Till I Kissed You (16 page)

He tossed the fringed, flowered throw pillow aside and looked anywhere but at her. “Not exactly.”

“What's wrong?”

He winced and cast a glance over the top of his glasses. “Thought you deserved fair warning.”

“Of what?” Her lips had gone numb as if she'd pressed them against ice for too long.

“Sawyer put together an impromptu block party on the other side for tonight.”

“He wouldn't.”

“He did.” Nash was solemn. She believed him. It wasn't his nature to stir up trouble or drama.

Even though she and Sawyer had both sort of agreed the sex has been a mistake, they'd also pinky-promised. Betrayal burned away the loneliness. This is why she would never trust a man again. Ever.

“How'd you find out?”

Nash sent her another look, this time with more amusement. “Tally, of course.”

Nash had succumbed to the dark side along with Monroe, becoming involved with a Fournette of Cottonbloom, Louisiana. Regan had been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.

“If it's any consolation, I don't think it's a dig at you.” He added.

She snorted.

“It has something to do with a deal they're trying to close. Cade decided she needed to be treated to Louisiana hospitality.”

“She?”

“Some muckety-muck from a big boat company on the East Coast.”

Had Sawyer been wining and dining this boat woman the night before? It sure hadn't looked strictly business. She hadn't missed the woman's foot grazing up Sawyer's leg. Focus. She had to focus on the problem at hand, which did not include who Sawyer might or might not be doing—besides herself.

“Does Tally know you're here warning the enemy?” Regan wasn't sure how far she could trust Nash and Monroe anymore.

“As a matter of fact, yes. She feels a little bad.”

Regan studied him, surprised. He returned her probing gaze. Tally disliked her. Intensely, if years of cutting glares were any indication. Even before she and Sawyer broke up, Tally had regarded Regan with the same distrust Regan's mother aimed toward Sawyer. And afterward, she might as well have been caught torturing puppies, given the level of virulence Tally had held toward her.

“Tally hates me.”

“She doesn't.”

“She used to.”

Nash broke their study of each other as he walked around the pillow display, trailing his finger along the different fabrics. “You were always nice to me in school. You and Monroe weren't like some of the others. I don't know if I ever thanked you for not treating me like a freak.”

Monroe had been the one to convince Regan to take the Louisiana boy under their wings. At the time, Monroe's motives had been murky. Now Regan understood; Nash had been a stand-in for Cade. If Monroe couldn't help Cade, then she'd done her best to protect a different Louisiana boy. And because Regan had Monroe's back, she had Nash's back too.

Anyway, with her wavy hair, smattering of freckles, and wild notions, she'd often felt like an outcast among Cottonbloom's homogenous, perfectly coiffed society girls. Even Monroe couldn't betray her genes. She could have been the poster child for Southern womanhood, a blonde haired, blue-eyed beauty.

But, Regan had learned to cover it all with a learned, practiced smile and a blustering bravado. The only times she'd been truly herself were around Monroe and Sawyer.

She joined Nash at the bin of pillows. Both of them kept their gazes on the tumble of patterns. “Thanks for letting me copy your calculus homework.” She hip-bumped him. “Freak.”

He barked a laugh. “Is there something I can do?”

“I don't suppose you want to put those fighting skills to use and go beat up Sawyer for me?”

“That I can't do.”

“Figured.” She gave a half-shrug and pasted on a smile. “Too late to do anything about it anyway. I'll do my thing, and Sawyer will do his. I guess we'll have an idea who has the upper hand for the competition.”

Nash was halfway out the door. “I'll bet turnout on both sides will be great.”

She chucked her chin in his direction and forced a smile. As soon as he was out of sight, she closed the shop early and pulled the shades.

The tentative moments of harmony between her and Sawyer had been derailed by last night's encounter and blown to bits by the underhanded way he was trying to ruin her first block party. A wave of heat coursed through her body. Soon enough, she would be too busy to think, but for a moment, she wallowed in her hurt feelings and cursed Sawyer.

*   *   *

Sawyer rubbed his temples. This spur-of-the-moment party was a monumentally poor idea, but Cade had offered it up before Sawyer had a chance to do more than open his mouth to protest. Terry Lowe seemed flattered and excited they were putting together a party for her. The negotiations had gone well, and Cade wanted to send the scanned, signed contracts to Richard that night.

Cade slapped him on the back, emphasizing the throb in his head. “Why so glum? This is another opportunity to stick it to Regan Lovell.”

Sawyer guffawed. The irony of Cade's choice of words was lost on everyone but Sawyer. Thank God. Dreams of sticking it to Regan—over and over—had made for a restless night, leaving him slow-witted and groggy all day.

“Why a block party? Why not take her to Rufus's if she's after local flavor.”

“Look, people like Ms. Lowe expect to be entertained. They want to be impressed. We might not have the finest restaurants or the attractions of a big city, but what we have in spades is charm. What we can offer is a unique experience. Champagne parties at art museums are the norm for women like her. But, a down-home, bluegrass, slice of gooey Southern hospitality? She'll be talking about this for the next year.”

Sawyer tilted his head back and stared at the white-pocked ceiling tiles. “Are you saying we're going to have to trot out the local flavor every time some Yankee comes down looking to make a deal?”

“Nah. Only the big dogs. You saw the number of zeroes on that deal, right? Let's celebrate.” Cade walked out of the break room.

No matter how many zeroes on the deal, Sawyer couldn't celebrate. He had pinky-promised Regan not to interfere with her first attempt at a block party. He'd seen her cute little fliers advertising the string quartet and the ice cream social. It sounded sophisticated and sweet, just like Regan.

Cade's head popped around the doorjamb. “You got the beer truck lined up, right?”

Heaven help him. “I did.”

“We're going to steal every man and woman over the age of twenty-one to our side.” Cade fist-pumped and disappeared.

Whatever self-respect he had left after walking out on her the night before drained into the concrete under his boots. Cade was right. They would steal a good portion of Regan's crowd. Beer would be a strong draw on a hot August night. He felt like a worm. No, he felt like the dirt worms pooped out.

There hadn't been much to do except make a few calls. Everyone knew the drill. The beer truck was new, and Wayne Berry had some concerns about public intoxication and drunk driving, but once Sawyer had mentioned the portion of sales that would be allocated to the police department, the sheriff had decided the force could handle it.

Sawyer got to the riverfront as his uncle and the rest of the bluegrass band were tuning their instruments.

Terry Lowe was standing with Monroe and Cade, a beer in hand and a smile on her face. “Why Sawyer, this is just the cutest. And it looks like both sides of the river will be hopping.”

Sawyer had avoided even looking across the bridge, but now he did. Regan had decorated the pavilion in red and blue bunting and set up chairs along the grass. The faint strains of a cello carried on the slight breeze.

“They'll be ice cream over the bridge. Not something to miss,” Sawyer said slowly.

The toe of Cade's boot made contact with his ankle. Cade's green gaze lasered into him. “We have beer.”

“True.” Sawyer transferred his attention to Terry, giving her a wide smile. “The church ladies usually sell pecan pies, but they didn't have enough notice. I heard that Cottonbloom Bakery will be selling pie and cake by the slice over the river, and the high school is selling lemonade.”

“We have beer.” Cade repeated forcefully.

Sawyer returned Cade's frown with a grin, backing up and holding his arms out. “If you folks will excuse me, as Cottonbloom Parish commissioner, I have duties to attend to.”

He mingled with the crowd, pointing out the corn hole games Regan had set up for the kids to families and the lemonade stand to people he knew were teetotalers. By the time his uncle Del fired up the bluegrass music, there was a steady stream of people crossing the bridge in both directions. As more single, legal-aged adults made their way to the Louisiana side, the families and older folks found their way to the Mississippi side.

After an hour and with the band taking a break, Cade found Sawyer standing at the edge of the river drinking beer from a plastic cup.

“I know what you're doing.”

Sawyer startled, but stayed silent.

“You've been talking people into crossing over. Are you actually feeling guilty?”

He was. Extremely guilty. Not only had he not called or texted her today—even though he'd picked his phone up a dozen times with the intention—he'd demolished the tentative partnership they'd formed.

At least Cade hadn't guessed Regan still had a hold on him. He couldn't deny it any longer. What-ifs and might-have-beens had reared in his conscience more and more often since the beginning of summer.

The urge to dredge up the past was strong. He wanted to explain himself, clean the slate. Maybe they were distanced enough that she would finally listen. Would his behavior last night compounded with today's fiasco make any future impossible?

A future. Was that what he wanted? A future with her? The more he was around her, a hard truth wrapped itself around his heart. He missed her. He had been missing her the past decade. The resentment and hatred that had filled the space had seeped away over the summer, leaving an ache he was just now identifying.

“What we did was pretty low,” Sawyer said finally. “She's been planning this for weeks.”

“She deserves it for trying to steal your Labor Day thunder. And for everything else.”

“The magazine insisted we hold them the same weekend. She wants to help her side as much as I want to help mine. Can't fault her for that.” Sawyer killed his beer and rubbed his nape. “Our breakup wasn't entirely her fault, you know.”

“Sure seemed like it at the time.” Cade crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze on the river. “Her mama talked her into breaking up with you.”

“True. And I was pissed.” The pain of hearing her tell him they should take a break from each other, see what else was out there before committing themselves forever still had power over him. He crumpled the cup in his fist. “That night a bunch of guys from my frat took me out. I drank too much. Way too much. Blacked out.”

“Whoa. Real responsible.” Cade did not look amused. He'd been shoved from adolescence to manhood in a single, terrible night.

“It gets better. Or worse. Regan showed up that morning to make up, I think. All I remember is coming to with her standing over my bed. Only I wasn't alone. My friends had decided what would cheer me up was another girl.”

Cade ran a hand over his jaw and winced. “Some friends you had.”

“I was still drunk with a strange naked girl in my bed and Regan looking like she wanted to disembowel both of us. I couldn't even assure her nothing had happened, because I couldn't remember a damn thing.”

“Poor Regan.” Cade looked back over the river. For the first time, sympathy laced his words when referring to her.

“She ran off. I followed her, but like I said, I was still drunk from the night before. No way could I drive.”

“At least you weren't as dumb as your buddies. Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Sleep with that girl?”

“Turns out I was too drunk to get it up. Which only adds to the humiliation.”

“I assume you told Regan that.”

“Tried to tell her a hundred times. She cut me off. Cut me out of her life, her heart. I would have gotten a signed affidavit from that girl if I thought Regan would have believed me.”

“So you two broke up over a misunderstanding?”

“If it were only that simple. Everything was against us from the beginning. Her parents hated me, you thought she was using me.” When Cade tried to stutter out some words, Sawyer held up a hand. “I get you were trying to protect me. Like you always did. No one understood what we had together. But I betrayed her trust, and once that was gone, we couldn't survive all the rest.”

“Technically, you were on a break.”

Sawyer's laugh was humorless. “That excuse has failed through the ages. I didn't even attempt it.”

Cade sighed and ruffled his hair. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe now you're grown-ups and on equal footing, you could try again. You obviously still have the hots for her.”

Hearing the crazy notion put into words by his brother shot accelerant through his body. “You think? I—”

“Holy. Shit.” Cade swiveled to him, his green eyes wide. “You hooked up with Regan last night.”

“Do not tell Monroe.” Sawyer poked his brother in the chest. Cade held his hands up and attempted to look innocent, but Sawyer had the feeling he and Regan would be the hot topic during their pillow talk.

“Wow, so you
really
screwed her over with this little shindig tonight, huh?”

“
I
did? This was all your idea, you chicken-livered dickweed.” Sawyer shoved his brother's shoulder, but Cade only burst into laughter.

“I swear if I had realized or if you had told me last night … Listen, go on over and apologize. Throw me under the bus. I deserve it.”