by Marina Adair
“So, does Joie know?” Glory whispered, balancing the tray of drinks on her shoulder.
A sick feeling sank to the bottom of his gut. “Know what?”
“That you’re sweet on her?” Cal interrupted and Jackson laughed.
“You know I hate gossip, but, well,” her eyes flew to Joie and then back to him, “it seems that Joie got that loan from the bank. But Darleen’s claiming it didn’t go through her department, which according to her means something is screwy.”
“Shit.” Brett pinched the bridge of his nose. He had every intention of telling Joie that he’d arranged the loan. After hearing her determination to complete the project, even after the bank denied her, he wanted to do something to help her, to show her that someone believed in her dream.
He’d set up what was supposed to be a private conversation with Mr. Ryan and used his account to secure a third-party loan through Sugar Savings and Loan. The loan was between the bank and Joie, but his funds were held as collateral.
“Does she know?”
“Who? Joie?” Cal laughed. “Hell, Brett, the whole bar knows that she got that loan. Why do you think people have been sending her drinks all night?”
Brett glared at Jackson. “Is that who you bought a drink for?”
Jackson shrugged. “Bought the first round for the whole table. A group of lovely ladies, out for a night on the town.”
“I just wanted to make sure you knew that people are talking and to say you should tell her.” Glory looked at Joie and then back to him. “The sooner the better. The longer secrets go, the harder they are to admit. Until one day it’s just a wall between you and everyone else.”
* * *
“Although we are beyond words about you acquiring that loan, what we want to know is”—Charlotte looked in both directions and smoothed out her daffodil-colored skirt before leaning in to whisper—“are the rumors true?”
Josephina knew what, or rather whom, she was referring to. There was no point in lying. They would find out soon enough that, in typical Josephina fashion, she had managed to turn the One-Night-Romeo into a roommate who tinkered with her fuse box instead of her toy box.
She looked over her shoulder at Brett, who was sitting with his brother and the sheriff—where he’d been for the last two hours. He looked amazing in boots, a pair of button-fly jeans, and an ease that was anything but polished.
He looked up and their gazes collided and held, sending her entire body into hyperdrive. She tried to play it off, act unaffected, but when he sent her a wink whose exact translation was, “I’m getting to you,” she realized that she was in trouble.
She turned back to the girls and admitted, “I wouldn’t know.”
“Excuse me,” Charlotte asked, obviously dumbfounded by the news. “Come again? I don’t think I heard you right.”
When embarrassed, Josephina’s voice tended to shift toward shrill, one of the many things she had inherited from her mother and wished she could dispose of. Which was why when she spoke the words, “I. Said. I. Wouldn’t. Know,” every person in a ten-foot radius, including Brett, turned to look.
Lowering her voice she went on, “He wants to take things slow.”
“Honey, his truck is parked out front of your house from sunup to sundown. He isn’t dating anyone in town,” Charlotte said. “In the South that’s like taking out an ad in the Penny Saver: ‘Big-city girl and hometown hero living in sin.’”
And wasn’t that just great. Joie knew that in a town this size, it wouldn’t take long for people to notice Brett wasn’t hanging up his hat at home. She’d just been hoping people wouldn’t care.
“We’re not living together. He needed a place to hide out and I needed a contractor. And he said he wants to date first.”
Both women sat, mute. Blinking in unison.
“Hold up,” Spenser said. “Are you saying that you threw yourself at the PGA Playboy and he refused to sleep with you?”
“Yes. And thank you for that lovely recap. Now can we all agree that I suck at romance and move on?”
“He asked you out on a date? This is great.” Charlotte tapped her fingers on the rim of her Baptist cocktail. “When is it ? Where is he taking you? Oh, and what are you going to wear? I have a fabulous little red dress that I bought when I lived in Atlanta and never wore. It would look great on you.”
“I told him no.” Which made her either incredibly smart or the biggest idiot on the planet. Because instead of fully enjoying her night out, she’d spent most of it stealing glances and wondering how much time had to pass before she could politely excuse herself. Now that the loan was official, and she had done it on her own, she found that she wanted to be celebrating with him.
“Why on earth would you do that?” Charlotte gasped, hand over her heart. “What if you’re the one?”
“I’m not the one. I’m a challenge and he’s up for a chase. Playing with me serves as a good distraction.” But the minute the words came out of her mouth she knew they weren’t true.
Charlotte placed her hand on Josephina’s, her expression serious. “McGraw men don’t play. Not with women’s hearts. If he says he wants to take it slow, then honey, Brett McGraw, self-proclaimed bachelor, wants to do a whole lot more than date you,” Charlotte said, all dreamy and clutching a wadded cocktail napkin to her heart.
“He’s leaving.”
“He’s interested,” Spenser argued.
Something Josephina was well aware of. It didn’t fit into her new plan, which was all about control and professionalism. And it didn’t help that when she walked in tonight and saw Brett every cell in her body had screamed out for her to rush over to his table.
He’d greeted her with only a smile and a wink, so she told herself to order a drink and give the man some time to visit with his fans and friends, of which there were plenty. Then his table had looked so intense she hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Now she just felt silly because he’d hugged nearly every woman in the bar, except her, and she wished he would get up off that incredible butt and come over already, so she could be put out of her misery. Instead he sat, casual as ever, sipping a beer and watching her.
She grabbed her purse and stood. “I hope Brett finds his one. But it’s not me.” A small pang radiated through her chest because the reality was, if she allowed herself to, she could easily fall in love with him, only to have him leave. “And right now, the only thing I am interested in is a hot shower and a soft mattress.”
“Well, shoot, sugar.” His voice was so smooth, the words seemed to pour from his lips. “I already showered, and as you know my mattress is kind of lumpy, but I’m willing to take a dance in exchange.”
The thought of pressing their bodies together and swaying for even three minutes had her sweating. Although he hadn’t tried to kiss her since the other day in the dining room, every time they were within a foot of each other they somehow managed to touch. His arm accidentally grazing the side of her breast as they installed the new vanity and shower fixtures in the bathroom, his hands on her hips, steadying her as she climbed up to the sixth rung on the ladder to put up the shower curtain rod.
Josephina should have said no, told him it was impolite to eavesdrop, but all she could think about was his hand resting at the base of her neck. His skin was hot against hers as his fingers, rough and calloused from working on her house, made small patterns, reaching up under her hair.
Brett looked at her. “You okay? You’re a little pink.”
“Too much sun and too long a day. Which reminds me.” In an effort to put some distance between them, she stood right as the front door shot open with a bang.
The bar went silent because there—with her Falcons-themed velour track suit, a .45, and half the town in tow—stood Hattie McGraw, her frosted posse, and the entire Sugar Ladies Baptist Choir. Hattie’s greeting was to raise the gun, smile when her gaze landed in Josephina’s general direction, and pull the trigger.
Ceiling and shards of plaster scattered to
the floor. To Josephina’s surprise, she was the only one who took cover. Everyone else went back to business as usual. Pool games picked up, the DJ kept playing that twangy stuff Brett liked—and Brett, casual as ever, leaned down to help Josephina up off the floor.
“You okay?”
“I think so.” Dusting off her knees with her free hand, she whispered, “I swear that woman is out to kill me.”
“Ah, there’s no reason to be scared.” Brett gave her hand a patronizing little squeeze. “She’s all bark.”
Hattie lowered the gun, pointing it directly at Brett. “There he is!”
“Damnit, Grandma,” Cal bellowed, moving forward. He stopped the second Hattie swung the gun to him. “You could have shot someone.”
“Don’t you use that tone, boy. And I ain’t never shot someone I hadn’t intended on. I came here to talk to your brother and nothing is going to stop me, you hear?”
Cal threw his hands up in sheer frustration.
“Now, Hattie,” Jackson said quietly from behind, making his way toward the weapon. “We talked about this. You can’t go around discharging your weapon in a public place without me arresting you.”
“You can’t arrest her.” A regal woman with carefully coifed white hair stepped forward, her tailored dress and pearls swishing as she pushed her way through the swarms of people now filling the bar. She grabbed Hattie’s gun and positioned it to the right and down, low enough to have Brett squirming. “Not until her grandson comes clean.”
Josephina felt Brett’s hands go clammy. “All bark, remember?”
“Grandma,” Jackson sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were supposed to wait for me at the church. I was going to come get you when choir practice ended in an hour. And since when do you and Hattie agree on anything?”
“When justice needs to be served,” Hattie announced. “As soon as Brett tells all these good folks that he promised to MC the Sugar Ladies Summer Concert and politely decline participating in their fund-raising events we can all go back to our lives, and Kitty and I will go back to disliking one another.”
“Ah, Christ,” Cal muttered.
“Not so funny now, is it?” Brett grumbled.
“He is not canceling Sugar’s First Annual Golf Tournament,” Kitty glared at Hattie and Josephina recognized her from the paper as the mayor’s mother, which made her Jackson’s grandmother.
Kitty Duncan worked the crowd like a pro, shaking hands and showing off her pearly teeth before stopping in front of Brett. “Are you, son? A lot of people are counting on you and your friends turning out, including my son. The mayor plans to make this a tradition, a way to bring in commerce to the good people of Sugar.”
“I don’t see how the mayor can expect to hold him to that tournament.” Memaw stepped forward from the choir, her blue robe looking more like a muumuu. “When he’s already agreed to help me with my dog and cake walk.”
“What about the Catfish Catch and Cook-off?” someone hollered from the back.
All at once, everyone began shouting about how Brett had promised this, or agreed to help with that, how without him their events would fail. Rumbling about raising funds, the new center at the hospital, and being a man of his word filled the bar.
She counted at least six commitments on the same day that Brett had agreed to. And right then, Josephina understood why he never stayed long in Sugar. More important, she knew exactly what it felt like to be at the root of everyone’s disappointment.
“Hey!” The shout echoed over the noise, bringing all the arguing to a halt. Josephina was surprised to find that it came from her. Even more surprised that everyone was silently staring—no, glaring—in her direction. Well, except Brett, who was looking at her as if she had grown a mullet.
“Hi, everyone.” She gave a lame little wave and instantly shoved her hand into her pocket to make sure she didn’t repeat the gesture. “So, Brett has found himself in a place all of us have, at one time or another. He has unintentionally overextended himself.”
“Overextended or not, he made us a promise and in this town that means something,” Etta Jayne snapped. “We are counting on that money for the Medical Center.”
“Right, the Medical Center. So you mean to tell me that all of you just happened to pick the same day for your event? That is some kind of coincidence.” Josephina laughed. Everyone else remained silent.
Everyone, except the mayor’s mother, whom Josephina had planned on inviting to dinner. In hospitality, having the local officials behind you, Josephina had learned from her father, was as important as the capital, because without permits and local support it didn’t matter how much money you had.
“And just what are you implying?” Kitty asked, shock lacing her words.
The bar fell quiet again. This time the uncomfortable kind of quiet, as everyone stared at Brett, waiting for him to do the right thing. She wasn’t sure what the right thing was, but she knew that there were so many people placing their hopes on Brett that he had no choice but to disappoint someone. And being the kind of guy he was, letting down anybody wasn’t in him.
“Which is why Brett came to me earlier this week and asked me to plan a big event. Like a celebrity fundraiser,” Josephina heard herself say. “One that incorporates everyone’s ideas and increases the chances of finally funding the children’s ward.”
“And why would he ask you?” Hattie asked, sounding hurt.
“It’s what I did before.”
Before she had given up everything for a man who didn’t want what she was offering. Something she couldn’t let happen again. But Brett had helped her when Rooster had walked, and now it was her turn to return the favor. This was a completely different situation. At least that’s what she told herself.
“We can call it Sugar’s First Annual Pucker Up and Drive.” Utter silence. “You know sugar, like pucker up,” she made kissy lips, “and drive,” she mimicked swinging a gold club.
All she needed was a ba-dump-cha of the drums. Because the only response she got was silence. Uncomfortable, isolating silence.
“Joie,” Brett whispered. “You don’t have to do this. I can figure it out.”
“I know.” she whispered back.
“How will we know who raised what?” the mayor’s mother asked.
“Um,” Josephina swallowed. She could do this. The fact that the bank had enough faith in her to give her that loan gave her the courage to continue.
“Since all of the proceeds were intended for the same cause, I don’t think it should matter.” The looks on the faces in the mob told her she thought wrong. “If we all pool our efforts we will probably increase the overall profit. More money, more kids get treated, right? It’s a win-win.” Repeating Brett’s earlier words, she looked up at him and smiled.
“Well, you’d sure come out the winner, having all these people out at your new inn,” Etta Jayne accused.
“What about the money? You expect us to trust some northerner with the money?” Someone who sounded a lot like Rooster yelled, followed by a couple of “yeahs” and an “amen.”
“Hey now,” Brett defended, his hand tightening around hers in a protective gesture that made her heart stutter. “As far as I can tell, Joie’s the only one here trying to fix this mess, so hear her out.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, a warm feeling pushing through her chest. “And it’s a fair question. Fairchild House would be the perfect place. There’s lots of room, plenty of parking in my field, and the lake’s right there for the…uh…fish-off? As for my time and the use of my property for the day, I would be happy to donate them both.”
There were a few tuts and whispers, and Josephina felt as if everyone was judging her.
“Hush up now,” Charlotte shouted, startling herself and then smoothing down her dress. “Y’all are so busy arguing over whose name is going to go on that sign, no one is understanding that without the money there won’t be a new wing. And I’ve worked too hard to let that happen. Yankee
or not, she’s the only one making any sense. So I stand firmly behind Joie’s idea.”
“Thanks, Charlotte.” Josephina smiled at her friend, feeling for the first time since moving here that she belonged—at least a little.
“Joie,” Brett said, his voice rough. “They’re talking about three weeks from now. If you agree to plan this event it will mess up your timeline for the inn.”
“It just means we have to figure out a way to get it done faster. With the loan I can hire a crew, make it go faster.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand though his hair. “We need to talk about that—”
Not wanting to hear any of his doubts about her ability to make this happen, she shook her head. “This is my town now, too. I want to help.” She addressed the crowd before he could respond. “So if anyone has any questions about the Pucker Up and Drive…” Nothing. “Give me a call.”
With that she turned and headed for the door. Brett reached for her hand, which she shoved in her pocket as she skirted around the crowd. After the way he’d looked at her, as though she was someone amazing, one touch and she would forget her plan to stay immune and fall right into him.
She picked up the pace, hoping to outrun him. Too bad he had long legs, which were in excellent shape.
Before she knew it, they were standing by her car, silent while Josephina searched through her handbag for the keys. To her dismay, the parking lot was completely deserted, providing them with too much privacy for comfort’s sake.
Less than a foot separating them, they stared at each other, which made Joie reach down and fiddle with the keys in her hand. Brett stilled her movement with his, taking her keys, then threading their fingers. She felt herself leaning toward him and admitted that she needed his comfort right now.
“Joie, look, about—”
“Don’t worry about anything.” She’d run because she was afraid he wouldn’t want her to host the event, that he feared she’d screw it up. And after staring down that angry mob, she was suddenly tired of fighting. She just needed someone to believe in her. “I can handle this, Brett. I won’t embarrass you, I promise. Actually I’m really good at this kind of thing. I practically orchestrated Wilson’s career-making moment.”
