Love, Alabama (Alabama Series Book 2)

by Susan Sands

  “Pretty cliché, huh?” He looked around as they entered and he said, “The interior is even better than the outside. Very comfortable. Your work?”

  She led him through the vaulted family room that was well appointed with a few great antique pieces, a soft muted rug with a geometric pattern and a large, comfortable sofa and two chairs. The fireplace was the focal point of the room, with its rough-hewn barn beam mantle, covered with photos of her family throughout the decades. She’d loved making this space beautiful and comfortable.

  “Yes. When you don’t date or have kids, it leaves time for such things.”

  “Where’s your dog?”

  “He’s at my mom’s house. It’s his second home. She has a huge, fenced backyard where he spends his time chasing the hundreds of squirrels who conspire to drive him nuts.”

  He laughed, a deep-throated chuckle that again stirred her inner-workings. What the hell was wrong with her tonight? Men didn’t usually get under her skin like this.

  She flipped on the kitchen lights, then dimmed the ones that hung over the bar area. “Can I get you something to drink? She asked.

  “Water would be great.”

  “I also have beer and white wine, if you’re interested.” He shot her a look that she recognized as interested, but not in beer or wine. She cleared her throat. “Water it is.”

  *

  “Emma, I want to thank you for understanding about the panic attack, and for bringing me back here for dinner. I know it’s late, and you didn’t have to. I haven’t exactly been the nicest guy since I’ve been in town.” He needed to make amends for his brutish behavior thus far.

  “You and I haven’t gotten off to a great start for a friendship, I admit, but I don’t think you’re a bad person. You just seem a little out of your comfort zone here. Let’s face it, it ain’t New York City.” She took silverware out of the drawer and laid it next to two plates.

  “Isn’t that the truth?” He snorted.

  They opened the containers, and without any discussion began serving food family style from both containers on the plates Emma had taken out of the cupboard.

  “Something about you seems familiar to me,” she said, tilting her head sideways.

  “Really?” Slow down, breathe.

  If he told her now, she would wonder why he hadn’t told her as soon as he’d recognized her. Should he pretend he hadn’t recognized her before now? No, that would be too far-fetched. She hadn’t changed enough to be unrecognizable. But apparently, he had, or at least he hoped so. Because if he didn’t speak up now and she figured this out later, he was screwed.

  “I think these are the best collard greens and black-eyed peas I’ve ever eaten.”

  “You’re from New York and you’ve had black-eyed peas and collards?” Her gorgeous green eyes narrowed, as if catching him in some kind of fiendish whopper of a lie.

  “Why does that surprise you? Just because I’m not a resident, doesn’t mean I haven’t had the opportunity and the pleasure of sampling Southern food.”

  “Okay. It’s just that collards and black-eyed peas aren’t exactly your average Southern fare. But I’m glad to know you at least like the food here, even if you’re allergic to our lovely flowers and greenery.”

  “You mean the pollen and ragweed. I’m fine with the flowers and most of the greenery. I should be fine in a few weeks. These are seasonal allergies. I’ve had them my whole life.”

  “Hmmm. So, it’s not Big Al.”

  “Big Al doesn’t help when I’m in the middle of an allergy attack, but, no, he wasn’t entirely to blame.”

  “So, if you’re not from the South, how do you know you have seasonal allergies to ragweed and pollen?” She asked.

  “Like I said, we moved around. The South isn’t the only place that has pollen and ragweed, you know.” He verbally tap-danced his way around that one. If and when she ever figured out who he was, he hoped she wouldn’t come back to this conversation.

  “How about those fried pickles?” She changed the subject.

  “I can feel my arteries hardening with every bite. But they are delicious. I can’t say I’ve ever eaten a fried pickle. I do believe they fry just about everything down here.”

  “Ever had a fried Twinkie?” Her green eyes sparkled.

  He clutched his chest, feigning a heart attack.

  “Now don’t have another panic attack, you hear?”

  “I’m good for now. I’d appreciate your not sharing that information with anyone, if you don’t mind. It wouldn’t be good for my career, or my manly reputation around town.”

  She smiled then made a face. “Don’t worry about your career. Secret’s safe with me. I can’t guarantee your reputation is though. People will talk now that you’ve been seen in public with me, you know?”

  “What exactly will they say? That I was spotted with the hottest woman in Ministry, Alabama?”

  She snorted. “Ha. Maybe that you managed to take out the weird chick in town who’s rarely seen with men. Someone off the street might stop you and ask how that happened. There are those who think I’m a lesbian in secret, or that I’m broken.”

  He’d almost have to agree with the broken thing now that he’d heard her short version, but never would he say that out loud. “They are a bunch of gossips who likely have nothing better to do than make up stories about you. By the way, are you a lesbian?”

  She laughed. “No. Not a lesbian. But maybe broken just a little.”

  “We’re all broken just a little.” They laughed at that.

  He was certainly broken in several ways. An image of his stepdad crept through his mind and he shoved it down. Yeah, he couldn’t point fingers at anyone else for being broken.

  She pushed back from her plate and heaved a sigh. “I’m stuffed and broken right now.”

  He smiled at her. “I’d better get going. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow will be another.” He placed his napkin on the bar, stood up, and began clearing the dishes. When he reached the sink, he turned back and asked, “Do you have plans this weekend?”

  “Um, I’m not sure. I’m supposed to help my mom with an event at Evangeline House, and then do some wedding stuff. She’s getting married in a few weeks.”

  “What’s Evangeline House? And your mom’s getting married?”

  They talked for a few more minutes about Emma’s family’s event planning business and her mother’s unexpected rediscovery of Howard, her first love. That was fascinating stuff.

  She let him out the front door and promised to lock up behind him.

  He walked out to his car, nearly dragging his feet. They’d had a great night. But his guilt was weighing him down. Why hadn’t he just told her who he was and that he’d recognized her from before? She’d given him every opportunity, even though she hadn’t known it.

  He realized that things had gone so well between them and telling her might blow it all up in his face. He really liked Emma Laroux, and he respected everything she’d done to create a successful independent life after her public fall from grace. But there was a part of him that wondered what the hell had happened after that weekend a decade ago to cause her to lead such a solitary existence. Besides what he knew, which wasn’t much, there had to be something else.

  Maybe she hadn’t given up men entirely, but obviously she’d almost done so. To forge ahead without children or a mate for ten years? That didn’t happen for no good reason. After the weird interaction with Mayor Tad Beaumont earlier this evening, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d had something to do with it.

  Chapter Four

  ‡

  “I’m still having a hard time wrapping my mind around the idea that Daddy wasn’t my real father.” Maeve’s deep blue eyes shone with tears. They were her newfound father’s eyes. Maeve was the eldest of her siblings, and had recently discovered that Howard, their mother’s fiancé, was really her biological father.

  Emma didn’t blame her for her confusion and emotion
al upset. The whole ordeal was like a heap of soap opera drama, and they’d only just found out about it a few months ago. “Sweetie, you know there’s no one to blame here. I realize it has shaken your foundation, but Daddy loved you, even though he knew you weren’t his blood, he loved you like you were.”

  Maeve said, “He used to tell me I was his special girl. But he never told me why.”

  “You see? You never felt like there was anything different between you. Learning that Howard is your father and that he’s never had another family is a blessing. He adores you and Lucy. Finding the two of you has been like an answer to a prayer for him. For you, it’s like having a chance at another father.”

  “I guess you’re right. I believe him when he says he never meant to leave or hurt Mom while she was pregnant.” He’d left their mother, Maureen, at the altar, not realizing she’d been pregnant at the time with Maeve. His parents had hatched a plan to keep the lovers apart. Maureen had believed he’d gotten cold feet and changed his mind.

  “So, you have to go to the wedding and give them your blessing, right? And let Lucy participate. It’s the right thing to do. Mom deserves to be happy. She’s been alone too long.”

  “Of course, we’re going to the wedding and will participate. I’m just struggling within myself a little right now.” Then, before Emma could blink, Maeve cleanly turned the tables on her. “Mom’s not the only one who’s been alone too long, you know?”

  Emma was used to this.

  Emma held up a hand to ward off the offensive. “Mom just gave me the business a couple days ago. I’ll tell you as I did her. I’m fine. I live my life on my own terms.”

  “Really? On your own terms, huh?”

  “What do you mean?” Emma wasn’t at all sure she wanted to hear Maeve’s opinion on the subject.

  “You appear to have it all together, but somehow you’ve never gotten completely free of whatever it was that set you back when you stepped down from Miss Alabama. Something happened and it stunted you. You won’t share with us and it’s gone on too long.”

  Emma felt the blood drain out of her face.

  “You’ve let what happened all those years ago control your future. Just because one man screwed you over doesn’t mean it will happen again. People get hurt and then move on. You have to get over Tad Beaumont. Do you really think by hardly dating and not committing to anyone else, he’ll someday leave Sadie and come back to you?” Her sister asked.

  Emma couldn’t believe how wrong her sister was. And how right. Thank God, Maeve didn’t know. Maybe what happened back then left Emma mistrustful of men to some degree, but none of this was because she wanted Tad back. In fact, the idea of that asshole touching her again made her want to run to the nearest fire hose and blast the skin off her body.

  She whooshed a sigh of relief. “I wouldn’t take Tad back if he were truly the last man on earth. And I’ve dated some. It just hasn’t worked out.”

  “If that’s true, why won’t you ever give anyone else a real chance?” Maeve asked, now distracted from her own drama.

  Emma ignored that because she didn’t want to dwell on the truth of it. “It’s been easier to stay single. Simpler. It’s true; I haven’t wanted to get hurt again. Once was more than enough. And don’t you think if I met the right person, I would know, or at least feel a lot more than mildly interested. I haven’t dated anyone more than a little while because there hasn’t been a spark, much less a flame. Maybe someday I’ll try again.”

  “Better hurry up if you want to try to have children.” Maeve suggested.

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” Trying to maintain her composure, Emma smiled.

  The having children part struck at the heart of Emma’s greatest fear. She desperately wanted them. Her own large loving family only solidified her need to have one or two of her own. The thought of spending her life alone, without children of her own to love, either biological or adopted, made her want to curl up and wither.

  Before she fell headlong into her pity party, her sister brought her back to the present. “I heard about your dinner with Cammie’s producer. Was it really just a mercy dinner—because they say he’s hot?”

  “They should keep their opinions to themselves. And it was a friendly dinner. He wasn’t feeling well, so we took the food to go and ate at my house.”

  Maeve raised her brows. “Well, I’ll bet that gets around town. Good for you. I hope it causes your self-imposed dating moratorium to end once word spreads that you’re back on the market. Look out though, there could be a stampede.” Maeve smirked.

  “That’s ridiculous.” But it really hadn’t occurred to Emma that being seen with a man after a long, dry spell might encourage others to give it another a try.

  *

  Matthew’s palms weren’t completely dry as the phone rang again. Surely the return of panic attacks didn’t have anything to do with what had happened before. But then, he couldn’t very well take a chance of it happening again with no warning. He’d almost made an ass of himself—who was he kidding? He’d made a total ass of himself in front of Emma. He’d been fortunate she hadn’t run off believing him to be a nut job of the first order.

  “Hello? This is Sabine, how can I help you?” A female voice answered, cool but friendly.

  Matt snapped out of it. “Y-yes, hi, my name is Matthew. A friend referred me. I’ve just moved to the area and wondered if you had any openings for new patients?”

  “Yes, I do have a few. The first appointment takes a couple of hours because of the mountain of required paperwork.”

  “No. That’s not an issue. When could I come in?” He asked, using every ounce of willpower not to slam the phone down and not look back.

  “Let me see, I just had a cancellation tomorrow morning at nine. Would that work?”

  “You see patients on Saturday?” He was surprised. Normally, in a town this size, most medical offices were nine-to-five on weekdays and closed on weekends. The only ones opened were the hospital and the one urgent care facility that he knew of.

  She laughed. “Most folks are happy about that. I try to accommodate nine-to-fivers as much as possible.”

  “Oh, I’m not complaining, just surprised. That actually works great for me, since I’d rather not take time off for this, if possible.” He breathed a sigh of relief.

  Maybe it was a sign he was supposed to seek counseling for his little issue before it got out of hand again.

  “Great. I’ll put you down on my schedule. Could I get your last name and phone number?”

  Matthew gave her his info and hung up. She sounded very professional. Good. This was beyond embarrassing, especially since Emma Laroux had witnessed it. The idea of her seeing him as fragile made him groan. Panic attacks weren’t manly; though he knew from prior experience and therapy they weren’t supposed to be due to weakness. It didn’t make him feel much better about things. At least he’d made the appointment.

  Emma was so lovely. She was tough and compassionate. But she lived on an emotional island, it seemed. He’d enjoyed her company last night. They’d laughed and talked, so unlike when they’d first met.

  Around the mayor, she’d been tense and nervous, as if she was about to jump out of her skin at any moment. Matthew had a distinct feeling he remembered Tad Beaumont from that weekend in the past, when he’d first met Emma, but couldn’t quite nail it down.

  Matthew had played football for Auburn, so he’d been at practice and playing in the big Iron Bowl game most of the time that weekend. He’d come back to the fraternity house—after. The same evening he’d found her like that. There had been a big party going on with lots of girls, guys, drinking, and all the other things that went on at fraternity houses during a celebratory weekend, because, unfortunately, they’d been on the UA campus, and Alabama had won the game that night. So, the revelry had been amped for the partygoers. He, on the other hand, was a guest of the frat from the rival school’s team.

  He’d not been as thrilled wi
th the outcome of the game, kicking himself for missing a key tackle. But still, he’d been invited to the party, and was determined to at least try to enjoy the evening.

  Shaking his head, Matthew glanced at his watch. He’d need to hurry if he was going to make it to the diner in time for breakfast before work. He preferred structure and a solid schedule. Those things were part of his life now. They’d helped him morph into the successful man he’d become. He was no longer the pudgy, country boy he’d once been, content to watch life pass him by.

  *

  Emma backed down her driveway, softly humming to Miranda Lambert’s latest empowering tune, Big Al lying beside her riding shotgun, when a horn blasted right behind her.

  Cutting off a muffled oath, Emma turned to see who’d pulled in behind her. Spotting Tad, she suddenly wished she hadn’t stopped, and instead floored the accelerator. As he got out of his car, she was sorely tempted.

  “What the—” She felt the boiling rage redden her face as she shoved the gearshift in park.

  Emma schooled her features into neutral and let out an annoyed breath as she hit the power window button to the down position. Big Al gave a low growl.

  Tad grinned, making her want to punch him in his too-handsome face. “Oh, sorry about that. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. A little bird told me there was a strange car here last night and they’d seen a man come inside.”

  How dare he? Her heart thudded. “You saw who I was with at the studio—in fact, you met him. He’s not a stranger to me, and, as you can see, I’m fine. Thanks for checking on me.” She smiled sweetly, trying to get him to move along.

  “You know, Emma, I do still worry about you.” Big Al growled again, Emma could feel his tension.

  “Why, Tad? I’m a big girl. Why on earth would you stop by and tell me this?”

  “Everyone in this town is my responsibility. And I still feel guilty about the way things ended between us.” Big Al lunged across Emma toward the open window at Tad, barking and baring his canines.