Till I Kissed You (35 page)

He chuckled, slipped an arm around her shoulders, and drove toward her house, dodging the numerous braches in the streets. “What about the festival? Can we pull it off?”

“A reporter from Jackson came down, and I assured her the festival was on, so we'd better be able to do it. The way everyone pulled together was really wonderful. No matter what happens, Cottonbloom will be better off.”

“Agreed.” He heaved a sigh and shook her shoulders. “Your mama is waiting on your doorstep.”

She straightened and checked her appearance in the rearview mirror. “Lord help us.”

He pulled in beside her old work truck and turned the engine off. “How do you want to play this?”

She stopped fussing with her hair and turned toward him. “How about we go with the truth?”

He nodded, helped her out of the truck, and grabbed his duffle from the back.

“Hello, Mother.” Regan exchanged a stiff hug with her mother.

“Why didn't you call us? We've been worried sick.”

“Chief Thomason let me know you were safe. He told you I was dealing with the situation downtown, didn't he?”

“Well, yes.” She glanced over Regan's shoulder as Sawyer joined them on the front porch. “I expected a little more sympathy. My trellis was blown over and several tomato plants will need to be rerooted.”

Regan reached behind her, and he knitted their fingers together. “Sawyer lost his house today, Mother. Several people in Country Aire lost their trailers. Their homes. A tree fell on the Quilting Bee and the hardware store. The pizza place's roof was torn off. Now if you'll excuse us, we're exhausted.”

“Kind of you to offer Mr. Fournette a place to stay for the night.” Mrs. Lovell stared him down.

Before he could answer, Regan squeezed his hand and said, “He's moving in, Mother. I love him and he loves me and we're going to live together. So you probably want to knock before you barge in from now on.” She unlocked the door and pulled him in after her. Her declaration grew his heart three sizes and the look of shocked confusion on her mama's face brought an unchristian smile to his.

“I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other around the neighborhood, Mrs. Lovell,” Sawyer managed to say before Regan shut the door in her mother's face.

She dropped his hand, disarmed the security system, and smiled over her shoulder. “That was inexcusably rude, and I'll have to apologize tomorrow, but dang, it felt awesome.”

“I'll admit, I enjoyed it more than I should have.” He followed her into her bedroom. “How about we get cleaned up?”

Her bathroom had been updated with amazing tile work and a huge shower with dual heads. They kissed in the middle of the warm water, the feeling decadent and something he could get used to quick.

The soft touches and kisses took on a frantic edge. How close had they come to losing each other? He spun her around, her back to his front. As if they were performing a dance they knew by heart, she propped her hands on the wall and arched her back. He entered her with an insincere gentleness.

Her throaty, desperate moan drove him to drop any pretense. He took her fast and hard. An affirmation they were alive and together. They dried each other off in the steamy bathroom, both of them unable to stop touching the other. He pulled on underwear, and she pulled on a tank top and panties.

“Let's get in bed.” She pulled him backward, holding both his hands.

His gaze trailed down her body. The cuts along her legs stood in stark relief against her pale skin. “You need some ointment on all your cuts. You have some?”

“In the medicine cabinet.”

He retrieved the tube while she de-pillowed the bed and lay down. Trailing his hand up her calf, he dabbed on antiseptic as he went. Her legs were a mess of cuts and scratches, but they would heal. If he hadn't seen her car and run inside looking for her, what could have happened? The possibilities made him lightheaded.

“You didn't tell your mama I'm moving in just to get a rise out of her, did you?'

“Of course not. We've wasted enough time, don't you think?” She wrapped a hand a few inches under his stitches.

“If I'm moving in, there's one thing that has to change.”

Her hand tightened. The gash on his arm throbbed. “What?”

“I can't handle living with all these pillows. I'm pretty sure they're spawning.”

A heartbeat of silence followed. Then, her laughter peeled. She pulled him up the bed to lie beside her. “I'll compromise on that, but you have to do something for me too.”

He propped himself on his elbow, suddenly tense. “What's that?”

“You have to regrow that sexy beard. I never got to experience it and I haven't been able to stop thinking about what it would feel like in certain … places.”

He tickled her, and she squirmed against him, giggling. “What kind of places?”

“
All
the places.”

It was comforting to know he'd been driving her as mad as she'd been driving him over the summer. He worked them under the covers and pulled her close. “I think I can accommodate you. Give me a couple of weeks.”

More wanted to spill out of him, but the realization there would be a tomorrow and a next day and a next week to share with her settled a patience in his heart. He had the rest of his life to share everything with her.

The next days were sure to be as exhausting and stressful as this day had been. Still they whispered words of love and laughter and remembrance until sleep stole them away, safe in each other's arms.

*   *   *

The third and last day of the festival was winding down. The turnout had been better than either Regan or he had expected. The tornado had brought them news coverage and the melding of the festivals had turned into the feel-good story of the week.

They had even made it into nationally syndicated AP news. Sawyer grabbed a seat next to one of the
Heart of Dixie
reporters. His high-end camera was on the table next to one of Rufus's pork barbeque plates. The crayfish po'boys and jambalaya had sold out at lunch.

“Did you have a good weekend, Kyle?” Sawyer and the man had hit it off immediately and had already made fishing plans for the fall.

“I'll have to say for a first-time festival, y'all did good. Real good.” He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “My only complaint is the ten pounds I've put on in three days. Dadgum, but you people know how to cook.”

“That's the best part of any festival, isn't it?”

“True that. I enjoyed the fight last night too. Can't say that I've ever seen anything quite like that.”

Sawyer grinned. He couldn't take a bit of credit for it. Tally had outdone herself. Between Monroe's self-defense exhibition, the kickboxing demonstration, and the MMA-style fight, they had drawn huge crowds. The night finished with homemade pies from the Ladies Church Auxiliary and music courtesy of his uncle.

“I've got to ask you though. If you folks should win, which project will you fund?” Kyle scooped up another spoonful of baked beans and glanced over at him.

“Obviously, the project on the Mississippi side. They're the ones impacted by the tornadoes.” Sawyer gestured across the river. Regan was wearing a buttercup yellow sundress and standing by the gazebo as pretty as one of his mama's flowers. Somehow she sensed his regard and turned her head, giving him a little wave.

“Funny, but Regan said it was obvious the Louisiana side should get the grant money.”

“Why would she say that?” He was honestly shocked. After all the trials and tribulations of the summer, after the damage her side had sustained, after all the work she'd poured into combining the two festivals, she deserved to win the money.

“She said something about how some things don't die, they just go dormant, waiting for a chance to live again. She thinks the park should live again.”

Sawyer looked to the river to hide the onslaught of emotions. He wished everyone would get gone, so he could whisk her home and finally have her to himself for the next fifty years or so.

“You've been all over the south, Kyle. Do we even have a shot at honorable mention?”

“From what I've seen, I'd say you have more than a fair shot at winning the whole shebang.” He sat back and laced his hands over his stomach, the center button of his short-sleeved blue oxford straining to hold. “Not to be insensitive. But the tornado probably boosted you into contention. The editors are going to lose their damn minds over how warm and fuzzy the story is. Not to mention, we're already getting national play out of it. Way better than two festivals duking it out.”

Sawyer laughed and shook his head.

Hours later, after the out-of-towners had headed home to face the workweek, and most locals were home watching football, Regan and Sawyer met at the center of the footbridge. She stood at the rail, and he wrapped his arm around her from behind. The setting sun sparked off her hair and made the water dance.

“You told Kyle Louisiana should win the money if it comes down to it. Why did you do that? The weekend was only a success because of you. Mississippi should get the money.” He rubbed his stubbly chin against her temple.

She covered his hands with hers. “It's been a long time since the two sides of Cottonbloom came together for anything. I don't want things to go back to the way they were tomorrow. Cottonbloom Park can be our common ground for the future. You can reinstitute the intermural baseball league and invite businesses and organizations from the Mississippi side to take part. We can host joint picnics and block parties. This festival can be the beginning of healing the rift between the swamp rats and the 'Sips.”

“But—”

“Quit trying to be a gentleman, Sawyer Fournette, and take the money if we win it.” She twisted around in his arms and linked her hands behind his neck.

He didn't voice Kyle's prediction that the tornado had wrapped up the competition for them. Instead, he ran his hands down her back to tap her backside. “How about I stop being a gentleman altogether and haul you home.”

“I suppose everything will keep until tomorrow.” She arched her brows and smiled.

One thing wouldn't keep for another second. “I love you, Regan Lovell. Remember the promise I etched in wood?”

Her smile turned tremulous, and she nodded, her chin wobbling. “Love you too.”

He swooped in for a kiss. They made it home … eventually.

 

Epilogue

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

The crack of the bat was followed by an eruption of cheers when the ball sailed over the left-field fence. Regan jumped up and down and hollered as loud as anyone even though she was the opposing team's coach.

Sawyer jogged around the bases and locked eyes with her as he rounded second. She tucked her hair behind her ear and adjusted her ball cap. Instead of heading straight to home, he made a detour in her direction, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

“Sawyer Fournette, you're liable to get disqualified.” Her smile negated the warning in her voice.

“It'll be worth it. Just like the time I was carted off the football field.” He laid a sweet kiss on her lips, knocking her baseball cap to the ground.

Whoops and wolf whistles sounded around them, reminding her they were in the middle of the newly dedicated, renovated Cottonbloom Park surrounded by citizens of both sides of the river.

He pulled away, gave her bottom a pat, and jogged over home plate while holding his hands over his head in a sign of victory. She shook her head, still smiling, and turned to the dugout filled with Cottonbloom, Mississippi, city employees. The first inaugural intermural game was between their two towns. The rivalry was intense, but underneath the good-natured ribbing was a sense of community that had been missing since the town split across the river.

The heated festival competition and the tornado had done more good than harm. The damaged buildings on the Mississippi side had been rebuilt. Under Vera Carson's direction, with Ms. Effie and Ms. Leora acting as her assistants, the Quilting Bee had transformed into something more than a fabric store.

While the ladies still met to quilt and gossip in one corner, the shop sold tea cakes supplied daily by the Cottonbloom Bakery and a steady flow of sweet iced tea and coffee. Mrs. Carson also displayed several of Regan's home décor pieces on consignment as well as works by local artists. It was a win-win for all the business owners downtown. Stepping inside was a feast for the senses, and on pretty days, the door was propped open, the buzz of lively conversations and the smell of tea cakes inviting everyone to step inside.

Next up to bat was Cade. Sawyer had stretched the rules of city employees to recruit his brother. Another home run cracked off Cade's bat. When all was said and done, Cottonbloom, Louisiana, won the game with ease, but much laughter accompanied the handshakes between the teams at the end.

She slipped back to watch Sawyer laugh and greet people from both sides of the river. She loved him so much her heart felt near to bursting.

Monroe hip-bumped her. “Fun game. Too bad Deputy Preston had to leave for that call. He was your only hope.”

“I know. But recruiting Cade to the Louisiana team was pretty shady.”

“Yep, but he couldn't resist. You should have seen him trying the uniform on.” Monroe shook her head, but a smile hovered as she looked in his direction. He was shoulder to shoulder with Sawyer, shaking hands and talking. “He never really got to have that experience in high school. He could have been great.”

“Things worked out just the way they were supposed to, Mrs. Fournette.” Regan side-eyed her friend who flushed and played with the ends of her hair. The wedding had taken place two weeks prior at the edge of the river. The small list of guests had enjoyed lemonade and cake inside the great room of the house Cade and Monroe built within shouting distance of Fournette Designs' complex.