Kiss Me That Way: A Cottonbloom Novel

by Laura Trentham

  He was quiet for a long moment, and she worried she’d overstepped. Finally, he spoke, his voice scratchy. “Every night I lay awake and schemed to keep my family together. The state would have put them somewhere I couldn’t protect them.”

  “Cade.” She breathed his name on a sigh, drawing his gaze to hers.

  Even after the years, the success all three siblings had achieved, a torturous fear reflected on his face. That’s what he’d tried to leave behind on the rock face, in the sky, on a mountain, but he couldn’t. It would be like ripping off a piece of his soul.

  Hadn’t she done the same in her own way? Black belts in jujitsu and karate, constant training to stamp out her own fears. Had it worked? She trusted her abilities to defend herself, but in her nightmares she was powerless against the creeping terror and doubts.

  “You can’t cut those sorts of memories out of your head. If you did, you wouldn’t be … you.” Her words echoed with a hollowness off the sterile floor and walls.

  “Some people might say that’s a good thing.” His voice had hardened and the vulnerability and affinity between them vanished. He extricated his hand and opened the door. “I get time off for good behavior, right?”

  “You need to continue to stretch and work your leg and hand even on your off days.”

  He nodded and walked out, his gait looser and his limp less noticeable. His excellent overall physical condition meant he wouldn’t need many more sessions before he would be close to a hundred percent. Then what? No doubt he’d hightail away and probably flip Cottonbloom the bird on the way out of town. A full, exciting life awaited.

  What would her life have been like in some other town in some other state? More fulfilling? Lonelier? It was a useless road to travel. She tried to put Cade Fournette out of her mind while she focused on her last client and failed.

  * * *

  Cade wandered back over the bridge to his side of Cottonbloom. Restlessness pervaded his mood, but not the kind that sent him climbing the nearest cliff. While he couldn’t qualify the feeling, without a doubt Monroe was the cause.

  Bees darted through Sawyer’s wildflowers. Who would have thought Sawyer had such a wide sentimental streak. He snapped one of Sawyer’s flowers off, closed his eyes, and took a breath of the sweetness. The sorrow that welled up was tempered by a strange happiness. His mother lived on in the flowers and his father would live on in the old Dodge truck. Cade had moved the rusting hulk to Sawyer’s garage.

  The internals were in better shape than the frame. There wasn’t much to those types of trucks. The mechanics were simple, and the truck was released before everything went computerized. Every spare moment he had would be spent on getting the truck running. It had become an obsession.

  Rufus waved from the front of his restaurant. As Cade approached, Rufus wiped his hands on a stained formerly white apron, a gold-and-purple LSU emblem emblazoned across the front. Cade’s heart grew in his chest.

  Rufus had been the first one to give him a job. It had paid next to nothing, but Rufus had let Cade take home leftovers. For a while the Fournettes had eaten well, but the need to bring in cash had forced Cade to find something else. Still, it hadn’t been uncommon for Rufus to press food into Cade’s hands whenever he had wandered by the restaurant in those first tough months.

  “Heard you were back. Del keeps me up on the news. You’re a big shot, I hear.” Rufus’s voice sounded like it had been infused with river rock. All the years working his smoker had taken a toll.

  Words failed Cade, so he threw an arm around the other man’s shoulders and gave him a half hug. Rufus was lean and a good five inches shorter than Cade. He had the skin of an aged outdoorsman, leathery and wrinkled. The comb-over he’d maintained a decade ago had been buzzed short, leaving the top of his head as bare and brown as an acorn.

  “I’ve traveled the country sampling barbeque. None of it came close to yours. You got some fresh back there?” Cade dropped his arm and stepped back. The unusual show of emotion on his part was another surprise.

  “Actually, I’m getting ready to pull my smoker around for our little party.”

  “What little party is that?”

  “Why, your welcome home party, of course.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Del called me this morning. It won’t be as big as one of our regular block parties, but we’ll get up to some fun, and I’ve got the food covered.” Rufus retreated back into the restaurant, and Cade followed. Nothing had changed, except the addition of more autographed pictures of LSU football players lining the walls.

  “I don’t want a party.” A thread of desperation sharpened his words.

  Rufus’s laugh was smoky and rough. “Exactly why no one told you about it. Tally was supposed to knock you out and drag you along if necessary. We can call it a get-together if it helps. A get-together with welcome home cupcakes.”

  His frustration was offset by a warm fuzzy feeling and a shot of dark humor. A forced-home welcome party. Without being asked, he helped Rufus set up the smoker and carried out folding tables and chairs. By the time they were done, people were showing up.

  Tally strolled down from the gym and gave him a hip bump. “Didn’t even put up a fight. How unlike you.”

  “I was ambushed.” Still, a smile he couldn’t quite stem lightened the words.

  An older lady with bottle-red hair and a grin carried a plastic bin filled with cupcakes. Tally gave the woman a hug. “Cade, this is Ms. Effie, my across-the-hall neighbor.”

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am. Tally’s told me all about you.” Besides Monroe, he got the impression Ms. Effie was one of Tally’s only friends.

  “She’d told me about you, too, young man. I was acquainted with your parents. Your mama made the best deviled eggs in Cottonbloom. People loved to see her coming at the church potluck.”

  Cade’s smile came easy and natural. It felt strange. “I remember. She was like the pied piper of deviled eggs.”

  Ms. Effie patted his arm and laughed. He’d been hugged and patted and touched more since he’d been home than in his many years in Seattle combined. The distance that separated people in Seattle was absent in Cottonbloom. Maybe because everyone’s lives intersected at some point, like interlocking threads creating cloth.

  By the time Rufus whistled for everyone’s attention, fifty or more people milled along River Street, laughter punctuating the conversations. Rufus quieted the crowd and got everyone to bow their heads for a brief prayer. The men whipped off hats.

  Most of the people Cade recognized. They had been fellow church members or fishing buddies of his daddy or master gardeners like his mother. His second-grade teacher was there and clapped her hands when he greeted her by name.

  He took the lemonade Tally offered, the sweet-tartness reminding him of summers long gone. “I can’t believe how many people came for me.”

  “Rufus did offer free barbeque,” she said dryly. “And Ms. Effie’s cupcakes are wickedly good.”

  “True, but—”

  “Ohmygoodness.” Tally was staring over his shoulder, her face the definition of shocked.

  “What is it?” He tried to turn, but she grabbed his arms.

  “For Pete’s sake, don’t look.” She used him as a shield and peeked around his arm and murmured, “I can’t believe it’s really him.”

  “Who?”

  “I think that’s Nash Hawthorne, but he looks … different.”

  Cade shifted and, as casually as possible, looked behind him. Sure enough, a man who somewhat resembled the boy who’d grown up down the river from their house stood on the outskirts, the setting sun outlining him. The Nash he remembered was the classic one-hundred-pound weakling. This man, while he had the same rumpled brown hair and glasses, was over six feet and at least two hundred pounds.

  “Pretty sure that’s him,” Cade said. “You two were inseparable until everything went to hell.” Nash’s mother had succumbed to cancer, and their parents had died wit
hin a short amount of time. Cade couldn’t recall what had happened to Nash after that.

  “Yeah. We were best friends.” The soft, vulnerable note in her voice drew Cade’s attention.

  “Why don’t you go talk to him? See what he’s been up to.”

  “No. Too many things have changed. I doubt he even remembers me. Listen, you don’t mind if I duck out early, do you? Lots of stuff to do in the morning.” She was backing away before he even answered. He watched until she disappeared around the corner, wondering how worried he should be.

  The sound of Delmar tuning his mandolin distracted Cade. The sound brought back memories of lying in their trailer and hearing his uncle play and sing from his porch. The river had seemed to amplify the songs.

  Delmar launched into a song about love and loss and coming home, his eyes closed, every part of him lost in the music. The crowd stilled, the emotion in Delmar’s voice connecting all of them.

  A sense of notching in place like a puzzle piece filled him with disquiet. He wasn’t staying, didn’t want to belong anywhere, much less Cottonbloom.

  Delmar’s voice trailed into nothing. Heartbeats passed when no one moved, then, as one, the crowd erupted. Delmar smiled and started another tune.

  “He’s amazing.”

  Cade startled. Monroe was beside him, her voice filled with wonder. She was still in her work clothes.

  “He is,” he said simply.

  The look she cast him was both shy and teasing. “Hope you don’t mind that I came? You didn’t mention it, so I wasn’t sure you wanted me here. Tally texted me after you left.”

  “I want you here.” He was slightly embarrassed at how vehement he sounded. “I didn’t know about it until I walked over here after our appointment. Got stuck setting up for my own party.”

  Another haunting song filled the evening air. Although low conversations took place all around them, he and Monroe stared at each other. It should have been intensely uncomfortable. Instead, it was just intense.

  When the song ended, he said, “Let’s take a walk.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer and grabbed two cupcakes on his way down the street. Once they left the chaos behind, he handed one over. She took a bite and moaned. His gaze shot to her face. Although the pleasure wasn’t sexual, arousal flickered in his body. She licked a dab of icing off her upper lip.

  “Ms. Effie made these, didn’t she?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Tally brings them to the gym on occasion.” She glanced back at the people. “Should you be wandering away from your own party?”

  “No one will miss me. I have a feeling my Louisiana brethren search for any excuse to throw a block party.”

  Her laugh made him smile. She forced them to walk slowly. He didn’t plan to complain. At the end of River Street stood the abandoned Cottonbloom Park. Two swings hung from the rusted metal A-frame in the dilapidated playground. The overgrown skeleton of a baseball field stood in the distance.

  Part of him was afraid she’d bring up their earlier conversation, but the simplicity of the moment must have affected her as well. After testing the strength of the seat and chains, Cade gestured to the swing. Monroe sat and swayed from side to side, the chain squeaking from disuse. He gave her a push. Her hair was up, but the motion sent wispy pieces around her face. Three more strong pushes had her flying high, and he limped back around so he could see her face.

  She leaned back and tilted her face to the sky, her eyes closed. The swing slowed, the squeak growing dimmer. With a laugh, she jumped out of the seat to land close to him.

  “That was fun. It’s been years since I was on a playground.”

  A whistle cut to him. His brother was making wild hand gestures. “If Sawyer embarrasses me, I’m going to put him in a headlock later.”

  “Maybe he’s planning on giving a heartfelt speech about what you mean to him.”

  Cade barked a laugh. Not likely. The two of them hadn’t managed to be more than civil with each over since he’d been back. When he’d moved the truck into the garage, the civility threatened to crumble into outright hostility.

  The closer he and Monroe drew to the crowd, the more he slowed, partly because of his knee and partly because he wanted more time with her. “Are you sticking around?”

  She checked her watch. “Actually, I have some stuff to take care of.”

  Did her stuff involve Tarwater? It shouldn’t matter, because Cade had no claim on her. It mattered. “All right, I’ll see you at our next appointment then.”

  “Don’t rush things with your leg.” She wagged a finger and backed away.

  A group of men who were contemporaries of his father gathered around him and Sawyer to reminisce and blocked Cade’s view of her. By the time he got the chance to look, she had disappeared across the river.

  Chapter Six

  The next day, unwilling to examine the feeling of something missing from her day, Monroe pulled up to Sawyer Fournette’s house and parked behind Tally’s car. She hopped out of her SUV, smoothing a hand down the front of her sleeveless white blouse and tucking her still-damp-from-the-shower hair behind an ear.

  Instead of a June afternoon of bearable heat, a hellish inferno more typical of August had come calling. A deep breath was impossible with the maxed-out humidity. She retrieved her purse from the backseat and tucked the invitation inside.

  Her mission was to hand-deliver Tally’s invitation to the Tarwaters’ cocktail party. Though Tally had never made her nervous, she had seen her an hour ago at the gym, and the compulsion to shower and dress up before dropping by for a visit was new.

  The logical assumption was that Cade had everything to do with her erratic behavior, the flip-flop of her stomach, and her fidgety hands. Accepting the truth as being ill-advised still didn’t stop her from walking over the gravel to Sawyer’s back door.

  She knocked on the door. No one answered. She knocked again, cracked it open, and called out, “Tally? Something smells good enough to eat.”

  She’d already stepped inside when Sawyer Fournette popped his head into the small foyer. “Hey, Monroe. Tally took my truck to the grocery. Come on in.”

  She forced a smile, her steps hesitant. In high school, because he and Regan had dated, they’d hung out with Monroe occasionally, but his breakup with Regan had destroyed any bridge to friendship under construction. Monroe always got the impression Sawyer tolerated her because of her friendship with his sister but didn’t trust her as far as he could throw a dead raccoon because of her friendship with Regan.

  But rudeness wasn’t part of her DNA, and she followed him into the kitchen. Gumbo bubbled in a big pot on the stove while steam puffed out of a rice cooker. Sawyer propped a hip on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

  The only trait Sawyer shared with Cade and Tally was the intensity in his eyes, although Sawyer’s veered toward a softer hazel. Otherwise, his sandy blond hair, handsome, open face, and ready grin were his own. He was Mr. All-American. The man should be in a baseball uniform and carrying an apple pie at all times. Everyone loved Sawyer, which sent Regan careening further into madness.

  “What brings you by the house? Regan send you to check up on my festival plans?” Sawyer asked in a friendly-enough voice, but the underlying competitive spirit had her muffling a smile and turning the invitation to the fund-raiser in her hands.

  “She’s too wrapped up in her own plans to give yours much thought.” Regan was doing more stewing over Sawyer than she had in years, but Sawyer sure didn’t need to know that.

  He harrumphed and gave the pot a stir. He wore khakis and a white undershirt. A plaid button-down hung on one of the cabinet handles. After taste testing a little gumbo, he jabbed the wooden spoon in her direction. “I’ve got big things in the works. Big. Things. You tell Regan that.”

  “I’m really not involved, Sawyer. I mean, I’m not even heading up any committees.”

  “I got the Cottonbloom, Mississippi, marching band. It’
s a done deal.”

  Monroe gasped. Regan was going to be madder than a wet hen. She’d already penciled in the marching band for her parade. “How’d you manage that?”

  “Got old man Bancroft to donate some instruments.” The smile on his face was Cheshire cat meets Hannibal Lecter.

  “Well played.” Her lips twitched.

  “Terrible pun.” He shook his head, but a genuine smile lurked at the corners of his mouth. “I need that prize money.”

  “What civic project are you throwing in the ring?”

  “I want to revitalize Cottonbloom Park. Revamp the playground and the baseball field. Turn it into someplace people can gather with their kids. Maybe restart the Cottonbloom intramural league. That would be good for both sides, don’t you think?” As with Regan earlier, it was hard to deny the fire and passion in his voice.

  “That’s a fabulous idea.” And it was. Within walking distance of River Street, the park had spiraled into disrepair, the money to maintain it funneled into fundamental projects like road repair. Before the town separated, area businesses would play baseball against each other for bragging rights. The older people on both sides of the river still talked about those days with a smiling nostalgia.

  He gestured toward the white envelope she held. “You dropping something off for Tally?”

  “Invitation to a fund-raiser for my girls at risk program.”

  “Not sure you’ll get her into a cocktail dress, but maybe I can drum up some money to donate.”

  “That’d be great. I want to expand the services I offer into counseling.”

  The conversation waned, and Monroe looked out the back window. Two bays of the hulking metal garage out back were up and the long shadow of a man moved.

  “I’ll get out of your hair.” She shuffled backward toward the door.

  “You can leave that on the table if you want.”

  She looked down at the invitation and back up to the window. Cade emerged from the garage and riffled in a metal toolbox on wheels, disappearing back into the garage with a long metal object.