She Drives Me Crazy

by Leslie Kelly

  “Yeah, she does,” the young gum-snapping stylist said. “We all race for the bathroom when she comes in. Last one in hiding gets stuck with her.”

  The old lady with half a color job, who now resembled a blue-striped zebra, said, “Doris, my hair!”

  “Don’t matter, honey,” the owner told the old lady. “You have barely enough left to fall out, anyway.”

  The woman, instead of being insulted, laughed. “Good time for a break, anyway, because I want a piece of that pie. Last September was the first time in forty years I didn’t get to have a piece of Emmajean Frasier’s pecan pie at the county fair.”

  Pie, it appeared, was as effective as cash when it came to bribery. Who knew?

  Emma had thought to bring not only the pie, but also a knife, server, paper plates and plastic forks. Within three minutes of her entry, every woman in the place was eating a disgustingly fattening breakfast. Everyone except Emma, who didn’t think she’d ever be able to eat pecan pie again after yesterday’s sex adventures with Johnny.

  My, oh, my, what adventures.

  Claire’s arrival with Eve late in the day had interrupted them. Otherwise they might still be in bed, though she didn’t know if she’d be conscious by that point. She didn’t know if a woman could die from having too many orgasms. For a day like yesterday, however, it would have been worth it.

  “It’s almost as good as your grandma’s. I don’t suppose you’d want to tell us her secret ingredient?” Doris asked.

  Emma shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t.” She literally couldn’t. Emma couldn’t tell them what the secret ingredient was, since she’d never made a pecan pie before and had no idea whether Grandma Emmajean’s ingredients were normal or secret or what.

  “Aren’t you gonna have some of your own pie, honey?” asked the red-haired woman, who’d introduced herself as Mona Harding.

  “I devoured almost an entire one myself yesterday.”

  Well, not entirely by herself. She’d had more than a little help. Johnny had been very hungry. Insatiable. He’d made love to her so many times, in so many ways, that Emma felt she was dreaming. Only in her dreams had sex ever been as powerful, as perfect. And then, only in her dreams of Johnny.

  A smile crossed her lips as she imagined telling these ladies one more tidbit about pecan pie. That it tasted ever so much yummier when it was being licked off a man’s…

  “Johnny didn’t tell me you’d changed your hair. I like it.”

  That interrupted Emma’s wicked memories. She looked closer at the woman who’d spoken—the one who’d been sitting in the waiting area. And suddenly she recognized her. “Mrs. Walker,” she stammered, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. Good lord, to be thinking about doing that with a man when his mother sat right across from you!

  “Welcome back to Joyful, Emma Jean,” Mrs. Walker said with a sweet smile. “I meant to come and see you last week, but I had one of those awful summer colds.”

  Emma believed her. Johnny and Nick’s mother didn’t have a mean, gossiping bone in her body. She likely hadn’t believed the stories for one second. Too bad there hadn’t been more like her in town. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “It’s okay, Aunt Jane, the Walkers have been well represented in welcoming Emma Jean back.” This came from the heavy woman who’d been getting inches cut off her long brown hair. The smile on the woman’s face was genuine and teasing.

  Emma liked her on sight. “You’re right. But do I know you?”

  “I’m Minnie Walker. Virgil’s wife.”

  Emma remembered Virgil, though he’d been a year younger than she and Nick. A nice Walker. Not as bad or troublesome as a lot of the other family members. He was just a laid-back Southern boy who never had an unkind word for anyone.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Walker said, a sparkle in her brown eyes, so like Nick’s, “I heard both my boys were at your house yesterday.”

  Oh, God.

  “Nick waited for Johnny to show up out at my place, and he never did. Couldn’t reach him at work all afternoon, either.”

  The woman’s slightly arched brow, and amused smile, told every woman in the place exactly where Johnny had spent the previous afternoon. And hinted at what he’d been doing.

  As Emma’s face flushed redder, all the other women in the place began to laugh uproariously.

  “Girl, if I’da known you had Johnny Walker on your tail, I woulda hired you last week,” Doris said with a frank wink. “’Cause if that boy comes by my shop to visit you every woman in town’s gonna decide she needs a makeover.”

  “He’s not…” On my tail…? “We aren’t…”

  “Leave her be,” Johnny’s mother said. “First time my son’s shown any interest in a girl from Joyful, and I’d just as soon you all not scare her off.”

  A girl from Joyful. She wasn’t exactly that, was she? Nor would she ever be.

  “I hear tell Nick’s drop-dead gorgeous, like his brother,” Doris said. “Whoo-ee, if I were only twenty years younger. I’d let that son of yours rescue me anytime.” Then she turned to Emma. “Did you know your high school honey turned into a big hero? Got his picture on the cover of Time magazine and everything.”

  “I had no idea.” She gave Mrs. Walker a curious look.

  “When he was in the service, he rescued some children in Bosnia and the picture ended up in all the papers,” she explained.

  Emma vaguely recalled the incident, from several years back. She hadn’t recognized her high school boyfriend in the Marine hero.

  For the next several minutes, Emma sat back and watched the women devour the pie, with the help of the next customer who came in and pulled up a fork. Though she chatted lightly, her mind remained focused on Mrs. Walker’s comment—about Johnny and a girl from Joyful.

  She and Johnny hadn’t talked about anything but how much they wanted each other. Not about emotions. Not about the future—which, for her, didn’t include a longtime stay in Joyful. And for him, didn’t include leaving. Desire and heat and air conditioners and pecan pie had taken the place of rational decision making when it came to her and Johnny. They hadn’t thought one minute beyond every sexual encounter they’d shared.

  She only hoped she didn’t live to regret it.

  “Yum, nothing like homemade pie,” Minnie said, licking her lips when she was done. “I swear, I could probably make nothing but pies at the tavern, serve them with beer, and keep the place packed day and night.”

  Mrs. Walker frowned. “You shouldn’t have to be serving up your food in that place.”

  “Noplace else is gonna hire someone who’s only ever cooked in her own kitchen,” Minnie replied with a philosophical shrug. “Not even if I were as good a cook as you, Aunt Jane.” Then she turned to Emma. “Speaking of pie, are you going to be seeing Johnny today, Emma?”

  “Actually, yes, I told him I’d come by the county courthouse to see where he works. Why?”

  Minnie pointed to a brown sack sitting on a chair in the waiting room. “Could you bring that to him? He called last night in a tizzy saying he simply had to have one of my peach pies.”

  Emma sucked her lips into her mouth to hold back a laugh, knowing darn well why Johnny wanted the pie. After they’d o.d.’d on pecans the day before, Johnny had said something interesting.

  That it was time to move on to the fruit food group.

  “Is it true you work with money, stocks and things?” Doris said as she walked to the trash to throw away her paper plate.

  Emma nodded. “I did. I’m…between jobs right now. But I can provide proof of employment, if you need it.”

  “Nah,” Doris said, looking thoughtful. “Think you could give me some advice about retirement stuff while you’re washing heads tomorrow? The only accountant around here is too busy and too lazy to do more’n file tax return extensions.”

  Tomorrow. She started her new job tomorrow. Grinning, Emma replied, “You bet.” Then she looked around at the other women and said, “and the same goes for you
all. If you have any questions, I’d be glad to help you out.”

  Thirty minutes later, she almost wished she hadn’t offered. Because the women of Let Your Hair Down were very interested in talking money. And soon Emma wondered if she’d stumbled into a second part-time job…a completely unexpected one: financial advisor to the women of Joyful.

  “SO ARE YOU feeling okay after all the unhealthy, addictive stuff you gobbled up yesterday?”

  Johnny looked up from the case file lying open on his desk and saw Emma standing in the open doorway to his office. He instantly rose to his feet, a smile curling his lips. “I don’t think you’re unhealthy.”

  “But I might be dangerously addictive.”

  Oh, yeah, he knew that already. Hadn’t he been addicted to her from the time he was a kid? To the point that he’d compared her to every other woman he’d ever met or dated, every one of them falling short of the magic that was Emma Jean?

  The thoughts whizzed through his brain, but he didn’t put voice to them. Their relationship—if he could call it that—was too new to handle such an admission. They’d crossed a bridge yesterday—a big one—but they weren’t ready for rings or promises or anything. At least, he didn’t think she was.

  As for Johnny, well, he had to wonder if she wasn’t exactly what he’d been waiting for all along. Ever since that hot summer night ten years ago when he’d finally taken her into his arms, knowing he’d never be able to find anyone else who fit there so well.

  “Mornin’,” he finally said, knowing she heard all the other things he didn’t say. I want you. You’re beautiful. Thanks for yesterday and let’s do it again. Now.

  “Good morning to you, too.”

  She sauntered into the room, glancing out into the reception area. “There’s no one working your secretary’s desk so I just let myself in. Hope that’s okay.”

  Johnny shrugged. “I share a secretary with the county animal control officer. Lotta puppies born this spring here in Joyful.”

  She laughed, sounding carefree and joyous, while looking fresh and luscious. Emma wore the same raspberry-sherbet colored miniskirt she’d been wearing the day she hit town, which looked cool and appetizing, as it was likely meant to. Thankfully, though, on her feet were a pair of low-heeled sandals, instead of those high-heeled monstrosities she’d wobbled around in that day.

  His groin tightened up at the sight of her. God, she was beautiful, her short platinum hair springy and shiny, her smile bright and warm. Her eyes luminous and her expression sassy. Her body…good lord, her body had given him a long night of heavenly dreams. After a long day of heavenly pleasures.

  “What are you wearing under your skirt?” he asked, his voice nearly a growl. “I was dying to know the day you hit town.”

  She took one step into the office and kicked the door shut behind her. “Thong. Jungle pattern. Black and tan. Leopard spots.”

  “Who told you that one?”

  “Your mother.”

  Her admission surprised a bark of laughter out of him. “Now, were you really wearing a pair of black and tan leopard-spotted underwear, Ms. Frasier?” he asked, sounding like a prosecutor.

  Her expression remained coy. “Maybe not then…”

  “Now?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “Yeah, I would. Get over here.”

  Watching her cross the room, his heart rate kicked into high gear. He recognized the expression on her face—both tender and a little naughty. When she held out the brown paper bag and he caught a whiff of Minnie’s peach pie, he understood why. “Oh, my, why do I suddenly have a hankerin’ for dessert?”

  “It’s time to eat healthy for a change. Peaches are such a nice, wholesome fruit. They’re very good for you…much better than fattening nuts.”

  He tugged her into his arms and caught her laughing mouth in a deep, wet kiss that picked up where they’d left off the previous afternoon. “You’re good for me,” he whispered when their kiss finally ended and they drew apart enough to share a breath.

  “She sure looks to be.”

  They instantly sprang apart as a male voice intruded. Somehow, Johnny couldn’t muster any surprise when he saw his brother Nick standing there watching him.

  Nick wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look angry, either. Damn good thing, considering he had no claim on Emma whatsoever. Which Johnny emphasized by keeping her firmly in his embrace as he stared his brother down.

  Finally Nick grinned. “Jeez, Johnny, you’re gonna give the public officials of this town a bad name if you get caught going at it on your desk.”

  Emma lifted her nose and sniffed. “I closed the door.”

  “Not all the way,” Nick replied. “Something’s wrong with your door, it doesn’t look like it stays closed.”

  “It’s warped from the last time the roof sprung a leak,” Johnny admitted. “But you still could have knocked.”

  “Don’t worry. Considering who the public officials in this town are,” Emma said, “I think we’d have to be swinging naked from the light fixture in the courtroom to surprise anyone.”

  “Ouch. Who you mad at?” Nick asked as he sauntered in.

  “Jimbo?” Johnny asked.

  Emma nodded. “Yep. I’m going over there to hash this out one way or another later today.”

  Johnny frowned. “No, you’re not. We’re working on it together, and you’re staying away from him. I left some copies of the sale documents at your place the other day, and that’s enough of a start. They’re under your coffee table.”

  Nick raised a brow, but didn’t ask.

  “I don’t want you arrested for assaulting the mayor,” Johnny added. “You’ve made it eight whole days without getting thrown into the Joyful jail again. I want to keep a good thing going.”

  Nick whistled. “Why, Emma Jean Frasier, you’ve done turned into a woman suitable for a wicked Walker man.”

  The exaggerated Southern drawl and look of amusement in Nick’s eyes made Johnny relax for the first time since his brother had entered the room. Nick obviously wasn’t holding any kind of grudge over Em. So that was one less thing the two of them were going to be fighting over in a few minutes.

  Sitting down in a chair across from Johnny’s desk, Nick leaned back and stretched out his legs in front of him. Looked like his brother was here to stay. Which was fine since they did need to talk. Johnny’d had every intention of doing so yesterday, at least until Emma had, uh, sidetracked him. Last night, when he’d called his mother’s house, he’d learned Nick had gone out.

  “Emma, maybe I could show you around the courthouse tomorrow,” he said, never taking his gaze off his brother.

  She nodded, obviously sensing he and Nick had some talking to do. “All right. I need to go to the land development office, anyway.”

  He raised a questioning brow.

  “I won’t go see Jimbo. But I’m not going to sit back and do nothing while you investigate.” Then she added, “As a matter of fact, some of the women at the hair salon told me there’s an antinudity rally planned for this weekend. You’ll never believe who’s helping arrange it.”

  “Who?”

  “Hannah Boyd, aided by Cora Dillon.”

  That startled him. “You’re kidding! Even though Hannah’s own husband handled the deal for the owners?”

  Emma nodded. “Yep. Rumor has it the mayor’s wife was very unhappy with him when she found out what the site was being used for. I guess her family has been in this town forever.”

  “You know what they say about those rumors….”

  She laughed, but tossed her head in disinterest. “I know. But this seems reliable. She’s coming here to get a permit for the protest and everything. I hope her husband finds out and chokes.”

  She sounded bloodthirsty. That kinda turned him on.

  “Now, I have to go,” Emma continued. “And don’t you even try to stop me from looking into the records.”

  Knowing she didn’t need his permission
, and would do whatever she wanted anyway, Johnny nodded. “Okay, but just look through the paperwork. Promise.”

  She lifted her right hand into the air. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Were you a Girl Scout?” he asked.

  Emma shrugged. “Details, details.”

  Before she left, she stood up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He turned his face and caught her mouth, instead, needing a real kiss in spite of their audience.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she curled into him, kissing him back. She sighed a little, then, when they pulled apart, blushed a little, before walking out on wobbly legs.

  He and Nick both watched her leave. Only after she was gone did his brother admit, “She grew into one beautiful woman.”

  “Yes, she did.” Johnny heard the edge in his own voice.

  Nick appeared amused. “Back off, big man, I know I blew things with her years ago. I don’t hold a grudge.”

  “I do,” Johnny shot back.

  “For?”

  “Let’s start with your son.”

  Nick’s body tensed, almost imperceptibly, but Johnny recognized the reaction. A muscle in his brother’s cheek began to tick, and some of the sparkle left his eyes.

  Johnny pushed harder. “And your ex-wife.”

  Nick nodded. “You’re right. It’s about time this all gets out in the open. I already told Mama the truth on Saturday afternoon, so you oughta hear it, too.”

  Johnny leaned against his desk, almost subconsciously going into prosecutor mode by crossing his arms and looking down from above, as if about to question a witness.

  “I’m a cop, Johnny. That shit doesn’t work on me. And besides, I came here to clear the air. Not to hide anything.”

  “Came here to the office, you mean? Or here to Joyful?”

  Nick rose from his chair and walked across the room, glancing out the window overlooking the downtown street below. “Here to town. To the reunion.” Then he turned and faced Johnny. “I came here because I got sick and tired of Mama living a lie.”

  “What lie?”

  Nick didn’t flinch as he delivered a completely unexpected answer. “Daneen’s boy is not my son, Johnny.”