucy said. “It was good, but I cannot afford the calories. You know how hard I fight.”

Tolly smiled. “You’re beautiful.”

“Well, I don’t feel like it. Not long ago I was at the mall and I looked up and saw a woman. I thought, ‘if only I looked like her.’ Then I realized it was me, in a mirror. But I never think of myself as that woman in the mirror. In my head, I’ve got another forty pounds.”

“We all have our demons.” Tolly began moving the tomato tarts into storage containers. Then she laughed a little. “What did you do with that chocolate cake? I know you didn’t eat it.”

“You heard about that? I’m not surprised.”

“I talked to Sandy when I stopped in the Bake Shop to pick up these cookies.”

“Lord.” Lucy put a hand to her forehead and discovered too late that there were soapsuds on her fingers.

Tolly laughed and came toward her with a towel. She dabbed it away. “There.”

“Thanks,” Lucy said.

“Lucy.” Tolly laid a hand on her arm.

No. Not a serious talk. Anything but that.

But Tolly went on. “I know we always joke that the four of us are one big double date, with you and Missy as a couple, and Lanie and me as the other. But we’re all sisters. You know that, don’t you?”

Lucy’s eyes filled with tears and she covered Tolly’s hand with her own. “Better than sisters. You don’t pick your sisters. We are friends of the heart. I would have even worn an ugly bridesmaid dress for you. But thank goodness what you picked was gorgeous.”

Tolly smiled. “I know you and Missy tend to confide in each other, as do Lanie and I. But I get how it might be hard to talk to Missy about this thing with Brantley, given how close they are. I’m here; you can talk to me.”

Lucy went back to her dishwashing. “Tolly, there is no Brantley and me.”

“That’s fine, if that’s what you want.” Tolly picked up a clean towel and started to dry. “But he is pursuing you. Rather relentlessly, from what I hear. You can’t deny that.”

Lucy was quiet for a moment. “I guess not. But, Tolly, Brantley is a runner. And for him, it’s about the chase. He thinks he can’t have me, so he’s interested. The minute that changed, he’d be done. Probably run back to Rita May.”

Tolly dried two wine glasses before she spoke again. “When I listen to your voice and look into your eyes, I am not convinced there isn’t something there on your part.”

Lucy put her hand up. “Tolly—”

“Just let me say this, Lucy. A while back there was a knock on my door. Opening that door was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. But I did. And I don’t like to think where I would be if I hadn’t taken a chance. Sometimes you have to open the door.” She laughed a little, as though she wanted to lighten the mood and picked up two of the freshly washed wine glasses. “Come on. Let’s have another glass of wine. If I know Nathan, he’ll watch game film with Harris for hours yet. We won’t say another word about Brantley.”

“All right,” Lucy agreed. “But I’m not washing those glasses again.”

“Deal.”

Close to an hour later, Lucy walked out of Tolly’s front door, down the steps, to the driveway—straight into Brantley Kincaid’s arms.

Lucy let out a little squeak—more from surprise than fear—and Brantley silenced her with his lips on hers. His mouth was warm and cold at the same time, fire and ice.

She put her hands on his shoulders to push him away, but somehow her arms ended up around his neck and she opened her mouth to get a better taste. He was better tasting than she remembered. Better than last week and better than Savannah.

The question was, what was she doing tasting him? She pulled away and stepped back. She would do well to remember that he had tricked her into taking care of his dog—again.

He was dressed in a white shirt, striped tie, navy slacks, and a camel wool topcoat. Still, he was shivering.

“Damn, Lucy Mead. You ordered up some cold weather while I was gone. I am freezing my ass off.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m waiting for you. I’ve been hiding in those bushes for over an hour.”

“And just who have you been hiding from?”

“Mostly Missy. I saw her leave. If she had spotted me, my life as I know it tonight would have ceased to exist. I would, no doubt, be admiring baby Lulu, playing Candy Land with Beau, and listening to the trials and tribulations of being Missy—instead of kissing Lucy. And not kissing Lucy would be the worst trial a man could face.”

And he kissed her again. She only let herself indulge for a few seconds. Forty-five tops.

“Why are you out here in the cold? Why didn’t you come in?” She hated that she was breathless against his mouth.

He licked her lower lip.

“I know the rules. No men at book club.” He ran his tongue in little circle at the corner of her mouth and let it trail down her jawline. “I had a special welcome planned and it did not include a bunch of women who pretend to read books, and especially not my oldest and dearest friend, who I love but who has no place in this particular scenario.”

By now he was speaking close to her ear and then he buried his face in her neck and found
that spot—
the one that shot an electric current straight to her nipples and between her thighs
.

She should stop him. She
had
to stop him. But how could she? It was
that spot
.

“Lucy,” he whispered.

“Huh?”

“I’m cold. Real cold. Could we go?”

Suddenly, she was grounded again. Yes. Go. That’s what she had to do. Him too.

“Yes.” She pulled away. “I should go. Goodbye.” And she began to back away.

He followed. “I mean to go with you.”

“You can’t.”

“I have to. I walked here.”

She looked around. “You walked? From where?”

“Your house.” It wasn’t that far to her house. She might have walked here herself if it hadn’t been so cold and she hadn’t been running late. “I have to go there with you. Eller’s there, and I brought you some really great souvenirs. Plus, I have some other plans.”

He moved toward her again.

This time she kept her wits about her. Her good sense told her to make him walk, but that would have crossed the line to mean.

She clicked the locks on her car. “Get in. But you are only going to get your dog and your car.”

• • •

Brantley slid into the passenger side of Lucy’s Christmas ball blue SUV. He’d been bored in San Francisco and done a little research on this vehicle and he didn’t like what he’d found. Not only did it ride like a log wagon, it had an abysmal safety rating.

“This car is begging to roll over. Didn’t you see the safety rating on the Internet before you bought it?”

She frowned at him. “I did not consult the Internet. Or you.”

“Oh, Lucy, that is apparent. I would have advised against it. What you’ve got yourself here is a killing machine. It’s not safe. Nowhere close.”

“Really?” she said with no interest. “I think it’s perfect. It’s just big enough that I can deliver lamps and small pieces for furniture. And it was the right price and a snappy color.”

Brantley slapped his forehead. “Oh, that makes sense. It’s more important to have a snappy color than to live through a wreck.”

“Somehow I think I will be able to keep it between the lines of the wild streets of Merritt. If you are truly concerned for your safety, I can let you out.” She slowed down.

“Oh, no. No, ma’am. If you are going down in a fiery blaze, I am going with you. We’ll just leave Eller an orphan. They’ll probably put her down too since there won’t be anyone to take care of her. I don’t think Tiptoe holds with burying dogs in his cemetery, but maybe since this will be so tragic, they’ll bury us all together. Probably have to. Won’t be enough of you and me left to tell who’s who.”

Lucy gave him a sidelong look but didn’t say anything. Had he gone too far, joking about being killed in a wreck? He didn’t understand himself why he said such things, why he danced around a line that might make someone think he was in mental distress. He would never say such a thing to someone with his history.

“Poor us. Poor Eller.” On the way to her house, Lucy had to turn down the street where Big Mama lived—where he lived now, come to think of it. The moment had passed. Either she wasn’t going to call him on it, or she hadn’t made the connection, after all. Either way, he needed to stop it, needed to remember that he was, for the time being, around people who knew his history. “Speaking of Eller,” Lucy said. “I am really surprised that you are willing to have her live in that carriage house so close to your grandmother’s cat—you know, that monster. That animal is practically a lioness with a hurt paw and cubs, but more aggressive.”

Uh-oh. She’d met Princess. “Yeah. Well. See, Princess
used
to be that way. Big Mama had her on some kind of cat food that she was allergic to. Made her mean. She killed a whole pack of wild German shepherds last summer. But they got that food situation straightened out and she’s like a different cat. I didn’t know all that, of course.”

Lucy almost laughed. He could tell by the way she bit her lip and dropped her eyes. “Have you been home?” she asked. He’d dodged the Princess bullet, at least for now. “To the carriage house?”

“No, Lucy. I came straight to you. I didn’t even change out of my meet-and-greet clothes.”

“For the most part the carriage house is done. It would be completely, except Miss Caroline decided she wanted new cabinetry in the kitchen and bathroom. The bathroom is done, but the kitchen is not. It will be in a few days.”

“No problem. I do more bathing than cooking. In fact, I do
no
cooking, while I am totally committed to hygiene. I just need a place to keep my beer cold.”

“You’ve got a brand new Sub-Zero for that.”

“Pretty fancy.”

“Wait until you see the cabinets. Will Garrett is doing them.”

That name rang a bell. “Who is that? Do I know him?”

“You have not provided me with a spread sheet of who you do and do not know, Brantley. So I cannot answer that question.”

“Ah, my Lucy is feisty tonight.”

She ignored that. “If you don’t know Will, you should. He’s a master craftsman. Builds amazing furniture. I’ve used him a few times. I’d use him more but I don’t have that many clients who can—or are willing to—afford him.”

“Hey. I do know who that is. He’s younger than I am, but I remember him from school.” If he recalled correctly, Will had been a poor kid. Some said he was from the wrong side of the tracks, though Brantley had never figured out, or cared, just where those tracks were. Well, good on Will. “What’s he doing hanging around Merritt where people don’t appreciate his work?”

“I don’t have that particular information,” Lucy said. “I guess he likes it here. Many do.” She gave him a pointed look. “I know Will does lots of high end custom work. He ships stuff all over the world.”

Lucy sure did know a lot about this Will Garrett. Brantley didn’t like that. If he remembered right, he’d been a good looking kid. “Where does he live?”

“How should I know?” She turned into her driveway. “But there are some issues with some of the woodwork in the Brantley Building. I don’t know much about what the budget will be yet . . .” She let her voice trail off.

Happier that she didn’t know where Mr. Master Craftsman lived, Brantley said, “Sounds good. Big Mama wants it done right. It’s going to cost. I’d be shocked if she didn’t know how much right down to the penny.”

Lucy cut the motor, opened her door, and met his eyes. “Understand this. I am letting you in to get Eller. Regardless of the impression I gave you in Tolly’s driveway, I am not going to have sex with you.”

“Understood,” Brantley said cheerfully. And he did. He didn’t expect to have sex, though he certainly was open to it. His goals for tonight were to make her laugh and to get just a little friendlier. You had to do these things in stages. He opened his door. “I’m right behind you. I just need to get something from my car.”