Lost With You (Cloverton #1)

by Jodi Vaughn

  Her shoulders slumped forwards. He wasn’t here for her. He was just here to eat.

  “Great,” Allison volunteered. “Grace is quite the haggler. She’s gotten a lot of stuff and didn’t pay the asking price once.”

  “Very impressive.”

  She forced her gaze up and smiled. “Not really.”

  “Sit and eat with us.” Allison scooted over and Sloan slid into the booth next to her.

  He grinned as he looked between the two plates. “I see you wolfed yours down already.”

  Allison elbowed his side. “I can’t help it. I didn’t have breakfast.”

  The platinum blonde waitress sashayed to the table with a smile on her lips. “Hi, Sloan. What can I get for you?”

  “I’ll have what the ladies are having.” His gaze met Grace’s.

  Her heart rate ratcheted up a notch. She reached for her tea again. Why was it so damn hot in here?

  Allison shook her head. “You are so obtuse.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sloan gave his sister a look.

  “Cindy was totally flirting with you. You didn’t even notice.”

  “Who’s Cindy?” Sloan shifted in his seat.

  “The waitress.”

  “Good grief, she’s still in high school.”

  “That’s not stopping her.” Allison chuckled.

  “You have such a wild imagination.”

  Cindy returned and set his glass of sweet tea down. Grace noticed the girl lingered a second too long before tending to her other customers.

  “See. I told you.” Allison crossed her arms and smirked. The trill of a cell phone echoed within her purse. She pulled it out. “Hello?”

  Allison sighed. “I’ll be right there.” She hung up and motioned for Sloan to let her out of the booth.

  “Everything okay?” Grace asked.

  “Yeah. I’m afraid I’ve got to go. That was Tabitha. She locked herself out of her house and I’m the only one with a spare key.” Sloan stood and Allison scooted out of the booth. “I’m afraid we can’t finish shopping.”

  “Why don’t you take your car and I’ll drive Grace to the sale?” Sloan slid down in the booth just as the waitress placed his meal in front of him. “I can bring her back when she’s finished.”

  Grace shook her head. “No, that’s too much of a bother. I’ll just ride with Allison.” She dug around in her purse for cash to pay her bill.

  Allison waved her down. “No, Sloan’s right. You stay and let him drive you around. He can take you back home if I don’t make it back in time.”

  Grace wanted to get up right now and leave with Allison. But she didn’t want to seem too obvious or else he’d get suspicious. She didn’t need Sloan digging around in her background.

  “It’s no trouble at all.” Sloan took a bite of his burger.

  Grace’s heart sped up. She pressed her lips together and finally nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.” It wouldn’t take long for Allison to unlock Tabitha’s door and be back. She was looking at two hours at most.

  She could do two hours with Sloan. She hoped.

  “No trouble at all.” Sloan met her gaze.

  Allison hurried out the door, leaving her with Sloan.

  Sloan put his burger down and rested his hands on either side of his plate. He leaned close and kept his intense gaze riveted on her.

  “Grace, I know why you’re acting like this around me.”

  She cleared her throat. “What do you mean?” She tightened her hands in her lap.

  “You’re the independent type. You hate it when people offer to help.” His expression softened. “It’s okay to let people in.”

  She breathed out a sigh of relief.

  Sloan shrugged. “I’m the same way.”

  “You certainly don’t strike me as needing help.” She took in his broad shoulders and muscled arms.

  “Maybe not physically, but Allison sure kept me from becoming a hermit last year. She had to kick my ass to make sure I wasn’t wallowing in my own self-induced pity.”

  “You mean with your ex.”

  “Yeah.” He frowned. “Don’t ever tell Allison I said that. She’d never let me live it down.”

  Grace grinned. “I think she already knows.”

  ***

  After lunch Grace followed Sloan out of the café. He peered over into the bed of the truck. “Is this all you have? A couple chairs and some fabric?” His ex could fill the bed of a truck within an hour of shopping.

  “I don’t want to get the first thing I see. It takes time to find the right piece.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. Not only were the chairs ugly, they were something Felicia never would have chosen.

  He opened his door and retrieved the duffle bag he’d tossed in before going into the Café. He pulled out a black T-shirt and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

  “I’m changing my shirt.”

  “Right here?” She glanced around looking to see if anyone was watching.

  “It’s not like I’m taking my pants off.”

  She shot him a glare. He laughed.

  She turned her back and crossed her arms while he changed. He found it oddly seductive that she was so embarrassed about seeing him without his shirt.

  “You can turn around now. I’m properly clothed.”

  She pressed her lips into a white slash and got into his truck. His heart did some kind of weird flip when he slid into the driver’s seat. It had been a while since he’d had a woman, other than his sister, in his truck. He snuck a glance, taking in her slim jeans, white sleeveless T-shirt and sneakers.

  Even without makeup she knocked the wind out of him. It had been a while since a woman had this kind of physical effect on him. It scared him a little.

  There was something else that scared him. He’d seen her flinch when Tabitha touched her at dinner and she was clearly uncomfortable with him. The wary look in her eyes alerted him that someone had hurt her. She didn’t seem to trust him either, despite the fact that he was a cop.

  The very idea of someone hurting her made him tighten his fingers on the steering wheel.

  Whoever the culprit was, he better not show his face in Cloverton or there was going to be hell to pay.

  Chapter Four

  “Nice truck.”

  “Thanks.” Sloan stole another glance at the brunette beauty. He silently hoped his gut instinct about Grace was way off the mark.

  “Your truck fits your personality.”

  “My personality?”

  She laughed a little. “You can tell a lot about a person by what they drive.”

  “So what does my truck say about me?” Now he was curious.

  “It’s white, which means you don’t take a lot of risks. And by the fact that I had to hoist myself up into the seat, it means you like to tower over people. It makes you feel in control, even though you can’t control everything.”

  He scowled. “You make it sound like I’m a stalker.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not it at all. You like to watch over things, make sure things are in order.”

  “I do like to keep the order. Protecting those who need it is my job.” He cut his eyes at her. “You seemed shocked when I showed up in my uniform.”

  She shrugged and looked out the window as he maneuvered his way onto a frontage road. Sale tents were lined up side by side, each in a different shape. It was a beautiful day to be outdoors. He itched to hit the button and roll down the window, but he knew how women were about their hair.

  “I was just surprised, that’s all. You never said you were a cop.”

  “You never asked.”

  Thick silence drifted through the cab of the truck.

  “Since we are on the subject of cars and people, I’m surprised at your choice of vehicle.”

  She met his gaze as her eyes, the color of sapphires, widened.

  “
Tan-colored Ford Taurus does not match you.”

  “It was a hand-me-down from my father.” She looked away. “Not everyone can afford a new car payment.”

  His gut clenched. Had he offended her?

  “Aren’t you going to ask?” He slowed the truck to the parking spot allotted for vehicles.

  “Ask what?”

  “What kind of car I think you should be driving.”

  She bit her lip, as if debating whether or not to ask.

  He threw the truck in park and turned to face her. He rested his arm on the back of her seat. “You should be driving a luxury sports car, red or black. Probably red.” He sat back and smiled.

  “Are you serious?” She narrowed her eyes. “That practically screams gold digger.”

  “What? No, that’s not what I meant at all. It was a compliment.” Everyone wanted a red sports car.

  She cocked her head. “So what does a luxury sports car say about my personality?”

  “That you are refined, in a soft spoken way. You are accomplished in a way that few people are, yet you hide it away because you wouldn’t want to make others feel inferior.” He held her gaze. “How close am I?”

  “You’re miles away, Sloan.” She opened the door and climbed out.

  He grinned, liking how his name sounded on her lips.

  ***

  Grace walked between the tented booths, searchingfor merchandise she considered diamonds in the rough. She’d gotten a great deal on the set of chairs because no one else could see past their ugly veneer to imagine what they could be. She was hoping for another great find.

  Sloan walked beside her at an unhurried pace. He didn’t seem to mind her leisurely looking and never asked her to hurry up. It was totally out of character for a man.

  “Hi, Sloan. Surprised to see you out today. Didn’t think you were much on shopping.” An old man behind a peanut cart greeted Sloan with a handshake while giving Grace a curious look.

  “Looks like a good turnout.”

  The old man nodded and looked around. “A lot better than last year.” He turned his kind eyes on Grace. “Who’s your pretty friend here?”

  She shifted her weight as she felt her face heat a few degrees.

  “Gene, this is Grace Witherspoon. She just moved to town.”

  “Nice to meet you, Grace.” He stuck out his weathered hand. His grasp was firm yet gentle in her palm. “I’m Gene Alder. I’m the local peanut man around these parts.”

  “Nice to meet you.” The aroma of boiled peanuts peaked her curiosity. “How much for a bag?”

  “For you? Free.”

  She looked up at him. “I can’t do that. I insist on paying you.”

  He smiled and handed her a hot bag. “Call it a welcome present.”

  She hesitated. If she didn’t take it, Gene would think her rude. She didn’t want to hurt the kind old man’s feelings. Her mouth watered, as she anticipated tasting the local fare.

  “Thank you. That’s very kind.” She unrolled the paper bag and took out a peanut.

  “These are the best peanuts in the south,” Sloan said.

  She cracked the shell and spilled the peanut into her mouth. The salty flavor exploded on her tongue. “I can see why. They’re wonderful.”

  Gene puffed out his chest and grinned as he filled another bag for the next customer in line. She followed Sloan to the next booth and held the bag out to him.

  “Thanks.” He ate the peanut and tossed the shell onto the ground. “So how much more stuff are you looking for?”

  She snorted. “You make shopping sound miserable.”

  “I’m a guy. Shopping is miserable.”

  “I’m not exactly sure what I’m looking for.”

  “Well, you need some kitchen furniture, a comfortable living room couch, maybe some chairs . . .”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t want to buy stuff to fill my house. I want to find things that will fit my life.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “You’re such a guy.”

  “Can’t argue with you there.” He stopped in front of a large tent crammed with furniture. “So show me the difference.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He nodded toward the tent and shoved his hands in his pocket. “Show me the difference between what would fill a house and what would fit a home.”

  She gave him a probing gaze, certain he was making fun of her.

  “I’m completely serious.”

  “Fine.” She pushed past him and walked into the tent. A mishmash of furniture lined the walls and with items placed in the center of the tent, leaving enough room for one person to walk in a single file line. Her discerning gaze flittered over the furniture. It didn’t take long until something shiny caught her attention behind a large piece of furniture.

  “Did you find something?” Sloan leaned over her shoulder. His warm breath tickled her ear.

  Her stomach warmed. He was too close. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. It was, however, disconcerting how her body reacted whenever he was near.

  She pointed. “There, behind the large headboard.”

  Sloan carefully moved the headboard to the side and pulled out a large gilded mirror. He looked up at her and frowned. “The molding around the side is broken.”

  “I’m not worried about that. That can be glued back together.” She cocked her head to the side, taking in the gold detailed molding around the rectangular mirror. “Once the molding is fixed I could paint over the gold an antique white.” A smile teased the corner of her lips. “There’s a large empty wall in the kitchen where it would look very pretty.”

  “Don’t you think it would be too frilly for a kitchen?”

  “I like frilly.”

  “I think Allison calls it shabby chic.”

  She laughed. “That’s exactly what it’s called. How did you know that?”

  “I have to listen to Allison’s incessant chatter about decorating. I guess it was bound to seep into my brain at some point.”

  “May I help you, Sloan?” A middle-age lady with short blonde hair and a friendly smile stepped up to them. Despite the casual atmosphere of the event, she wore a purple wrap dress with flats.

  “Hi, Mrs. Sims. Grace is interested in this mirror, but it has no price.”

  Mrs. Sims looked behind the mirror and tapped a finger to her lips. “I see. I guess since it’s not marked you’ll just have to make me an offer.”

  “Are you serious?” Grace’s mouth dropped open.

  “Of course.” Mrs. Sims gave her a friendly smile.

  “Well, I’m not sure what to offer.” She looked up at Sloan for help.

  “How about twenty dollars?” Sloan offered.

  “That’s not nearly enough.” Grace gaped. “Look at the detail in the molding.”

  “I thought you were good at haggling.” Sloan shook his head and looked at Mrs. Sims. “What would you take for it? Remember, it’s broken.”

  “I could take thirty.”

  He looked at Grace, waiting for her to argue.

  She arched her brow. “I’ll take it.” She pulled the money out of her purse and handed it to the lady.

  “I’ll put a sold sticker on it. You can come back and pick it after you’ve finished shopping.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem.” Mrs. Sims looked between her and Sloan. A sparkle of curiosity shone in the woman’s eyes. “You must be new in town.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce you.” Sloan put his hand on the small of her back. The warmth of his hand seeped through the thin material of the T-shirt and made her want to lean into him.

  “This is Grace Witherspoon. She bought the old Hadley place.”

  The older lady’s eyebrows shot upward. “Really? I wasn’t aware anyone had bought it. It certainly stayed on the market for a while.”

  Grace nodded. “I managed to get a great deal.”

  “I hope yo
u know what you’re getting into. That place needs a lot of work.” Mrs. Sims cut her eyes at Sloan. “You’re going to need a lot of help getting that thing in shape. And we have a lot of big strong men that can help.”

  Her face heated. “I can manage. I don’t need any help.” She stepped out of the tent and smiled. “I’ll be back to get my mirror in a little while.” She didn’t look back as she strode down the center of the yard sale, passing tents and vendors.

  “You okay?” Sloan kept pace with her.

  “Of course.”

  “You seemed annoyed when Mrs. Sims suggested you needed help with your house.”

  She stopped and spun around and looked up into his darkened gaze. “I’m not annoyed, just tired of people thinking I need help. I’m not some weak female that can’t survive without a man.”

  He touched her shoulder. “People don’t think that. I certainly don’t think that.”

  Her face heated again and she looked away. This time it was pure embarrassment. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have just kept it inside. What the hell was wrong with her, blurting everything out like that?

  “Grace, I . . .” Sloan’s words faded as he looked over her shoulder. His whole demeanor changed and his expression hardened.

  Grace turned. A beautiful blonde woman dressed in an expensive summer dress and high heels stood watching them. The expensive sunglasses hid her eyes. Grace could tell by the tight line of her mouth the woman wasn’t happy to see them together.

  “Hello, Sloan.” The blonde forced a smile. “I didn’t expect to find you here.” She placed her sunglasses on top of her head. She ran her brown-eyed gaze over Grace.

  “I’m here helping Grace.” His voice held an edge of warning. It was then Grace knew who the woman was. She was Felicia, Sloan’s ex.

  Ignoring Sloan, the woman stuck out her perfectly manicured hand to Grace. “Hi, Grace. I’m Felicia.”

  She shook Felicia’s hand. “Of course you are.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think.

  “Excuse me?” Felicia frowned, marring her perfect forehead.

  Grace smiled. “I knew who you were by your description.”

  Felicia smiled and straightened her shoulders. “Are you visiting for the annual sale?”