A Shot of Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  “Let’s sit for a minute,” she told Trey, who didn’t object.

  Much like her visits to the movie theater, she deliberated until she eventually settled on a creaky pew in the middle-most spot. She scooted back and forth a few times to see if the seat was as slick as she’d thought. Her jeans clung to the bench, which disappointed her for some strange reason.

  “So,” Trey said, studying her with a mixture of amusement and confusion, “was it everything you dreamed of and more?”

  She ignored his question. “You attend services here?”

  “Hell, no.” He laughed, gripping his thigh and lowering onto the bench beside her. “I’ve only been here for a couple of weddings. Do I strike you as a church-going kinda guy?”

  Leaning away, she made a show of appraising him, though she already knew the answer. “Guess not.”

  “I’m no missionary,” he murmured with an evil gleam in his gaze, “but I can make you see God.”

  Bobbi rolled her eyes and tried to contain a snicker. “So far, we’ve got,” she said as she ticked items off on her fingers, “see God, see stars, and forget how to breathe. You make some lofty promises, Golden Boy.”

  “Sure.” He reached one arm behind her and rested it along the seat back. “But I deliver.”

  “Sure you do.”

  Leaning in close enough for her to feel the warmth rolling off his body, he whispered, “Oh, ye of little faith.” Then, poising his lips a hairsbreadth from her ear, added, “Try me. But I’d have to touch you. You just say the word, and I’ll give you a laying on of hands that’ll have you speaking in tongues.”

  Refusing to shut her eyes and lean into him like her body begged her to, she scooted an inch in the other direction. “You’re as bad as Colton.” Which gave her an opportunity to change the subject. “And speaking of, he’s in a shitty mood tonight. What’s his deal?”

  “Ah, that would be the pastor’s daughter. They had a thing in high school, and he never got over it. I guess being here stirs up too many old memories.”

  “No way.” That didn’t sound like the Colton she knew, who probably didn’t recall the names of half the women he’d screwed. “You mean he actually has a heart?”

  “Of course.” Trey delivered a look that shamed her. “He might be a jackass, but he bleeds just like everyone else.”

  After her guilt died down, she asked, “So, what happened?”

  “I dunno. That was before my time in Sultry Springs. She left town, and he doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  That explained Colt’s promiscuity—better to sleep with a different woman every night than to risk his feelings again by getting attached. The pastor’s daughter must’ve done a real number on Colt. Maybe Luke knew the story. She made a mental note to ask him later, then turned her gaze to the rear of the sanctuary.

  “Where’s the confessional?” she asked. “And shouldn’t there be more candles?”

  “Unh-uh.” Trey shook his head. “That’s a Catholic thing. Same goes for holy water.”

  “Oh.” Now she felt stupid for asking.

  “But you can confess to me,” Trey said with a light nudge. “Ready to tell me why you wanted to come in here so badly?”

  Bobbi reached forward and plucked a hymnal from the shelf attached to the back of the next pew. Absently, she flipped through, pretending to scan the song selection.

  “C’mon,” he encouraged.

  She had to consider his request awhile, because honestly, she didn’t know the answer. Maybe it had something to do with her dysfunctional home, gazing out the window at other kids dressed in their Sunday best—even if it was only jeans and a faded polo shirt—while she sat alone in front of the television with nothing but a box of Cheerios to keep her company. Or maybe she’d reached a point in her life where she’d started to question her beliefs. Didn’t that happen to everyone in their twenties?

  “Okay,” she decided. “But you confess to me first. What’s going on with your parents?”

  “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Whatever.” She smoothed one finger over the hymnal’s gold embossing. “You open up easier than a flower at sunrise.”

  “Not for everyone.” He took the volume from her hand and set it beside him. “I haven’t even told Luke about this.”

  Shifting on the bench, she met his gaze. “Why not?”

  “My mom’s always hated Luke, and she’s made no secret about it. She blames him for the discharge.” He shrugged. “So it’s not like he’s gonna care that my dad’s putting her through the wringer.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. If he’s a good friend, he’ll care about her for your sake.” Of course, she didn’t know her own brother well enough to judge his capacity as a friend, which didn’t say much about her capacity as a sister. “What’s your dad doing?”

  “The short answer? Dumping my mom after she stayed with his cheating ass for thirty years.”

  “Ouch.”

  “You’re not kiddin’. He’d always messed around—I overheard one of their fights when I was in junior high—but just a bunch of flings when he was stationed away from home. Never a long-term mistress or anything like that. Till now.”

  “Let me guess—he’s replacing your mom with a newer model?” Bobbi remembered a conversation she’d had with Trey a couple of weeks ago, when he’d said all his girlfriends had cheated. Add his father’s infidelity to the mix, and it was no wonder he believed monogamy was unnatural.

  “Yeah, he wants to marry some thirty-year-old he met last winter. But my mom won’t let him go. She’s dragging out the divorce, probably hoping he’ll change his mind before it’s final. I keep trying to convince her to start fresh, but she won’t listen, just keeps calling every single morning to bitch about what an asshole my dad is. As if I don’t already know.”

  “She shouldn’t be putting you in the middle.”

  “Yeah, but she’s too embarrassed to talk about this stuff with her friends, so if it makes her feel better to dump it on me, I can take it…most days.” He flashed half a grin. “Lately, I’ve been letting her vent on my answering machine.”

  Bobbi broke her own rule, reaching up to pat Trey’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  He trapped her hand with his own, then brought it to rest against his muscular thigh while he toyed with her fingers. “It’s for the best, even if Mom can’t see that right now. Life’s too short to waste one minute on a bastard like the Colonel.” He pulled a deep breath through his nose and exhaled in a huff. “But enough of my dirty laundry. It’s your turn.”

  “Already?”

  “Spill the deets, Bo Peep.”

  Leaning back against the solid wood, Bobbi relaxed her fingers and didn’t object when Trey laced his in-between. His grasp was too warm and comforting to resist, and besides, it didn’t get much more chaste than hand-holding inside a church sanctuary. She was totally safe…as safe as any woman could be in Trey’s hypnotic presence.

  So, why had she insisted on exploring the church? “Curiosity aside, I think it had something to do with this little girl who lived in my old apartment building. Her name was Nina.”

  “A kid?” Trey asked, not following her logic. “Did she try to convert you, or something?”

  “No. Just listen.”

  “Sorry.” He nodded for her to continue.

  “I’d knock on her door all the time to ask if she could come over, but her mom always had some excuse to say no, and she never invited me in.” Looking back, Bobbi couldn’t blame Nina’s mother. What kind of parent let her kids roam the halls of a slum or hang out in a druggie’s apartment? “Anyway, it was just Nina and her mom—her dad wasn’t in the picture—but every Sunday, her grandpa picked them up in his blue minivan, and they’d all go to church together. They were broke, everyone in that complex was, but they still looked nice in their Sunda
y clothes. Nina had these glossy, white gloves and a tiny Bible the size of half a sandwich. She’d hold her mom’s hand, and they always looked so happy together.”

  “Unlike you and your mother.”

  “Exactly. So I think somewhere in the back of my mind, I associated church with happy families, and I wanted to see what I’d been missing.” Bobbi’s chest felt heavy, and she released a breath. “You know, Nina’s mom never let us play together, not even one time.”

  “Well, that wasn’t very Christian of her.” Trey wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, placing a kiss atop her head. She pressed her cheek to the side of his stone chest and gave herself permission to savor the hug, just for a moment. Closing her eyes, she squeezed their linked fingers together and inhaled him—warm and woodsy and masculine. His body shook with stifled laughter, his voice husky. “I’ll play with you any time you want, and you don’t need my mama’s permission.”

  A wide smile spread across her mouth as she pushed him away, freed her hand, and regained a few cool inches of distance. “No, thanks. You don’t play fair.”

  “This is true.”

  Bobbi chafed her palms against her upper arms, feeling suddenly chilled after leaving Trey’s heated embrace. The man was like a furnace. Figuring they should leave soon, she swept one last gaze over the pulpit, imagining the pastor gripping its edges, delivering a message of hope or comfort.

  “You know,” she said, “it’s so peaceful in here. I wonder what the services are like.”

  A deep, tight voice from behind answered, “Long and boring.”

  Gasping loudly, Bobbi jerked around to find Luke glaring at Trey in a way that raised the hair on the back of her neck. She brought a hand over her pounding heart and wondered how long he’d been standing there. “What’s your problem? Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  “I didn’t sneak. I opened the door and walked right in.” Luke spoke to her, but never took his eyes off Trey, who maintained a cool expression despite the tension expanding his already broad chest. The two locked eyes in charged silence, communicating something she wasn’t privy to. “You were too distracted to hear me,” Luke said darkly. Then he turned his cold stare on her. “Bea’s lookin’ for you. Says ‘it’s time,’ whatever that means.”

  “Oh!” Instantly forgetting Luke, she grabbed Trey’s forearm. “Let’s go. Hurry!”

  Without giving either man time to ask why, she pushed past them and darted outside. When Trey caught up, she clutched his wrist and towed him over to Colton, who’d moved beneath the white tent to hear Judge Bea’s speech, already in progress. All the attendees had gathered around, Dixie cups in hand, held in rapt attention as Bea spun a tale of meeting Pru for the first time when he’d rear-ended her car at a stoplight.

  Bobbi had cut it close—seriously close—but at least Ron had followed instructions and kept the camera trained on Colt’s face. Signaling for Ron to get Trey in the shot too, she stepped back and studied Pru’s beaming countenance, her blue eyes alight in the darkness, wrinkles playing across her cheekbones as she smiled at her beau. That was the face of a woman in love—and one who knew a proposal was underway. Apparently, her soon-to-be fiancé wasn’t very good at keeping secrets.

  “So, anyhoo,” Bea said with a dismissive wave, “it might’a taken a few decades, but she finally warmed up to me, and we became friends. And when my Martha passed…” Softly, he gazed at Pru and cleared the thickness from his throat. “Well, Prudence wouldn’t let me fold up ’n’ wallow in bed all day. She kicked my bony ass—” raising bushy, white brows, he turned and apologized to the pastor “—uh, hauled me outta bed, forced me back into the world of the livin’, and gave me a reason to wake up every mornin’ after that.” Holding his chair in support, he lowered to one knee as the crowd gasped in delight and broke out in excited whispers. “Prudence, I dunno how many more years the Good Lord’s gonna give me, but I wanna spend ’em all with you. Will you marry this crazy old man?”

  Pru didn’t hesitate to say, “Yes,” holding out her oversized right hand for Bea’s ring as her late husband’s band remained on the left. Bobbi felt a tiny prickling of envy for the couple. What were the odds of finding true love twice in a lifetime, like they’d done?

  In that moment, she couldn’t deny wanting what Pru and Bea had. What her dads had too—someone to watch her with warm eyes and a soft smile from the other side of the room, someone who thought her flaws were sweet and quirky instead of annoying. She wanted a man to look at her the way Luke gazed at June, so thick with worship it forced her to avert her eyes every time. Too bad all the good guys were taken. Or gay. Releasing a quiet sigh, she searched for June and Luke in the crowd.

  June grinned through streaming tears as her husband held her tightly from behind, resting his chin atop her head. That tiny prickling of envy surged inside Bobbi’s breast, and she had to shift her glance to Trey and Colton. It appeared they understood her pain. Both had shoved their hands into their pockets, toeing the dirt with their boot tips, clearly conflicted and questioning their life choices, though neither man would ever admit to it.

  Colt was the first to break the silence in their sad little group. “Well, I’m happy for the poor, old bastard.” He gave a begrudging shrug. “If he wants to spend his golden years tied down like that, I’m not gonna talk him out of it.”

  Nodding in agreement, Trey added, “Bet he doesn’t realize this’ll cut back on his fishin’ time. He’ll have to get permission from the ball-n-chain now.”

  “Right,” Colt said. “Tag along to Bible study and shit like that.”

  “Better him than me.”

  “You said it, man. I’m not throwin’ away my freedom for any woman.”

  “Never works out anyway.”

  Bobbi held her tongue, but she couldn’t help thinking the gentlemen didst protest too much. After casting one final, longing gaze at Sultry County’s newest betrothed, she turned to Ron, ready to shut down filming for the night. To her surprise, he’d fixed his lens directly on her.

  She rushed over to him and held up one hand to block the shot. “What’re you doing?”

  “You should’ve seen the look on your face,” Ron said from behind his camera. Switching off, he lowered the equipment to the ground before massaging his shoulder. “If raw emotion’s what you’re going for, then—”

  “I didn’t hire you to film me.”

  “Hey.” He flashed his palm. “I saw an awesome shot, and I took it. No biggie. Just cut what you don’t want to use, but at least have a look before you decide.”

  The decision was already made. Bobbi knew what Ron had captured on film, and she had no interest in seeing her own loneliness and regret reflected back in crisp, digital display. She told him to find Weezus to transfer the film data, then paid him and sent him on his way, swearing never again to trust a freelancer. If she wanted something done right, she’d have to do it herself.

  Story of her whole friggin’ life.

  Chapter 10

  It was the Fourth of July and hotter than Satan’s ball sack. A relentless sun ruled the sky, ravaging parade-goers with its nuclear rays and wilting even the most energetic children into their lawn chairs, where they waved pint-sized American flags with all the enthusiasm of the undead. Trey lifted one shoulder to wipe a bead of sweat from his cheek, but two instantly formed in its place, convincing him to give up the fight. So much for the mild summer they’d enjoyed for the past month. And though you couldn’t tell from the clear, blue sky, another storm system was rolling in, causing Trey’s femur to flare like brushfire.

  The unnaturally red hotdog he’d just bought would probably tear up his chest when heartburn kicked in, but he crammed half of it into his mouth anyway. Tart mustard crossed his tongue, followed by the salty, smoky flavor of one hundred percent pure beef byproducts. He closed his eyes to savor it—the taste of summer in the good ol’ US
of A. Could a guy even get a hotdog in Dubai? He honestly didn’t know.

  Oppressive heat, earsplitting bottle rockets, greasy food, and warm beer. Trey slouched. He was going to miss all this.

  Clutching his thigh, he lowered carefully and settled on the curb, stretching his legs into the street five feet from the marching band, who’d been playing “Louie, Louie” on a continuous loop for fifteen minutes. A pair of long, tanned legs strode into view to his right, attached to white flip-flops, and even though Trey knew every inch of those gams, he traced their smooth curves with his gaze, starting with Bobbi’s slender ankles and ending at her succulent thighs. Sweet Jesus, he was going to miss those too.

  She crouched beside him, using a stick to lift a half-shriveled earthworm from the sidewalk to the shaded grass. Despite the pain in Trey’s bones clamoring for attention, a smile lifted the edges of his mouth. He’d never seen anyone attempt to rescue a creepy-crawly before. “You’re just prolonging the inevitable.” That worm was a goner.

  “We’ll see.” She opened his cooler and reached inside, then cupped a palm full of melted ice and sprinkled it over the creature’s parched carcass. Wiping her damp hand on her denim shorty-shorts, she joined him on the curb. “They’re resilient.”

  “Like someone else I know.” A woman who’d overcome a childhood filled with neglect, but hadn’t allowed it to harden her—she had a warm heart and a touch that made his blood simmer. He’d sure like to lay her in the grass and drizzle ice water over her body, and it must’ve shown on his face, because she held up one finger in warning.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I want you to look at Sarah like that.”

  “Who’s Sarah?”

  Scoffing, she recoiled as if horrified. “The girl you liked from speed-dating!”

  “Oh, the one with the cute little nose? I didn’t say I liked her. I said she wasn’t too bad.”

  “Well, she’s right over there,” Bobbi said as she pointed across the street to a spot he couldn’t see through the crowd, “waiting for you, and I want results this time.”