Sutton woke to harsh sunlight, a spinning room, and a mouth that felt stuffed with cotton bolls. She blinked up at the ceiling, willing her stomach to calm down. A banging and her sister’s voice calling her name came from the vicinity of the front door.
“I’m coming.” The words croaked out and she cleared her throat. She tossed off her covers and shuffled toward the door. Whiskey was the devil’s drink.
Sutton cracked the door open, squinting against the sun. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” Maggie stuck her foot in the opening and forced Sutton to back up a step to make room. “What’s up is that it’s 8:30 and—” Her sister sniffed. “You smell like smoke and look like you slept in your clothes. You tell me what’s up?”
Her sister looked ready to cast down a biblical judgment from on high. Sutton needed time to come up with an excuse. “Would you get some coffee brewing while I shower and change? Then, I’ll tell you everything.”
The smile she used to cover the lie felt weak, and she backed out of the room before Maggie could expose the mile-wide fault lines. Telling her sister everything wasn’t an option, but lying didn’t settle well either. A half-truth then. When had she become so adept at dodging the truth? The hot water soothed the throb in her head to a dull ache. Hot coffee and painkillers should do the rest.
Memories of the night surfaced. Not that she’d forgotten. She hadn’t been that drunk, just tipsy enough to throw herself at Wyatt and suggest a no-strings-attached fling. Did that qualify as courageous or stupid? She supposed it depended on what happened next.
She scrubbed her hair clean, but nothing could scrub away her embarrassment. It was well deserved. She’d called him doable, for goodness’ sake. Like sticking a hand under her bed and searching blindly, she reached for whatever else was hiding under the familiar feeling.
The one emotion she didn’t find was shame. Instead, an edge of excitement mixed with a thrumming arousal lingered like her hangover. Wyatt made her feel beautiful and sexy and want things. And what she wanted more than anything was him.
More of his laughing eyes and slow-build smile that made her insides play musical chairs. The way he opened doors and guided her with a hand on her back. His body, hard and hot and sexy, and his hands, big and rough and capable.
She rushed through her morning routine, pinning her damp hair into a twist and slipping on a sundress and sandals. Blessedly, her sister only side-eyed her as she poured a steaming cup of coffee and washed down two pain relievers with the first sip.
Maggie enjoyed organizing the pretty clothes, but wanted none of the responsibility of balancing the books or paying off loans or worrying about inventory at the shop. She was reliable, but secretive, oftentimes distracted, and protective about her free time. Although she was still young and pretty in a buttoned-up kind of way, she didn’t date.
That Sutton was aware of anyway. They had never been the sort of sisters who shared secrets. Especially secrets of the boy variety.
“I went out last night,” Sutton said.
Her Ms. Obvious statement was met with an eye roll. “With Wyatt Abbott, I assume?”
She couldn’t get a read on Maggie’s mood or attitude. Defensiveness snuck into Sutton’s voice. “He taught me to play pool over the river at the Rivershack Tavern. It was fun.”
“What about Andrew?”
“What about him? I’m moving on.”
“Rebounding, you mean.” Maggie chuffed and narrowed her eyes over the rim of her mug. “This breakup is temporary.”
“No it’s not.”
“A combination of cold feet and the fact you haven’t dated much?” The way Maggie said it made Sutton think she was repeating something she’d heard.
“Is that what Daddy said?”
“Andrew came by last night for a drink. He wants you back.”
“That’s rich. More like he wants to make nice with Daddy so he won’t get all his cases thrown out. As if Daddy would be so petty and unprofessional.” Sutton made a disgusted sound and drank more coffee before she said something she would regret.
Something on her sister’s face, part speculative and part angry gave her pause. Maggie had always been quiet around Andrew, and Sutton had suspected a wide streak of jealousy. Like poking at a tender spot, Sutton said, “Andrew is a jerk, you know.”
“I know.” The unexpected strength behind those two words, as if Maggie was ready to go to battle for her, not against her. Maggie set her coffee mug down on the table and hugged Sutton. “I’m happy you finally figured it out.”
In the Mize family, love—for their country, for God, for each other—was something that was understood and not normally demonstrated with hugs or words. Emotions were kept inside like a genie in a bottle. Which made her sister’s show of sympathy and support mean even more. Sutton tightened her hold around Maggie’s back and laid her forehead on her shoulder, tears springing to her eyes.
“I never trusted him.” Maggie’s voice vibrated between them.
Sutton startled back. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You seemed infatuated, and Mother and Daddy were happy.” Her shrug was knowing, and Sutton wondered what else her sister had seen and understood from her position on the sidelines.
“Have you heard anything else?”
“Like all the stuff about you and Wyatt running around? Which I didn’t completely buy … until this morning.”
Sutton swallowed, her mouth dry. “Has the talk been bad?”
Another shrug from Maggie, this time accompanied by a glance away. “Some people have said some not very nice stuff, but who cares?”
As much as Sutton tried not to care, she did. A little. But mostly she felt like someone who’d narrowly escaped a car accident. The minute she’d accepted Andrew’s proposal what had once only chafed had turned slowly suffocating. With Wyatt, she could breathe again, and the air was unexpectedly sweet.
“I’m sorry if I’ve made things difficult for everyone.”
Maggie waved her off. “Don’t worry about me. I tune it all out. How about you? Are you going to be okay?”
She didn’t know what Wyatt’s answer to her proposition would be, but his parting words had given her hope. Whatever happened at least she was taking chances and going after what she wanted for the first time in her life. “I’m going to be better than okay.”
Maggie nodded, her eyes singularly focused on Sutton. The experience unsettled her, and made Sutton realize the two of them co-existed all their years together, but hadn’t interacted on more than a superficial level. Until now.
“Now then, I heard another rumor. Did you sell Ms. Eckert one of your dresses?” Maggie asked.
Sutton bobbled her mug, dripping coffee on her skirt. “Where did you hear that?”
“She was telling all the ladies during the Wednesday night potluck at church about the fabulous dress you designed. Several asked if you had anything else on the racks, and I had no idea what to tell them.”
Maggie should play poker, because her expression was guarded and unreadable. Was she mad or hurt or both by the omission? “Wyatt talked me into putting one out to see what would happen, and then one thing led to another and Ms. Eckert ended up loving it.”
“I’ve been wondering if you’d ever find the gumption to display something. How much did you charge her?”
Sutton rattled off the exorbitant number that Wyatt had taken off a real designer’s price tag. Maggie’s jaw dropped. “Do you have anything else ready to sell?”
“Are you serious?”
“These women are willing to pay for a one-of-a-kind gown. Let’s see what you have.”
Sutton checked the clock. “We’re going to be late opening up.”
“I doubt there’s going to be an evening gown emergency at nine in morning in Cottonbloom.” Maggie’s laugh cracked like a slap against Sutton’s still aching head, but her sister’s reaction galvanized her courage and prodded her into action.
Together they sifted through the clothes Sutton had finished and picked out several pieces to display in the boutique, including two gowns. The slight dissonance that was the soundtrack of their relationship had righted itself into a harmony that was as pleasant as it was unexpected.
They opened the boutique by ten, and as she straightened the racks of lingerie in the back, her thoughts drifted to Wyatt and his crooked smile and teasing jokes. When she tucked the peach dress onto the sale rack, she thought about the way he’d charmed Ms. Eckert and Amy and pretty much everyone he crossed paths with, including her. She conjured images of him bent over her teaching her to play pool, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he knew exactly how badly she wanted to cross a line and kiss him.
He made her want the naughty things that she’d spent a lifetime suppressing because she’d been taught achieving the label of “good girl” was valued. But by whom? Certainly not Andrew or Bree.
Wyatt was helping her understand it was natural and more than okay to explore her desires. She wanted him to be her guide into a brave new world. The burning question was whether or not he wanted the job.
The bell over the door tinkled, and a shot of adrenaline popped her off the stool. Dread replaced excitement.
Andrew stepped through the racks toward her. Maggie’s gaze followed his progress then shot to meet hers, but a customer had her cornered. Sutton gave a slight shake of her head. Backup would not be required, but it was nice to know her sister looked ready to throw down.
“Are you holding my car hostage?” The smile on Andrew’s face was in direct contrast to the hard edge of—was that disgust?—in his voice. The combination grew a sour feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with her hangover.
“You’re welcome to pick it up from the garage at your leisure.” She put the glass display case between them. “In fact, I’m sure Wyatt would appreciate you getting it out of their parking lot.”
“As a matter of fact, I went by this morning with Father and there was no sign of my car. No one was around but Ford, who told me he had no idea where it was.”
“Maybe someone stole it. Honestly, I couldn’t care less.” She was getting good at sprinkling artificial sweetener on her smile.
“You’ll care when I sue those small-town hick mechanics for everything they own.” From anyone else, the threat would be as hollow as the Grand Canyon. “Unless…” he drew the word out.
Manipulation was his game, then. More dangerous than spite or revenge and less easily evaded. “Spit it out. I have work to do.”
“The gala.”
“What about it?”
“I’m the emcee and you are on the planning committee. It makes sense we would attend together.” The logic he infused in his illogical conclusion was part of the reason he was a successful trial attorney.
Nerves had kicked in, dampening her palms and leaving imprints on the glass top. She clasped her hands behind her back. Show no weakness.
“I already have a date. Take Bree.” The surprise and flash of irritation on his face had her performing an internal fist pump. “By the way, I don’t appreciate you trying to manipulate me.”
“I wasn’t.” He chuffed a laugh, but it seemed directed at himself. “Okay, maybe I was. A hazard of the job, I suppose. The truth is I want to mend things with you.”
“I don’t—”
“I know.” He held up his hands as if surrendering. “But we were friends once, weren’t we?”
Had they been? She’d known him through school and church and family connections for as long as she could remember. But they hadn’t been friends—not really. Wyatt knew more of her dreams and desires in two short weeks than Andrew had guessed over a lifetime.
“Actually, I don’t think we were.”
His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.
The bell on the front door chimed in the silence as if signaling the end of round one. Outlined by the morning sun, Wyatt stood for a moment in the doorway. In contrast to Andrew’s orderly suited appearance, he was chaos incarnate in his ripped jeans and half-tucked red T-shirt, his hair too long and stubble shading his jaw.
Women on both sides of the river would have stampeded over her in a heartbeat to be the recipient of the smile he aimed at her. It was startling to compare the openness of Wyatt’s smile to the calculation in Andrew’s.
“Hey, babe,” he said softly, his eyes darting to Andrew. He was only playing his part, her head chided, yet the endearment lit a dozen sparklers in her chest.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.”
“Brought you some coffee.” He held up a to-go cup with a Glenda’s Diner logo across the front. “Thought you might be feeling the effects of last night.”
Andrew pointedly ignored Wyatt. “This can’t seriously be a thing.”
Wyatt made a funny face over Andrew’s shoulder which made her answer emerge on a spate of giggles. “I’m not a liar like you.” The words wiped the smile off her face.
She was a liar. Did that make her as bad as Andrew?
Wyatt ambled over, slipped his arm around her shoulders, and pressed a kiss on her temple. “Morning, Tarwater.”
“Where’s my car, Abbott?”
“Jackson and I dropped it off safe and sound at your place this morning. If you ever decide to restore it, I’d be happy to pass along the estimate we put together.”
Andrew stepped closer and poked a finger in Wyatt’s chest. He tensed against her, but a smile remained on his face, and he didn’t move to retaliate or threaten Andrew. “You can stick that estimate where the sun don’t shine. I’ll never bring another car to your shop, and I’ll spread the word so none of my friends do either.”
He transferred his cold fury to her. “Don’t come crying to me when this swamp rat dumps you back in the mud, darlin’.”
Comebacks weren’t her strong suit, and before she could formulate one that wasn’t a variation of “get the hell out,” Andrew did an about-face and strode out the door.
Maggie tiptoed closer with clothes hung over her arm and pointed to the dressing room. Her customer was hot on her heels taking in her and Wyatt with the wide-eyed stare of a rubbernecker. More fuel for the fire.
She grabbed Wyatt’s hand and led him through the swinging door to the storeroom and office in the back of the shop. The carpet dead-ended into gray cement floor. Only in the back did the high-end feel of the shop fade into the utilitarian. She shut the door of her office. “I am so—”
“Stop.” He took her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Stop apologizing. I wouldn’t have inserted myself into your business if I wasn’t willing to take a little heat.”
“As I recall, I’m the one who begged you to jump in the fire with me. And his threats…” She rubbed her forehead, not sure if the pounding going on behind her temples was a return of her hangover or a result of the confrontation.
“I doubt he can hurt the garage.”
The fact he’d used a qualifier didn’t set well with her. Doubts meant uncertainty and uncertainty meant her lies might hurt innocent people after all. “What can I do?”
“Tell me if all that last night was you being drunk or if you really meant it?”
The question sent her careening around a hairpin curve. Why had her lips gone numb? Was that post-whiskey related? “Which part?”
“The part about how awesome my ass is.” A teasing smile that could only be described as naughty crinkled his eyes.
Could a person actually die from acute embarrassment? Her heart tripped over itself on its way to a heart attack. “True. All true. I wish I could blame it on the alcohol.”
His smile lost a little of its brightness. “Why is that?”
“Because it would make being around you easier.” She might as well open the junk drawer of her feelings. “I’m attracted to you. Like, ‘it’s all I think about’ attracted to you.”
Her words seemed to cast a spell on him. He was frozen with a half-smile on his face.
“Like I said, I’m not ready to have any sort of relationship, but I can’t help the way I feel. That doesn’t mean we—you—have to do anything about it. In fact, wipe your memories clean of all this doable talk. We can go out a couple more times before the gala. Or not or—”
“Hush it, woman.” His hands were still on her shoulders and he squeezed hard enough to get her to look up at him. What she saw both scared and excited her. The heat level in his eyes registered at inferno. “What if I don’t want to forget?”
Instead of enduring the uncertainty in silence as she might have done once, she asked, “What does that mean exactly?”
“It means I’m not good at relationships either, so if you want to mess around, I can oblige you.” He didn’t say it in an Al Green Let’s Get It On voice and the difference in his melancholy tone and the sentiment rattled her.
“How could I say no to such a romantic offer?” She chuffed and took a step back.
He slid one hand from her shoulder to her nape, gently massaging. “Bad choice of words. This is what I know. I ache every hour of the day for you.” He tangled his fingers in her hair and held fast, the tug sending go signals to her body. “I wanted you that very first night when we kissed on your porch, but I didn’t want to take advantage of you. We both have to go into this with wide-open eyes. That way no one gets hurt.”
He backed her up against her desk, and she was grateful both for the support and the fact there was nowhere to retreat. She was in uncharted territory. If the response of her body was any indicator, she liked the way he talked to her. A lot. In fact, he’d broken the gauge she used to measure sexy.
There was so much she wanted to say, but the same old fears and constraints tied her tongue. Is that the way she wanted to live the rest of her life? She wanted to jump but didn’t want to see the fall, and closed her eyes. “I want you too, Wyatt. So bad.”
“Tell me.” His lips tickled her ear and sent shivers racing down her neck and tightening her nipples. He wedged a knee between hers, and she wrapped her leg high on his thigh as if they were performing the steps of a practiced dance.
“I want you to touch me—” A vibration against her thigh made her gasp. Shouldn’t that sort of sensation be taking place about six inches to the right? It vibrated again.
Wyatt pulled out his phone and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, a guttural sound of frustration coming from his throat. “Jackson is probably outside honking.”
If the fire alarm sounded, she wasn’t sure if her legs would have supported her out the building. “You’d better go then.”
He took a step back and pointed at her. “Tonight. I’ll be here at closing time.”
He backed out of her office, and after raking his clothes-stripping gaze up and down her body, disappeared. The bell over the door chimed faintly, and she stumbled around to the other side of her desk and collapsed in the chair.
Tonight. The culmination of days and nights of fantasies was going to come to a head tonight. Come to a head. Laughter, one part euphoric, three parts nerves, stuttered out at her slip. She reviewed everything he’d said. No one, certainly not Andrew, had ever said such things to her.
Something niggled though, and it was only that afternoon that it registered. He’d said he wasn’t good at relationships, not that he didn’t want one.