Caught Up in the Touch: Sweet Home Alabama

by Trentham, Laura

  Jessica sat up straighter. “I don’t want to keep you from anything, and you certainly don’t have to fix me breakfast.”

  “Please. You’ve given me the perfect excuse. Anyway, it’s almost eleven, and I’m not even dressed. How’re you feeling this morning?”

  Jessica whipped her head around searching for a clock. Bright-blue digital numbers on the microwave confirmed the time—10:55. “I can’t even remember the last time I slept this late.”

  “Even on a Sunday?”

  “I hit the gym by six, and get in a few hours of work after that.”

  “On a Sunday? Girl, you are crazy. Do you have a boyfriend or anything?”

  “Not anymore. I lived with a guy I dated in grad school for awhile, but it didn’t work out. I don’t really have anything else to do but work.”

  Lilliana whistled on a sigh. “Sounds miserable.”

  Jessica took a sip of her coffee and stared at the row of bikini-clad cows high-stepping across her mug. Miserable. It fit a little too well onto her recent feelings about life. The mere mention of work set her nerves on edge. “You mind if I check my emails?”

  “Go for it.” Lilliana waved toward a mudroom.

  Jessica peeked around the doorjamb. The small room had been converted to an office. The desk held an older laptop and was covered in fabric swatches and paint chips. A blueprint of the house had been tacked to the wall. Jessica itched to straighten it, but she didn’t want to let her crazy loose on someone else’s space so early into their acquaintance.

  Jessica hadn’t checked in since she’d entered the no service zone of Falcon. update. She hadn’t mentioned her detour to her ma-maw’s house when she’d left, not sure how her father would react. He detested sentimentality.

  Over a hundred emails clogged her inbox, most of them unimportant. A half dozen were from her father. His frustration and impatience grew until she reached one dated an hour earlier.

  CALL ME IMMEDIATELY!

  If she’d been standing in front of him, no doubt he would have yelled at her, spittle flying. Her stomach bounced off the floor and into her throat like a rubber ball. Heat spread over her face and down her neck, prickling her skin. She backed out of the mudroom, staring at the screen as if it could physically attack her.

  She touched her hip, tracing the raised scars through her silk robe like long lines of braille. Each one told a story. The first story began with her ma-maw’s death and her banishment to the prisonlike boarding school up north.

  Home for Christmas break, she’d noted the dinner table bickering hadn’t eased during her absence. If anything, being back only provided another target for her parents. Caroline had certainly seemed relieved to share the burden, deflecting her parents’ ire toward Jessica as often as possible. Disconnected with her old high school friends and without her ma-maw, Jessica was unbearably lonely, yet a strange aggression grew in the isolation.

  By the fifth night, she had wanted to scream and swipe her dishes to the floor. Instead, she’d retreated to her bathroom and debated on where to score her skin. One of the girls at school had crisscrossing scars on her left arm from wrist to elbow. She enjoyed the attention they brought her, but Jessica didn’t want anyone else to see the cuts. They were her silent rebellion.

  After considering several body parts, she’d settled on her left hip. Discrete yet easy to reach. Even in this, her logic had prevailed. Her first cut had been too deep and too long, the skin peeling apart, burning and throbbing, blood leaking all the way down her leg, spotting the woven pink bathroom rug crimson.

  She’d leaned on the sink, trembling and heaving deep breaths, willing herself not to pass out. Through the shock of what she’d done came overwhelming relief. Her stomach had unknotted and the urge to scream faded. Each beat of her heart drove poison from her body through the cut.

  Standing in Lilliana’s kitchen, she felt a familiar scream building in her chest, but she’d gained other tools to deal with the urge to cut. Deep meditative breaths loosened the clutch of her fingers on her hip.

  In control, if not completely calm, she asked, “Can I use your phone, Lilliana?”

  Unaware of Jessica’s internal turmoil, Lilliana held a mug between her hands and sipped coffee with her eyes closed. “Sure. On the charger.”

  Jessica unplugged it and retreated to the living room. She punched in her father’s personal cell number and forced her lungs to maintain a slow, steady rhythm. He answered as the first ring echoed in her ear.

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Jessica.”

  “Where the hell have you been? I called that damn hotel you booked, and you never checked in. I’ve been waiting for an update.”

  The only reliable weapon against her father was sarcasm. “I’m fine, thanks. Not murdered or kidnapped or anything.”

  “I thought you were a grown-ass adult who didn’t need worrying about. Isn’t that what you keeping harping on about? Have you gotten a signature on the contract?”

  “Mr. Wilde is not interested in managing the Atlanta restaurant. He seems more inclined to consider an offer running the experimental kitchens.”

  “Did you switch up the offer?”

  “Told him I needed time.” She bit at her fingernail, drawing blood. “I promoted Roger Whittaker into that position less than six months ago.”

  “Fire him.”

  “He’s worked for Montgomery Industries almost twenty years. He’s excellent. Plus, he’s putting two kids through college.” Jessica had been the one who’d delivered the good news. One of the best days she could remember. Logan Wilde’s acceptance would mean her promotion and a good man’s firing.

  “Fine. Demote him then. Logan Wilde is more important. If he wants the head job, it’s his. Roger will have suck it up.”

  A demotion was infinitely better than a firing, although she wasn’t sure Roger would see it that way. Her hand trembled around the phone as a conciliatory tone weakened her voice. “Mr. Wilde seems inclined to want to take his time. Plus, it will involve a substantial salary increase.”

  A long beat of silence from the other end. Not good.

  Her father’s voice was deceptively soothing. “Do I need to send someone else? Eric would love a shot at CFO. He’s got more experience than you do. It could be this Wilde fellow would respect an offer coming from a man more.”

  She took a deep breath. He was baiting her. That’s all. He wouldn’t give her job to butt-kisser Eric. “I told you, Mr. Wilde is interested. I’ll amend the contract—”

  “Why haven’t you amended it already? I would expect you to pull an all-nighter if necessary.”

  “Look, yesterday was crazy. My car had a coolant leak—”

  “I told you not to buy that piece of crap car. My man at the dealership was ready to sell you a loaded Mercedes.”

  “I’m not going through his again.” She rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes.

  “Here comes the Golden Boy now.” A click sounded on his end and ambient noise transmitted. “Come say hello to Jessica, Eric. She still hasn’t closed the deal.”

  “Are the two of you at the office?” she asked.

  “We’re golfing at the club.”

  Of course, they were. “Take me off speakerphone. Now.”

  He either didn’t hear her or decided to ignore her. “How would you approach the situation with Wilde, Eric? Share your wisdom with Jessica.”

  She snorted. Wisdom? All the man possessed was misplaced confidence and unrivaled ambition.

  “If I were Jessica, I’d get something real pretty and real short. Get him distracted then whisper promises of fame and fortune in his ear. He’d sign.” Too loud male laughter forced her to take the phone away from her ear. “But since I’m a man, I’d take him out and show him my Porsche and tell him he could buy one like it flat out with the signing bonus I’d offer.”

  “Great idea, son. What do you think about that, Jessica?”

  The temptation of a sleek, sexy Porsche mi
ght sway Logan. His decades-old truck was not exactly plush. Indecision nipped at her confidence, devouring chunks. “I’m going to see him again today. I’ll call later on the B&B’s phone. I don’t have service.”

  Eric piped up. “Go buy one of those prepaid jobs. Surely, they have stores out there in the sticks. Dang, Jessica, put that Wharton degree to use.”

  More male laughter. Instead of ballet, Jessica wished she’d taken karate. She imagined driving her foot into balding Eric’s paunch like Bruce Lee.

  “If all else fails you can screw him.” Eric’s voice held the bravado of a pledging frat boy looking to impress.

  “Go screw yourself, Eric,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “That’s enough, children! Eric, grab my putter, and I’ll meet you on the green.” Her father’s voice held an amused bite.

  I’m your child, not him, she wanted to scream, yet she held her tongue.

  Her father clicked the speakerphone off. “Get the contract signed. Make it happen, and we’ll talk about CFO. Otherwise . . .” The phone beeped, signaling the disconnect.

  Jessica tapped the phone against her forehead, her chest and throat tight, making it difficult to get enough oxygen and forcing her heart to pump faster.

  Lilliana stood at Jessica’s left shoulder, close enough that she should have sensed her, but hadn’t. She slipped the phone out of Jessica’s hands and replaced it with a fresh, steaming cup of coffee. “Black, right?”

  Jessica nodded and followed Lilliana to the couch. “Thanks.”

  “I take it that didn’t go well.”

  “Nope.” Jessica curled her shoulders inward and pressed a hand against her stomach. Between the hangover and the phone call, she was close to puking.

  “What are you going to do?” Lilliana asked.

  “Go to Adaline’s again tonight. Convince Logan that running the Montgomery Industries test kitchens is his dream job.”

  Lilliana grimaced and shook her head. “It’s Sunday. Adaline’s closes after lunch until Wednesday, and if I know Logan Wilde, he’ll disappear into the woods as soon as possible.”

  “Shoot.” Jessica put her coffee on the side table, ran to the foyer, and froze in utter indecision. She couldn’t barrel into a restaurant with bedhead and in her silk robe and reeking of alcohol. Yet, time and opportunity were slipping through her fingers.

  She took the stairs two and at a time and got into the shower before the water had the chance to fully heat. She pulled on a business-style gray skirt and blue silk blouse. She slapped on the minimum amount of makeup and hit her hair with a five-minute blast from the dryer. No longer pin straight, her natural wave encroached. She pulled at her bangs and cursed the disheveled mess.

  No time to waste with the flatiron. She grabbed her purse and bolted down the stairs, slipping on her heels.

  “Wish me luck,” she said over her shoulder.

  “You’ll need more than luck. I’ll be here prayin’ for a miracle.” Lilliana smiled a fake good-girl smile and waved pageant-style from the front porch.

  All the way to Adaline’s, she rehearsed the new offer, trying to work a convincing tone into her voice, even though the thought of demoting Roger didn’t sit well. The parking lot was packed. Men in suits and women in sundresses clumped around the entrance. Children weaved through their legs, playing tag. She slipped into the restaurant. Her eyes took a few seconds to adjust. The tables were full, and she didn’t spot Logan.

  A high-school-age girl greeted her with a smile and an armful of menus. “Table for one?”

  “I need to see Mr. Wilde. Is he in the back?”

  The girl’s sunny smile fell. “I’m afraid he’s already left for the day, ma’am. Can I take a message?”

  “No. It’s an emergency. Family related. I need to see him immediately. Could you tell me where he lives?” Not exactly a lie. It was a family-related emergency to her. Still, a small nugget of guilt planted itself in her stomach. Contrary to what anyone else thought, Jessica didn’t close deals by lying.

  The girl bit her bottom lip and clutched the menus close to her chest, staring into Jessica’s face. Finally, she rattled off an address and general directions. They scrolled through her head on repeat as she drove. After a couple of miles, a narrow drive hidden between trees flashed in her periphery.

  Feeling as if the clock was ticking to zero, she whipped the car off the blacktop, onto the pebbled shoulder and back around with a squeal of her tires. Once on the narrow lane, shadows under the trees fuzzed her vision, and she tapped the breaks. The last thing she needed was to plow her borrowed car into a tree and have to beg help from Logan again.

  The trees ended around a sharp bend. Fields covered in wheat-colored grass framed an old-fashioned white farmhouse on two sides while an endless forest provided a green backdrop. His blue and white truck was parked in front of a modern-looking detached garage. One of the bay doors was up. The bindings clamped around her heart released a fraction. He hadn’t escaped.

  Relief and anxiety warred. She parked her car in front of the house and checked her face. She missed the armor of her red-lipstick and bit at her lips to draw color into them. In the natural light and without her usual layer of makeup, the dark smudges under her eyes looked more prominent.

  Out of the car, she ran one hand over her hair, tucking away wild pieces, and the other down her skirt. If only she could smooth her frazzled nerves as easily. She caught her reflection in the car window. Not as professional as normal, but not the complete freaked-out mess she was on the inside.

  Her too-high heels were meant for city pavement and marbled hallways, not crunching, uneven gravel and clumps of grass. She hadn’t had time to amend the contract, but he seemed a throwback my-word-is-my-bond type of guy anyway. She twisted her fingers together, unable to keep them still.

  Hidden in the shadow of the garage, Logan leaned against the side, his arms crossed over his chest and one booted foot cocked over the other. A coiled, static tension emanated from the seemingly-casual, entirely male stance. He’d probably been watching her since she’d driven up.

  He wore twill camo pants with utility pockets on the legs and an olive-green T-shirt. A different blue Falcon ball cap, this one newer yet still worn shiny in places, kept his expression a mystery. He didn’t offer a word of welcome.

  A shyness that had nothing to do with the now-tainted offer had her stopping and scuffing her pointy toes in the pebbles, her voice sounding ridiculously breathy and feminine. “Hi there.”

  His mouth curved up, and his arms dropped, his thumbs hooking into his pockets. “Hi, yourself. Thought I might see you sooner rather than later, but I didn’t expect you wander out here.”

  “I went by Adaline’s first.” She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her feet. Bees swarmed around a mass of honeysuckle growing wild along the side of the garage, filling the silence with nature’s white noise. The air was heady with the scent of mown grass and flowers undercut with a tangy hint of pine. Someone could make millions by bottling it.

  He pushed off the side of the garage to tinker with the wires of a green and black ATV. Farther back in the garage bay, the hood was raised on a small black car partially covered by a light-brown tarp.

  Jessica let out a slow breath and tightened her voice from Marilyn Monroe to Hillary Clinton-like proportions. “I’m here to offer you the job of running our experimental kitchens. I’ve been authorized to offer a signing bonus in addition to a twenty percent salary increase.”

  He squatted down to adjust something in the ATV’s undercarriage, his thighs bulging and his butt curving. “Your daddy sure is all hot and bothered to hire me. Why?”

  Hot and bothered. She rubbed her prickling nape. “Um . . . what?”

  He stood and wiped his hands and face on a blue rag. “Why’s your daddy got such a hard-on to hire me?”

  Her gaze dropped to his crotch, and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Get your head back in the game, her pantsuit-weari
ng conscience demanded. She hummed to buy time to get her thoughts straightened out. “Your reputation, I suppose. Once I get your agreement, we can amend the contract with the details. What do you say?”

  She stuck her hand out for a shake, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight tremble. His face was thoughtful and serious. She swallowed. Something flared in her chest when his hand inched toward hers, but instead of clasping her hand in a firm manly shake, he grasped her fingers and pulled her hand up, toward his mouth. Shock left her hand pliable in his. He brushed his lips across the back and let go.

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet, Jessie.”

  She curled her fingers in and cradled her hand against her chest like his kiss was something precious. No wonder Scarlett O’Hara had fallen hard for Rhett Butler.

  He pushed the ATV backward, out of the garage. A duffle bag and a shotgun were bungee-tied on the back rack. “I never imagined my reputation would bring me an insane job offer.”

  Stepping out of the way, she stared at his biceps, expecting the fabric to rip into Hulk-like shreds. Her butt hit the lowered tailgate of his truck, leaving her half-sitting on the edge, her purse slipping off her shoulder. He pulled the garage door down, his back flexing under the T-shirt. She wanted to run her hands over the bulges of muscle.

  She’d never experienced the kind of mind-numbing lust Logan Wilde inspired. A flash of him on the cover of Guns and Ammo in only a pair of underwear distracted her. Did Guns and Ammo do Mountain Man beefcake?

  Her mind leapt down another tangential, thorny path. What did he look like naked? No doubt even better than he did clothed. She shaded her eyes with one of her hands as if he could divine the inappropriate, unprofessional thoughts traipsing around in her head.

  The machine growled to life with a shudder and a puff of smoke. He threw a leg over and adjusted some knobs. Over the noise, he yelled, “We can discuss it when I get back. How about dinner Wednesday night?”