by Marina Adair
Josephina sprang into action, leaping back over the hedge and making her way through the rose garden. Ignoring the pebbles cutting through her bare feet and the thorns scratching at her arms and legs, she stubbed her big toe on Letty’s ceramic fairy and rammed her knee into a rusted washing machine, getting to the dock just in time to see a green fanny bend over and yank the boat’s starter cord.
The engine sputtered and then caught, and all the ladies cheered as the boat slowly backed away from the dock.
With enough momentum, Josephina could leap and probably clear the boat. But the dock wasn’t all that sturdy and neither was the boat. And although Jelly-Lou wasn’t in her wheelchair, Josephina wasn’t sure if she could swim.
Boo, on the other hand, had no reservations about scurrying his little doggie butt down the dock and taking a flying leap. Josephina froze, part of her screaming, “Get ’em, boy,” proud that he was protecting what was his. While the other part wanted to cry because he was so little and the lake was so big.
But when Jelly-Lou reached out and caught him midair, and he crawled up her chest, tail wagging and licking her face, Josephina felt something inside her break a little.
“That’s my dog,” Josephina shouted over the engine.
“And this is our town,” Etta Jayne hollered back, her voice echoing off the lake’s surface.
“You have until tomorrow morning to bring him back or I call the cops,” she yelled into the night. The only response was the wind brushing through the old oaks.
At first Josephina thought that the ladies were lashing out because of the salon. That they were mad about losing their place to play poker, and in a way she understood. Now, all Josephina understood was that this was personal. It wasn’t the salon or her inheriting the house.
They didn’t like her. They never would. And with them running the town, it wouldn’t take long before everyone else started looking at her differently.
Sure she had made a few friends, but if pressed, Josephina had no illusions that they would pick her. Mean or not, these old ladies were grandmas to half the town, and surrogates to the other half.
And Josephina was not a part of that equation.
* * *
Brett found himself in a corner booth at the Saddle Rack wedged between Cal and the wall. What a sorry excuse for a Friday night. It was either listen to Hattie’s newest get-rich-quick scheme, which included a conference center, a camera crew, and some kind of jock itch cream, or go back over to Joie’s place, apologize for tearing out of there, and drag her to bed. Since both would give him an undesirable outcome, he chose to knock back a few with the guys.
The day had been normal, lots of stripping and nailing and brushing—and guilt. Then he’d walked into that kitchen and found her in pajama shorts and a light pink tank top, her hair in a messy knot on top of her head. She was barefoot, shower-fresh, and sitting at a table that had been set for a family. And he couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t sit across from her, sharing their day, looking her in the eye, and not tell her about the money. The more time they spent together, the less he thought about going back on tour. And the more he realized just how badly he had fucked up.
“Joie’s parents are coming to the Pucker Up and Drive,” Brett admitted. “They’re excited over Joie making the inn a success and called to say they are bringing some of their friends.”
Cal gave Brett a disappointed look. “You haven’t told her about the money yet, have you?”
“It hasn’t come up.”
“And what did you say when she told you the bank changed their mind about the loan?”
“That I was proud of her.” Same thing he said every time she’d brought up how surprised she was that Mr. Ryan had reconsidered and found her risky endeavor a sound investment.
“You’re a sick son of a bitch. You push yourself into her life, make her fall for you, sleep with her, and this whole time you’re letting her walk around town preening about her loan. Lying to her. If some bastard did that to Payton I’d kill him.” Cal shook his head, his voice going low. “And so would you.”
“You don’t think I already feel like shit?”
“Yeah, well imagine what she’s going to feel like when she finds out.” That was Brett’s fear. She would be hurt and sad, but in the end she would question her ability. And that Brett couldn’t live with.
“After her parents and that bastard of an ex, she pretty much thinks everyone expects her to fail. If she knew I gave her the money, she’d lose all belief in herself.” Brett leaned forward. “What the hell was I supposed to tell her?”
“The truth. Same thing I gave you when Mom and Dad died and you started screwing around.” Cal shook his head. “Saying you believe in someone and actually believing in them are two separate things. What’s the point in taking it slow with her, trying for something real, when you can’t even be honest with her?”
“I don’t want her to doubt herself.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Cal leaned forward too, right into Brett’s space. “You think it’s easy for me to step back and let the people I love fall and make mistakes? You? Jace? Payton? Tawny? To put it all out there for everyone to see and then let the other person decide if they’re going to make it or rip your fucking heart out when they don’t?
You’re scared, Brett. You’re scared that Joie’s going to screw up and lose Fairchild House and then leave. Leave Sugar. And leave you.”
Brett’s chest tightened. “Okay, then what do you suggest I do?”
“Man the fuck up. Put it on the line. Tell her about the loan, about how you feel, and let her decide if she wants to forgive you. If she loves you, she’ll figure it out.”
“And what if she decides she doesn’t.”
“Then you’ll have to figure out if you love her enough to let her find her own happiness.”
“I never said I loved her.”
“Yeah. Tell that to yourself a couple more times and you’ll start to hear what a complete ass you sound like.” Cal stared at Brett long and hard, and then shook his head. “Christ, Brett, you don’t even see it, do you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You asked me to start building you a house on the other side of Mom and Dad’s property. Why else would you think about settling back in town?”
Before Brett could come up with a good reason, other than the obvious, Jackson walked up.
Dressed in jeans and bed-head, the sheriff appeared to have been called in on his night off, and judging by the way he gripped his sidearm, he was not a happy camper. “I hate to break up this brotherly love fest, but I just got a call from dispatch. Seems I am supposed to go arrest your grandma and figured one of you might want to come with me.”
Cal sighed. “Don’t tell me she was caught skinny-dipping again.”
“No, seems she’s wanted for destruction of private property, county property, and dognapping.”
“Ah, hell,” Brett said, already headed for the door. “Cal, you handle Grandma. I’m going to check on Joie.”
* * *
Brett skidded off the highway onto Fairchild Lane, kicking up gravel and sending his truck sideways. Anxious to get to Joie, he didn’t slow down even though he couldn’t see more than five feet in front of him.
The moment he’d left town, he’d understood just how much trouble Hattie was in. Sugar Lake, usually glimmering with twinkle-lit docks and glowing houses, was black. Kind of like his mood right now.
Cal had called and confirmed that their grandma had, after swearing to him otherwise, paid Joie a visit and reinstated the feud. She’d stolen Ulysses’s battery, cut Joie’s power—accidentally blowing a transformer and plunging the entire neighborhood into darkness—and dognapped Boo.
Brett crested the final hill, gunned it through the canopy of moss-covered oaks. His truck came to an abrupt halt as he stopped to take in the scene before him.
On the front porch, surrounded by some kind of
torches, Joie sat on the swing, knees hugged to her chest, staring out at the lake. He wasn’t used to seeing her so still. The woman was constantly in motion. Even when she fell asleep watching TV her right big toe made small circles. Tonight she looked small and defeated.
Brett killed the engine, stepped out of the cab, and couldn’t help but grin. Closer inspection showed that it wasn’t tiki torches. She’d lit two of Rat Bastard’s drivers on fire and stuck them in the ground.
He made his way up the steps, careful not to singe his clothes, and eased down next to her. She didn’t say a word, and when he scooped her up and sat her on his lap, she just slid her arms around his neck and cuddled close. They sat, silently rocking in the swing and staring out at the lake, which now that Brett’s eyes had adjusted was lit by the moon.
“Boo’s gone,” she whispered.
“I know. Cal’s going to bring him home in the morning.” He heard a muffled little sniffle. Shit, she was crying. “I can go get him now.”
“No, they’re probably feeding him bacon gravy and frosting his hair with highlights so he could be the newest member of their posse. Right now they’re most likely teaching him how to gnaw through electrical wires. He’d be mad if he had to miss out.”
After a minute she quietly said, “When I was little and a storm would roll in, I would get scared and Letty would wrap me up in a quilt and we’d snuggle in the salon while she told me stories about fairies and Pearl Fairchild.”
She sniffled again, this time with a little more quiver, and he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. He hated that she was crying. Hated that his grandma had made her feel this way. Mostly, he hated that her body sagged with defeat.
“And sometimes, after a long day of pulling weeds or gardening, we’d eat ice cream out there and paint each other’s toenails. She called it the after-soil-spoil.” She snuggled deeper into him and, man, that did crazy things to his chest. “She always said the one thing people need more of these days is a little pampering. It’s how we show love.” Her arms tightened around him. “I’m not taking away their salon to be mean, I’m doing it to honor what Letty and I talked about. What we dreamed of. A magical place that pampered those brave enough to find their adventure.”
“And Letty would love every bit of it,” Brett said against her hair.
“Then why do I feel like every time I get one step ahead, I get tossed back two? Sometimes I wonder why I’m even trying.” She looked up, her eyes a piercing blue, filled with a confused hurt that kicked him in the gut.
He took her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the tears away. “I’ll talk with Hattie in the morning and this will all go away, I promise.”
“You can’t make them like me, Brett.” She shrugged. “Which means I’ve spent the past seven weeks trying to make a place for myself in a town that doesn’t understand me and with a group of people who don’t care enough to even try. The worst part is that, once again, the family of the man I’m falling for hates me.”
Brett’s breathing probably stopped, but it was hard to tell, since his heart was beating out of his chest. The man I’m falling for. It was the closest Joie had come to giving a verbal commitment that she was in this as deep as he was.
“She doesn’t hate you, sugar. Even if she did, it wouldn’t matter to me.” He looked in her eyes so she could see the truth there. “You and your silly dog and this rodent-infested inn matter to me. You, matter to me, Joie. If they can’t see what an amazing woman you are,” he cradled her lower lip between his, “it’s their loss.”
“What if it’s not them? What if it’s me? And no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I open myself up, it’s not enough?”
He shook his head. The truth was, he knew exactly how she felt. Had been there more times than he cared to admit, and with good reason. But these last few weeks had changed him—she had changed him. Around her, Brett could just be Brett, and she never asked him to be anything more. Joie was genuine and so easy to love. That she doubted that about herself broke his heart.
Brett looked up at the sky, glittering with stars, and back at Joie. “Get your shoes. I want to show you something.”
Brett walked Joie to the edge of the lake, letting go of her hand when they reached the dock. He untied the weathered dinghy and pushed it into the water, letting it sit for a minute to check for leaks. When none appeared, he held a hand out to Joie. She was wearing a tank top, a pair of men’s boxers, and mud up to her knees. And, he had a sinking suspicion, no bra.
She looked at his hand and then to him. “Where are we going?”
“Trust me, Joie.” The minute the words left his mouth he knew he was in deep shit. Her lip trembled slightly, her eyes got shiny, but in the end she took his hands without hesitation.
As he helped her onto the boat, he knew that Joie had just gone all in and he was a lying sack of shit. He started to tell her about the loan, but when he saw the lingering self-doubt in her eyes he knew he couldn’t be the cause of more.
Not tonight.
Chapter 19
Look up.” Brett leaned back against an old support beam of what was left of his childhood home. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he eased her between his legs.
Tired of fighting, she dropped her head back against his chest and looked up at the sky. Millions of stars flickered against the black backdrop.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, struggling to hold all her emotions inside.
His family’s property, the old oak tree, the crumbling structure and dreams surrounding them, everything rushed at her at once, leaving the overwhelming need to cry.
“Sometimes when I was a kid, things got so bad I didn’t think I could breathe anymore without the pain killing me. I’d sneak out my bedroom window at Hattie’s and come here to watch the stars. There were so many of them that after a while I didn’t feel like I was slowly suffocating.”
“How long did it take?” Josephina wanted to know. She felt as though she’d been drowning in everyone else’s expectations her whole life. Tonight, Hattie and her friends had held her head under the water, and Josephina was afraid she’d never manage to find her way back up.
“Sometimes I’d stay all night, sneaking back in right as Hattie started banging on doors announcing breakfast. If she knew, she never said a word.”
“She knew. That woman makes it her business to know everything.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her ear.
“For what?”
“Tonight. The Feud. The event. A lot of things.” His breath skated down her neck, sending tingles even lower. “I need to tell you something.”
“Like how many other girls you’ve brought up here?”
“To this place?” He threaded their fingers together and held tight. “Not a one. After the fire—” he shook his head. “No one. Not even Glory.”
Josephina looked at what was left of the structure. There was no roof, few walls, and nothing that would identify this as a place of safety and happiness. The wood that wasn’t scarred black had been beaten away by the weather. The very fact that the house hadn’t been rebuilt told Josephina just how deeply the boys were affected by their parents’ death.
“Was that your mom’s kitchen?” she asked, pointing to a crumbling rock and concrete structure.
“Yeah, and right here, where we’re sitting, was my bedroom.” She felt, more than saw, him waggle a brow.
“Brett McGraw, you lured me to your bedroom and between your legs.” She rubbed against him and she could feel the thick, hard length against her back.
“Yes, ma’am.” He leaned down and nipped her earlobe.
“How come they didn’t build the house closer to the lake?”
“Why do you ask?” He craned his head around to look at her profile.
“Just curious.” She turned and their faces met. Immediately, his eyes zeroed in on her lips—just her lips. Her breath caught and she waited for him to kiss her, but as the seconds went o
n, and he continued to stare, the tension grew past the physical into something deeper.
“Where would you build it?” He studied her, silently assessing.
“I would build it closer to the lake, over by the beautiful oak tree we docked under. But I’d put a small chef’s garden outside the kitchen, just like your mom had.” She broke the connection to look past the kitchen into what she knew used to be a small family garden. “I would probably turn this building into a barn, salvage parts of the original structure. And of course”—she turned her head to face him again, and went for a little humor to cut through this web he was weaving over her—“I would put a pig pen right here where we’re sitting.”
Easygoing Brett looked so unsure of himself, so intent on her every word, as though her opinions really mattered, that warmth spread through her heart.
“I remember when you rescued me out of that old oak tree,” she whispered.
“You were wearing pink ruffles and these cute pigtails.” He gently tugged on her hair before sliding it aside so he could press a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Eyes full of tears, crying up a storm over how you were waiting for your wings so you could fly down.”
“And you believed me.”
His hands slid to cup her face. “Sugar, you wrapped those arms around me and planted one so big on my lips, I would have believed you if you said you were a Falcons linebacker.”
“Did you know that you were my first kiss?” she said, surprised at how shy she felt at the admission.
Brett tilted his head and whispered against her mouth, “Did you know that you were mine?”
Brett cradled her lips for a long, languid, wonderful moment. When he finally pulled back, Josephina asked, “Is that why you offered to buy me a hog farm?”
“No.” He pressed a dozen little kisses along her jaw and hairline. “I was going to build you a hog farm because when you talked about it you smiled, and I would have done anything to not see you cry again.”
