His Southern Temptation (17 page)

Lucky unlocked the doors, adjusting his dark suit jacket as he crossed the front of the truck to meet Taylor on the sidewalk. “I do, too. He’s been so weird lately about you, and I don’t want to piss him off any more. If I had to guess, he’s not going to like it.”

“I don’t see why not. You’re one of his best friends. He
knows
you.”

“And that’s the problem.” Lucky touched her back where her waist curved in to the swell of her sexy bottom, remembering the tattoo inked into her tan skin underneath her dress. She halted, looking up at him with a quizzical expression on her face, and it took all of his restraint to keep from placing a kiss on her soft mouth. “He knows everything about me, including how many women I’ve had in my life and that none of them stuck.”

“Oh.” Her voice was just above a whisper, but the hint of hurt was unmistakable.

“Until now.”

“Oh.” She was a little perkier, the blush on her cheeks betraying how pleased she was with the news.

“Stop fishing for compliments and get your sweet ass inside.” He laughed and guided her through the door with a quick tap on her bottom. Taylor swatted his hand away and they entered the door laughing at their own private joke.

The aroma of the Southern Comfort—fresh-brewed coffee, fried chicken, and Aunt Dolly’s famous peanut butter pie—wrapped around him and dragged him all the way inside. He went willingly, having spent a good portion of his feckless youth in this restaurant waiting tables, hanging out with the Boys, and chasing girls. This was home.

People waved from booths and tables, greeting him with smiles and curious looks for Taylor as they passed by. They headed to an area currently occupied by about half the zip code’s population, most of them related to him in some way or another. Southerners knew their people, and once you were claimed by either blood or marriage it was almost impossible to shake them.

The little lady of the hour, his five-year-old second cousin Maddie, was standing with her mom and her brand new baby brother, Oliver. This brunch was a command appearance from her grandparents, his Aunt Dolly and Uncle John Cantrell. While he wasn’t looking forward to an hour of little kids pounding out show tunes, the brunch hosted at the Comfort was worth the price of admission.

Taylor was quickly absorbed into the crowd by his mom, and from the squeals and hugs that accompanied their conversation, he guessed she’d spilled the beans about staying in Elliott. He watched her across the room as she kissed Oliver, fist-bumped with Maddie, and hugged Michaela and Jack.

He didn’t even try to hide the smile on his face, and he let his mind imagine the way this scene would be played out over and over again in the future. Taylor with him, marking life’s ups and downs and making their own memories with their own children and grandchildren. Always a risk-taker, he’d bet money on how this was going to turn out. They’d win the whole damn jackpot.

A few moments later, Jack and Beck sidled up next to him as he poured himself a cup of coffee and topped off their own steaming mugs. He took a sip of the perfect brew and sought out Taylor’s gaze across the room, remembering the night before. The farm, Taylor—it was all more than he deserved and everything he wanted.

“Holy crap.
Look
at that face.” Beck laughed as he lifted his mug to his lips. “I guess you and Taylor worked out your ‘sleep together/not sleep together’ dilemma.”

“Of course they did.” Jack broke in with his own chuckle. “After working on the farm all day, he isn’t rushing to Elliott House just to get all hot and sweaty packing boxes.”

Lucky was in too good of a mood to get pissed over their mocking this morning. He even resisted the urge to flip them the bird. Clearly, it was love.

“Kayla loves it when I work around the house and get all sweaty. If I’d known, I would have been a construction worker or something,” Jack offered.

“Whoa. Oversharing,” Beck said.

Lucky choked on his coffee, barely stopping from spitting his mouthful across the floor. “I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk so much.”

“Bite me,” Jack said.

“How
are
things going with Taylor?” Beck asked.

Before he could answer, Teague walked through the door, scanning the diner until he saw the three of them. He raised a hand in a wave and headed over, weaving through tables and greeting other patrons as he made his way across the room. Teague was so much like his father, confident and outgoing with everyone. Lucky had no doubt he would be successful when he entered politics in the future.

“Not a word to Teague about me and Taylor. I need to talk to him in private,” he said to Beck and Jack.

“Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late.” Teague offered handshakes all around, nodding yes when Beck offered coffee. “Olivia had a late start getting back to DC.”

“Did she enjoy the party last night?” Beck asked.

Teague shook his head, taking his first sip of the hot beverage. “I don’t think the country is her thing.”

“That’s too bad. She seemed like a nice woman,” Jack said.

Lucky blinked at him in amazement. Olivia had been rude, distant, and snobbish. He’d disliked her within minutes of meeting her. She must be dynamite in bed because he couldn’t imagine why Teague put up with her attitude.

“She is. But her father is a lobbyist and her mother is
old
money.” He emphasized the word and Lucky could only take it to mean that her money was older than Elliott money—and that was saying something. “She’s a city girl. I probably won’t see her again until I head back to DC.”

“Well, we’re at least keeping one Elliott in the old town.” Jack continued when Teague gave him a puzzled look. “Taylor is staying and going into business with Aunt Sissy.”

Teague swiveled to look at Lucky, his mouth hanging slack with shock.
Oh buddy, wait until you hear the rest of the news.
Lucky’s gut tightened at the idea of telling Teague he was in love with Taylor. What he thought shouldn’t matter, they were both adults, but Teague’s disapproval could cause a rift in the Elliott family and their lifelong friendship. With the pressure Teague was under right now, it was anyone’s guess how he would react.

“
What
is my sister doing?”

“She’s going into partnership with my mom and opening a day spa.” Teague still looked a little dazed, so Lucky added, “She isn’t going to Hawaii.”

“When the hell did that happen?” Not waiting for an answer, Teague turned, searching the crowd for Taylor. Spotting her, he placed his coffee cup on the counter and started to make his way across the room, almost colliding with Sheriff Burke, who nodded to them all. When his greeting reached Lucky, the cocky grin on his face sent a shiver of apprehension crawling over his skin.

Now was not the time for Sheriff Burke to unveil his newly discovered sense of humor.

“Lucky. Sorry about my wake-up call this morning.”

No. No. Fuck no.
Lucky desperately tried to signal for him to shut up, but the older man was too busy setting up the punch line to notice.

“I know it’s Landon property, but you and Ms. Elliott should be careful about where you decide to make love. Bodean Taggert is still mad at you and there are all kinds of hunters a—”

“What?” Teague asked. He turned back to face him, his red face testifying to his inability to breathe.

“Teague—” Lucky instinctively raised his hands. Teague was going to hit him, he could see it in his eyes, and who would blame him? This wasn’t a great way to find out your baby sister was having sex with your best friend.

“Did you sleep with Taylor?” It must have been meant as a rhetorical question because Teague didn’t even take a breath before plowing on. “Are you fucking my sister?”

His voice, normally moderate and polished, was loud and harsh. Alerted to the drama unfolding before them, the crowd in the diner ceased all conversation, glued to the Elliot version of shitty reality TV.

Lucky tried again, desperate to find the right words to get Teague to calm down and let him explain. Just beyond their little circle, he saw Taylor approaching, her face a mask of confusion and concern. He held up a hand, giving the signal for “all stop,” but she ignored him, clearly intent on being part of this drama.

“Yes, but you’ve got to let me—”

Teague cut him off with a snarl and a slash of his fist that came dangerously close to Lucky’s face.

“Explain? Are you going to try to
explain
sleeping with my baby sister? She’s off-limits! I let you stay at the house and you can’t keep your dick in your pants for a week?”

Lucky flinched. He was rattled by the confrontation coming so soon and in this place. His poker face slipped and he revealed more than he ever intended.

“How long?” Teague asked.

The heat in Teague’s eyes cooled, reflecting his progression from hothead to the icy rage of someone who would not forgive easily.
Fuck.

“How long?”

Lucky glanced at Taylor, eyes wide and hand shaking where it covered her mouth. He answered without taking his eyes off her face. “Years.”

“You son of a bitch!” Teague spat out.

Lucky didn’t duck from the punch he knew was coming, and the full impact sent him reeling back into the lunch counter. Pain blossomed in his jaw and back, both injuries shooting sparks of pain through his system and blurring his vision. He didn’t see the second hit coming, but the resulting agony in his stomach made him gag and cough.

Lucky shook his head, the buzzing in his ears dimming the shouts from the sheriff, Beck, Jack, and Taylor. He braced for another punch, but it never came. Grasping the edge of the counter, he managed to stay on his feet and see Jack and Sheriff Burke dragging a struggling, cussing Teague out the door and onto the sidewalk.

Taylor appeared at his side, tears hanging on the edge of her lashes. She grabbed something from the counter and began dabbing at his lip all the while mumbling “I’m sorry” under her breath. He lifted his hand, cupping her face and forcing her to look at him.

“It’s not your fault.”

He was interrupted from saying anything more by a woman stepping into his line of sight just over Taylor’s right shoulder. Shocked, obviously suffering from hallucinations, he grunted out a sound of astonishment. Taylor followed his stare, her back stiffening with recognition and surprise.

“Mother?” Taylor croaked.

“Holy shit. Could this day get any worse?” Lucky groaned.

“Mary-Taylor, can you explain why your brother is being held by the sheriff on the sidewalk like a common criminal?”

“Umm.” Taylor faltered, looking back at Lucky for help.

He had nothing.

This was a fucking disaster, and he wasn’t up to explaining anything to the woman who was now killing him in a million different ways with her eyes. From her bouffant styled helmet hairdo to the soles of her ugly and overpriced shoes, Marian Elliott radiated revulsion at his audacity to even breathe the same air as her daughter.

His attention was torn from the very non-Rockwell family scene playing out right in front of his eyes by Beck bursting through the door of the Comfort.

“Lucky! Your truck’s on fire!” he shouted.

Moving as fast as he could with an aching jaw and bruised ribs, he hit the sidewalk just in time to see the deputy drag Bodean Taggert and his gasoline can away from the place where his brand-new pickup truck was burning like a bonfire at the Landon lake house.

The howling of the approaching fire trucks and the smell of burning leather and plastic rolled down Main Street, bringing even more bystanders to the scene. Teague glared from where Sheriff Burke had him pinned against the squad car, while the local fuzz looked miserable. Lucky’s parents and all the guests of the brunch stood around either dazed or excited by the recent turn of events. Mrs. Elliott was like a statue as she watched the proceedings through the large plate-glass windows of the Southern Comfort.

And Taylor. She stood beside him, her gaze moving from her brother, to the burning car, to her mother. Gobsmacked, her eyes were wide, complexion flushed from the combination of her emotions and the heat from the fire. He took her hand and took note of the disaster his life had become in the span of a cup of coffee:

Best friend ready to kill him? Check.

Future mother-in-law who hates him? Check.

Asshole setting his truck on fire? Check.

Girlfriend ready to run for the nearest airport? Check.

His life had become a damn country song.

Chapter Twenty-One

She really needed a drink. A big drink.

Taylor kicked off her heels and stumbled into the empty kitchen of Elliott House in search of liquid courage. Flinging her purse on the countertop, she opened the pantry and stood on tiptoe to reach the top shelf where her father kept the really good stuff. Finding the bottle of whiskey, she fished a glass out of the cabinet and poured enough of it to obliterate the headache brewing at the base of her skull. Taking a big gulp, she shivered as it burned before settling as a warm glow in her stomach.

Measured footsteps rang out against the hardwood floors in the hallway and announced the progress of her mother as she inspected the house. Taylor watched the doorway, bracing herself for the second round of today’s adventures in Crazytown. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since she’d woken up in Lucky’s arms, happy and cautiously hopeful about the future. She contemplated giving him a call, but he was busy at the police station giving a statement and pressing charges against Bodean Taggert for burning up his truck.

Taylor took another drink as her mother entered the kitchen. Her mother was thinner, her high cheekbones and fine features accented by a light tan and highlights in her hair. She didn’t look great, the lines around her eyes and mouth more pronounced, but Marian Elliott was surviving the divorce.

“Is that your father’s best?” her mother asked as she slid onto the stool next to Taylor, crossing her legs at the ankles like the proper lady she was.

“Yes.”

“Pour me one too.”

“What?” Her mother never drank anything stronger than a glass of wine or a mimosa. “Mother, are you sure?”