by C. P. Smith
She may have been mousy when they knew her, but she’d bloomed into a woman any man would stop and take a second, even third look at. One who was confident in her skin. Who didn’t care that when she was younger she’d held onto baby fat longer than most, because she knew she’d turned into a beautiful swan. A swan who could flirt with men while sporting two black eyes and not care. Her confidence in her ability to draw them in and keep their attention, was one of the reasons she’d been surrounded by deputies, vying for her attention.
She was the complete opposite of me.
She didn’t freeze the moment a man touched her. Didn’t back away from attention because it made her skin crawl. She smiled in the face of a busted nose and took advantage of the situation to get what she wanted. And she wanted Nate.
Dread flooded every cell in my body. Would she succeed in her quest to take Nate from me?
I looked down at the ice pack Nate had personally gotten for my bruised knuckles. I played with the plastic, squishing the mushy contents inside while I contemplated how craptastic my life had been the past twenty-four hours.
Natalie called out Nate’s name, so I looked up from my hand. He’d turned away from her and was headed our direction with Devin and Bo trailing behind.
Nate and Natalie . . . Even their names sounded good together. Would he prefer her rather than someone he had to fix?
I watched silently as he stopped in front of me then squatted to his haunches. He scanned my face like he was searching for the meaning of life, then pulled the ice pack from my knuckles, mumbling, “How’s your hand, Kitten?”
The sound of his husky voice drawling out the question, and the way his full mouth formed the words as he spoke, sent my heart fluttering. “I’m okay,” I whispered back, then held my breath as he raised my hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles, his tongue slipping through his lips to taste the skin. It hypnotized me the way his eyes seemed to grow darker at my breathy reply, and I found myself leaning forward, wanting those lips on my mouth instead of my hand.
“I’m Natalie Rhodes,” an impatient voice said next to me. I stopped my descent toward Nate’s lips and looked at the red-tipped nails, attached to the hand that was inserted into the space between Nate and my head. She was cockblocking—or handblocking in this case—us from kissing. I looked up at her. She had a calculated expression. The kind that said she was about to get her Southern belle on and go after what she wanted. All’s fair in love and war, and in the South, that was doubly true. She was ready to pull her boots up, lock and load her gun, and get to the task of winning her man. Or my man.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you with my microphone,” she continued, pointing out in front of Nate that I was weak. By apologizing to me instead of shrieking she was gonna have me arrested for assault, she was proving the stronger of the two of us. More emotionally stable. Better suited for the man in front of me. And that peeved me right the heck off because she was probably right.
I dug down deep for my inner biker babe princess DNA, paired it with my Southern belle, and took her hand. I stood, smiling at her like I didn’t mind one bit that she thought she could steal my man.
“No, I’m sorry. Guess I needed somethin’ to hit since the kidnapper got away. You were just an easy target what with all that red you’re wearin’,” I replied breezily, scanning her from head to toe. She’d made one mistake with her outfit. Red was a power color. True belles preferred softer colors, like worn-out Levi denim, for instance. We were also laid-back like iced tea and peaches on a hot summer’s day. And Southern men liked that about us. Wearing red from head to toe screamed ‘look at me.’ Screamed she’d dominate you, then dismiss you as not important after she’d won. Lesser men might fall for all that beauty, but Neanderthals like Nate preferred to do the chasing and the dominating. But don’t be fooled, they didn’t want a meek woman, either. No, they liked a strong woman who gave as good as they got, but they also liked to feel like men while pursuing their belles. And Natalie came across as a woman who would try to crush their twiddle diddles to get them to submit. That thought bolstered my confidence. I couldn’t see Nate allowing anyone to crush his golden nuggets.
I heard Cali snort at my reply, but I ignored her when Nate rose from his squat and curled his arm around my shoulders until he’d plastered me into his side. I watched with satisfaction when Natalie’s eyes drifted to his hand planted firmly to my hip. A smile tugged at my lips when her jaw clenched in response to the kiss he placed at my temple.
“Appreciate you not pressin’ charges,” Nate interjected.
Natalie’s eyes shot to his and she beamed at him, looking between us as she said, “I’d do just about anything for you. You know that.” The silent message was clear. She was letting me know she would, in fact, do anything to steal him.
The question remained, would Nate fall for it?
“Did Nate tell you we went to school together?” Natalie went on. I started to answer, but she kept talking. “Remember the bonfires before the Georgia Tech games? Gosh, I miss those. Nate’s fraternity was one of the frats we brothered with,” she explained. “Do you remember the panty raids?” The giggle that left her mouth was more girl than grown woman. She’d switched tactics in a blink of an eye. No more power play. She was going for sweet in her attempt to distract Nate from me.
I tilted my head back and looked at Nate to gauge his reaction. She was reminding him of their shared history. His lip twitched, so the trip down memory lane had scored a hit.
Natalie 1 Poppy 0.
I jumped a little when Natalie squeaked out in excitement, her role of sweet belle firmly in place, “We should get together and reminisce. Maybe I could come by the bar and we could hang out?”
I stiffened in reaction to her practically asking him out in front of me, and Nate felt it. He glanced down at me then back at Natalie. “Name the date and time,” he began, and my stomach dropped. Natalie’s face beamed in triumph, while mine fell in defeat, but hers matched mine instantly when Nate finished with, “and Poppy and I will be there with Devin and Calla.”
Ha!
Natalie 1 Poppy 1.
I turned my head to grin at Cali and Sienna. They’d moved to the side to catch our interaction. Studying the enemy like any good Wallflower did for her comrade in arms. It was a Wallflower code. Right after Wallflowers don’t swear when they could avoid it was Wallflowers have each other’s backs against friend or foe, Cali had informed me the day before. And Natalie was a foe to any self-respecting Wallflower worth her metal.
“Can’t wait,” Nat, as I’d come to think of her because she was as pesky as the tiny fly, answered cheerfully.
A deputy finally came around the corner with Bernice and led her to the door where Eunice and Odis Lee were waiting to take her home. Bernice blew us all a kiss, then exited as the deputy came over to our group. “Will you ladies follow me?”
Knox stepped forward before we could move and flashed a badge. “I’m Agent Taylor. I want to be in on the questioning of my daughters.”
The deputy took his badge and inspected it. “I’ll have to ask Sheriff Moore.”
“Do that,” Knox ordered. “But let him know if he declines, I’m taking them out of here and not coming back until we have counsel.”
The deputy stared at Knox a moment then turned his attention to another officer. He handed my father’s badge to the man, mumbled, “Pull his file,” then turned back.
My eyes shot to Nate’s then to Sienna’s. “We don’t have anything to hide,” I said, miffed at Knox. “We were just mindin’ our own business when we heard a scream. Why does he have to come with us?”
“I know you don’t,” Knox answered, “but this is a high-profile case, and I’m not letting them interrogate either of my daughters without council or me in the room. After all the shit that went down yesterday, I’m not taking any chances.”
I looked back at Nate for direction and caught Natal
ie scribbling in a notepad, and almost struck her again. I’d forgotten with all the byplay she was a reporter. The last thing I wanted was the world knowing a cotton-picking thing about me or mine. Especially the part where I’d been abandoned because my biker grandfather killed my mother.
“No comment,” I shouted in panic. “Off the record. And throw in any of the amendments that pertain to the press keepin’ their mouth shut where my family is concerned,” I continued, then addressed Cali. “You know about everything. Give me an amendment that keeps her from printing anything she just heard.”
Nate reached out and nabbed her notepad and tore off the page she’d been writing on. Natalie jerked in surprise and tried to snatch it back, screeching, “Nate!”
“She said, ‘no comment.’ You print a fuckin’ word of that and your boss and I will have words,” Nate answered in his best growly voice. I could have kissed him in front of everyone and not cared. With tongue.
Natalie jerked her head back at his anger, somehow surprised he would threaten her that way, then directed her attention toward me. “The First Amendment guarantees freedom of the press,” she informed me in a tone that said I was an idiot. “It means we have the right and duty to report the truth, so the people can make an informed decision. You can’t suppress my constitutional rights.”
The truth as they saw it, I thought, but arguing with the media was a lost cause. They deemed themselves truth seekers, avengers of the people. Then they twisted the people’s words so only their opinion was heard, while damning the rest of us because we didn’t eat, sleep, or bleed their cause. I was sick of their manipulations, so I leaned in and offered, with my best biker babe princess DNA attitude, “Yeah? Well, the Second Amendment gives me the right to bear arms. To protect myself and my family against threats.” Then I added, because it sounded smart and she’d made me feel dumb, “Foreign or domestic.”
I finished my not so carefully worded threat to rip her hair out with another threat, because that’s how I roll.
“You print a word of what you heard today about me or my family, and I’ll consider it a domestic threat.”
I should have added, “And I’ve got a shotgun loaded with rock salt if you come near Nate again,” but I was confident I’d made my point.
When I glanced at Nate to gauge his reaction, he was grinning from ear to ear.
Natalie 1 Poppy 2.
_______________
“That woman’s wound a little too tight,” Natalie mumbled as Poppy was led away with Knox and the Wallflowers in tow. “Are you sure I’m safe?” Nate looked down at the hand she’d placed on his arm, then noticed she’d moved closer to him as if she needed his protection.
Natalie had been a cute kid when he’d met her all those years ago. She was a feisty go-getter when it came to a story. But she’d lacked the killer instinct needed in a journalist. Back then she always told the truth. Not her version of the truth, but word-for-word, no variation of the facts, truth. If more journalists held to that motto, the world would be a far better place. But they didn’t, and because of that he figured her chances of being picked up by a paper or media outlet were slim.
Looking at her now, at the change in her from mousy kid to her version of what she thought a journalist should look like, made his lips thin. She’d clearly embraced what it took to make it in her line of work, and it pissed him off for the goofy kid he once knew. He’d liked Natalie Rhodes, keeper of the truth. This plastic, red painted, hard-nosed imitation of the kid he once knew, pissed him off.
Nate removed her hand from his arm and stepped back to put distance between them. He knew from the way women stared his size and looks were appealing to them. He didn’t give much thought to it though. Up until he’d met Poppy, he wasn’t looking for someone to complete his life. But it didn’t mean he was oblivious to the looks he received.
He also wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Devin and Nate were men women would call attractive, and Natalie had barely given them the time of day. She’d flirted in that way women did when they had men’s attention, but instead of flirting with Nate, her eyes had grown warm and she’d communicated, in all the ways women could; she wanted him. He’d hoped eight years would have cooled her infatuation, but clearly it hadn’t.
On the night he’d graduated college, she’d thrown herself into his arms and slammed her mouth over his. It had been a last-ditch effort on her part to show him how she felt. It had taken him a full minute to pry her hands from around his neck, all the while dodging her mouth. She’d been like a kid sister to him, and he’d been shocked by her move. Tried to let her down gently because he hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings.
But now he didn’t care.
She was just someone he used to know. Someone he didn’t think he even liked because she’d caved to the demands of her chosen profession. And if the vibes she was throwing off were an indication of how much she’d changed, he worried she’d use her position as a reporter to drive a wedge between him and Poppy.
Nate looked away from Natalie toward the hallway Poppy was headed down. She’d stopped at the entrance and looked back. Her eyes were on Natalie. She had the same look on her face when Natalie had stopped flirting with him and started communicating, not so subtly, that she still wanted him.
He’d turned his head to check on Poppy once Natalie agreed not to press charges, and his gut had dropped at the look on her face. She’d clearly caught on what Natalie was about, so he’d turned his back on the cause of her distress and headed straight to Poppy. He’d made a promise to her, and himself that he would do everything in his power to heal her, and trusting he’d never look at another woman, or cheat on her like her ex had done, was a big part of earning that trust.
Seeing the distress on Poppy’s face again, Nate moved without thought and stopped in front of her. She tipped her head back and he saw a blankness in her eyes. He hated that look. Hated why she had it, so he tagged her behind the head and slammed his mouth over hers. He didn’t care they had an audience, he only cared that he kissed that fucking expression off her face until she’d melted into his body.
“She means nothin’ to me,” he whispered against her lips. “Not a goddamned thing. She can play all the games she wants, but it won’t change the way I feel about you.”
Poppy’s hooded gaze searched his, looking for any hint of a lie. He didn’t breathe again until a smile pulled gently across her mouth and she pressed her lips to his, quick but effective in communicating she believed him, whispering back, “Okay.”
He squeezed once and let her go when Knox cleared his throat and glared at Nate. He held his glare while Poppy slipped from his arms. He knew why Knox hated him. Knew his time was running out to explain to Poppy what he’d done in his past. But there hadn’t been time. Poppy’s emotional state had taken precedent. He could only hope the man kept his mouth shut until he could get her home. If the details of his past came to light from someone other than him, he was afraid of what might happen.
His gut burned at the thought and he glared harder at Knox. If he didn’t think she needed closure with the man, he’d do everything he could to run him out of town. But he also needed Knox to stick around until Poppy’s mess was sorted. Her aunt had to know the name of the man who’d abused her. And as much as it killed him to admit it, he needed Knox to run interference for him.
Nate scowled when Sheriff Justin Moore stepped into the hallway, a lazy grin pulling across his mouth at the sight of all three women. He was a good-looking man and knew it. Didn’t hesitate to turn his fucking smile up whenever the Wallflowers were around.
Fuck but he hated that man.
He felt Devin and Bo at his side, also watching their women disappear into a room. “Maybe we should sic Natalie on Moore. If they hook up, it will serve two purposes,” Nate mumbled.
He jerked his head at Moore when the man flicked two fingers at their group before taking a file from his deputy and opening it.
“Two purposes? Is one keepin’
Calla and Sienna from wringin’ Natalie’s neck?” Bo questioned. Nate hadn’t paid attention to what the other Wallflowers thought of Natalie, but clearly her flirting had been noticed by all three.
“Nope. It’ll keep me from shovin’ my fist down Moore’s throat, while easin’ Poppy’s worry.”
“Saw that,” Devin muttered. “She’s got baggage from the ex, I’d bet.”
Nate looked at his friend. “Fuckin’ steamer trunks full. From the ex. The dad . . . A fuckin’—” He stopped then rolled his lips between his teeth, pressing down to control his temper. He’d promised Poppy he would wait, but he wasn’t gonna sit there and do nothing. He needed to find the guy. If he wasn’t in prison for doing the exact same shit to another child, then he needed to be caught. Poppy couldn’t see the big picture at the moment. She’d programmed herself to keep her mouth shut. It was typical of child abuse victims. He knew firsthand because he lived it every day for sixteen years. The shame of revealing the abuse. Fear the perpetrator would harm them again or their family. And the guilt and self-blame that somehow it was your fault. All of it paralyzed you and stole your dignity until the last thing you would do is report it. He didn’t want Poppy living with any more regret. But he knew she would, once she calmed down, if he didn’t find this guy quickly.
Nate looked to Bo then Devin. He’d deal with the consequences when and if it arose. Poppy wasn’t thinking straight, so he’d have to think for her. She was letting her fear guide her actions. “I need to find a man,” he began, speaking low so no one could hear him. “He would have hung out with Shirley Gentry when Poppy was a child. We’re talkin’ sixteen years ago. He’s gonna be somewhere between the age of say forty to sixty. Probably has priors for molesting a child or even rape.”
Bo stiffened and so did Devin beside him. Then they both hissed out, “Fuck,” correctly interpreting why he needed it.
