Surrender To Sultry (13 page)

She blotted her face with a paper towel. “Mm-kay. Sorry ’bout that.”

“Better the porch than the living room.” If she’d lost it inside the house, he’d have
to pull up the carpet, because no way in hell was he getting on his hands and knees
to clean up the contents of Rachel Landry’s stomach.

Colt flipped on the front lights and uncoiled the garden hose. After he’d finished
spraying down the mat and the surrounding wood planks, he returned inside and washed
his hands. He changed his clothes, too, for good measure. When he joined Rachel in
the kitchen, she was quietly sipping her second cup of coffee, gazing at her lap in
obvious embarrassment. The last thing Colt wanted to do was have a heart-to-heart
with her, but he needed to know she was okay. Rachel may have given him the single-finger
salute more times than he could count, but June was right—she was good people. More
or less.

He sat down opposite her at the table. “Did you and your mama have a fight?” Lord
knows he wouldn’t last five minutes living with his folks. They got along okay, but
a man needed his space. “Is that why you don’t wanna go home?”

She shook her head and gnawed on her bottom lip.

“You told me you couldn’t face her,” Colt said. “You’re not pregnant, are you? If
so, you’re off to a bad start with the cigarettes and the whiskey.”

Peering into her coffee, she opened her mouth to answer him. But her voice came out
low and pitiful in a way that made her sound like a little kid. “I couldn’t stop him.
Marcus Steele is putting up a Super Home Cheapo right outside town.”

Colt drew a breath. That was worse than an unplanned pregnancy. He knew what it would
mean for her family—Landry Building and Supply didn’t stand a chance against the Home
Cheapo. Nothing did. Mom and Pop shops like theirs couldn’t compete. No matter how
supportive the locals claimed to be, folks always gravitated toward the lowest price.

But Rachel had a spot on the town council. Colt figured that would’ve helped her block
the big chain.

“I promised Mama I’d find a way to keep ’em out,” Rachel went on, “but I couldn’t
do it. The bastards were too smart. Or maybe I was too stupid.”

“What happened?” he asked. “I thought the council had to vote on anything that big.”

“They do. Any retail store larger than five thousand square feet has to get approval
before they can build.” She glanced up at him. “But Steele got around it by splitting
the supercenter three ways.”

Colt raised his brows in a silent question.

“He’s putting up three stores on the same lot,” Rachel explained. “One for lumber,
one for general hardware, and one for home goods. All right next to each other. And
as fast as he builds them, they’ll probably be open in the spring.”

“Damn.” What a dirty trick. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Colt remembered Rachel’s words
from earlier that evening. “You’re right—he’s a lizard-licking donkey sucker.”

She laughed into her cup. “Steele’s a clever son of a bitch, I’ll give him that.”

Colt leaned forward and folded his arms on the table. “What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m not going down fighting,” she said, wiping at the caked mascara beneath her eyes.
“There’s no point. I’ll help Mama close down the store and sell off what we can before
the Cheapo opens. The sooner the better—we won’t have a lot of time. Daddy left her
with enough savings when he passed, so she should be okay.”

“What about you?” Colt asked. Rachel had worked in her parents’ store since high school.
When her daddy died, she’d taken over for him and married that loser, Tommy Robbins,
instead of going away to college.

“I’ll be okay too.” She slouched, wrapping both hands around her mug. “I’m already
living at home, so it’s not like I’ve got much to lose. I’ll figure out something.”
She drew a deep breath through her nose and held it a while, then let it out real
slow. “I just don’t know how I’m gonna break it to Mama.”

If Mrs. Landry didn’t know about the supercenter yet, she would soon. Nothing stayed
quiet in this town. “She should probably hear it from you.”

“I know.”

Colt stood from the table and took Rachel’s half-empty coffee cup. “Then let’s get
you home. She’s only gonna worry if you stay out any later.”

Rachel gave a weary nod, and Colt wished there was more he could do. She pushed to
standing and took a sudden interest in her fingernails. “Thanks.” She turned away
and added, “For not locking me up and stuff. Maybe I don’t completely hate your face.”

Smiling, Colt set the mug in the sink and grabbed his keys. “You’re not goin’ soft
on me, are you, Landry?”

She answered him with her middle finger.

Yeah
, Colt thought,
she’s gonna be all right
.

Rachel pulled a plastic
Going
Out
of
Business!
sign from the store’s shelf display and brushed her fingers over the glossy red lettering.
“I always hated having to sell these—it meant someone’s dream was dead. Never thought
I’d need them myself.” With a wistful sigh, she grabbed half a dozen more and passed
them off to Leah. “At least we’ve got plenty in stock.”

“You sure about this?” Leah asked. The flimsy signs felt like lead in her hands. She
glanced over her shoulder at Rachel’s mom, whose fingers flew over the keys of the
same antique cash register her grandfather had christened with a wheat penny the day
he’d opened this shop. Even though Mrs. Landry’s voice sounded rough as asphalt from
crying, she smiled and invited her customer to come back soon. But come back for what,
the clearance sales? After bargain shoppers had picked the place clean, what would
replace it, if anything? Was this the beginning of the end for Main Street?

A lump rose in Leah’s throat. There was history here—years of memories in these narrow
aisles. When couples married and bought their first fixer-uppers, they came to Landry
Supply for everything from floor tiles to drawer pulls, and if Mrs. Landry didn’t
have it in stock, she’d special order it with free delivery. Leah had never thought
about it before, but this humble store had helped transform every house in Sultry
Springs into a home. It seemed wrong to let Marcus Steele win so easily.

After blotting her nose with a crumpled tissue, Rachel shrugged. “What’re we gonna
do? It’s not like we can hogtie Marcus to my bumper and drag him down a gravel road.”
Before Leah could answer, Rachel went on, “Then strip him naked and dip him in the
creek until he’s covered in bloodsucking leeches.” With an evil grin, she added, “Or
spray him with deer pheromones and tie him to a log, bent over, so the bucks can violate
his sorry ass all night long.”

Leah couldn’t help but giggle. Clearly, Rachel had given this some thought.

“That would take too much work,” Leah said, faking a lazy shrug. “If you really want
to get back at him, you should order a bunch of embarrassing stuff in his name, like
male enhancement pills and a penis enlarger pump.”

Rachel’s eyebrows rose as a smile uncurled across her lips. “I like where you’re going
with this. I could subscribe him to some freaky-deaky magazines too.”

“Along with some blow-up dolls…of sheep!” Assuming those even existed. “But mail it
to his neighbor’s house instead of his, so they have to hand-deliver it to him!”

Rachel lowered her voice and mimicked a British man, never mind that Steele Industries
was headquartered in New York. “I say, Marcus, old chap, here’s your deviant sexual
paraphernalia. Let me know if those male enhancement pills work.”

The mental image sent Leah into a fit of laughter. She braced herself against the
wall, and when her belly started to ache, she collapsed onto a pile of sacks of concrete,
doubling over in chortles. Rachel joined her, and together they giggled until they
could barely breathe.

“Oh, god.” Rachel wiped beneath her eyes and rested her head on Leah’s shoulder. “I’m
so glad you’re here, Tink. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

Leah was glad too. If she couldn’t stop the store from closing, at least she could
lift her friend’s spirits. “You’re the strongest person I know, babe. You’re going
to be okay.”

“Yeah,” Rachel said, “I think I am.”

“And now you can embrace your true destiny.”

Rachel lifted her head and gave a questioning glance.

“As a back-up dancer,” Leah explained. “Didn’t I say your talents were wasted here?”

“Oh, totally. Just in time too.” Rachel pushed to standing and performed a clumsy
hip roll. “I heard they’re making another
Magic
Mike
.”

“Sweet. I want to see what you’d do for a twenty.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Rachel teased, hooking two fingers around her shirt
lapel as if to tear it open. “’Cause I’ll show you.”

Leah shielded her eyes. “I take it back. All I’ve got on me is a ten.”

“Never fear. A ten will get you plenty.”

From nearby, a man cleared his throat and interrupted the striptease. “Uh, Rachel?”

They glanced down the aisle at old Mr. Phelps, the pharmacist, who studied them with
a puzzled expression.

Rachel straightened and smoothed both hands over her shirt. “Hey, Mr. Phelps. How
can I help you?”

He gestured out the front window to his store across the street. “Just heard the news,
and I wanted to stop by and tell you how sorry I am. Anything I can do?”

“Thanks, but no,” Rachel told him. “Mama and I decided to go out on top.”

Mr. Phelps nodded slowly, a flicker of fear sparking behind his bifocals. He and the
other Main Street merchants were probably worried about their own fates. Rachel must’ve
seen it, too, because she reassured him, “The council’s already made sure this won’t
happen again. Any commercial outfit, no matter how big or small, has to make it past
a committee now.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose that’s good.” His withered form relaxed. He glanced at a display
of emergency generators, turning the subject away from bankruptcy and heartbreak.
“Been meaning to pick up one of these. Guess now’s as good a time as any.”

“We’re getting ready to mark everything down,” Rachel said. “If you wait till tomorrow,
you’ll save—”

“No,” he interrupted, “I want one now. Big storm comin’ later. I’ll probably lose
power, and I’ve got lots of orders to fill.”

Leah gave him a smile. There were no storms on the horizon today, and anyone with
a radio or television knew it.

Over the next few hours, other locals trickled in, claiming they wanted to get a head
start on their Christmas shopping. They stocked up on power tools and paint supplies,
each refusing the discount Rachel offered them. The community support warmed Leah’s
heart, and she couldn’t stop Daddy’s words from turning over in her mind:
Maybe
it’s time to make a life for yourself—here, at home, with the people who love you
. Had she been too quick to dismiss the idea? Daddy and Rachel needed her. Could she
say the same for anyone in Minnesota? She wasn’t sure.

At noon, Rachel and Leah escaped to the stockroom, where two sack lunches awaited,
complete with sandwiches, barbeque potato chips, and Mrs. Landry’s oatmeal butterscotch
cookies.

Rachel wore a smile as she tore into her turkey club and took a seat on a Rubbermaid
bin. She asked with one cheek full, “So what’d you do last night? When I called, your
dad said you went out, but he didn’t say where.” She popped open a Coke and took a
deep pull. “June tried reaching you too. She only called Colt as a last resort.”

Leah picked at the corner of her Ziploc baggie. She was in no mood to hear a laundry
list of Colt’s faults or endure a lecture about how men never changed. “I’ll tell
you,” she decided, “but you have to promise not to give me any shit for it…pardon
my language.”

Rachel held up one hand in an oath. “No shit.”

“I drove out to the hot springs to meet Colt, but he wasn’t there. I guess by that
time, he’d left to pick you up at Shooters.” They must’ve missed each other by minutes.

“Oh,” was all Rachel said before taking another bite of her sandwich.

“That’s it?” She hadn’t seriously expected Rachel to honor that
no
shit
promise. “Just
oh
?”

“None of my business who you sneak around with,” Rachel mumbled. “Besides, maybe he’s
not as bad as I thought.”

“Whoa.” In Rachelspeak,
not
so
bad
was a screaming endorsement—with pompoms waving and back flips. What had happened
between those two last night? “Since when do you think Colt is anything less than
the antichrist in cowboy boots?”

Rachel pointed her turkey club at Leah’s nose. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. I’m
mature enough to admit when I’m wrong. All I’m sayin’ is he’s not so awful. That doesn’t
mean I want to braid Colt’s hair and sing ‘Kumbaya.’”

“Fine. Forget I asked,” Leah said, grabbing her cardigan. “I’ll get it from the horse’s
mouth.” She’d planned to drop in on Colt and thank him, anyway. “I’m going to the
sheriff’s office real quick.”

Rachel didn’t take the bait. “Mm-kay. Have fun.”

“I will.” She pushed her arms through the sleeves as quickly as she could without
snagging her watch. The mere prospect of seeing Colt had her insides all fluttery
and her limbs twitching to run.

After gathering her sandwich and bottled water, Leah slipped out the back door and
made her way around the side of the building to the sidewalk. To show her body who
was boss, she slowed her pace and focused on the scents of grilled chicken and car
exhaust, an oddly pleasant combination, and the cheery sounds of carols drifting though
the pharmacy’s open door. When the breeze kicked up, she tucked her water bottle beneath
one arm and buttoned her sweater. Compared to Minnesota, where the first snow had
already fallen, fifty degree weather should feel like a tropical vacation, but it
didn’t. Funny how quickly she’d acclimated to the mild Texas weather. If she stayed
here much longer, she’d get spoiled…if she wasn’t already. This wasn’t an easy place
to leave behind.

With Thanksgiving only days away, holiday decorations were out in full force. Bright
red bows adorned the tops of the streetlights, each one connected by strands of plastic
garland leading to “The Square,” where the town spruce would soon take up residence
beside the fountain. As a little girl, she’d always looked forward to the tree-lighting
ceremony. Daddy would say a few words asking folks to “remember the reason for the
season,” then offer a quick prayer before the mayor threw the switch. Afterward, families
would line the sidewalk to watch the parade—nothing big or fancy, mostly an excuse
for business owners to throw Tootsie Rolls to the children and mark Santa’s arrival
at the general store. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the high school
band playing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

God bless, she’d missed celebrating the holidays here. Just thinking about what she’d
serve for Thanksgiving dinner put a spring in her step. She only wished Rachel and
her mom would be in town to share it with them. Nothing beat a full table, bustling
with laughter and conversation, except a friendly game of touch football on the front
lawn afterward. Too bad Daddy wasn’t ready for that yet.

A nasally voice from the street interrupted her reverie. “Hey there, Miss McMahon.”

She glanced over and waved to a young deputy who’d rolled down his cruiser window.
He crept along in time with her steps, slowing the line of cars behind him. She wondered
how he recognized her, because they’d never met.

“You doin’ okay?” he asked. “Need a hand, or a ride, or somethin’?”

“No, thanks. I’m good. Just taking a walk.”

“Okay.” He pointed to a black name badge she couldn’t read from the sidewalk. “I’m
Matt. Just holler if you need anything—anything at all.” Then he grinned and added,
“Be careful not to stub your toe,” before rolling up his window and resuming his patrol.

What?
He didn’t even know her. What a strange man. She made a mental note to ask Colt about
him, then jogged across the courthouse parking lot to the adjoining sheriff’s building.

After taking a moment to fluff her hair, she climbed the front steps and tugged open
the door, where she met Darla Jameson’s wide brown gaze from the other side of the
reception counter.

“Hiya, hon.” Darla pushed a pen behind her ear and waved her red-tipped fingers. She
wore a silky black top that fit her like a second skin…with an unlined bra underneath.
And apparently, it was quite cold in here. If that wasn’t bad enough, Darla’s heart-shaped
locket dangled an inch above a line of cleavage deep enough to hide an elephant. Did
she always dress like this on the job?

From out of nowhere, a surge of envy knocked Leah’s breath loose, and she had to mentally
slap herself before she could return the greeting. She and Darla had never run in
the same circles, but they weren’t enemies. Leah had no reason to feel jealous of
the busty blond bombshell…except for the fact that she worked directly under—

“Colt!” Darla shouted across the lobby. “Look who’s here!”

Yes, Colt. She wondered if Darla had worked
under
him too. She turned and found the good sheriff, shoulder-to-shoulder with two deputies,
decorating a battered artificial tree that had probably been around since the original
Christmas. Colt had slung a rope of lights around his neck, and when his eyes met
hers, his face glowed brighter than every bulb on the strand, his wide, answering
smile wrinkling the tawny skin above his cheekbones. And he wasn’t looking at Darla.
He made Leah feel like the only woman in the room. Heck, in the county.

“What a nice surprise,” he drawled, slow as honey and deeper than night.

Leah imagined herself melting into a puddle, right there on the checkerboard tile.
Her Ziploc baggie plunked to the floor, and for the second time, she struggled to
breathe. The war was over—her body had triumphed over her mind in a full-on blitz.
It had shown
her
who was boss. How did Colt do it?

While she stood there like a lawn jockey, he detangled himself from the lights and
joined her, then picked up her sandwich. He peered through the plastic and asked,
“Turkey?”

“Uh-huh,” she stammered. “And ham. Rachel’s mom made it.”

“Looks good.”

She could only nod.

“If you’re in the mood to share,” he said, “we could eat in my office. Or if you want,
we can go—”

From behind him, a deputy dropped a glass ornament and swore loudly.

“Hey!” Colt whipped off his Stetson and pointed it at the man. “Watch your mouth,
all you bastards. There’s a lady present.”