Too Sweet to Be Good

by K. M. Jackson

  Drea could tell her mind was somewhere back in the year she and her husband had gotten the curtains. “The hems were a mess. Most of it was more down than sewn up. I’ll tell you all, it was falling apart. Now we’re talking yards and yards and I don’t even know how many yards of hemming.” She got a conspiratorial gleam in her eye and looked at Drea. “Quiet as it’s kept, I wasn’t the pillar of the community I am now.”

  “You don’t say,” Kellen drawled, and got a light arm whack for his troubles as Ray Nash chuckled.

  Mrs. Betty gave Ray a look and a finger wave as she grinned. “Now, don’t you start, Ray. You just keep your trap shut.”

  Ray held up a hand. “I didn’t say a word, Betty.”

  “You’re always a pillar to me,” Archer chimed in, and Mrs. Betty waved a hand at him as she shook her head, shooing away his compliment.

  She went on. “As I was saying, children, I didn’t have folks I could call on to help me out, and it wasn’t as if I was going to send the curtains out to be hemmed, so I got it in my head that I could fix them myself.” She let out a wistful sigh and Drea practically felt the air expelling from her own chest.

  “Well, as Henry was working during the day, he’d come and do a bit of painting or something here at night and then we’d head home together. At one point, he got sick of finding me sitting on the stage with these darned curtains. It was the never-ending job. Finally, he looked down and saw me struggling, getting a glimpse of my poor bleeding fingertips; right then and there he got down, grabbed a needle, and started sewing with me.”

  Drea thought her heart would practically explode over the sweet story.

  “So, is that how it is that Grandpa can sew so well? I’ve seen him do up his own pants and fix buttons. He never sends things out?” Kellen asked.

  Mrs. Betty nodded. “It is. It took him a minute to catch on, but he was a quick study all right. In all these years, the hems have never fallen on these curtains. They’ve practically outlasted the fabric now. And”—a rosy blush came to her soft brown cheeks—“they’ve seen their fair share of tangles.”

  Kellen let out an embarrassed groan while Mr. Nash laughed heartily. Drea was about to chime in when Griffin Nash sidled close and whispered in her ear, “I wouldn’t mind getting tangled in the curtains with you.”

  Kellen cleared his throat loudly and was suddenly at her side. “Thanks, Grandma. That’s a great story.” He looked at Griffin Nash. “Mr. Nash. I think you have all you need to give us a bid.” Finally, he turned and smiled at Mr. Nash, his eyes softer, though his tone was still all business. “Like I said, please remember we will be on a budget. And of course, you understand, I’ll need to do all necessary business background checks in order to make sure we’ll have no unforeseen problems down the road.”

  Drea tilted her head. His tone and posture had changed. Suddenly he seemed at least three inches taller, if that was even possible on his already tall frame. This had to be his Suit out of a suit negotiating tactic and not have anything to do with Griffin’s ridiculous comment. How could he have picked up on that anyway? It was said so low that she’d barely more than felt the unease of it.

  Still, it seemed to have the desired effect as Griffin took the smallest step back. He faded slightly into the shadows as his father nodded his agreement to signal the beginning of the ending of the meeting.

  Chapter 12

  When Suit Met Boots

  Once again Drea was stuck in a perplexed state standing next to Kellen Kilborn.

  This time it was as she was entering Jolie’s Bar and Grill, the local “famous” watering hole just on the outskirts of town; you took a left off Main, on the way out to highway 76. Just about everybody knew it, even the tourists, thanks to the newly added signs advertising it out on the highway every three miles leading into town.

  WE SET THE BAR WITH BARBECUE.

  JOLIE’S 10 MILES OUT EXIT 178.

  RIBS THAT WILL STICK TO YOUR RIBS!

  JOLIE’S 5 MILES EXIT 178.

  And Drea’s personal favorite: COME AND GET YOUR JOY ON AT JOLIE’S, NEXT EXIT 178.

  She was sure this one referred to the famous Joy Juice, a sweet rum punch that was just as popular as Jolie’s ribs. This sign was new and she didn’t know how they got the normally reclusive bartender, Caleb Morris, Clayton’s older brother, to pose for it, but there he was, in all his handsome, bearded glory. There were ribs, apps, and a pitcher of Joy Juice featured on the bar and Caleb behind the bar with a semi-welcoming half smile that she was sure had women turning left quick off exit 178 to see what Jolie was serving up. It definitely had her cousin Rena taking that left exit more than a time or two. Though if you questioned either of them about it, they were nothing more than passing friends. But the way Caleb always stepped up for Rena—in a way that her so-called boyfriend Troy always failed to do—made him seem like more than a passing friend.

  Tonight though, as Drea stood at the bar’s entrance with Kellen Kilborn by her side, she knew what it was serving up. A whole boatload of unnecessary complications and aggravation.

  “Come on, you two. Our table is ready,” Liv said. Her newfound brightness once again grated on Drea’s nerves. She fought the urge to grumble one of her usual retorts with her new, though not quite, boss so near and looming. But really, if this cheery, butterflies, the-world-was-all-sweetness-and-light thing that Olivia had going was what love did to a person, she could have it. Drea couldn’t believe she was thinking it but, though she was thrilled for her sister, a part of her missed the old, nitpicky, judgmental Liv.

  She reluctantly proceeded, her eyes moving away from the lovely dovely Liv and Clayton walking hand in hand as they followed the hostess to their table. And her eyes definitely avoided Kellen, who was stiffly by her side. She thought then of the crafty Mrs. Betty, and she was sure her Aunt Joyce had her hand in it too, and how they made good and darned well she and Kellen both would be uncomfortable together on this not quite double date tonight with Clayton and Liv. When their meetings were done at the theater, Mrs. Betty made big with an exaggerated, “oh, by the way,” as she suggested Kellen take her car and give Drea a ride over to Jolie’s since they’d both been invited out for dinner tonight.

  The fact that this was done in front of everyone and the Suit didn’t hesitate to flat-out refuse was no less than mortifying. “I’m not quite dressed for dinner, Grandmother. Besides, I have my bike and how will you get home?”

  Mrs. Betty gave him an annoyed look. “It’s Jolie’s, darling. Fantastic, though not quite Michelin starred. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble getting in.” She smiled. “Besides, I’m sure Ray here will drop me at home.”

  Ray did his duty and nodded in the affirmative.

  “Wonderful!” Mrs. Betty said. “Now, off with you two. Better to get your nourishment! As you can see, we have lots of work ahead for us.”

  In response Kellen’s brows tightened and he let out a slow breath of air. Still he nodded, went forward and kissed his grandmother’s cheek, and shook hands with the other men before turning toward Drea, placing a hand gently at her elbow, and leading her out.

  Talk about the most awkward five-minute ride out to Jolie’s ever. Who knew five minutes could last so long. But as Kellen opened the door of his grandmother’s car for her, he still protected her head as she tucked herself into the big sedan. “Save me from small towns and women with speed dial,” he mumbled as he slammed the door behind Drea and went over to the driver’s side and got in. Drea considered conversing with him, but after two false starts and his clear anger over being forced into this dinner radiating off him in waves, she gave up and studied the lines on the road. Just as now she looked around, intent on taking in the bar and not his broad shoulders or how wonderful he smelled even in the midst of all the beer and barbecue.

  Instead, she caught Caleb’s eye, and despite the bar being moderately busy, he gave her a friendly nod and his usual half smile. He was a nice guy, though hard to crack. A veteran, he’d lost a
hand in combat, and she knew there was a certain amount of strain between him and Clayton though, as of late, he and his brother seemed to be getting along all right.

  The only time Drea really saw him seem to relax was around his niece, Hope, or when he was with her cousin Rena. Which was why she had her suspicions, but she guessed that was Rena’s way—she could bring a smile out of the most stoic soul or, she sometimes thought, in Caleb’s case, it could be something more. Despite all Rena’s going on about Troy this and Troy that, it was the reserved and reclusive Caleb Morris that made her blush. But then again, Caleb Morris had that effect on just about every woman, hence the big old sign out on the highway. It was then that she noticed Kellen’s nod and Caleb’s nodded response.

  Drea looked his way. “You know Caleb too?”

  He shrugged in that nonchalant way of his. “I know a lot of people.”

  Ugh. If she had a dollar and a part for each time she’d heard that line, she’d be a star. “Of course you do,” Drea said dryly as the four of them went to take their seats.

  Seeing the booth in the middle of all the bar’s action, Drea suddenly longed for one of the less desirable tables. With a booth and the four of them there was no easy seating set up. Either she would sit across from the Suit and have to look at him and chew ribs in his face throughout the night, or they would sit next to each other, thigh to thigh, which was a whole other intimacy all together. Lovebird Liv struck again, sliding into the booth first and tugging Clayton down beside her.

  Great. The thighs were it, Drea thought as she slid in with the Suit next to her. Thankfully, despite the booth size and his thigh size, he kept a measured distance. She’d guess about two and a quarter inches between them. Immediately, Drea shifted a little more left, and paused when she felt Kellen stiffen ever so slightly next to her. She let out a breath. Okay. Maybe she was taking things a little too far. She didn’t need to make everyone around her uncomfortable and now she was probably making him quite so. Not that she cared all that much; he did have it out for, if not her, then for Mrs. Betty’s plans for the theater, and that affected her. So, there was that. But still, she didn’t want to give the man some sort of complex. He was pompous, arrogant, and all those things that went with it, but she supposed his personality was what it was. That couldn’t be helped.

  Besides, when their server, Shelby, came over—a seasoned Jolie’s waitress better known for her ample hips, squeezed into the most incredible, breath-defying stretch jeans, than her winning personality (of which she had none)—Drea was more than ready to get her eat on and get this evening over with. The fact that the four of them were pretty much Jolie’s veterans made ordering easy. There was no mulling over the placemat menus or prattling on with questions about the heat levels of the wing sauces.

  Everyone ordered either ribs or the chicken specials—in her and Liv’s cases combos—with mac and cheese, collards or slaw, a side of baked beans added by Clayton, a pitcher of Joy Juice, and a draft for the table.

  Drea was pretty sure they had won the no-nonsense Shelby over with their quick ordering. The fact that she raised her perfectly arched, threaded brows and quirked her dark eggplant lips into what could be considered a smile in coven circles had Drea thinking they might get an extra square of corn bread in their basket when she brought it out.

  “Isn’t this nice? The four of us getting together like old friends?” Liv said, and Drea leveled her with a look.

  “But we’re not.”

  “Jeeze, touchy. We kind of are. There’s no need to be like that, Drea. You, me, and Clayton are old friends, and Clayton and Kellen here are old friends, so it’s not like we all can’t be friends or friendly.”

  Drea let out a growl and was surprised to have it matched by what she thought was an affirmative sneer from Kellen on her right. “Oh, come on and stop laying it on so thick. I get that you two are all in love and it’s cute, it really is, and I’m happy for you. Thrilled even.” She turned to Clayton. “Bro, you’re a great guy and I’ve been rooting for you from the beginning. I’m totally in your corner and whatever you’re doing, don’t stop. You’re keeping this one off my back”—she gestured to her sister—“so thanks. But for the record, men and women can’t be friends.”

  “Amen.”

  She looked over at Kellen, surprised by his cosign, and smiled.

  Liv snorted. “Oh great. Suddenly we’re out of a scene from When Harry Met Sally? On this you two would agree.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “Of course they can be friends.”

  Drea laughed and shook her head. “Of course they can’t. None of my so-called male friends didn’t end up as something else entirely or have that something else in mind when they set out to start off their ‘friendship.’” She thought she may have felt an imperceptible movement from by her side, so she turned Kellen’s way. “What about you?”

  He looked at her, seemingly shocked at being addressed. “What about me?”

  “Do you have any female friends?”

  “I, well . . .” he said, seemingly stumped by her words.

  Drea turned back to Liv. “That’s a no. See there. Men and women can’t be friends. Of course, with a guy like this. . . .” She waved a hand in Kellen’s direction. “Okay-looking—”

  “Don’t gush now,” he drawled out, and the words rolled over her slow and sweet like Clayton’s darned organic honey.

  She raised the corner of her lip. “Of course, a guy like him would have women coming at him with ulterior motives.”

  Liv rolled her eyes. “What about me and Clayton?”

  Drea laughed, then coughed. “Do you want me to choke? You two, better than anyone, prove my point.”

  Clayton nudged Liv. “She’s right honey, we do.”

  Liv shot him a look. Her brown eyes wide, her expression seemingly horrified by the betrayal. “What do you mean ‘we do’? We are great friends, have always been.”

  He laughed, then leaned down to kiss her. “If you say so, buddy.”

  “Oh gosh. I’d like to keep my appetite up. Some of us plan to eat tonight.”

  Liv laughed at her sister as Clayton turned toward Kellen. “So, how are things going with the Redheart renovation?”

  “Great!”

  “It’s going to be a lot.”

  She and Kellen answered Clayton’s seemingly innocuous question at the same time, looked at each other, then both looked at Clayton’s and Liv’s bewildered expressions. The two of them turned to each other bursting out laughing. Drea held her hand on her thigh to keep from kicking her sister.

  “I can see you two are going to be fun,” Liv said, and Drea let her foot go, arching out on autopilot as if a doctor had suddenly hit her knee with one of those little knee bangers.

  Her sister tilted her head and shot her a glare just when Shelby brought over their corn bread and drinks. Drea gave Shelby a big smile upon seeing they did get extra corn bread, and middle pieces no less! “Thanks, Shelby.”

  “Nothing to it,” the woman responded with a mumble. “No need to go on.”

  “I see she’s still full of charm,” Kellen said once she was out of earshot.

  “Maybe she just doesn’t have time for foolish whims from customers, is all. You know, no time to chitchat or small talk.”

  “Noted,” he said while pulling out a square of bread and starting to butter it.

  Liv chimed in after taking a sip of her Joy Juice. “Oh, I’m sure she’s not referring to you.”

  He looked up at her with surprised eyes. “Why would she be?”

  “Yeah, why would I be?” Drea added.

  Liv shook her head and took another swig of her drink. “Nice to see you two agree on something.”

  Clayton laughed. “So, are you going to tell me about the theater? I didn’t think it needed all that much work the last time Liv and I went there on a date. Besides, I remember your grandparents doing some updates not more than a couple of years ago with reupholstering the seating and whatnot. They did their
best to keep the old gem in good shape.” He raised his beer glass, seeming to sober, and looked Kellen in the eye. “I know I told you before but, once more, I’m sorry about your granddad. He was an outstanding man. He’ll be missed.”

  Drea saw Kellen’s jaw harden as his full lips thinned. She could see and feel his struggle to hold on to his emotions as he raised his own glass. She found herself struggling against the lump in her throat as she and Liv raised theirs too. Finally, Kellen let out a slow breath. Drea watched as his eyes slowly closed, then opened again. “Thanks. That he was and he will be.”

  She found herself momentarily stunned, glass still in the air as she watched him drink, the way his lips cupped the rim of the glass and his jaw worked as his Adam’s apple bobbed. She jumped, almost spilling her own drink when she received a kick in the shin from under the table. She frowned, coughing as she lowered her glass, realizing that hers was the only one still in the air, and took a quick sip trying to cover up for her ridiculous gawking.

  She ventured a look over at Liv, who gave her a glance and an almost imperceptible quirk of her lip, but it was enough to let her know she’d been caught. Crap, she knew she wouldn’t hear the end of this one. Either Liv would tease her to no end and continue to push her toward this man who had no real interest in her. Or, and maybe this would be the better scenario, she would see that this guy was not for her and turn into the Olivia of old and admonish her more for being foolish and falling back on her old ways, crushing after a clearly unavailable—at least to her—man that she was in a working relationship with. Been there done that and didn’t even end up with a T-shirt for her troubles. Of course, then she’d get on her about focusing and finding her direction in life once and for all. Not that her sister would be in any way wrong for her talk or her thinking at all. It would be last year all over again.

  As a matter of fact, as she was thinking earlier, a part of Drea would welcome it. Just as she understood her parents now starting to put the pressure on her, she could use a bit more. This little Southern sojourn had seen its course played out. Even she could admit it was time for her to make a proverbial move or get the heck off the pot, so to speak.