Sugar's Twice as Sweet: Sugar, Georgia: Book 1 (27 page)

BOOK: Sugar's Twice as Sweet: Sugar, Georgia: Book 1
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Slowly she stroked him. They didn’t kiss, or speak, or move, just fell into each other’s gaze as she took her time exploring him and blowing every last fuse in his brain. Even if her hands weren’t on him, the way she looked up through her lashes, as though he was a part of this magical world she had created, would have melted his heart.

“So close it scares me,” he whispered, lowering his head and kissing her.

He took his time exploring her mouth. At first just her lips, the top one, then the bottom, eventually sliding his tongue across the seam. She opened up for him and he took it deeper, pushing them to the next level. Hell, everything between them went deeper with each breath they shared.

Tonight was about connection, about opening up and admitting that he didn’t want this to end when he went back on the circuit. He was going to rebuild on his parents’ property. Finally move home. And he wanted Joie to be a part of that.

Needed her to want to be a part of that.

Brett took her hands and pressed them above her head, her touch too much to handle if he expected this to last through the night. Rolling on the condom, he settled back between her legs. She pressed herself closer, which was fine by him, especially when she wrapped those silky legs around his middle, and her arms tightly around his neck, igniting a wave of desire that went straight to his heart. Brett held her tighter, kissed her a little harder, putting everything he was feeling out there for her to see.

Joie rolled her hips, rocking up against him, sliding her body against his, creating a natural friction that was damn near close to heaven. Cupping her head with one hand, he slid the other under her back, creating a barrier against the floor as he moved in and out, their bodies never more than a breath apart.

He kept kissing that mouth of hers, lost in how her body felt plastered to his, as if afraid that the magic would vanish the moment they rolled out from under the chandelier. Then Joie arched her back and squeezed even tighter as Brett exploded and felt every one of her muscles melt into a puddle beneath him.

Face buried in her hair, he listened to their hearts slowly return to a normal rate.

Without breaking her hold, she peered down at their tangled bodies, her hands in his hair, her legs locked around his middle, feet pointing to heaven, and smiled. “Letty was right. You can’t get your wings with your feet stuck to the floor.”

“Wings?”

“Uh-huh. I think I finally found mine,” she whispered, staring up into his eyes as she pulled him back down for another kiss. “Because I feel like I’m flying.”

*  *  *

Brett woke to a wet nose nudging one arm. Too bad for the dog, he had a naked woman lying in the other, snuggled so tightly against his body he couldn’t tell what limbs belonged to whom. And he didn’t care.

Last night had changed everything. He felt it in his chest. They had made love until the sun started to crest the hills, each time more magical than the last. Brett smiled at his word choice. Cheesy as hell, but when talking about Joie it seemed to fit.

A little whimper echoed in his ear.

“Five more minutes, buddy,” Brett whispered, pulling Joie closer and tracing his hand over her hip and down her thigh. She moaned and pressed back into him, her ass sliding against him and putting the “good” in his morning. “Make that an hour.”

“I figure you have about two seconds before that dog bites it off,” a voice said from the doorway.

Making sure the covers concealed Joie, Brett turned and grumbled, “What are you doing here, Cal?”

Joie squeaked and pulled the quilt over her head.

 “Was about to ask you the same.” Cal’s tone was easy, but his expression could cut slate.

“None of your damn business. Now, if you could get the hell out, that would be great.”

“Morning, Cal,” muffled out from under the covers as a warm hand found Brett’s and gave a quick squeeze.

“Morning, Joie.” Cal blushed. Good, the bastard was embarrassed. “Sorry about barging in. But no one was answering their phone.”

“The power’s still out,” Brett explained, adding, “and my cell is in the truck.”

Cal’s brows furrowed. “Really? The power at our place came back on last night.”

“Yeah, well, Grandma didn’t shove hedge cutters into your fuse box.” Brett took a deep breath, noticing Joie still hadn’t come out from under the covers. “Since we have established the source of the blowout, you can leave.”

Joie smacked Brett’s back. The reprimand was loud enough to make Cal smile.

“Hattie is on the warpath; she’s got everyone riled up and on their way over here.” Another squeak from under the covers. “I headed them off. You’ve got about ten minutes tops before they come breaking down the door. Just enough time to take a cold one. Oh, and I brought her dog back.”

“Boo!” Joie came out of hiding for the dog, which bounded over to her and delivered wet doggie kisses.

 “Thanks, bro.” Unable to move without flashing his brother, Brett nodded, his irritation ebbing.

“Yeah, well, next time I get to rescue the girl.” Cal rubbed his arm. “That thing has the jaws of a bear trap. She reminds me of my ex.”

“He is usually a good dog,” Joie defended. “I’m so sorry, Cal.”

“Don’t be.” Brett brushed his lips across hers, not bothering to correct her. That dog was a menace, but to her Boo was family. “Cal called Boo a girl. He deserved a little nip.”

“Nip? Hell, she—”

Boo growled, showing his masculine teeth.

“—
He
nearly chewed through my steel-toed boots to get to my ankle.”

Brett looked at Joie, who he could tell was nervous about another run-in with his grandma, and back to Cal. “Can you try to buy us another few minutes?”

“I can try.” Cal pulled out his phone but didn’t sound too confident. “We still need to talk before everyone gets here. I have something to show you.”

Brett didn’t like the sound of that and he didn’t want to end a perfect night with a lecture from his brother.

“Want to borrow my shower?” she whispered after Cal disappeared into the salon.

She stood and pulled on her robe, which was a damn shame, so Brett stopped her right before she tied the belt. Taking her by the lapels he held it open, letting his gaze run the length of her, and then gave each breast a kiss.

“No, I want you in the shower but somehow I don’t think my grandma would see it as rude to barge in.” He gave one last look and tied the belt. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and let me deal with my family?”

She looked hesitant. He didn’t blame her. He was asking her to go hide while he handled things.

“Please.”

To his surprise she nodded and then said the only three words that could send his entire world crashing down.

“I trust you.”

S
hit.” Brett grabbed for the paper in Cal’s hand.

“You’re so far in it, no amount of charm will get rid of that stench.”

Cal was right. Brett didn’t even have to open the magazine to understand that his entire life was about to go to hell. Worse still, he’d brought down Joie with him. His hand fisted as he read the headline and imagined ripping the journalist’s throat out.

PGA’
S
P
LAYBOY
M
C
G
RAW
P
LAYS IT
F
AST AND
L
OOSE AND
P
AYS THE
P
RICE—TO THE
S
UM OF
H
ALF-A-
M
IL.

He hated the media. Hated himself right about then. He’d fucked up. Big-time.

 “At least tell me that you came clean about the loan,” Cal said. Brett’s guilt must have shown on his face. “Aw, man, what were you thinking?”

“That I had time. That once she got the inn up and running she wouldn’t care.” Brett ran a hand down his face. “I’m going to lose her over this, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Cal admitted quietly.

Brett opened to the first page and scanned the article. There was too much personal information, too many details about the loan, about how he and Joie were childhood friends, about her disaster of an engagement to Rat Bastard for this to be a speculative story. Someone had sold him out.

He tried to breathe. His lungs told him to screw off, which was what Joie was going to do the second she saw those papers. Since he’d won his first Masters and gone from small-town nobody to overnight sensation, Brett had known that his luck would run out, that one day his play-it-loose reputation would bite him in the ass. He just never expected the fallout to affect the ones he loved.

“Shame on you, Brett Gentry McGraw,” Hattie scolded from the doorway. Dressed in a silver track suit, she held a covered dish in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. Beside her, all in church wear and enough condemnation they looked ready to spit—or shoot—was her backup. And pulling up the rear, in sweats and department-issued attitude, was one of Sugar’s finest.

“Even with all you put me through as a boy, bless your heart, I never once spanked you. But after seeing how you treated that girl, in Letty’s house, I reckon it’s time to say, ‘Bend over.’” Hattie raised her spoon and smacked Brett in the chest.

“How I treated her?” Not wanting to lose an eye, Brett grabbed the spoon. “You ladies know as well as I do that the only reason someone talked was that this feud of yours gave them permission to.” Brett tried not to sound angry, but he was.

The folks of Sugar protected their own, and his grandma and her friends had gone to great lengths to make sure Joie was never seen as belonging. He was also angry at himself for being so worried about pleasing everyone else that he let down the one person who mattered.

“A feud, if you remember, you promised would cease.”

“And you promised to keep her busy. Not charm your way into her sheets,” Dottie countered, shaking her head. “Which is why Darleen talked to that reporter.”

“Darleen?” He didn’t know why he sounded so surprised. She had been trying to tie him down since that night he’d run into her after he’d scored a fifty-nine in Atlanta.

“Bill already let her go from her position at the bank, which is a shame, with her being a single mom,” Dottie added.

“And if you decide to press charges for divulging personal information,” Jackson finally spoke, “then it would be my place to take a report, which is why I am here at seven-fifteen on a Sunday morning. My only day off, I might add.”

“But know this,” Hattie said. “If you do, then I will be forced to make a separate report citing you for thinking with the man downstairs. And I’m not talking about the devil!” Hattie poked him in the chest with one pudgy finger. “Not that I’d want Darleen for a daughter-in-law, that woman is nuttier than a pecan factory. But she’s desperate for a husband and has a child in the house looking for a daddy. She’s been telling folks for years how she was going to land you, and you never gave her a reason to doubt it, until you started parading Letty’s girl around town.” She shook her head. “I raised you better than that.”

“At least the world doesn’t think her services equate to a half a million.” The voice was so small, so full of hurt and confusion, that Brett felt his chest tighten to the point of pain.

He turned around and there, still in her bathrobe and bare feet, holding a tray of sweet tea and breakfast muffins, was Joie.

On one side of her, holding a half-dozen magazines, was one very pissed-off mechanic. On the other, holding what used to be a very expensive golf glove in his teeth, was a very pissed-off pooch.

His chest hollowed out as he saw the pain wash over her face.

“Joie.” Brett took a step forward and Boo lunged, fangs exposed.

“I was going to get in the shower when Boo had to go out. Then I realized that I should bring out some cold beverages for your family, you know, show them that I really want to make amends, make this work. But Spenser showed up at the back door with these magazines. So I came in here to show them to you and heard you all talking. I guess the joke’s on me, huh?”

“No. No joke,” Brett said. “I know what it sounds like, but the God’s honest truth is, I wanted to spend time with you. Let you see who I really was.”

“I see who you are, Brett. I’m just sorry it took me so long.” She glanced around, as if suddenly realizing just how many people were in the room witnessing this moment. Her face flushed with humiliation. “I think I liked the playboy better. At least he was honest about his intentions.”

“It’s not like that.” He took a step forward, but she backed away, setting down the tray. Her hands were shaking so hard that the tea sloshed over the rim of the pitcher.

“What’s it like then? Please tell me.” She pressed her free hand to her stomach. “Because it sounded like you lied to me about why you wanted the job and then lied to me about the loan.”

Brett exhaled a hard breath. “I knew after Bill turned you down for the loan the only way this feud was going to go away was to agree to be your contractor. That way you had a second set of hands and I could make sure the salon was intact for Letty’s birthday.”

“We wanted to say our proper good-byes to Letty, dear,” Jelly-Lou admitted. “Brett told us to just ask, that you would let us. I’m sorry now that we didn’t.”

Josephina didn’t even blink. “And the loan?”

“I played a round with Bill and tried to get him to reconsider loaning you the money. He said it was just too risky for a bank their size. We struck an agreement, one that was supposed to be confidential.” He slid a look at Dottie, who immediately studied her shoes. “Before I could explain, Bill had called you and half the town knew. Then you were so damn proud of that loan, I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

“So you lied to me instead?” She looked at him as if he’d shattered her world. “You told me you believed in me, that you knew I could do this. I believed you, Brett. I believed you so damn much that I started believing in myself.”

“I did believe in you. I do. I knew you could do this.”

“Really, because letting me walk around deluding myself about how I got the loan doesn’t seem like the action of someone who believes in me.”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t take the money.”

“That was my right!”

“I know, but I was so scared of losing you. I wanted to make sure you had every reason to stay.”

“You lied to me, Brett. Made a fool of me in front of everyone?” Her face fell as she took in the crowd, and he knew what she was thinking. That he was as big an asshole as her ex. “Is this some kind of game for you people? Make her fall for the hometown hero and then break her heart so she’ll leave? Do you all hate me that much?”

“No. Don’t you get it?” Brett pleaded. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Well, then, it looks like Brett McGraw gets what he wants again. Because I don’t have anywhere to go. This was my do-over, my chance to make something for myself, and you took that away.” She pulled in a shaky breath at the last word. “At least my parents and Wilson told me to my face what they thought.” And that’s when her face crumbled. “I guess that’s not the
neighborly
way.”

“We don’t hate you, child,” Hattie said, her voice low and soothing. It was the same tone she’d used when he or one of his brothers tore up a knee or elbow. “We were just trying to see to Letty’s wishes.”

“Grandma,” Brett warned. Joie was a second away from crying and he knew what Hattie was about to tell her would shatter her world.

“This is her business, too, and she has a right to know,” Jelly-Lou said. “Go on and tell her, Hattie.”

“Tell me what?”

Hattie walked over and took Joie’s hand. “A few months before Letty passed, God rest her soul, she talked about changing her will, leaving Fairchild House to the four of us. The will was drawn up, but she passed before she got a chance to sign it.”

“Which meant I got the Fairchild House by default?” Her big blue eyes went wide, her body tensed. Joie was preparing for the blow. He almost looked away, not sure if he could handle what was about to happen.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Jelly-Lou soothed. “We told her to reconsider, but she was adamant, she wanted the house to remain a sanctuary for the adventurous. And you were so busy with your life, Letty was afraid you’d lost your connection to the magic of the place.”

“But what about the letter Letty left me?” Joie whispered.

All the ladies exchanged a look, but it was Jelly-Lou who spoke. “Letty wrote you that letter a long time ago, but we figured that despite everything that happened, she’d want you to have it.”

Joie didn’t need to speak for the whole room to feel what had just happened. Her heart had cracked in two. She had just lost the only person who saw the magic that was Joie. The only person who made her feel accepted enough, loved for being just who she was.

She studied his face, and the look she gave him pretty much ripped open his heart. “Did you know? About Letty not wanting me here?”

Brett grasped for the words to make this okay. Maybe it was his hesitation, or maybe she just got him better than anyone else ever had, but she took a step back, away from him, from his family, from the town.

“I was just trying to protect you.” It sounded like a bullshit answer, but it was all he had.

Her chin shot up and her big blue eyes darkened with sorrow. “I didn’t need your money, Brett. I just wanted your respect, which you protected me right out of. And I let you do it. How sad is that?”

Panic flooded his chest. He was losing her. He could feel it. She never judged him, never expected him to be anything other than himself, and he had destroyed everything they had built.

Her phone, which she had set next to Kenny last night, started ringing.

Dottie, being the closest, picked it up. “The screen says it’s your mama. You want me to answer it? Explain what’s going on?”

“No. If she’s calling then she already knows.”

Joie took the phone and stared at it, waiting for the ringing to stop. No one spoke. When the phone chimed that she had a voicemail, she put it in her robe pocket.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t feel much like serving any kind of cold beverage today, so I’ll ask you to gather your covered dishes and southern manners and get the hell out of my house. Because until I decide otherwise, it’s still mine.”

She turned on her heel and took off up the stairs.

Ears back, tail high, Boo strutted over to Brett, lifted his leg and pissed on Brett’s bare feet. After a quick wiggle of his hips to ensure that every last drop hit the intended target, Boo trotted after his mistress.

*  *  *

Josephina held it together until she heard the front door shut, the sheets were securely over her head, and Boo was snuggled at her feet. Three boxes of tissues, two pillowcases, and a T-shirt later she had finally pulled it together. Until she heard someone banging around outside and her lights flickered back on and started up again. The sobs lasted straight through breakfast, dinner, and Jimmy Kimmel, stopping only when her tears, combined with a pity-party-sized bag of cheesy pretzels, had congealed into a paste covering her hands, face, and the right side of her hair.

Every time she thought she had her emotions under control, she’d remember standing in the foyer, covered only by silk and humiliation, facing down yet another firing squad in starch. The tears—and pretzel craving—would start back up, deep in her chest, vibrating upward until she sounded like a beached seal.

Josephina wondered how she had managed to get herself in this situation again. How she had once again trusted a man who hadn’t believed in her.

A lifetime of practice.

Boo yapped in the distance. Giving up on sleep, she tossed back the covers, pulled on a pair of cheese-stained yoga pants, and went downstairs. Boo needed to take his morning march around the exterior of the house, re-marking every corner that the mama opossum had marked last night. She needed to eat something that didn’t contain the word cheese.

As she passed the entryway, her cell, which she’d shoved inside Kenny’s bust so she wouldn’t have to hear it ring anymore, was still ringing. Knowing it was either her mother, whom she didn’t want to talk to, or Brett, whom she wasn’t emotionally ready to handle, she ignored it.

Boo stood at the front door, his little body doing the got-to-go wiggle.

“All right,” Joie said. “I’m coming.”

 She unlocked the deadbolt, and Boo’s wiggle picked up in intensity. So did his yapping. If she hadn’t been so delirious, she wouldn’t have been so surprised when she opened the door and came face to face with the last person she wanted to see.

By all that was holy, why did she have to confront Brett while wearing cheesy-goo and leftover makeup?

“Joie.” Brett rose to his feet.

He looked exhausted. Miserable. As if he’d slept on her porch all night. And even though his hair was standing up in the back, his face was covered with stubble, and he was wearing the same jeans as yesterday, he looked so damn handsome it hurt.

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