The Sweetest September (Home in Magnolia Bend)

by Liz Talley

“Want me to get him?” John asked.

  “No, he’s determined to get a squirrel this year. Once they shake to death one squirrel, they’re hooked.”

  “This past year has been bad for you, too.”

  “You think?” she drawled before catching hold of her bitterness and reeling it back. “Yes. I lost my only child to a senseless accident.”

  He stiffened, his eyes darkening. Perhaps she shouldn’t have poured salt in that particular wound, but she’d put gentility behind her. John’s damn shotgun had killed her Rebecca. Senseless was a compassionate word for what she felt about the accident.

  “Yes,” he said, his eye focused on Dim Sum, who stood still as a statue, head tilted up, focusing on the branches supporting the barking squirrel.

  “I’ve hated you as much as I’ve loved you, John. What happened to Rebecca wounded me. There’s no way to fix that. I felt grief when I lost Hal, but it was fifty-fifty on whether I’d go first or he’d go. But when Rebecca died...well, it’s not right for a child to beat a parent to the grave. I had thought I’d have years of grandchildren, of watching you two grow the Stanton family, but it was a cruel figment of my imagination.”

  “I had thought the same thing, Carla.”

  “So why are you letting it go so easily?”

  He turned his head, his gaze settling on her. “Listen to that question, Carla.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No. I don’t. Rebecca’s gone. There is no ‘it’ to hold on to, and I can’t live in the dark anymore. Grief is a terrible place that can suck a person in and not let go.”

  “You replaced her,” Carla said, her heart contracting in her chest, “with that woman.”

  “I didn’t replace Rebecca. She’s irreplaceable, but she would have liked Shelby.”

  “You don’t know what Rebecca would have liked. The last year of your marriage wasn’t good. You spent all your time in the fields and she spent all her time crying. She wanted a baby and you had given up on her.”

  Something on his face surpassed guilt. Agony was the right word. “Sure, things were tough,” he said. “All those hormones made her too emotional, but I never asked for a break from our marriage, just a break from the fertility treatments. She agreed. We planned a week away in Mexico right after harvest. That’s why Rebecca went to Gonzales that day. She’d met with a travel agent.”

  Carla said nothing.

  “Don’t do this to me, Carla. Don’t say our marriage wasn’t good. Don’t make me carry any more of a burden than what I already carry.”

  Carla closed her eyes. “I’m still so angry about what happened. There are so many what-ifs.”

  “Yeah, there are, but I can’t live that way anymore. Every single day for the past year, I’ve lived thinking what-if. But thing is, I can’t change what happened. All I can do is go on without Rebecca, grateful for the time I had loving her. She wouldn’t want me to live hurt and alone, unable to ever love again. She wasn’t that kind of person.”

  Carla’s clutched her chest and rocked for a moment, soaking in the truthfulness of his words. But even as part of her knew he was right, another part of her heart hardened. How could he replace her daughter so easily, so quickly...and with someone who looked like she belonged in a tube top and Hooter shorts?

  This wasn’t about love...it was about lust.

  Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered who John moved on with, because it signified the true end—his letting go meant Rebecca was truly dead. Of course, Carla knew this, but the thought of John getting to love again while Rebecca lay cold in a grave felt like a hot poker sinking into her flesh. “But things have changed. I have changed.”

  “Enough to sell Breezy Hill?”

  Carla barricaded her emotions, reminding herself John had motive to convince her otherwise. He wanted his cake and to eat it right in front of her, sharing it with Shelby. “You can’t have Breezy Hill and Shelby, too. Sorry. If you want her, I’ll petition to dissolve the trust. Actually, I’m doing that no matter what I decide to do with the land.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there are no more Stantons.”

  “There are other Stantons.”

  “But none who want a farm. They’d sell it anyway so why should I hold on to something no one wants?”

  “I want it.”

  She didn’t say anything else for a few minutes. Part of her wanted to do as he asked. Just let John live and work the land. She could think about what to do with all of it later. When it was easier and didn’t hurt so much. But the other part of her wanted to punish him, wanted to make him live where she lived—in the dark realm of loss. “You should go.”

  John stood. “The harvest will be finished by mid-January. Pray on this, Carla.”

  “Don’t,” she said.

  “I hope your need to punish me for what happened to Rebecca will wane with the knowledge I loved Rebecca and I love Breezy Hill.”

  “This isn’t about love,” Carla snapped, angry he’d brought God into it, angry he sounded so rational.

  “It is about love, and so you know, I won’t give up the chance to feel that way again. That will always be my answer, Carla.”

  With those words, John walked across the small porch, down the steps and climbed into the pickup truck he’d bought when he and Rebecca married. The old work truck was dented and well-used, the hallmark of a serious farmer whose fields were more important than style. John tipped his hat and with a final wave drove away, no doubt heading back to the tractor Hal had breathed his last breath in.

  Pragmatic.

  John had always been even-keeled and focused on the land. He’d loved her daughter, that she knew, but he’d also benefited from marrying Rebecca.

  So how could he set it aside so easily, losing his head over a woman like the one he shacked up with?

  So unlike the son-in-law she’d once loved.

  Carla didn’t understand him anymore, and she damn sure didn’t respect a man who would jeopardize all he was for a pair of big tits. And if she couldn’t respect him, she couldn’t let him continue at Breezy Hill, farming, managing, safeguarding something that didn’t exist anymore. The farm that had once meant everything to Hal was no more. She’d given John a chance to make things right again, and he’d spouted some drivel about moving on.

  Well, she was moving on.

  Tomorrow she’d call Duke at the bank and convince him to sign off on the dissolution of the trust. And she’d call the attorney’s office to have the paperwork filed and rushed through. Harvest would be over, the cane would be in the mill, and Breezy Hill would go on the block.

  If John wanted Breezy Hill, he’d have to flippin’ buy it.

  That’s how she was moving on.

  “Get up here now, Dim Sum,” she said, standing. Finally, the little dog abandoned his post and trotted toward her, tongue lolling out happily. “Well, at least you can be happy about not getting what you want.”

  * * *

  SHELBY STOOD IN the middle of the hotel suite cursing at the red cocktail dress.

  She couldn’t zip it.

  Mother fricker.

  She tugged again and heard the telltale rip.

  Closing her eyes, she unzipped the part she’d been able to zip, stepped out of her favorite dress and kicked it across the room. Standing in a garter belt, red lace bra and high stilettos, she looked exactly like what Carla had accused her of being—a two-bit whore.

  No. She wore La Perla.

  Definitely worth four bits.

  She’d brought one other dress—a stretchy bit of red lace that curved against her body. It would fit a woman who weighed two hundred and fifty pounds or one who weighed under a hundred. Either way, it fit like liquid satin, hugging every curve and every flaw.

  Shelby didn’
t feel like having every flaw highlighted, but it was the only option she had left. Her stomach pooched out. Well, she was pregnant, but the long-sleeved stretchy see-through dress made her look like the Commodores’ hit song.

  Come on, baby. You can rock this look. Boobs, ass, kicking curves. A little pooch couldn’t take away from letting it all hang out.

  Shelby tugged on the dress, deciding to own it. She gathered her hair and twisted it into a knot, pinned it up, and then slid on her drop diamond earrings. She finished with sultry red lipstick.

  Yep. She looked like a walking ad for sex, and after a week of flirting, taking long showers and waking from erotic dreams featuring John, she was ready to deliver as advertised.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the bedroom door and walked out. John turned around, holding a glass of whiskey, looking dashing in a navy suit.

  “Holy shit,” he said, swallowing.

  “Figured I’d give you your money’s worth,” she said with a little bit of purr in her voice.

  He didn’t answer because he was busy undressing her with his eyes. “Stop,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Doing what you’re doing. We’re not going to make the reservation if you keep looking at me like you can see the red lace bra I’m wearing. And the panties I’m not.”

  He tossed back the entire drink. “Holy shit.”

  She laughed, and it sounded like an invitation, but not yet. Shelby liked foreplay. She liked drawing it out. After their first time in that disgusting bathroom, they both deserved to be driven crazy by desire. Slow and torturous.

  She picked up her jacket. “Let’s grab a cab. We can make out in the backseat.”

  John picked up the phone on the secretary and punched a button. “We need a cab out front, please.” Hanging up, he turned and watched her ease into her jacket.

  “I’d help you with that, but if I touch you, one of two things will occur. I’ll either strip you naked and we won’t see champagne and oysters until breakfast or I’ll have to change my pants.”

  Shelby laughed, suddenly very happy the appropriate satin red dress hadn’t fit her. “Well, then keep your distance because I’m eating for two. If you want any chance of me being able to stay awake all night to do delicious things to your body, I’ll need sustenance.”

  “Quick. Talk about world poverty or sweaty gym socks or poison ivy, because if you keep dropping those little innuendos, I’m not going to make it.”

  “That wasn’t an innuendo. It was a promise,” she said.

  John groaned, reached out and slid his hand behind her thigh, moving it up, cupping the naked flesh of her ass. “You weren’t lying.”

  Shelby straightened his tie, intentionally brushing against the nice erection tenting his pants before drawling, “I never lie about sex.”

  His response had her doubting their ability to make it to the cab. If she’d had panties on, they’d be damp. Turned on wasn’t the concept for what she felt. Her body hummed with anticipation. She wanted the man she woke up thinking about every morning...and not just because she lived with him.

  But because she loved him.

  Tonight her heart was in the game and there was no going back.

  John’s hand shook as he poured another shot of bourbon.

  Shelby smiled. “We better go.”

  He killed the drink and grabbed the room key. “After you. I want to watch the action from behind.”

  Shelby smiled and walked with an exaggerated gait to the elevator.

  “Good show, good show,” he teased from behind her.

  * * *

  SO MUCH FOR moving slowly.

  John watched Shelby sip her water and tried to focus on an image of his fourth grade math teacher with her googly eyes, frizzy hair and horrible coffee breath. Dressed in a bikini.

  Yeah. That deflated his lust a little.

  The restaurant buzzed around them, but the intimacy at their table kept them in their own world.

  “Are we still planning on going to your sister’s bed-and-breakfast for New Year’s Day buffet or will you have to go back to the fields?”

  “Abigail has a full house this year, so we’re switching to Mom and Dad’s. I managed to eke out some extra time off. We haven’t run into any issues this harvest. With the rain staying away, there are no rut repairs or bogged-down machinery. We should have the last of the cane to the sugar mill by midmonth.”

  “I’m sure that will be a relief,” she said, finishing off the last of her eggplant parmesan. “What do you do next?”

  Find another job?

  No. Not going to think about Carla or Breezy Hill tonight. Just Shelby and a potential future. “Usually we do repairs, reassess fields and plant some soybeans. In farming, the work never ends, just slows down a bit.”

  “Did you go to school to be a farmer?”

  He nodded, warming to the thought of her wanting to know about him and his passion for the land. “Sorta. I started out like most kids—majoring in business—but when a lot of graduating friends went to work at rent-a-car places, I looked hard at what I wanted. I loved living in Magnolia Bend. Since Rebecca and I were pretty serious, Hal steered me toward agriculture. I ended up with a masters, thinking that if things didn’t work out, I could work for an agriculture chemical company or do crop consulting.”

  “So different from teaching.”

  “Yeah, but I love being out there, love the challenge of trying new things. Farming is a science and a gamble. There’s something about that I love.”

  “So you’re a risk taker.” She smiled.

  “Most people think of farming as simplistic and benign, but at heart a farmer is a rebel, shaking his fist against nature while secretly on his knees praying. I love what I do.”

  Shelby’s knees kept brushing his, reminding him that though they talked on the surface about generalities, underneath simmered a hunger he’d kept at bay far too long. The delicate turn of her wrist, the curve of her breast revealed in the snug dress and the way silken strands of hair caressed her neck at each turn of her head drove him to near distraction.

  “So what will you do about Carla?”

  That question threw ice water on his desire way more effectively than thinking about Mrs. Shipley and her bad breath.

  “There’s nothing I can do about Carla. If she wants to hate our guts for...for...”

  “Everyone hates guts. Think about it. Intestines and internal organs aren’t on the top ten list of things people like.”

  “Only you,” he said, shaking his head. Again, she turned discomfort into amusement. “But she’s wrong about you. And me. We’re not going to allow her actions to color this new beginning.”

  Shelby shrugged. “I don’t, but others will agree with her.”

  Her words were true, and that alarmed him because he wanted her to stay. Once the truth about the baby was out, it would be harder. But the event in the bathroom that had created their baby was something altogether different than what heated the air between them tonight. That long ago night was about desperation, a need to feel comfort, a need to feel not so alone. But tonight was about fulfillment, about the need to be together.

  “Do you want dessert?” he asked, changing the subject. He’d rather dance around what they would eventually face in order to get to what they would indulge in tonight.

  Wrong or not, he wanted tonight with Shelby. Both of them needed to erase the booze-soaked desperation in their first hookup with tender, healing lovemaking.

  “Do you want me to want dessert?” she countered.

  “No.”

  Shelby laughed. “Then get the check already.”

  John paused, taking another sip of the watered-down bourbon. “We’re doing this.”

  Shelby, the beautiful woman half
the room couldn’t keep their eyes off, stilled. “Well, we can’t keep in a holding pattern. Eventually, we have to find out if what we have is worth it. Time to roll the dice on us. If we crap out, we crap out. But there’s a chance this could be something more than making do in bad circumstances. This could be...meant to be.”

  Her words were ones he needed to hear.

  John raised his hand and gestured to the waiter for the check. “Let’s grab the brass ring and go for broke.”

  She smiled and it wasn’t the sassy, sexy grin she’d been giving him all evening. This one held warmth, perhaps even relief. “You have the money? ’Cause I ain’t cheap.”

  He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a fifty-cent piece and flipped it to her.

  Shelby turned it in her hand. “You actually brought it?”

  “You know it’s just a joke, right?”

  “Of course I do. Because if my body were for sale, it would be a helluva lot more than half a buck.”

  “I’d take out a loan.”

  “Damn straight,” she said, her eyes teasing him back.

  He signed the check, pulled out her chair, inhaling the scent of her expensive perfume, and wondered about Shelby’s heart. She’d given it away several times before only to have it shattered. If her heart was up for grabs, the gift would be priceless.

  He could accept her friendship, accept she would be the mother of his firstborn and accept her delectable body would be his tonight, but could he charge himself with safeguarding her heart?

  She’d hinted he had the power to hurt her and that weighed on him. He was ready to move past grief, but was he really ready to fall in love again?

  He didn’t know, and that itself was good reason enough to halt what was about to go down in the fancy suite at the Windsor Court Hotel.

  But he’d rolled the dice, said he’d reach for the brass ring. The only way to know if he could love again was to move toward Shelby and pray he wasn’t screwing up.

  With that thought, he placed his hand on Shelby’s waist and escorted her out of the restaurant.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SHELBY FELT LIKE her dinner might make a reappearance. Not because she was sick. No, her nerves were going haywire. Somehow, John had gotten cold feet, or at least she felt he had. He’d grown still and thoughtful at the end of dinner and halfway into the cab ride, she wasn’t sure her sexy plan of seduction could work.