by Ann DeFee
“Yes, sir.” The EMT was a dead ringer for Brad Pitt. Wasn’t that just her darned luck.
“You probably won’t like this but I’m calling Liza,” Zack said as he punched in some numbers on his cell. “She’ll have my hide if I don’t.”
Then Liza would call Kenni and so on. From there it would only be a matter of minutes before the entire family would come rushing to the rescue—and the only thing saving her from being bare-ass naked was her ratty bathrobe.
It was the perfect end to a perfect day.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Liza was the first family member to arrive, followed by Mama and Daddy, then Kenni and Win, and later ex-sheriff Dave and Aunt Eugenie showed up. So where was Clay? Maizie’s question was answered when his truck rounded the corner on two wheels and screeched to a stop.
“Damn it!” Clay barreled through the front door and grabbed her by the shoulders. He didn’t bother with any niceties. “Why didn’t you call me?”
That did it! Maizie planted her hands on her hips, ready to tear a strip off his hide. “Do you really care?” Sarcasm dripped from her every word.
Clay glared but he didn’t say anything else. She couldn’t tell whether he was about to let her have it or go for the glacial treatment. Normally they preferred a rip-roaring row and then have spectacular make-up sex. But this was beyond anything they’d had to face before.
Clay let go of her shoulders and went over to talk to Zack who nodded and turned to the crowd.
“Everyone, listen up. The excitement’s over. Let’s all head to our cars and leave Maizie and Clay to sort this one out.”
Zack’s announcement earned him a dirty look from his wife, but that didn’t stop him. “Come on, chop, chop. Let’s move this circus on down the road.”
Maizie giggled. That man didn’t have a chance in hell of sleeping in Liza’s bed tonight. If he was lucky the dogs would let him bunk in with them.
Liza glared at her husband one more time. She wasn’t used to being separated from her sister—especially in a time of trouble. She put her arms around Maizie. “I’ll call you in the morning. If you need anything tonight, give me a buzz. I don’t care how late.”
After the police had finished their somewhat limited investigation and the crowd had dispersed Clay made himself at home, retrieving a beer from the refrigerator and a bag of chips from the pantry.
Maizie picked up his brew and took a sip. “Aren’t you leaving?” She tried to sound nonchalant.
“Nope, I’m tired of your mother’s accommodations. I’m moving into Hannah’s room. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, I suppose not.” Hallelujah! She wasn’t going to have to stay awake all night worrying about being murdered in her bed.
That was the only piece of good news. She wasn’t worried, but Clay’s proposed arrangements were a guaranteed recipe for insomnia. Hours later—after she’d punched her pillow, rolled over at least four hundred times and checked the clock so often the glowing numbers were burned into her eyes—Maizie conceded there was something far worse than fending off a homicidal maniac. That was sleeping down the hall from a husband she desperately wanted to ravage, or at the very least have her way with.
Men were such pigs. He was probably sound asleep while she was agonizing over her desire to pay him a naughty visit. She was dying to get back to her normal, boring life. But considering everything that had gone down, could they really make things right?
It was shortly before dawn before Maizie finally drifted off to sleep. Her last coherent thought was that she was going to feel like a pile of dog doo when the alarm buzzed.
Boy, did she call that one right. A tequila bender would have been better. At least she would have had the fun of getting drunk. Someone was pounding a bongo in her head, her stomach was queasy and her hair looked like Medusa with a perm. It wasn’t a great start to the morning.
Maizie stumbled down the stairs in search of a cup of coffee. But instead of coffee she discovered a full breakfast—bacon, eggs, grits and toast. It was Nirvana wrapped in cholesterol.
“Hey, Sunshine, I was about to come up and wake you. Don’t you have to go to work?”
“Uh-huh.” Maizie was too focused on procuring a caffeine fix to be more eloquent than that.
“Sorry,” she said after savoring her first sip. “You cooked me breakfast. That was so sweet.” Actually, it made her want to cry.
Clay piled her plate high with food. “Sit down and eat.”
That was an order she gladly obeyed. Food was exactly what she needed.
“This is delicious.” The scrambled eggs were perfect, the bacon was crisp, the grits were buttery and the coffee was strong—it was a chubby girl’s version of heaven.
“Maizie, we need to talk.” Clay toyed with his mug.
A man who wanted to talk? Gabriel must be tooting his horn. Either that or the four horsemen were about to ride through the kitchen.
“I’m going to move back in. Don’t freak. I’ll bunk in Hannah’s room.” He didn’t give her time to argue, not that she wanted to. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to be here by yourself.”
“Why?”
Clay shrugged. “Zack told me about the fire hydrant incident.” He frowned. “By the way, why didn’t you tell me about that?”
“I didn’t think you’d be interested.” The truth was she afraid he wouldn’t care.
“I wouldn’t be interested!” he shouted. “Are you out of your freakin’ mind?”
That was a valid question. She had been acting a little nutty lately, but Maizie knew a good thing when she saw it, and having her husband at home was fantastic—even if he wasn’t ready to come back to their bed. The best part was that Clay thought it was all his idea.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Clay felt as fuzzy-brained as his wife. How could he sleep down the hall from Maizie night after night, and still be able to function?
If today was any indication, it wasn’t going to be easy. He’d arrived late to the office and had just pulled up a file on the computer when a familiar voice called a halt to anything work related.
“Hi, Daddy.”
He looked up from his monitor to find his daughter standing in his office doorway.
“Hey, Sweetie!” Although it was a pleasant surprise, Hannah was the very last person Clay expected, or wanted, to see. Especially the way things were going at home. He went around the desk to give his daughter a hug.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you have classes?” Clay didn’t give her a chance to answer before he continued. “Grab us a couple of Cokes while I close out this program.”
Hannah rummaged through the minifridge and came up with two soft drinks.
“Here you go.” She placed both cans on the coffee table and then took a seat on the couch.
Clay glanced at his little girl who wasn’t so little anymore. Even so, she was giving him the same “take no prisoners look” she’d perfected as a preschooler. And she still hadn’t answered his question.
“Why are you here?” He joined her on the couch, not quite certain what to expect.
“I want to know what’s going on with you and Mom.” Hannah had never been one to mince words—a trait she shared with Maizie and Liza.
How could you explain the goat rope this escapade had become other than by admitting that two incredibly stubborn people were butting heads? “Don’t worry about us. We’re having a simple disagreement that has unfortunately gotten some attention in the local press.” He shrugged as if to say, “What can you do?” “You know what it’s like in Magnolia Bluffs.”
“A disagreement? You call being a regular feature in the paper a disagreement?”
Clay had been a parent long enough to recognize the start of a crying binge.
“Hannah, honey. Honestly, it started off as a spat and somehow it escalated. I’m back at home now. There’s nothing to worry about.” He didn’t tell her he was camped out in her bedroom, nor did he men
tion his “courting Maizie” project.
“Are you going by the boutique to see your mom?”
Hannah shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I talked to her last night.”
She looked so much like the little girl he remembered that it was as though time had stood still.
“Promise me you have it covered.” Her request was just short of a whine.
“Don’t worry I’m on it.” Clay could only hope he wasn’t kidding himself.
MAIZIE COULDN’T CONCENTRATE on retail to save her life and PJ wasn’t helping matters.
“I heard what happened last night. That is so scary!” PJ exclaimed wringing her hands. “Are you really okay?”
“Other than not getting any sleep and feeling like crap with a capital C, I’m fine. Honestly,” Maizie assured her friend.
“Okay, if you’re absolutely positive.” PJ didn’t bother to hide her lascivious grin. “I understand Clay spent the night.”
“Lord in heaven, nothing’s secret in this town!” Maizie exclaimed. “Tell me exactly what you heard, and don’t leave anything out.”
PJ smirked again. “Just that you were chasing a prowler and he attacked you. And you and Clay spent the night having wild monkey sex.” She laughed at her own wit. “Fine, so I made up that last part.”
“Typical. Only half of that’s true. Why don’t people get their stories straight?”
“So what is true? And to quote my boss, don’t leave anything out.”
Maizie plunked her butt on the fainting couch, knowing full well PJ wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Yes, I had a prowler. But no, he didn’t attack me. He must’ve panicked when he heard me coming around from the backyard and that’s when he leaped off the porch. Unfortunately he landed right on top of me. And believe me—in that situation, being on the bottom wasn’t any fun.”
Thank goodness her sense of humor had finally kicked in. “As for the monkey sex, I only wish. Clay spent the night in Hannah’s room.” Maizie made a tsking sound. “I’m not sure what any of it means.”
“Darn. That wasn’t nearly as juicy as I’d hoped.”
“However.” Maizie drew out the word for dramatic effect. “The reason I’m so tired is that I was up all night fantasizing about all sorts of prurient activities.”
PJ fanned herself. “Whew.”
Lunch came and went and Maizie still hadn’t perked up. She was tired, she was cranky and she needed some exercise.
“PJ, can you do without me for a couple of hours this afternoon? I’d like to go take a tennis lesson. Maybe some fresh air and a workout will get me out of this funk.”
“I didn’t know you were still playing.”
“I haven’t in a while. I was trying to behave and keep my mind on business.”
“You get out of here. We won’t even miss you,” PJ said with a grin.
“Thanks a million.”
“MAIZIE! IT’S GREAT TO see you.”
“Hi, Trip. I hope you don’t mind me dropping in for a group lesson.”
“Are you funnin’ me? I’m delighted to have you back. In fact, I have some ladies who are looking for a fourth. Are you interested?”
“How desperate are they?”
Trip laughed but didn’t contradict her. So that’s how it was. Desperate was good.
“As long as they’re not expecting Wimbledon quality I’m your gal.” Wimbledon, ha! She wouldn’t be allowed within a hundred miles of the stadium.
“They’re nice. You know Paige Butler.”
“Sure, I do.”
“You’ll have a good time with them. I promise.”
Maizie certainly hoped he was right. Good times had been few and far between lately.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Exercise was exactly what Maizie needed. She tore up the court with killer volleys and awesome lobs. Her forehand was sizzling and her backhand was mean. Not really, but she was at least able to keep it inside the white lines. And to her way of thinking, that was amazing progress.
Maizie was feeling better by the time she got home and discovered three new additions—Clay’s keys on the kitchen counter, his suitcase in the hall and a steaming-hot box of Giorgio’s Pizza on the table. The suitcase and keys meant another sleepless night, but the pizza was another story. It was manna from heaven, food of the gods, damned near perfect.
“I thought we’d do take-out tonight.” Clay had somehow managed to sneak into the kitchen while Maizie’s attention had been diverted by the pepperoni-and-double-cheese pizza, dripping in calories and butter fat.
“Are you staying here tonight?” Maizie wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to. Especially if he was going to insist on sleeping down the hall.
“Yep. That’s why I brought my toothbrush. Like I told you, I’m not leaving you here by yourself, not while there’s a prowler on the loose.” And not even when they caught the bastard and threw him in jail, but he wasn’t about to tell his wife that.
Clay Walker was on a mission to salvage their marriage. Maizie had made the first move and now it was his turn.
He plucked his cell from his belt, punched in a few numbers and almost immediately the kitchen phone rang. Maizie gave him a funny look, but nevertheless she picked up the receiver and managed a perfunctory hello.
“This is Clay Walker. May I speak to Maizie?” With that bit of silliness he winked.
“Speaking.”
“Miss Maizie, would you like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” He leaned against the counter, never breaking eye contact.
“Uh.” Well, look at that. She was speechless.
“I’ve made reservations at Antoine’s in Atlanta. We’ll have a romantic dinner and a good bottle of wine. What do you think?”
For a brief moment Maizie wondered whether they could afford it. Then her fiddle-dee-dee philosophy kicked in. Since Clay was being so sweet she’d worry about money later.
“I’d love to. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up around six.”
Why on earth would he pick her up if he was staying at the house?
THAT QUESTION WAS ANSWERED the next evening. While Maizie was agonizing about what to wear, Clay had disappeared. Half her wardrobe had ended up either on the floor or on her bed before she finally settled on an outfit that was dressy enough without being too dressy, sexy enough without being overt and best of all, easy to remove—piece by tantalizing piece. But where was her husband? It was almost six now and he was nowhere to be found.
If this was some kind of sick joke she was gonna kill him. She’d barely finished that homicidal thought when the doorbell rang. Now what?
Maizie flung open the door expecting to see Liza or Mama, but no, it was Clay, all dressed up and looking as handsome as sin.
“What are you doing ringing the doorbell?”
The wink he gave her was a fascinating combination of conspiratorial fun and lascivious interest. “I’m picking up my date.” He pulled a bouquet of wild flowers out from behind his back.
Maizie almost swooned. He’d never been one for romantic gestures before. “Okay, what are you up to? Did you do something that’s gonna get you in trouble?”
Clay looked surprised, and then broke out laughing. “I’m courting you, you silly goose. Grab your purse and let’s get rolling.”
Five minutes later they were in Clay’s pickup on their way to Atlanta. They’d been married over twenty years and Maizie couldn’t think of anything to say. This felt like a first date, and that was incredibly uncomfortable.
“How about those Falcons?” If that was the best she could come up with, it was going to be a very long night. The Atlanta NFL team was tail-end Charlie in the National Football Conference South division, so that discussion could only last about two minutes.
“I don’t think they’ll win on Sunday, do you?” she asked.
Clay answered with a shrug and that was the tone of the entire trip, at least until the truck started going thumpty, thumpt
y, thump.
He smacked the steering wheel as he pulled off the highway. “That’s effin’ fantastic. I think we have a flat tire.”
“Do you have a spare?”
“Yeah.” Clay jumped from the truck and ripped off his jacket. Then he leaned back into the cab. “This isn’t what I’d planned for our first date.”
No kidding!
By the time they made it to the restaurant, Clay’s formerly white shirt was smeared with grease, sweat was running off his face and Maizie was exhausted from watching him work. Lord only knew what would happen during dinner.
Clay pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. “Tell you what. Let’s bag this idea and do something we’ll both enjoy. I’m not sure they’ll even let me in looking like this.”
Although Maizie was delighted, she couldn’t resist pulling his chain. “Oh, but I was looking forward to a fancy dinner and an extravagant bottle of wine.”
Clay’s face fell, but he recovered nicely. “Okay. Let’s go.” He pulled the keys from the ignition and opened his door.
Maizie put her hand on his knee. “I was just kidding. Let’s do something fun. This little number will go anywhere.” She held out her hands indicating the black designer dress she was wearing. “And you look like you’ve been Dumpster diving.”
Clay laughed. “Are you impugning my hygiene?”
“No way. I’m sure you showered this week.” In the summer Clay bathed a couple of times a day. It felt good to joke with him again.
“I’ll tell you what. Let’s go to either the Big Chicken or the Varsity,” he suggested.
All roads in Atlanta led to the Big Chicken in northwest Atlanta. In 1963 an enterprising greasy spoon owner “hatched” the idea of building the world’s largest post-modern cubist steel chicken to attract customers. Through thick and thin, the chicken had endured, even though it was now a KFC, complete with buckets of thighs and legs.
The Varsity had been an Atlanta landmark for over eighty years. Located near the Georgia Tech campus it was famous for hot dogs, onion rings, fried pies and frosted orange drinks. The college kids considered it junk food heaven.
