Moonshine & Magnolias

by Jamie Farrell

  She looked up in the tree, then back at him. There was something more than wariness there. Something vulnerable. As if she was afraid of the cost of letting him help her. Her foot wobbled on the stepladder, drawing his attention to the bruise on her knee.

  There went that guilt knocking at his ribs again. “Shelby. C’mon. You want to tell people you got the cat out of the tree yourself, I won’t say any different. But let me get this one.”

  “The dog,” she said.

  Something whimpered above his head, and Zack finally looked up too.

  A pug stared down at them from a gnarled branch just beyond his reach, framed by dark green magnolia leaves.

  He raked a hand over his short hair. “Huh.”

  Right. Her dog. One-Two-Shelby didn’t have a cat, now that he thought about it.

  “There some kind of special award for that?” She rubbed at her fingers on her left arm. “Because I get the dog out of the dadgum tree twice a week.”

  “Your dog’s in the magnolia tree.”

  “That’s a real good grip on the obvious you’ve got there, bless your heart.”

  He almost laughed. His sisters would’ve liked that little zinger. Instead, he pulled his phone out and snapped a picture of the dog—nobody would believe this without evidence—then pointed to the lower branches touching the ground behind her, the dog’s obvious path up. “Need to get those trimmed.”

  “Look at you, Sergeant Einstein. They’re gonna fix you up with an honorary rocket scientist degree if you keep on waving those brains around.”

  He hoisted himself up onto the stepladder. She was funny, even if it was at his expense. “Nah, I’m holding out for brain surgeon.” He grinned at her—that grin had always irritated his sisters when they were in a mood—then turned his focus to the dog. “C’mon, pup. Let’s get you down, then I’ll trim up your tree.”

  One-Two-Shelby cleared her throat. “My daddy taught me to use a chainsaw before he taught me to use a ladder. Thank you kindly for your assistance, but you can skedaddle on home after you get Penelope down. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your day.”

  The pug whimpered and backed up along the branch, like she knew her owner didn’t trust him and didn’t want his help. Zack held a hand out to let Penelope sniff him. “Easy, girl. I’m here to help.”

  She whined, but it was softer, and she went down on her belly, craning her neck to sniff him closer.

  “She doesn’t like strangers,” Shelby said.

  The dog wasn’t the only one. “That’s a good girl,” Zack murmured to Penelope. “Nothing to be afraid of. We’re not strangers, are we? You want some chicken?”

  The dog stopped whimpering and cocked her head at Zack.

  “And a bone?” Zack added.

  When Penelope’s jaws split into a doggie grin, Zack climbed one more step on the ladder. He rubbed the pup’s head, then tucked his hand under Penelope’s belly and pulled her down. Her pudgy body wriggled, but he held her tight. He turned to Shelby with another grin, but she was white-knuckling her sling with her good hand, and there was a fine sheen on her forehead.

  “Shelby? You okay?”

  “Just fine,” she said through a clenched jaw while she made eye contact with his nose.

  “You take anything for the pain this morning? That’s gotta hurt.”

  “Again, Sergeant Bossypants, it’s sweet as sugar of you to worry over little ol’ me, but—”

  “Cut the crap, Shelby. How’s the swelling? Can you move your fingers?”

  “I’m peachy, thank you kindly again.”

  Zack rubbed Penelope’s head and pretended he hadn’t heard the leave me alone in her voice or noticed the stress lines around her mouth.

  He was all for independent women, but she had a broken arm. “Hailey and Braden home?” Zack asked.

  “They’re with their father, probably eating donuts for breakfast and cake for dinner and getting new Legos and princess dresses and ponies and the Good Lord only knows what else to make me look like a penny-pinching hag in comparison.” Her eyes pinched and her voice went husky, as if she hated herself for saying it but couldn’t hold it in. “And I’m supposed to be cleaning my gutters and painting their rooms and trimming my magnolia tree while they’re gone, but, well.” She waved her sling at him, then grimaced again. Her eyes took on a shine, but she blinked it into submission. “Obviously that’s not happening. I’d invite you in for a cup of sweet tea to thank you for your assistance with Penelope, but I have to make some phone calls and figure out how to type one-handed so I can go back to work tomorrow.”

  Guilt smacked him square in the chest. A broken arm really was the last thing she needed. “Got any vodka?” Zack asked.

  She drew back. “What in tarnation do you need with my vodka? Because if you’re fixin’ to use it to drown me out, you can take your tight little butt back on to your own house, thank you very much.”

  Two things struck him at once.

  One, she’d probably count to three if he didn’t get his ass on back to his house soon.

  And two, she had a fixation with said ass.

  Interesting.

  He gave her his best slow smile. “I was fixin’ to suggest you take a shot or two for yourself. Put a nip in your sweet tea. Take the edge off.” Relax so he could cut those branches off her magnolia tree and keep the dog—and Shelby—out of it, so he’d have one less distraction from catching up on his kitchen renovation today.

  Though he couldn’t deny he was half-hard at the thought of watching Shelby pull the rip cord on a chainsaw and go to town on the magnolia. That would be a sight, and he was man enough to admit wanting to watch it.

  “Honey, I don’t think vodka’s gonna cut it,” Shelby grumbled. “This here’s a job for moonshine.”

  The downtrodden slump of her whole body put another pang of guilt in his chest.

  “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go get you inside and comfortable.” Zack tucked Penelope under one arm, then put an arm around her shoulders.

  She went stiff and jumped back. “If you don’t remove your appendage from my person, I’ll—”

  “Count to three?” he suggested.

  The glower she turned on him could’ve ignited jet fuel from a mile away. He knew not to taunt cranky women. He had two sisters, after all.

  But this cranky woman—he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t been out with a woman since he got back from the desert—hadn’t had much time or interest. Now here he was, getting aroused by One-Two-Shelby. He liked her with some spunk, like she’d shown last night. Went better than the defeat.

  And behind those irritated sparks in her eyes, there was something else.

  Her tongue darted out to lick those pink lips. Her skin radiated more heat through her shirt than the humid morning warranted. Her gaze dipped to his lips.

  Zack suddenly had the uncanny feeling that Shelby didn’t really dislike him at all. That perhaps, Shelby not disliking him was the bigger problem than his offering to help.

  That perhaps she liked him more than she was comfortable with.

  Huh.

  “Go. Home.” The deadly threat behind her every word made him wonder what else her daddy had taught her. “One…”

  Yeah, he definitely liked her better with spunk.

  “Do your kids know the world doesn’t stop turning when you hit three?” he murmured.

  Those hazel eyes took on a dangerous spark. “Two…”

  “Not feeling any earthquakes or hearing any thunder either.”

  Her tongue went between her teeth to start the Three.

  “Make you a deal,” he said. “You take Penelope and go inside, and I won’t kiss you.”

  Her eyes widened and a soft gasp slipped from her parted lips. Those cheeks—he wouldn’t have expected a full rosy blush, but there it was. Her eyes were still shooting firecrackers, but she took four big steps back. “Penelope. Inside. Now.”

  The dog wriggled. Zack let her go, and she dashed to the hou
se.

  Shelby’s spine straightened. The fingers on her bad arm twitched, but she plastered her Southern belle smile on her pale face again. “Lovely chatting with you this morning, Sergeant. Glad there are no hard feelings over your boys not getting any of our numbers after we let y’all win last night.” She turned on her heel and sashayed her curvy ass into her house.

  After the door shut behind her, Zack turned back to his own house, a smile growing on his face. Maybe he was a jerk, but he’d put the sass back in One-Two-Shelby.

  A few minutes later, when he came back with a chainsaw and took off the lower three branches on her magnolia tree when he should’ve been working on his cabinets, she didn’t come back out.

  But he got the sensation of being watched more than once while he was working in her yard.

  And when he went back to working on his kitchen renovation, the neighbor lady was on his mind.

  Chapter 3

  Shelby shouldn’t have gone to work on Tuesday.

  Mentally, she was fine. She could walk, she could answer phones at the small technical firm that had taken pity on her and hired her to be their receptionist. That is, while she continued to apply for—and be turned down for—teaching jobs now that she was permanently settled back home. She could even type one-handed, and she mostly remembered not to reach for things with her bum arm. As long as she took her painkillers on time—a lesson she’d learned the hard way yesterday morning—she was fine.

  Mari Belle had even invited her to go to Atlanta this weekend, to get away and relax. But Shelby had said no because emotionally—and possibly hormonally—she was a wreck.

  For six years, she’d had Alexander telling her they couldn’t take a weekend to go skiing or hiking in the Rockies—where he was first assigned after college—because she was pregnant or Hailey was too small or they couldn’t afford it. Then the Air Force moved them from Colorado to Florida, and they couldn’t go to the beach or to Disney World because she was pregnant or Braden was too small. Or they couldn’t afford it, because even if she could’ve gotten a job with her degree in early childhood education, her salary wouldn’t have covered day care. But getting a job had been nearly impossible anyway since she had zero experience and no one wanted to hire someone who would be moving as soon as her husband got orders.

  And now Alexander was no longer in a position to hold her back from traveling, but she had a broken arm. Plus, she didn’t have any vacation time built up, so she couldn’t go anywhere anyway unless it was a short weekend trip that didn’t involve any physical activity.

  And even if she could overcome the other two, there was the paranoia.

  The fear that Alexander couldn’t handle the kids. That something would come up at work for him. That one of them would get sick or that Braden would have a potty accident or that Hailey would cry over not having the right stuffed dolphin with her this week.

  She’d called him this morning to talk to the kids, but they hadn’t been up yet. She wanted to hear their little voices and to know that they were okay.

  So Shelby had said no to Mari Belle, even though she’d wanted desperately to embrace her temporary responsibility-free status. Plus, Atlanta was farther from her babies.

  She was a wreck.

  And then Zack Montgomery had touched her, and every nerve ending in her body had shot to life.

  And that was before he threatened to kiss her.

  Starbucks help her, she’d wanted him to.

  All day Tuesday, when she wasn’t worrying over how she’d take care of the kids with her arm in a cast the rest of the summer, or worrying whether they were doing okay, or worrying about getting fired from this job for not being able to type and answer the phones efficiently, she was thinking about Zack Montgomery. About the thin, jagged scar on his temple, about his five o’clock shadow, about the mole on his earlobe and his smile and his eyes and his dadgum sexy knees.

  She hated being an old hag, hated hiding behind her natural Southern sarcasm, but she couldn’t let Zack close. For her babies’ sakes, she couldn’t let any man close. Not when she didn’t even know who she was by herself.

  So when Mari Belle pulled up to be her ride home at four, Shelby nearly wept with joy. And when Mari Belle drove them to Taps, their favorite local bar and grill, for an impromptu dinner out with half the Ex-Wives Club, Shelby nearly wept again. She needed the distraction and the women who loved her despite everything. Or maybe because of everything.

  The club was a motley crew of mostly Southern women who landed at Gellings one way or another after their own failed military marriages. Shelby had stumbled into it when Mari Belle had found her crying in her latte at a local coffee shop one Saturday afternoon in late January, the first weekend after the divorce papers had been signed that Alexander took the kids back to Eglin Air Force Base in the Florida panhandle. She’d been alone. She was back in her hometown with so very few old friends who could relate to her, and no babies to keep her mind off herself.

  That January afternoon, an hour after Mari Belle stopped to ask Shelby if she was okay, seven women had been crowded at their table for two, and within a week, Shelby had felt as though she’d known her new friends in the Officers’ Ex-Wives Club her whole life.

  They knew. They understood.

  They’d all had the military-wife training and then lived through their own transitions back to civilian life. Some were like Shelby, struggling to convince employers that being a military spouse had been a job and a half in itself—that they were adaptable, trainable, and loyal, and that they did have the skill sets to succeed. Some had remarried but stayed with the group to offer support and friendship. Some had kids, some didn’t. Some had their own business and thrived. But most of all, they got it.

  It was odd to be out with the girls and not worry over Braden spilling a drink or finding something Hailey would eat, to not worry over bedtimes or packing spare clothes for day care. And for the first time since she’d hugged Hailey and Braden good-bye, Shelby relaxed.

  The margarita may have helped.

  “Fourth of July, we’re having us a big ol’ party at my house again,” Kaci declared halfway through dinner. She had been the sole member of the club for a couple of years, but she’d added members until they became the unique crew they were now. Even though Kaci had remarried before Shelby met her, she kept the group going. And Shelby was so grateful that she did.

  “And Anna and me, we’ve got us an idea,” Kaci added.

  “Is it legal?” Sarah asked.

  “In some states,” Anna said with a cheeky grin.

  “Is this one of them?” another of the girls piped up.

  They all giggled, but Mari Belle waved a fork at Anna. “Y’all don’t think Anna will let her do anything bad, do you?”

  “We’re having a cleansing,” Kaci said.

  “It’s quite cathartic,” Anna agreed. The only Northerner in their group, Anna came from dependable Minnesotan stock. She was remarried as well, and it was a shame for all of womankind that her sweet Southern charmer didn’t have any brothers. She turned a smile on Shelby. “Gather up your job rejection letters, ladies.”

  “A bonfire?” one of the girls asked.

  Anna and Kaci shared a grin. “Something like that,” Anna said.

  “Do your husbands know?” Mari Belle asked.

  Kaci hmphed her. “Hush your mouth. We don’t need permission.”

  “I’ve got a few contributions,” Tara said.

  “Bring 'em on over, sugar,” Kaci said. “Shelby, I know you’ve got a stack of no thank yous from your job applications. We’re putting an end to all y’all’s nos and prepping you for some yeses. Gonna clean your job karma.”

  “Can we clean our hormonal karma too?” Shelby said.

  Four pairs of eyes swiveled to her, and her cheeks went warm.

  Mari Belle and Kaci shared a look.

  “Oh, sugar. It’s time,” Kaci said.

  Mari Belle nodded. “Definitely time.”

&
nbsp; More than Shelby’s cheeks heated. “Time for…?”

  “Your first post-divorce sex,” Tara said as matter of fact as though they were talking about going to the dentist.

  Shelby grabbed on to her margarita for dear life and wished it were her daddy’s moonshine. “Oh, I don’t think—”

  “Was your ex your first?” Anna whispered sympathetically.

  “Oh, sugar. No way,” Kaci said.

  “Definitely not,” Tara agreed. “Please. Who gets married after sleeping with only one man?”

  “I did,” Anna said. “And I only meant to use the second one for the sex. I swear. But then—well.” She fiddled with her wedding ring. “Jackson better never die, or I’m never having sex again. Because being married twice is quite enough for me.”

  “And that’s why we love you so much,” Mari Belle said. She turned to Shelby. “Do you want to have sex again?”

  “With something that doesn’t have batteries, she means,” Tara added.

  “Of course,” Shelby said. “Eventually. With the right man. And no strings. And my babies can’t ever know.” An unfortunate image of Zack Montgomery and those dadgum knees lodged in her brain. She gulped her margarita. Her body wanted to have sex again. To hit that home run. But her mind and her emotions knew better.

  “You have your eye on someone?” Mari Belle asked.

  Shelby’s margarita wobbled in her hand, and the heat spread from her cheeks down to her neck. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

  “You do,” Anna squealed.

  “It’s not reciprocal,” Shelby said.

  She’d done her best to make sure of that. She’d had to, because Zack had looked at her mouth yesterday like it was better than pineapple upside-down cake.

  Or perhaps those painkillers from the hospital had still been causing hallucinations.

  Though she hadn’t hallucinated that he’d trimmed up the old magnolia tree after she ran inside and hid from him yesterday. Or that he, looking capable and sexy and strong in his old green fatigues, had stopped painting his cabinet doors to watch her when Anna picked her up for work this morning. Or that she had more hormones zinging through her veins at the thought of him than she’d had since Joe Billy Sutter and his magical dimples had asked her to prom when she was seventeen.