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Authors: Liz Talley

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BOOK: Vegas Two-Step
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J
ACK’S EYES MET HERS
. Then took her in. Tangled hair, ugly glasses, dirt on one cheek and orange droplets down the front of a shirt that had likely been pulled from a rag bag. Bare toes wiggled in healthy Saint Augustine grass.
Nellie had never looked cuter.

She shook her head. “Who said I was looking, Hunter Todd?”

“You gotta get married, Nellie.” Hunter Todd jumped down the steps with both feet and grinned up at Jack. “This guy ain’t got a wife neither.”

Jack laughed.

She didn’t.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked, pulling the gardening gloves from her hands.

“You ask that a lot,” he said.

“I have good reason,” she responded.

“Actually, Dawn needed me to pick up some shampoo from the store and I saw the kid alone on your porch.” Not the best explanation, but he couldn’t tell her that the confrontation at church had him worried. She’d looked like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs searching for a way out. Not good. But then again, it had been a better reaction than her sitting there ignoring him.

The kid hopped around like a tree frog while he and Nellie stared at each other. At one point Jack put a hand out to prevent the kid from toppling off the steps.

“Oh,” she said, rubbing her hands on her dirty shorts. “That’s Hunter Todd. He’s my neighbor.”

Well, hell. She wasn’t going to make it easy.

“Besides, I wanted to see your house. It’s nice by the way.”

She cocked her head and the ugly glasses slid down her nose. “You did.”

“Yes, I did.”

“So?” she said, propping her hands on her hips. It pulled the ratty T-shirt tight against her breasts and momentarily he forgot he was standing on her front porch in plain view of the nosy neighbors. He wanted to haul her against him and kiss her prickly demeanor away. Something crackled between them and he wondered if she thought the same. He clenched his hands and shoved them into his jean pockets.

“I—”

A horrific scream split the air.

“Hunter Todd!” Nellie cried, leaping forward to grab the child, who’d just crashed onto the porch and conked his head on a heavy rocking chair.

Jack reached him first, scooping the wailing boy into his arms.

“Hush, and let me see,” Jack said, dropping the kid’s legs and rooting through his unkempt hair looking for blood and carnage. He didn’t see anything but a growing lump.

Hunter Todd just shrieked louder.

“Okay,” Jack said, sinking onto the rocking chair and settling the child into his lap. “Come on, buddy. It’s just a little bump. Nellie will get some ice for it.”

Hunter Todd stopped wailing, but the tears didn’t cease. The child sniffled. “Okay.”

Jack looked up. Nellie stood staring at him as if he’d stripped naked and danced the hula.

“What?” Jack said, shifting Hunter Todd so he could sit up a bit.

She blinked. “Oh. Nothing.”

“The ice?”

Her body jerked. “Oh, of course. I’ll be right back.”

While Jack waited on Nellie, he rocked Hunter Todd, who still emitted a periodic whine or sniffle. Nellie emerged from the house with a bag of frozen peas and an embroidered hand towel. She wrapped the bag in the towel and pressed it against the child’s head.

“That’s cold,” Hunter Todd whined.

“It’s supposed to be,” Jack said, loosening his hand so he could take the bag from Nellie and hold it in place. His hand brushed hers and she pulled away as if it were a hot poker.

Nellie gave him a shaky smile and retreated to the porch rail.

Silence fell as mockingbirds called out from branches and the occasional car whirred around the town square. As Jack sat there in a rocking chair on Nellie’s front porch holding the child, it struck him that perhaps she hadn’t wanted him here in Oak Stand. He had driven the For Sale sign in his lawn back in Nevada and never even thought of the possibility that he might strike out.

Sometimes his own arrogance overwhelmed him.

So now he felt scared. Afraid he’d risked everything and pressured Nellie without considering her feelings.

Nellie looked back at him and Hunter Todd. “He’s asleep.”

Jack slid his eyes down to the child in his lap. Sure enough. He removed the bag of veggies and shifted the boy into a more comfortable position. “You want me to take him home?”

She nodded and took the mushy bag.

Then she did something unexpected. She bent and dropped a light kiss on Hunter Todd’s head. Then she looked right into Jack’s eyes and brushed his forehead with her lips. His heart literally fluttered. A poetic, girly reaction. But, hey, nothing had been the same since she’d eaten the last bite of those pancakes back at Earl’s place. And more importantly, it was just what he needed. Like summer rain on parched earth, her kiss gave him hope.

“But let me go explain to Maude. I doubt she’d take to a stranger showing up with her child in his arms.”

Jack stood, careful to not wake the boy. Blue stains ringed his mouth. Still, there was nothing more beautiful than a sleeping child. He followed Nellie through the flowery-looking bushes, noting how worn the path was. Hunter Todd was likely a regular visitor.

With a smile and question in her eyes, Maude Avery took Hunter Todd from him. He and Nellie walked the path back to her house in silence.

“I’ve got to be getting back,” he said. He didn’t want to go, but something told him he should. That old gut instinct.

“You’ve got dried snot on your shirt,” Nellie said, leaning back against the big cement planter flanking the front door steps.

He looked down at his orange shirt. Yep. Dried snot. “It’ll wash.”

Her eyes softened. Or was it the sun glinting off her glasses? “Thank you for helping with Hunter Todd. It was very…nice of you.”

He shrugged. Who did she think he was? An ogre who couldn’t deal with kids or emergencies or his out-of-control feelings? “Sure.”

He turned toward his truck, which he’d parked out on the street.

“Jack?”

He spun back toward her. “Yeah?”

“What do you think about my glasses? You didn’t say anything earlier.” Her voice sounded funny.

“I don’t think anything about them. They’re not the most attractive frames. They kind of hide your eyes, but they’re—”

“Not me?” she finished for him.

“They’re functional,” he said. He didn’t wait for her to say anything else. Just climbed into his truck and pulled away

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Thongs! Why the devil would anyone want to wear one of those things? Of course, I always was a bit bottom heavy.
—Grandmother Tucker after Twyla Peters bent down to pick up her car keys, revealing a bright turquoise strip of satin.
“H
EY
, M
R
. M
C
I
VY
.
Nice morning, isn’t it?” Nellie had to shout over the chatter of the goldfinches on her feeder.
“Sure is, but it’s gonna get hot.” Mr. McIvy lived next door to her in a little Craftsman bungalow. He and his wife grew prized roses, so he was up every morning spraying and clipping.

Nellie put Beau back in the house and trotted down the front steps. She fetched her oversize sunglasses from her bag and headed down the walk toward the library. She wore a short piqué skirt and a sleeveless boatneck blouse in soft grass-green. Her higher-than-normal Kate Spade sandals clacked a merry rhythm on the walk. She had painted her nails lilac and brushed an extra coat of mascara over her lashes. Shiny gloss on just her lower lip made her mouth look plump and kissable.

Just in case.

Monday was usually busy at the library, especially during the summer months. Would Jack drop by? The man seemed determined to invade her world, and she still wasn’t sure what to do about it. But after yesterday, something had changed. Something had broken loose inside her when he’d gathered Hunter Todd into his lap and rocked the child. It had made her wonder if she’d done what he accused her of back in Vegas. Had she committed the cardinal sin of librarians? Had she judged a book by its cover?

Maybe Jack
could
belong in Oak Stand. And maybe what they’d had in Vegas wasn’t pretend at all. Maybe he felt the same love she felt. The thought made her belly quiver.

Because he had seen her at her worst. Just the way the people in Oak Stand had seen her for the past few years. Plain ol’ Nellie. And the man hadn’t run for the city limits. In fact, she could’ve sworn he’d almost kissed her.

She sighed. No time to analyze it.

Nellie crested the hill and noticed a crowd gathered in front of the library. Rita and Cathy shook their heads and gestured wildly. Fred Lillie, the local paper’s photographer, snapped pictures. Almost everyone else, about seven total, stood shielding their eyes against the bright morning sun and looked up at the flagpole.

Nellie looked up.

Well, the flag wasn’t there. But something flapped in the faint morning breeze.

“Nellie! Can you believe someone would do something so juvenile?” Rita called out.

“What?” she asked, coming up on the group. Her sunglasses shielded her eyes, but she still could not make out the item causing such sensation.

“Boys! I swear!” Cathy declared. “Logan will be pulling these kinds of stunts before I can blink.”

Nellie headed closer to the flagpole where everyone stood peering up.

At her thong. Blowing in the Texas wind.

Dear God. That bastard. He had run her white lace thong with the cute ribbon ties up the library flagpole. She’d known Jack had her wispy thong; she’d left it in the cabana the day they went swimming and had dropped it when she’d fetched her clothes. He had even made funny jokes about how he’d found it floating in the pool and thought it was a jellyfish. He’d said he would return it to her the night they had the cookout. But she had stormed out, left it. Tried to forget about the white lace thong and all it signified.

Now here it flew—a blatant reminder of her night of sin.

Right in her face.

Hadn’t the man ever heard of sending flowers?

She stared at her thong. “Well, I guess it’s not exactly patriotic.”

Rita giggled. “Not unless it was red, white and blue.”

Fred just clicked with his camera. Of course, there was no way Max Settler would let him put any such photo in the
Oak Stand Gazette.

“Who do you think did it?” Miss Taylor asked in a near whisper. She lived next to the library and studied the comings and goings of the town as if it was a full-time job. “Is it aimed at you, Nellie?”

“Why would it be aimed at me?” Nellie hoped she didn’t look guilty.

“Well, you’ve gone and gotten…well, you know.”

“Hot as a firecracker!” Mr. Harp, the eighty-two-year-old retired mail carrier cackled. “Nellie’s looking good.”

“Well, what’s that supposed to mean?” Cathy propped her hands on her hips. “Does that mean Rita and I are chopped liver?”

Mr. Harp’s mustache twitched. “Well, I didn’t mean to offend.”

Nellie ignored Cathy and started lowering the thong. Everyone’s eyes followed its descent until she finally tugged it free. There was no note, but Jack didn’t need one to get his message across, did he?

Except she wasn’t really certain of the message. What did a guy mean when he strung your thong up a flagpole for everyone to see?

“What size is it?” Rita asked, peering down at the wisp of lace in her hand.

“What does that matter?” Cathy huffed. “You think it can’t be mine just because I’m still fat? I could have worn that before I had a baby.”

Rita rolled her eyes. “No. I thought I’d wear it tonight for Bill.”

Everyone laughed and finally started moving on. Nellie wanted to tuck the thong in her purse but was afraid doing so would show ownership. She really didn’t want Cathy or Rita knowing it belonged to her, so she just let it dangle at her side as she climbed the steps of the library.

Rita and Cathy tagged behind, concocting crazy scenarios about who the thong belonged to and who had strung it up the pole.

“Yeah, it could be aliens, but it’s probably just some high school boy who got laid for the first time and wanted all his friends to know about it.” Cathy laughed. Nellie glanced down at the scrap of material still dangling from her hand. If only it were as simple as aliens.

“Well, if those teenagers would just go to church,” Rita said. “I mean, there’s just too much premarital sex in this world. People don’t give a fig whether they’re married or not and don’t get me started on the teenagers. They’re like rabbits to hear Jolene tell it.” She slid behind the checkout desk and powered up the computer.

Nellie rolled her eyes. Rita’s sister-in-law was a counselor at Oak Stand High. Her tales could curl toes, according to Rita, who was sworn to secrecy and couldn’t reveal anything Jolene told her. Rita reveled in the secret knowledge and dropped hints like bread crumbs.

“What are you going to do with it?” asked Rita.

Nellie tried to deliver a nonchalant shrug. “Throw it out, I guess.”

“Oh,” said Rita.

“Why? Did you really want it?” She couldn’t imagine Rita wearing such a sexy piece of clothing. Her coworker was a nervous little bird of a woman whose idea of sexy involved a turtleneck.

“Of course not.” Rita’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “Gross. It belonged to someone else. Plus, I’m a Christian.”

Nellie laughed. “I’m pretty sure you can be a Christian and wear a thong. I don’t think there’s a commandment, ‘Thou shalt not wear a thong.’”

Rita frowned. Cathy smirked and disappeared into her office. Nellie followed suit, unlocking the door to her own office and placing the thong on her desk.

What now?

Was the next move hers?

Should she be the girl he’d met in Vegas? Bold, sassy and uninhibited? Put on the thong, slip on some stilettos and parade in front of Jack, daring him to take her? Sounded right for the girl she’d pretended to be in Vegas. But she wasn’t that girl. Not really.

Or should she just ignore his gesture?

No.

Jack wasn’t going away.

And it was time she stopped trying to wish her Vegas escapade away. The man would likely show up sometime today. She’d deal with him then.

But before she could face Jack, she had children to take care of. Nellie tucked a few strands of hair behind her ears and stood. She pressed the creases from her skirt and dug her lip gloss from her bag.

The children’s section of the Howard County Library never failed to thrill her. Formerly the mansion’s conservatory, the area contained a huge wall of amazing beveled windows that allowed sunshine to tumble inside. Huge prints inspired by A.A. Milne and Lewis Carroll hung along the honey-oak-paneled walls. Comfy, kid-friendly chairs dotted the Wedgwood-blue carpet, creating an elegant, magical gathering spot. Nellie always felt as if she were stepping into the world of Lemony Snicket or perhaps just falling down the rabbit hole.

“Miss Hughes!” shrieked Lucy Reeves, leaping from her mother’s lap as Nellie entered the children’s section. Lucy pirouetted. “Look at my piggy tails. Mommy did them special just like Pippi Longstocking.”

Nellie squatted and studied the four-year-old. Lucy never stayed still. “Wow. You look just like Pippi. If I didn’t know you were Lucy, I’d say you were Pippi!”

Lucy glowed.

“You wook piddy,” said Jefferson Hyde, the three-year-old with enviably long lashes and a perpetually runny nose.

“Thank you, Jefferson.” She smiled at him and then turned her attention to the other children waiting for story time. “Is everyone ready to hear a story?”

A chorus of yays rang out. They were always ready.

She herded all of the children towards the rug. Five minutes later after they’d shaken the wiggles out and sung the book song, she began reading
Skippyjon Jones.
The giggles and whispers never bothered her; most of the children listened with rapture at the tale of the kitten turned sword-swinging Chihuahua. After she finished the story, she passed out small bags of jelly beans. Since Skippy had saved the beans, the children might as well share in the bounty.

Nellie mingled with the parents and children, making recommendations for books the children might enjoy. Her neighbor Hunter Todd had insisted she show everyone the purpling lump on his forehead and little Mary Grace sounded out the word
cat
four times to Nellie’s delight. She loved all the children and made a huge fuss over them, but she couldn’t stop her eyes wandering to the entrance of the room, looking for Jack. Surely, after sending such a flagrant signal, he’d show up.

By four o’clock she had started growing annoyed. She had waited nearly all day. Where was he?

She’d looked up so often, seeking a pair of gorgeous blue eyes, that Cathy had finally asked, “What’s up with you? You expecting someone?”

“No,” said Nellie. “No one.”

But she lied.

“Well, you’re making me dizzy. Wanna shelve some of these books?”

She didn’t, but she took them anyway. She had plenty of work to do in her office, but didn’t want to be holed up back there. Just in case.

Romance books. Great. She sighed. Just what she needed—to be surrounded by illustrated covers of half-dressed beauties cradled by strapping earls and knights. She already felt keyed up. If he would just appear, she could confront him. Figure out what she should do.

But as five o’clock struck on the massive grandfather clock in the center of the library, he hadn’t come.

Cathy locked the front door and snapped her fingers. “Oh, Nellie. I almost forgot!”

“What?” Nellie said.

“I have something here for you….” She disappeared behind the main desk, rummaging around before finally pulling a brown paper sack from the depths of the shelves. “Here it is. That good-looking guy who bought the Henderson place came by and left it for you while you were reading to the children. Do you know him?”

She handed it to Nellie.

It was flat and very obviously a book.

Rita stood behind her. “Is it a donation to the library?”

Nellie didn’t want to open it in front of the two women. After the thong, what else would the man come up with?

“Open it,” Rita said, moving closer.

“Maybe I better save this for later.” Nellie dropped the bag to her side.

“Why? You think it’s something more perverted than the thong this morning?” Cathy asked, maneuvering the mouse on the computer in order to shut it down. Nellie frowned. It might very well be. Visions of the Kama Sutra danced in her head.

Rita pulled the bag from her fingers before she could grab it back. Which was really rude for a Bible study leader.

Rita tore open the bag. “A book on baseball?”

Nellie looked at the book in Rita’s hands.
My first Book of Baseball: The St. Louis Cardinals.
Her mind flashed back to the airport bar and the game he’d chosen over noticing her.

For some reason tears pricked her eyes.

Rita flipped open the book. “It’s for kids. Why would he give you a kids’ book on baseball?”

Cathy narrowed her eyes, noting the dampness in Nellie’s eyes. Her mom radar had already kicked in. “Wait. Who’s this guy to you, Nellie?”

“Did you meet him in Vegas?” Rita asked.

Nellie just stared at the book Rita held. He’d given her a book on the Cardinals. And it meant…. what? He was sorry about ignoring her in the airport bar? Or he wanted her to learn to love what he loved?

She swallowed and took the book from Rita. “Yes.”

She walked away from them. She really didn’t have anything else to say. They could think what they wanted.

Because she didn’t know what to think herself. At first she wondered if Jack had come to punish her. Showing up at the Dairy Barn, then her church, as if he meant to embarrass her, needle her into admitting what she’d done in Vegas. The panties up the flagpole seemed like a slap in the face. She might have thought his motives a bit spiteful if not for the incident with Hunter Todd, and now the book.

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