The Liar (40 page)

He drew her up again to help her, then took her hands in his to still them when she yanked at his jeans.

“No rush.”

Her breath in rags, desire a single mad ache, she looked at him—and saw that same need, that same aching.

“Maybe I’m in more of a hurry than you.”

“Let’s just take a minute.” He kept her hands trapped in his, took her mouth again. “I love you.”

“Oh, God, Griff.”

“I need to say it, need you to hear it. While I’ve got you naked on the porch. I love you. I don’t have to rush it.”

“I can’t get a handle on what I feel, on what you do inside me even when you’re not there. It’s so much.” She pressed her face into his shoulder. “It’s all so much.”

“That works for now.” He eased her back so he could bring up her hands, kiss them before he let them go. “It all works.”

He shifted, lowering to the blanket again so she lay over him. He threaded his fingers through her hair, loving the mass of it, the wild curls and color.

She didn’t have his patience, but she tried to find some, guiding him now through the kiss, letting her hands stroke and stir, feeling his heart kick under her lips.

When at last there was nothing between them, she rose over him, took him in.

Filled. Surrounded. Joined.

She pressed his hands to her heart so he could feel it drumming while she set the rhythm.

Slow, she fought to keep it all slow, and found the staggering pleasure of that easy pace. Rolls of it flowing in like a sea, building layer by layer like clouds.

With the air thick as honey, the sunlight streaming, she rode him over that sea, higher into those clouds. She clung, clung, clung to that breathless peak. Then let herself be swept away.

She could hear the birds again, little trills and whistles through the circling woods. She could even hear the faintest rustle of the faintest breeze through the trees, like quiet breath, now that her heart wasn’t hammering in her ears.

And she knew the pure, sated joy of lying limp on the porch, a thoroughly satisfied woman, beside the man she in turn had thoroughly satisfied.

“I wonder what the UPS guy would’ve thought if he’d come driving up to the house.”

Shelby managed a sigh. “Are you expecting a delivery?”

“You never know. I didn’t even think about it. Who could think?”

“It’s nice not to think. It seems I spend most every hour of my day having to do just that. I don’t think when I’m singing, and I don’t have to think when you start kissing me. I guess it’s like a song.”

“I was thinking.”

“Mmmm.”

“I was thinking you looked like some sort of mountain goddess.”

She choked out a laugh. “Goddess. Do go on.”

“All that crazy red hair, the moon-white skin. So slim and strong, and eyes like blue shadows.”

“Well, that is like a song.” Moved, and a little nervous with it, she rolled over again, propped on his chest. “You’ve got some poetry, Griffin.”

“That’s about it.”

“It’s more than enough.” She traced a finger down his cheek. “You could be a god, all these hollows here.” And down the other cheek. “The sun-streaked hair, all those fine, fine muscles.”

“We’re a set.”

She laughed, lowered her forehead to his. “How deep is that stream of yours these days, Griff?”

“I guess about to mid-thigh—your thigh.”

“That’ll do it. Let’s go splash in the stream.”

He opened one eye, one cat-green eye. “You want to splash in the stream?”

“With you, I do. We can finish working up an appetite, and have another glass of that lemonade while we put dinner together.”

Before he could think of a reason against, she got up, tugged on his hand.

“We’re still naked,” he pointed out.

“No point getting our clothes wet, is there? Let the dog out,” she suggested, then dashed away.

A goddess, he thought. Or what was that thing . . . a sprite. But he didn’t imagine sprites had such long legs. He let the dog out as Shelby ran over his lawn, then, thinking of the more practical, ducked into the house, grabbed a couple of towels.

He wasn’t a prude—and would have been insulted to be termed one. But it felt pretty damn weird to rush over his own front yard wearing nothing but skin.

Before he got through the flanking trees, he heard the splash, the laugh, and the joyful yip of the dog.

She made rainbows, he thought, the way she tossed water up so the drops caught the dappled light and shone into quick color. The dog lapped, barked, swam some in the deeper water, then shook himself in the shallows.

Griff hung the towels over a branch.

“It’s so wonderfully cool. You could drop a line in here, maybe catch something. You follow the stream down a ways where it widens, deepens, you could catch your supper most any evening.”

“I’ve never fished.”

She straightened, naked and obviously stunned. “In your life?”

“I grew up in the ’burbs, Red, spent a lot of time with urban activities.”

“We have to fix that the very first chance we get. Fishing’s good for you. It’s relaxing, and you’re a patient man so it should suit you. What kind of urban activities?”

“Me?” He stepped into the water, and she was right, it was cool. “Sports mostly. Basketball in the winter, baseball in the summer. I never went out for football. I had a pretty skinny build.”

“I like baseball.” She sat down in the water, let it bubble over her. “I believe my daddy might have traded me for another model otherwise. What position did you play?”

“Did some pitching, covered second. Liked playing second better, I guess.”

“How come you’re not playing on the Raiders softball team? The Ridge has a pretty good team.”

“I might try it next year. This year, free time’s for the house. Aren’t you worried about rocks under your ass, or some fish swimming up . . . where I just was?”

She laughed, lay back enough to dip her hair in the water. “You really are citified yet. I know a couple of good swimming holes. We ought to try one some night.”

“Maybe I’ll put in a pond. I thought about a swimming pool, but that’s a lot of maintenance, plus, it doesn’t fit here. But a pond would.”

“You could do that?”

“Maybe. Something to think about down the road.”

“I love to swim.” Relaxed, even a little dreamy, she trailed her fingers back and forth to ripple the water. “I started teaching Callie before she could walk. And we had a pool in the condo in Atlanta, so we could swim all year-round. When she’s a little older, I’ll take her rafting with one of Clay’s groups. She’s fearless, and she’d like that. But I want another year or so on her first.”

She cocked her head. “Have you tried that?”

“The white water? Yeah. It’s a rush. I figured on going again when my parents come down in August.”

Her trailing fingers stilled. “Oh, they’re coming for a visit?”

“Working vacation—they’ll give me about a week on the place in early August. I’ve got some work I want to get done before they do. And I want them to meet you.”

That had nerves dancing in her stomach.

“I want them to see for themselves I’m not exaggerating.”

“You’ve told them about me?”

He gave her a long look. “What do you think?”

“Well.” She sat up again. Those nerves were doing an enthusiastic clog dance now. “Um. Well, my family has a big backyard party early in August. If the timing’s right, and you think your parents would like to come, they’d be welcome.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Are you cold?”

“No.” More than nerves, she thought, and glanced—suddenly uneasy—over her shoulder. “A goose walked over my grave, I guess. But I’m glad you brought the towels.” She rose, water sluicing off her skin, reached for one. “I didn’t think about drying off.”

He tipped her face up. “Do you have a problem meeting my parents?”

“No. It makes me a little nervous, but that’s natural, isn’t it? It’s . . .” She hunched, shivered. “Something between my shoulder blades, and now I’ve got the willies for no reason I can name.”

She wrapped the towel around herself, felt marginally better. So she leaned into him. “I’m nervous about meeting your parents, but I’m glad I will. I think it’s nice they’d come down here to help you with the house, spend time with you. And I think they must be good people to have made someone like you.”

“You’ll like them.”

“I bet I will. Let’s go in, all right? I can’t settle this itch between my shoulder blades.”

He took the other towel, then her hand.

Field glasses followed them through the trees, across the lawn.

S
helby let her mother talk her into a facial. She should’ve known better as being next to naked on the reclining chair under a blanket was kin to being in a closed box when dealing with Ada Mae.

“It’s nice Griffin’s people are coming down this summer. I told you how we met them last fall.” Having done the cleansing, the toning, the gentle exfoliation, Ada Mae used her truly skilled fingers to apply a thick layer of energizing mask.

“They couldn’t have been nicer. I took over a basket of tomatoes from my garden, and we sat down and had some sweet tea on the front porch where his mama’d been working on some of the garden. Why, she’d hacked and cut and dug away at that scrub and tangle like a woman on a mission from God. Poison ivy in there, too. I showed her how you pull up some jewel weed, use the juice of it when you get poison ivy on you. Being from Baltimore, she didn’t know about that.

“We had a good chat.”

“You took tomatoes over so you’d get invited to sit on the porch.”

“Neighborly is, neighborly does. I’m saying Natalie—that’s his mama’s name—is a good woman. And his daddy—that’s Brennan—he’s a fine man, fine-looking, too. Griff favors him to the life, I swear. You know what else?”

“What else, Mama?”

“They’re just as fond of Matt, just like he was one of their own, and Emma Kate right along, too. That tells me something about a person, that they can embrace somebody into the family, blood or not. This mask’s just going to set awhile. I’m going to do your hands and feet while it does.”

Shelby might have said not to trouble, but no one in the world gave a foot rub like Ada Mae Pomeroy.

“You need a fresh pedicure, baby girl. And don’t say you don’t have time. Everybody who works here has to show off the products and services—you know how your granny feels about that. You need some pretty summer toes, that’s what. We got that Wistful Wisteria. It’s a good match for your eyes.”

“All right, Mama.” She’d see if Maybeline or Lorilee could squeeze her in for a quick one.

“Your skin’s looking just beautiful, and so are you. It does my heart a world of good.”

“Home cooking, steady work and seeing my own baby girl thrive.”

“And regular sex.”

Shelby had to laugh. “I guess I can’t say that’s not a factor.”

“I know you still have worries, but they’re going to pass. That Jimmy Harlow person, he’s thousands of miles away doing God knows what to who. But I say if the FBI hasn’t found him, he’s taken himself off to somewhere foreign. Gone to France.”

Eyes closed, her feet already in bliss, Shelby smiled. “France?”

“First place popped into my head. But he’s gone.”

She slipped booties onto Shelby’s rubbed, creamed and very happy feet. And started on her hands.

“Just like that no-good Arlo Kattery’s gone, maybe for five years in jail, I hear. And Melody Bunker, too. Word I get is when she gets out of that fancy rehab place, she might be moving up to Knoxville, where Miz Florence’s brother lives.”

“I don’t care where she goes or what she does. I swear, all that trouble from her seems years ago. It’s hard to believe it was only weeks. I wonder at someone like her, Mama, who thinks so much of herself she can’t see she doesn’t leave much of a mark on anyone’s life.”

“She tried leaving one on yours.”

“Well, she didn’t.”

“You’re doing something with your life, Shelby, and we’re proud of you.”

“I know you are. You show me every day.”

“Tell me what you want, baby. I know you’ve got something going on in your head. I can see it.”

Relaxed, drifting, Shelby sighed. “I’ve started taking some classes online.”

“I knew it was something! What classes?”

“On interior decorating. It’s just a couple little courses, but I’m doing pretty well, and I like it. I thought I’d take another when it’s done and I can afford it, and a business course, too. Get the experience and education.”

“You’ve got a talent for it. You sign up for those other courses, Shelby Anne. Your daddy and I will pay for them.”

“I’m paying, Mama.”

“You listen to me now. We worked hard, your daddy and I, to send your brothers to college. They had to work, too, but we bore the brunt because that’s what parents do. We do what we can. We’d have seen you through college just the same. You took another path for a while. But if you’re looking to get more education, we’re paying. You’d do it for Callie, and don’t tell me different.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you because I knew this is what you’d say.”

“You ask your daddy what he thinks, and you’ll get the same answer you’re getting from me. You’re not sitting around looking for us to pay your way through life. You’re working, you’re tending your own child, and striving to . . . to hone a God-given talent. If I can’t give my own daughter a hand up, well, what kind of mother would I be?”

Opening her eyes, Shelby saw what she’d imagined in her head. Her tall, occasionally fierce mother, standing over her, face set. “I love you so much, Mama.”

“You’d better. You can pay me back helping me freshen up the living room. Now that we’ve done so much new upstairs, it’s looking tired to me.”

“You’ll get around Daddy on that telling him I need the experience.”

“And you’ll get it, while I’ll get a fresh look in that room.”

She slipped mittens on Shelby’s hands, went around, began a slow, glorious neck rub. “Now that I’ve got you where I want you, I’m going to say when Griff’s people come visiting, you should go over there one night, cook them dinner. Show them what a good cook you are.”

“Mama—”

“I know most women don’t like another woman in their kitchen.” In her cheerful way, Ada Mae rolled right over objections. “But she’ll be visiting, and working while she is. I know I’d appreciate somebody setting a good meal in front of me after a long workday. Don’t I appreciate when you do it for me?”

“You do, but—”

“You ought to make that pasta salad like you made for your daddy and me the other night, with those fancy chicken breasts and good fresh peas.”

“Mama, that’s weeks away yet.”

“Time moves whether we’re watching the clock or not.”

“I know it, and that’s why I’ve got Emma Kate’s engagement party this week when it seems like two minutes ago Matt put the ring on her finger. I’ve got so much to do yet, to think about doing.”

“I wish you’d let me treat you to a new formal for it.”

They’d been this round, Shelby thought, and she was grateful, but she’d rather spend the money on design classes and continuing her education. “I love that you’d want to, but I just don’t have call for that kind of dress now, so it’d be wasted on just one wearing. And I’m going to be running around all night, making sure everything goes just as it’s supposed to—and keeping Miz Bitsy in line, more or less.”

“Bless her heart, she needs someone to.”

“And that’s me this Saturday night. It’ll be easier for me doing all that if I’m not wearing a long dress.” She’d had enough long, fancy dresses over the last few years, and selling them had put some black ink in her ledger. “You think I ought to wear my hair up or down?” she asked, knowing that would carve a new avenue for her mother to travel.

“Oh! Mama could give you a wonderful updo, one that makes the most of your curls instead of hiding them.”

Since Ada Mae was off and running, Shelby just closed her eyes and enjoyed the rest of her facial.

She did have a lot to do, and a short time to get it done. Exchanging e-mails, calls, texts with the event manager at the hotel ate up considerable as the manager was grateful to deal with her rather than the bride-to-be’s “enthusiastic and creative mother.”

Shelby read that subtext clearly.

She had what she hoped would be the final conversation with the florist before the actual event setup, and yet another with Bitsy.

But she took a moment—with her new Winsome Wisteria toes—to sit on the little back patio with her grandmother at the end of the workday.

“You’re glowing, girl.”

Shelby took a sip of sweet tea. “Mama’s a genius.”

“She’s got a talent, but she had fine material to work with. You’re looking happy these days, and there’s no better beauty treatment. It’s hard to bring a glow out without the happy.”

“I am happy. Callie’s just thriving, we’ve got a new baby in the family to spoil and my best friend’s getting married. Working here’s brought back to me how much I love the Ridge. Then there’s the big bonus of my Friday Nights at the bar and grill.”

She took another sip. “And last but far from least, I’ve got myself a boyfriend who makes me glow even when he’s not around. I got awful lucky, Granny. Some second chances come too late.”

“You’re working for yours.”

“I won’t be stopping that anytime soon. Now that I’ve got my glow on, and my nails all pretty, I wanted to see if you’d have time Saturday to do up my hair before the party.”

Viola eyed Shelby over the rim of her glass. “And you’re going to let me have my way with it?”

“I’d never question the expert.”

“Good. I’ve got ideas there. Now tell me what’s really on your mind.”

Granny always had read her like a book. “The party’s the main focus right now. Do you know I just talked Miz Bitsy—and it took some doing—out of the last-minute hiring of a small string orchestra to play in the ballroom? God knows what she’s going to cook up that we have to toss out again for the wedding when it comes.”

“She does love her girl, but bless her heart, she’s always had fancy ideas that don’t fit Emma Kate any more than Bitsy’s size-five shoes would. There’s another focus in there, Shelby. I can see it.”

“I really do want your opinion and advice. I just . . . I’m so grateful to be able to work here, Granny, not just because I needed a job, but because it helped me come back. Helped me feel part of things here again. I want you to know how grateful I am.”

“If you’ve got another job lined up, Shelby, I’m not going to be upset about it. I never figured this situation here was permanent for you. Running this place wouldn’t fit you any more than Bitsy’s shoes, either. What are you looking at?”

“It’s not yet. Probably not for six months. Maybe longer—probably longer,” she amended. “I’m taking a couples classes online, on decorating.”

“You’ve got a knack for that like Ada Mae does for skin. I used to think you’d make your fame and fortune from your voice—then use your talent for decorating on the big houses you’d have.”

“I’m not willing to do all the work a music career needs. The nights, the touring, the . . . well, the focus again. That’s just not for me anymore, for who I am now. I don’t get a second chance there—I threw that away, and I’m not looking to find it again.”

“Life’s just a continual stream of choices. You’re making another choice now.”

“I think I could build something for me and Callie, Granny.”

Lips curved, eyes sharp, Viola nodded. “You’re looking forward toward a career. Not a job, a vocation.”

“I am. I’m doing really well with these classes, and I’m going to add in others—one on business management, too.”

As she nodded again, Viola’s smile spread. “You’ve got that in the blood, but education adds to it.”

“I’m not going to rush it. I helped Gilly with her bedroom, and Emma Kate with some ideas for her apartment, just to see if I could work with somebody’s space, and their needs. Now Mama wants me to help her freshen up her living room. I can’t say how Daddy’s going to feel about that.”

Viola returned Shelby’s grin. “Men don’t like change as a rule, but they get used to it.”

Revved up now—no one knew starting a business from the ground up like Viola MacNee Donahue—Shelby edged forward in her chair.

“I’ve got such ideas for over at Griff’s. Sometimes I bite my tongue because it’s his place, and he’s so smart and clever about it already.”

“Anyone smart and clever values another eye, another perspective on things.”

“Well, sometimes I don’t bite my tongue in time, and he hasn’t gotten put out by it. Anyway, I’m going to take these classes, get the credentials, then I’m going to try to start up a small business. I’ll need to keep working to support myself and Callie, and get this damn debt paid in full. Starting small’s the idea, like you did—and Grandpa, too. Building steady. Do you think I’ve got the right direction?”

“Does it make you happy?” Viola held up a finger, then tapped it on the table. “Don’t go discounting being happy in your work, Shelby. It’s hard enough going to a job every day and dealing with a boss if you’re not happy with your work. But when it’s your own, everything’s on you. If it doesn’t make you happy, you’re better off drawing that paycheck and leaving the worry to somebody else.”

“This is just why I wanted to talk to you before I took too many more steps. It does make me happy, Granny. It made me so happy just doing those little bits for Gilly and Emma Kate, seeing how pleased they were, knowing I could see what they’d like and how they’d like it. And I felt so silly happy when Griff used the paint color I picked for the front room, and how he bought this painted chest I saw over at The Artful Ridge—it’s sure nice being able to go in there now—and just mentioned how it would look good at the foot of his bed. And it does.”