“Guilty as charged,” Delaney said as lightly as she could, willing her cheeks not to flush. She’d give anything to know what Beau had said about her. It was insane to think he’d mentioned her at all. “Beau spoke of me?”
After a telling half-second pause, his mother shook her head and waved a dismissive hand as though it were nothing. It was back-pedaling if Delaney had ever seen it. “Oh, well, just to confess who had helped pick out the gorgeous monogrammed Alabama-shaped cutting board he got me for my birthday.” She smiled and tossed Delaney the water bottle before adding, “I’ve had enough ugly scarves and random trinkets from my boys to last a lifetime, so I knew something was up.”
And she remembered Delaney’s name based solely on that? Somehow Delaney doubted she was getting the whole truth, but she wasn’t about to press the point. Whatever Beau had said, he must not have told Georgia everything since she was still smiling, though curiosity was bright in her eyes.
“Ah. I’m glad you liked the board.”
There was an awkward moment of silence, which Delaney quickly filled by cracking open the water and taking a long drink.
Georgia leaned against the desk and crossed her arms, still watching Delaney speculatively. “So what brings you to Honeysuckle Hill?”
“A falling apart car, unfortunately. I’m on my way to Florida.” After her reaction to Delaney’s name, she didn’t want Beau’s mother thinking she purposely made the trip to see him.
“Florida,” Georgia repeated, pursing her lips. “Headed on vacation?”
“New job.” Delaney took another drink. The plastic bottle crinkled loudly in the quiet room.
Her eyebrows rose. “New job? I thought you owned your own business. Beau told me the cutting board was from your shop.”
Ouch. “I did. But we had to close a few weeks ago. Onward and upward, as my grandmother used to say.” Or at least onward. It was a long way to upward right about now.
“Well, that is a shame. But I’m sure you’ll be a success at whatever you do next. You can’t keep a Southern woman down, after all.”
“Let’s hope not,” Delaney said wryly. If she couldn’t get her car fixed ASAP, she didn’t know what she was going to do.
Pushing away from the desk, Georgia smiled wide and headed toward the door to the shop. “Well, I’m only dropping a few things off and making sure Beau is set. I managed to get roped into the beautification committee for the Alabama Pride Contest—which is a huge deal with the judging only a week away—and they’ll have my head on a platter if I’m late getting back.”
As the older woman slipped out the door, it was all Delaney could do to keep her butt glued to the couch. What, exactly, was Georgia going to say to Beau? And more importantly, what had Beau said to his mother that had earned that initial look of surprise? Sighing deeply, she sat back and settled in to wait. First things first: she’d see what he had to say about the car. Then—maybe—she’d figure out a way to ask.
***
Beau smelled the soft vanilla scent of Delaney’s favorite lotion before she ever said a word. He was bent under the hood of the twenty-year-old Dodge, elbow deep in grease and contorting himself like a circus act in his effort to retrieve a bolt that he’d managed to drop, but the moment the sweet scent hit his nose, he closed his eyes and inhaled.
There were both good memories and bad memories tied up with that scent. More than memories, though, were the feelings it evoked. It was impossible not to think of the years he’d wanted her, but either one or the other of them had been in a relationship. Like ships in the night, for the entire three years they’d known each other.
His mind flashed to the last time they’d been together, when the scent of vanilla was close enough to almost taste. He blew out a harsh breath. He could clearly recall the words she’d left him with that night. Lying, jealous, petty, and asshole were the four that stood out the most. And then there was that text.
“How’s it going?” Her voice was light and friendly, as though she hadn’t been cooling her heels for hours while he wrestled with this stubborn beast.
He straightened to face her, wishing she’d worn some other scent today. “Hot and slow. Normally an excellent combination, but not so much in this situation.”
She cracked a half smile as she crossed her arms over her middle. “It’s been a long day, for sure. I’m just thanking my lucky stars that y’all have Wi-Fi. Though you should have a password.”
He snorted. “You’ve lived in the ‘burbs too long. I think we’re safe from any raccoons or deer trying to tap into our network.” He glanced toward the clock on the back wall and cursed. How in the hell had four hours gone by already? “Damn, Delaney, I didn’t realize it was so late. Give me a minute to fish out this last bolt and I’ll be done with the truck.”
“Can I help?”
He eyed her in her pristine white top and lemon yellow shorts. “Not unless you want to permanently redecorate those clothes.”
And that would be a shame. He liked the way the billowy blouse hinted at her curves, settling lightly in the valley between her breasts. She’d never been one for tight clothing, which always kept him guessing as to what, exactly, that body of hers would look like. As far as he could tell? Perfection.
She looked down. “Good point. I’d be screwed, since there is no way I’m opening that trunk until I reach Florida. It’ll be like those spring-loaded worms in a coffee can when I finally do, as much junk as I crammed in there.”
“Par for the course. I’ve yet to meet a woman who knew how to pack light for a trip.”
Readjusting his footing, he reached deeper into the engine compartment. This time his fingers grazed the bolt, knocking it from its perch and sending it tinking to the ground. When he pulled back, Delaney was bent over, one hand pressed against the wheel well for balance while the other reached beneath the tire.
When she straightened, she held out the bolt like a prize, cupped safely in her upturned palm. “Voila! My one useful deed for the day.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, gingerly plucking it from her hand. He was careful not to touch her.
He purposefully looked away, forcing his attention back to the dropped bolt. The last thing he needed was to get caught in the Delaney trap all over again. He turned away and secured the bolt with a few quick turns of his socket wrench. When he straightened, she was leaning against the curved fenders of the ’53 Chevy truck he’d been restoring most nights since he’d returned. It was nearly done, and the gleaming red paint job was the perfect backdrop to her tanned legs.
“And by the way,” she said, one brow raised, “I’m not vacationing. I’m moving. Does my packed car still make me a cliché?”
His gaze jerked up to meet her eyes. Holy crap. “You’re leaving Birmingham?”
She was born and raised in the Magic City, with roots so deep they reached all the way back to the Civil War. Hell, she’d even been on the cover of Birmingham Women last year when her shop expanded. “I’d have thought they’d have to come after you with pitchforks to get you to leave that place.”
“Yeah, well, guess you don’t know me as well as you thought you did. All done?”
It was an obvious subject change, but he allowed it. It was best not to dwell on her life choices. “Yep. I’m getting ready to move this car out and yours into the bay. Keys in it?”
“I think so, but let me check.”
She pushed away from the truck and started for her car, but came up short when he called her name. He shouldn’t ask, he really shouldn’t, but...
“What happened with Carlton?” Things must have really hit the fan if she was moving all the way to Florida.
Delaney’s chin tipped up just enough for him to know she wasn’t inclined to discuss it. “What happened with your law career?”
Touché. He slammed the hood shut and shrugged. “Brendan got shipped overseas. Someone had to keep the shop running so he’d have a business to come back to.” His mother depended on the shop as much as his brother did, so there was never any question that he would let the shop—his father’s legacy, and his brother’s future—fall to ruin.
The blunt truth had the desired effect. Her hand went to her chest as she sucked in a swift breath. “Sweet Jesus. I had no idea. When did he leave?”
He’d mentioned his little brother a few times over the years to her. Mainly about what a pain in the ass he’d been, which was still true. With only ten months between them, they’d had their whole lives to annoy each other. Beau missed him like hell, the jackass.
“About five months ago. He had the sudden realization that he was missing MREs and drill sergeants in his life. Sand too, apparently.” As much as his chest ached with worry for his brother when he thought of what he was doing overseas, he was damn proud. While Brendan was risking life and limb for their country, the least Beau could do was keep the shop going.
“Wow. Well, thank him for his service for me the next time you talk to him. Is this his second deployment?”
“The third, actually. The first since our father died, though.”
She nodded and started to turn, then bit her bottom lip and glanced back at him. The sun had slipped down toward the treetops, casting golden light across her already golden skin. “Carlton turned out not to be the man I thought he was. I think he discovered the same about me.”
“Is that your way of saying I was right?”
Their friendship had dissolved in a martini-hazed argument last Christmas when he had had the gall to tell her that her beloved Carlton was cheating on her. Not only had she not believed him, she’d accused him of being jealous of the bastard and trying to sabotage their relationship.
His accusations were true . . . but really, so were hers, in a way.
Her jaw tightened. “It’s my way of saying things didn’t work out between us.”
“Which is yet another way of saying I was right?”
If looks could kill, he’d be a goner. Her scowl was almost comically exaggerated. “If you’re going gloat, you can kiss my ass.”
After the way she’d slammed the door on their relationship that night, he wasn’t going to feel bad for being vindicated. He crossed his arms and grinned. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”
She made a little growling sound, flipped him the bird, and marched resolutely toward the car.
“You do realize you could have saved yourself a couple of months of hassle if you’d listened to me that night, right?”
“Bite me, Beau,” she said in a singsong voice as she wrenched open the door and plopped onto a driver’s seat that had to be hot enough to melt steel.
He gave a grim little chuckle before getting into the truck and cranking the engine. He had been right, and there was definite satisfaction in knowing she knew he was right, but that didn’t make what he was right about any less crappy for her. Putting the truck in reverse, he let out a short puff of air. Maybe, just maybe, he’d cut her a bit of slack—starting with getting her car fixed ASAP.