by Siera London
Kelby curled her mouth up, smiling at her former student. Okay, here goes.
Before she could start, Hank gestured to a picnic table at her back. "Let’s all take a seat."
"Great idea," Kelby said, taking Elliott by the hand.
"Miss Kelby, my daddy is real nice. He's a good man with a lot to offer a woman," he said in a rush. "He owns our house. He’s got all his teeth. And the ladies say—"
"Oh my word." Kelby looked to Hank, who'd turned about fifty shades of red. A furrow had formed between his brows and he looked ready to interfere before Elliott could rattle off more of his finer attributes.
“Simmer down," Hank warned, scooping his son up and swinging him around in a circle. "Let's put a muzzle on grandma’s advice.”
Peels of laughter came from father and son.
"But—but, daddy. Grandma told Mrs. Minnie you'd be perfect for her granddaughter on account of my momma being more interested in partying than prenatal visits... But I like Miss Kelby better than Mrs. Minnie’s granddaughter. And you do too 'cause you kissed her like a hundred times in front of everybody."
With her hands free, Kelby loosened the pins from her twist, massaged one tender spot behind her ear, and took a seat. The crowd had thinned, but she noticed Peyton and Gordie had garnered a few more looks since the showdown with Hank.
Hank dropped down next to her, his broad shoulders brushing against hers. It reminded her of how long she'd gone without a man's touch.
He pressed his lips to her temple. “Sorry about that. His grandma calls every Sunday. Sometimes, Elliott is still on the phone when she turns the conversation to my love life.”
“Hmm…I get it. Your mom wants to see you and Elliott happy.”
Common sense told her to put some distance between them, but nothing about her attraction to Hank Stewart was commonplace. Today’s ceremony uniting Autumn and Rui in holy matrimony had been about the love shared between two people. Not a young girl playing hand maiden to an egotistical master manipulator. Her ex-husband, Bradford W. Vance, had been the used-car salesman of happily ever afters. She'd learned after the marriage vows the ‘Lemon Law’ didn’t apply to husbands. She couldn't pretend for a man. Not ever again. This was going to be difficult, but she would let Elliott down easy.
"Elliott," she began, "I'll try and explain the friendship I have with your dad."
"I know already. You and daddy are like kissing cousins, but instead he's not in the family."
Hank choked, but not before she heard his laughter.
“Nope. Nope, Elliott that is absolutely wrong. Your father and I are not kissing friends. And we're definitely not kissing cousins."
He giggled and scrunched up his little nose. "But you're friends and you're real good at kissing."
At that, Hank burst out laughing. "He's got a point."
"Excuse me," Kilby balked. Hank, thoroughly amused by her inability to effectively convey her message to a grade schooler, continued to chuckle. Her glare only made it worse. His big body actually shook with laughter.
"Kelby, darling. Let me give it a try."
"Fine," she raised her chin, not giving him the verbal tongue lashing ready to shoot from her parted lips. Kelby removed her sandals and kicked the flimsy strappy heels under the table. Other women had thought to do the same, use to sneakers, steel-toed or cowboy boots on the farms, ranches and vineyards in the area. Using one foot, she rubbed at the reddened depressions the thin leather had formed across her feet. A long soak in the tub was warranted.
Hank pulled his son to stand between his legs. He turned his brown stare on her and then back to his son. "Elliott men and women communicate differently than boys and girls. Sometimes when a man likes a woman, he kisses her, so she'll understand how he feels about her. I kissed Miss Kelby because I like her."
What kind of explanation was that? Thoughtful and patient, yes, but maybe, honesty being the best policy should have one or two stipulations. Her face must have reflected her absolute astonishment because both males frowned.
"Miss Kelby kissed you first. So, when girls like you they grab you by the throat and make you kiss them?"
"Dear heaven, is this what people think happened?" She was going to kill Gordie, Peyton, and -oh yeah, Xenobia had it coming. Grabbing Hank by the lapels had made her the aggressor. Gosh, if she'd been in Sacramento she would have been getting calls from a lawyer by now.
"Miss Kelby grabbed ahold of my shirt son, not my throat. She couldn't hurt me."
That much was true. Kelby was finally getting her life, her finances, and her head back in order. No way would she derail a man who the community held in high esteem and who's son loved him so much he thought to sell her on his dad's best qualities.
"Because she likes you so much, she had to make you kiss her. That way you couldn't kiss another girl and marry her. Right, daddy?"
Kelby watched Hank scratch his afternoon shadow. Dark hairs covered his chin forming a shadowy bridge to his sideburns. Sexy.
"Well, I'd never lead you astray by trying to tell you about a woman's feelings. You should learn now to ask a lady how she feels, son. Never assume."
Couldn't fault Hank on that point. Bradford had constantly told her how she felt. What she liked. Six years her senior, they’d met at a Future Educators rally. She'd admired his intellect and tenacity for addressing the core issues plaguing the educational system. So enthralled with his charismatic approach, she'd overlooked the subtle mocking and disregard for her ideas and perspective.
Their marriage had quickly plummeted into an instructor-student relationship. His run for office had exacerbated their problems. Their sex life had evaporated faster than morning dew, yet Bradford insisted they needed a baby. To speed things along, he’d scheduled her an appointment with a fertility specialist, because something had to be wrong with her. Women get pregnant every day, Kelby…why can’t you?
She’d didn’t know the answer, but secretly she’d been thankful they hadn’t conceived. And then he’d emptied her accounts. Stolen the money her father had entrusted to her in his will. Kelby had been in the final year of her master’s program, but Tiffany’s tuition had been squandered on Bradford’s political aspirations.
"Miss Kelby. Do you like my daddy?"
Kelby only hesitated a second before saying, "Yes. I do."
Constant anxiety over trying to please a husband who didn't know the meaning of content had trained her to measure her responses. Not the case with Hank. Men like him defended women, rather than bullied. Bradford craved power, needed to belittle others to feel important. Accepting his ring meant she'd signed up for a daily barrage of imaginary infractions against him and his great plans for their life. Being a wife, a teacher had been her aspirations, but Bradford had scoffed at her simplicity. Hank would never make her feel inadequate for wanting to be a good wife... and if possible, a mother.
Elliott grinned. "Good. You can come to my track meet tomorrow."
Without another word, he kissed his dad on the cheek, then her, and disappeared in a sea on skinny legs and sweaty faces. What? Kelby had been totally caught off guard all day, but the ten-year-old had tipped the scale more than two grown men. Elliott had kissed her like it was an everyday occurrence. Just like that, he'd let her inside. She, Kelby Springfield, had been deemed worthy in his ten-year-old life.
"You don't have to come," Hank offered, not looking at her. "You fix the potato-strophe and I'll make up an excuse."
She heard the change in his tone, as plain as if a physical shield had dropped in place. Pride would keep him from asking her to join tomorrow's fun. His son had given Kelby a peak inside this wonderful man-Hank wanted a woman in his life. Not for a quick romp or temporary fling.
Kelby had dreams of someone to share her life with, but after Bradford she'd been too scared to try again. Nothing she did pleased Bradford, and then she’d foolishly trusted him with her inheritance. Glancing over at Hank; she had to admit, he made her insides quake and her heart go
pit-a-patter.
Hank's expression grew more guarded. An awkward silence stretched between them. All the while, he sat, waiting. How should she answer? If she said yes, the mess she'd created would end. But if she answered no—she could be in real danger of losing her heart.
Kelby swallowed. "Please don't. I want to be there for him." And for you, she thought.
Chapter 4
Hank grabbed the beer Owen placed in front of him. A rainbow of colors painted the sky, the tail end of sunlight disappearing behind the Sierra Nevada Mountains. No Limit Bar and Grille felt empty for a Friday night. The booths along the wall sat vacant, but the round high-tops in the center of the floor all had patrons. Ivy had changed the decor from a dark red to a fancy shade of blue with stretchy custom-fit tablecloths and matching swag curtains at the windows. Autumn and Rui had departed for their Jamaica honeymoon beneath a barrage of rice grains and well wishes. But, seeing as it was Endurance, the kisses between him and Kelby had caused a bigger stir than potato fiasco and the birth of little Faith Kiara Tate. Mother and baby were in good health and expected to come home after an overnight stay at Pine Valley Community Hospital, but he and Kelby remained under close observation. More than one wedding guest had followed behind them to No Limit, no doubt on a fact-finding mission.
Through Hank’s dealings with Jodi Ann he'd learned to pay attention to words spoken and unspoken. Kelby had a game face, a mask. When Owen started to talk about the baby she’d excused her from the conversation. No fanfare, no awkward stammer, just a smooth, perfectly timed departure. She worked hard to give her life the appearance of minimal complications. He knew better. Hank took a swig of the cold brew, wondering if he should end the rouse for all their benefit. Sure, Elliott would be disappointed when Saturday arrived and Kelby didn't. His son had toughened his little heart when it came to women and their promises. Too bad, the father hadn't. A part of Hank wondered where Kelby had learned to play a role like a trained actress, and he asked himself if he'd be in the audience or on stage when the curtain fell.
Owen handed another customer a tall mug, before addressing him. “I heard we have one more reason to celebrate.”
Hank lifted the frosty glass and took a swallow of his beer. “Oh yeah, congrats to you and Ivy. A baby ought to liven things up around the bar.”
Owen gave a twisted grin before leaning over the bar, fingertips pressed into the mahogany wood. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to some alone time with my wife.”
"Boy howdy," Hank grinned. He remembered how intimacy changed with pregnancy. Of course, he and Jodi Ann had reached the end of their love affair, but he tried to help when she allowed it. He’d done his fair share of back and foot rubs.
“Now that Faith has arrived, the cankles and back aches should end. And, ah... well...so, you and Kelby?”
Hank wasn’t sure how to respond to the question. Sure, they’d continued to act the part of their fake relationship for Gordie's sake. And Hank had to give it to the guy, he’d watched from a creepy distance until even the stragglers had vacated Tommy’s Park. Kelby stayed close to his side throughout the afternoon festivities even stopping to play a game of horseshoes with him, Elliott, and the other kids. His son had loved the female attention...and so had Hank. She was pretty athletic for a girl in a dress. When one of the boys tackled her legs and smeared her bottom half with dirty handprints, she laughed.
“Looks that way.” And they could be deceiving. Kelby could have cancelled the date, but she hadn’t. "Owen," Hank cracked a smile, “the first kiss is probably illegal in the Bible Belt."
Glass and bar towel in hand, Owen gave a knowing smile. "Oh, yeah? I heard the band stopped playing when it happened a second time.”
Hank leaned over the bar, careful to keep his voice low. "The woman's a thief. She stole my heart right out of my mouth."
And his good sense. Hank hadn't behaved like a lovestruck schoolboy since...never. Jodi Ann had been his childhood sweetheart. Physical intimacy had seemed a natural progression in their friendship. They weren't kissing friends, rather friends who kissed on occasion. With Kelby, he forced his brain to think of something other than kissing her.
"You got a plan?" Done with the spot cleaning, Owen slid a bowl of popcorn in front of him while he talked.
Hank grabbed a handful and tossed a few kernels in his mouth. "Sure do," he said, drinking from his mug. “The plan is not to mess it up. She might be the one."
With a twisted grin, Owen pointed to a spot behind Hank. With a glance over his shoulder Hank saw his son standing outside the ladies’ room guarding the door.
"Might be? Don’t tell me you missed your boy standing guard over your woman. Not to mention, Luke talked her up before heading home for the night.”
Hank growled. “He better not be flirting with her.” Luke's daughter Shiloh, wanting a mommy ASAP, had drafted a series of handwritten letters to Santa, Mrs. Clause, the Easter Bunny, the little baby Jesus, and the Thanksgiving turkey demanding decisive action by Christmas.
Blue eyes danced with humor. “Don’t be a butt,” Owen rasped. “We’ve known each other since high school. He’s looking out for you. Kelby’s been in town, what-a year? We barely know anything about her.”
Immediately, Hank came to Kelby’s defense. “I know how to woo a woman, Owen.”
He hoped.
Jodi Ann had been the first girl to show the handyman’s son any attention. For a girl of fifteen, she’d been well-endowed and eager to experience. At sixteen he’d been a walking ball of untried testosterone looking for a place to land. She’d been willing and he’d proved more than able. This time around he wanted a real commitment. A woman who could love him and his son. “Kelby and I will find our way without any interference.”
“Good to know. Mrs. Minnie,” at the mention of his mom’s best friend and the biggest town gossip Hank groaned, “probably speed dialed your mom after the first kiss and picked up a bridal catalog. I heard there was more than one, so she’s already reserved the church hall for next Sunday. And Elliott, is just like Cai was when Ivy walked through the door. He has his mind set on keeping Kelby around, even if you don't."
Hank turned back to Owen. "Mind your own business,” he snapped. “Bring us three burgers and a couple of cokes."
His friend chuckled. "Yep," he sighed. "She got you in the blocks, Hank. I hope you're ready to run when the horn sounds. Otherwise, you might not cross the finish line."
Owen headed towards the swinging doors leading to the kitchen.
"What the heck does that mean?" Hank felt like he'd missed something, but the sizzling of homemade beef patties hitting the grill and the sweet scent of softening onions hit his nose. Seems the delay with Gordie and Elliott gave the good folks time to warm up to DIY potato salad. Empty platters and bowls had greeted him and Kelby by the time they walked down to the pond to grab a plate.
Raised voices drew his attention.
In the corner the minister from the wedding, Roxy Ranger, and Keith Fullerton had fingers pointed as they traded glares. The sheriff needed to be careful. Any woman who could call on the wrath of God should be managed with a moderate tone and a gentle hand.
Kelby appeared from the dimly light hallway close to the far end of the bar. Elliott bounced on his toes, a little jack rabbit, talking faster than a hummingbird in flight. His son gestured with his hand, throwing his gangly arms wide. Kelby laughed, the sound light and filled with joy. Hank relaxed his back against the bar, giving her a once-over. From the hair, now in a neat puff, the well-worn lace with more than a few stretched eyelets, and the sandals with the straps undone. She looked like a Barbie doll who fell off the turnip truck on the side of the road.
Kelby was a looker-oval face with big bright eyes, just enough cleavage to make a man stop for a second look, and thick hips that brought him to his knees.
He saw a woman who recognized her worth, felt beautiful in her skin, and knew how to have fun. Jodi Ann wanted a big city life with grand parties,
men with fancy titles, and women with more plastic in their bodies than their wallets. Hank loved Endurance. His father had gone on to glory, but his mother lived close by. Elliott had access to a quality school with teachers who cared about the students. Hank had a small ranch home, just two bedrooms, but it was paid for and had plenty of land to build on. He had a life he could be proud of. He regarded Kelby. Now, he wanted the woman. She met his eyes, and a blush of red spread across her cheeks.
Clearing her throat, she said. "I should look at the menu."
Hank patted the seat next to his. What he really wanted, to pull her onto his lap and fill up on a few more of her kisses. "I ordered us a couple of burgers."
Her smile slipped for the briefest of seconds, before it reappeared.
Hank frowned. He'd upset her. "I-I hope you don't mind," he felt the need to explain. "It's about the only thing Owen can cook besides tuna salad and pickle spears."
"Oh," she stammered, the smile returning. "It's not a problem."
Hank disagreed. “You sure about that?”
She angled her head and smiled. “You caught that, huh?”
Nodding his head, he turned on his stool to face her. “Yeah. Hard to miss a bat aimed at your head. If you’re really upset, how about you order for me next time.”
He'd remember to solicit her input next time. Boy howdy, he had a plan. There would be a next time for him and Kelby.
“Really, it’s okay. I had a bad experience with people assuming what was best for me. Forget it, okay? I’ll just add an order of,” she perused the menu, "strings and rings."
“Yes," Elliott cheered while climbing on the stool next to Kelby. "I love fries and onion rings together. Dad won't let me order them because the basket is too much for me to finish. Grandma says he eats too much meat and he'll pay for it later in life, but he has a lot of money in the bank."
He and Elliott needed to have a mano-mano conversation about what to discuss when a woman enters the vicinity. "Son," Hank pulled two quarters from his front pocket. "Go find Miss Kelby a song on the Juke Box."
