Till I Kissed You (8 page)

She examined Jeremy like he was a statue while Jeremy looked at her like she'd lost her marbles. “Walk for me.”

Jeremy glanced over at Cade, who was watching Regan with suspicion. “'Scuse me?”

Sawyer had no clue what Regan was up to, but somehow over the last half hour, they'd become a team of sorts. “Do it.”

Jeremy huffed, but walked from the engine to the bay doors, performed an about-face, and walked back. His fair skin was flushed.

Finally, Regan shook her head. “Nope. Not him.”

“You sure?” Sawyer hooked his thumbs in his folded-over coveralls.

“Care to share?” Cade asked, his voice still full of sarcasm but more amused than biting.

“Regan saw a man lurking around her mama's garden. Thought it was me, gave chase, but he got clean away.” Sawyer waggled his finger between him and Regan. “We have a theory that whoever cut the baskets is the same man.”

Regan looked Jeremy up and down one last time. “The man I saw wasn't as lean. He was built more like Sawyer. Plus, he led with his shoulders. You lead with your hips with a long stride. See?”

She made the walk across the floor in front of them. Her shoulders were back, her hips swinging, but when she turned, she walked with her shoulders forward, faster and with less hip swing. “I learned all about the mechanics of walking during pageant training. I used to lead with my shoulders too, but Mother made me practice until I led with my hips like a supermodel. Since then I've always noticed people's walks. And you don't move like the man I saw.”

“Sounds like if things go to hell here, you could move to New York and take up modeling with your pretty face and perfect catwalk.” Sawyer tried to tease some trust back into Jeremy's eyes.

At twenty-two, Jeremy was like an abused dog, mistrustful and ready to bite any hand whether it offered help or not. Sawyer hadn't gotten the entire story from their new addition yet, but he'd had a rough start in Alabama, and he knew the boy blamed himself for most of his misfortune. It meant that any bad luck that fell his way took on an air of inevitability, as if he was receiving what he deserved.

Cade harrumphed and picked up his wrench. “An anonymous tip can't stick. You're new to town and an easy mark. I'll let it be known that if people mess with you, they're also tangling with the Fournette brothers.”

Sawyer and Cade might fight like two polecats trapped in a sack, but when it came down to it, they had each other's backs. Always had. Cade lifted his fist, and Sawyer gave him a bump with his. “Hells yeah.”

“I'd best be going before the testosterone man-love smothers me.”

Although he sensed an eye-roll, amusement lightened her voice. She was already halfway to the door when he caught her arm. “You going to be at your shop later?”

“Probably. Got a big job to prepare for tomorrow.”

“I want to stop by and see those letters.”

She nodded and he let her go.

“Hey, let me see that pageant walk again.” He didn't even know why he said it except to watch her backside shimmy.

Her smile was saccharine, and her hand went to her hip. She walked waving her other hand in a parody of a beauty queen during a parade. On the way out, she kicked a heel up behind her and tossed a wink over her shoulder. He threw his head back and laughed. Something hard popped him on his upper arm.

“What the flip is going on?” Cade pointed to the door and tapped Sawyer's chest none too gently with a wrench.

“What?”

Cade mocked Sawyer's laugh with a simpering one of his own. All humor wiped clean in an instant, he jabbed the wrench at Sawyer's chest. “That woman damn near destroyed you.”

“I know, but…” Sawyer scratched his beard and looked to the ceiling.

He'd never told Cade the entirety of what went down between him and Regan. Whether it was pride or shame or pain that kept the truth bottled up inside, he wasn't sure. All he knew was he'd never gotten the chance to fully explain himself to Regan, and she's the one who'd deserved the truth. But she'd cut him out of her life and her heart with the precision of a scalpel. The trust and love he'd thought they'd built together like an impregnable stone wall shattered like glass.

While he'd humbled himself and begged her to listen, she'd wiped him out of her life like he was the Louisiana scum her mama had always accused him of being. Granted, what she'd walked in on had looked bad, astronomically bad, but things weren't always as they appeared.

Sawyer sighed and braced his feet apart. “Look, if I want our festival to go off without a hitch, then I need whoever is trying to sabotage both festivals caught. Regan has the same goal. That's all this is.”

Cade's lip curled with his hum. “Don't forget that you're wining and dining the representative from Nautical Engines Friday night.”

“I've already got reservations at the Cottonbloom Country Club.”

Cade fit the wrench to a bolt and torqued it, but kept his gaze on Sawyer. “I know we don't have a dress code around the shop, but…”

“I'll shave and get gussied up.” Sawyer rubbed his jaw and smiled. “The beard's starting to itch like a patch of cockleburs anyway. Don't worry, I'll close the deal.”

Cade's other partner, Richard, had planned to fly in from Seattle, but his son had made a last-minute request for some time with his father. Richard had been torn between business and family, but Cade made the ultimate decision, putting family first and his trust in Sawyer. Even though Sawyer had been successful at the auto parts factory and had full confidence in his own abilities, the little kid inside of him wanted to make Cade proud. For too many years, Cade had been as much a father as a big brother.

He watched the clock the rest of the day, wondering more than once if the damn thing was broken. Once the engine he'd been working on was buttoned up and pressure tested, he ran the back of his arm across his forehead. The shop was air-conditioned, but hard work was hard.

If he didn't care like he'd told Cade, he would head straight over to Regan's shop to look at the letter, sweat be damned. Instead, he pointed his truck back to the farmhouse to get cleaned up.

 

Chapter Seven

Regan tapped the end of the pencil on the desk, her chin propped in her palm. The rough sketch in front of her was only half-done and covered in eraser marks. Her morning client might not notice, but Regan liked to be prepared with several options, and she'd only completed two.

It was hard to concentrate on whether the couch belonged under the bay window or facing the big-screen TV when so many other thoughts swirled. Mr. Neely had called to let her know he would reinspect the businesses along River Street in the morning and move along to her street the following afternoon.

She prayed they could wrap things up before next Thursday's town meeting. Labor Day was less than three weeks away and she had multiple lists that needed to be completed and too many things that needed to be ordered. Unless she wanted to bankroll the festival herself, the budget had to pass.

A knock sounded, and she bolted upright on the stool. Padding barefoot across the floor, she straightened her skirt and blouse, ran her tongue over her teeth, and smiled as she peeked around the shade. Monroe stood on the other side, her nose pressed against the glass and her eyes crossed.

Regan slumped over with a small laugh and unlocked the door. Monroe grinned on her way in. The woman had turned into a ray of happiness since Cade had moved back. While Regan was beyond happy for her friend, especially after the harsh details of Monroe's childhood and Cade's role as her hero had come to light, the constant smiles and cheeriness could get irritating. Maybe because it highlighted what a desert Regan's love life had become.

“Saw your car. Thought I'd see what you were up to.”

Regan led the way to her cramped office in the back and closed the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet. “Want to come over for popcorn and a cheesy movie this evening?”

Monroe propped herself against the doorjamb and slipped her hands into the pockets of her sensible slacks. “Not tonight. I'm actually meeting Cade for a late dinner.”

“Where are y'all going?” Regan leaned back in her cushy office chair.

“We're staying home, actually.” A pretty blush tinged Monroe's cheeks. If she had ever entered the pageant circuit, she would have won every competition. But Monroe had never had an interest in such things. Her nature had veered more mature and serious than the rest of the high school girls in their group.

An unexpected jealousy reared up in her stomach. She wasn't jealous of Monroe's nonsplotchy blushes or her long blonde hair. She wasn't even jealous of the claim Cade Fournette had on Monroe's time.

She had once been in love like Monroe. She had walked around pooping rainbows and smiling at the rain. It was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing, and she'd lost it. She beat the jealousy back into the closet of her soul that she avoided opening.

“Sounds lovely.” And it did sound lovely, but she didn't want to talk about it anymore. “Any word from your mother? Have things gotten easier?”

A hint of sadness crossed Monroe's face. “Better than the first couple of weeks. She didn't do as much crying and begging to come home this past Sunday on the phone.”

Any unkind, selfish feeling vanished, and Regan rose to give her friend a bracing hug. Even though Monroe's mother had agreed to attend a residential program for alcoholics, when the day came to check in, she'd changed her mind, forcing Monroe into coercion and threats.

Another shadow crossed Monroe's face. “Sam is fighting the extradition to Georgia. Something about statute of limitations. I don't know. Cade was pissed and yelling at the state lawyer assigned to the case.”

“But he's still in jail?”

“For now. Tarwater Senior is pressing hard for bail. There's another hearing next week.”

“Will you go?”

“If it helps keep him behind bars, I will.” Monroe chewed on her bottom lip. “Kayla is terrified. I talked Tally into giving her a job. I'm hoping between school and work, she'll stay out of trouble, but also be protected, you know?”

Monroe was doing anything not to feel helpless, but if Sam Landry got out and wanted to hurt Kayla, he would find a way. Regan twirled a piece of hair that had come loose at her neck. “Are you taking measures to protect yourself?”

“Sam Landry can't even meet my eyes in court. He's afraid of me. And Cade. Men like him only prey on the vulnerable. Girls like Kayla and women like my mama. Don't you worry about me.”

Regan had never heard Monroe sound so hard and intimidating, and she was reminded, despite the outward smiles, her friend was a double black belt and had taught Sam a harsh lesson in the back alley of the Rivershack Tavern in June.

“You know what? I'm not worried about you one bit. But where was that fire the night of the rabbit kerfuffle?” Regan's tease brought a true smile back to Monroe's face.

“Cade and I weren't exactly fighting over rabbits that night.”

“All the greasepaint he transferred from his face to yours kind of tipped me off.” Regan winked in her direction.

“Anyway, you had enough fire for the both of us. You took Sawyer down that night as I recall.”

A flush of heat spread through her body. She grabbed a brochure of paint colors and fanned herself. She had indeed taken him down. Seeing him holding two squirming rabbits by the ears had enraged her. The speed at which she'd overtaken him had surprised them both, and she'd jumped on his back like a monkey. The rabbits had hopped away.

Her momentum had taken them both to the ground. After they hit the grass, they'd tussled until his strength trumped her fury, and she ended up underneath him, her hands trapped over her head, her hair in her eyes.

She'd squirmed and tried to pull her hands free, her plan to rake her fingernails down his face, but he'd firmed his grip. His touch was rough yet he hadn't hurt her. In fact, his grip, his scent, the press of his body shot a buzz through her. A buzz she couldn't blame on the beers she'd been drinking while in wait.

“Be still, you little hellcat.” A complicated mishmash of emotions in his voice had stilled her struggles. Anger was only a small part of it.

Their positions had registered bit by bit. Two of their legs twined around each other while his other leg was jammed in between hers, his heavy thigh pressing at her center. She had wanted to arch into his thigh, maybe even rub herself against it, and she'd had to stifle a low moan of need and lust. God, what was possessing her?

It had been years since they'd been this close. Years since she'd felt a spike of mindless lust. Over the last decade, she'd convinced herself that what they'd shared had been immature and had only been special because he had been her first. Now, her logical barriers against the past tumbled like a house of cards with a puff of his hot breath against her cheek.

Did he feel anything? She needed to see his eyes, but her hair was a veil. She shook her head to try to clear her vision. He'd always been able to anticipate her needs, she remembered as he transferred her wrists into one hand and pushed her hair back with the other. The gesture was unexpectedly gentle and sweet.

Heat lightning flashed, illuminating his eyes for a split second, but she didn't recognize what she'd seen. The teasing Sawyer of her memories was gone. Something more primal and frightening masked his face. Her body thrummed an answer. A resounding
Yes, please
. His thigh pressed harder between her legs. This time she couldn't stop the small whimper in her throat or the slight arch in her back.

He'd muttered a curse and was off her like he'd been shot. She sat up and half turned to where he stood with his back to her, his hands on his hips, facing the river. A man-made whistle wavered in the distance. He turned his head so she could see the strong profile of his face, but he didn't shift to meet her gaze and not a word was exchanged. He took off in a jog.