Mississippi Nights

by D. M. Webb

  David slinked back into the shadows, leaned against the brick wall, and watched. After a little bit, she and Jeremy walked to her truck. He slid the box inside. They talked for a moment, and then Jeremy reached out and pulled her to him.

  He narrowed his eyes. Surely his brother wasn’t messing around. The squad car pulled away, and Maggie sat in her truck. Another minute passed, and she didn’t move.

  David crossed the two-lane and approached her truck. She had the window down and her head hung. Was she praying? He tapped the truck bed as he walked up to her window.

  She looked up at him. Not a drop of surprise in her eyes, but they lit up. That was a good sign. “I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to come over here.”

  David frowned. “How’d you mean?”

  She laughed. “I saw you. You were watching.” She pushed open her door and turned around to face him.

  He propped against the door and shrugged. “Yeah. Saw you leave the store. Saw Jeremy.”

  “And you thought something was going on.”

  “I . . .” Was he that transparent? He gripped the truck’s cab. “Yeah. It did cross my mind.”

  She smiled at him. “Such a suspicious mind.” She leaned her head against the headrest. “I had to find some clothes for Poppy.”

  “For Poppy? Why?”

  “Long story.”

  He grasped her hand. “Come on.”

  She followed him, limping on her left foot, to the back of her truck. He lowered the tailgate, hopped up, and patted beside him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  She wiggled up by him. Her cotton candy scent barely reached him. The smell of honeysuckle floated through the air. She pushed her hair behind her ear, and the smell reached him again.

  “I really don’t even know where to begin.”

  David shrugged. He held her hand. His thumb stroked her soft skin. “Just start talking. I get the feeling you take care of Poppy a lot.”

  “I do. Her grandmother, Josephine, just up and leaves whenever. Leaving Poppy alone. Poppy only has her grandmother. Her mom died seven years ago. Drug overdose. The father is an unknown. There’s no other family. When Dad and I came here, I took a liking to her. Soon I found myself tending to Poppy on several occasions.”

  “Ever call it in?”

  “No.” She shook her head. Her hand left his, and she turned around until she was facing him. “I can’t. Poppy would be taken away. It took two years to pull her out of her shell. And I love her too much to let some state employee say they know what is better for her welfare. Poppy doesn’t need strangers.”

  He brushed her hair away from her eyes. “Okay. Bad idea. So, you have Poppy now?”

  She nodded. “Right after you had to leave from Jack’s, she called. There wasn’t even any food in the house. So I gave her my food.”

  That sounded like his Maggie. “Oh, thanks for the food you brought me. You didn’t have to do that.”

  Maggie shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “Well, I knew you would be hungry. Anyway, I picked her up. Wrenched my ankle on the sidewalk.”

  He reached for her leg. “Let me see that. I wondered why you were limping.”

  “No. It’s fine now.” She pushed at his hands.

  “Just relax. Put your leg up here.” She raised her leg into his lap. He rolled up her pants leg and slid his fingers under her butterfly anklet to press the joint. She winced. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. It’s tender. It hurts if I put too much pressure on it.”

  “What did it sound like when you hurt it?”

  “A popping sound.”

  He ran his hand up her shin and then down the foot. Nothing seemed out of place. Goosebumps formed on her flesh underneath his touch. “You probably have a torn ligament. Put some ice on it tonight and take some naproxen sodium for the inflammation.”

  She smiled, swatting his hand away, and pushed her pant leg down. Her leg left his lap to dangle over the tailgate. “Thank you.”

  “So. You got Poppy, popped your ankle, had your food eaten, and. . .?” He leaned back on his hands, watching her fiddle with the seam of her pants. The desire to touch her overwhelmed him.

  “I took her and Sorta home.”

  That was a weird name. “Sorta?”

  “A kitten she found. We gave the kitten a bath. Samson and Delilah weren’t too thrilled to have a newcomer in the house.”

  He arched a brow. “Samson and Delilah? Should I be writing this down so I can keep it all straight?”

  She smiled. “My cats. I got Samson two years ago. Then I adopted a female kitten. Had to have Samson cut because of the new female, so I named her Delilah.”

  David chuckled. He sat up. A strand of hair fell between her eyes. He reached out and brushed it back as he replied, “I had a dog named King Saul. Best friend, but that dang mutt would bite my hand at least every other day. So what happened after you got Poppy home?”

  She waved a hand in front of her nose. “I gave Poppy a bath. Oh my word, she stunk. I finally contacted Josephine.” Her brow creased, and her mouth turned down. She bit out her words. “The woman won’t be back until Sunday! Can you believe that? So here I am, trying to find Poppy some clothes because the woman took her other ones to sell.”

  David pushed his anger down. To abandon a child and take her clothes? If he ever saw the woman, Lord help her. Maggie’s hands shook. He covered them, her skin cool and soft beneath his hands.

  “You have her now. Don’t think about that old hag.”

  “Oh, David, I don’t know if you understand. I feel like  . . . I don’t know what.”

  “Angry.”

  She hissed. “Yes. And . . .”

  “And sad.” He brushed a thumb across her cheek, tracing a row of freckles. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I’ve seen a lot of that in St. Louis. But Poppy is fortunate to have you. They had no one.”

  Maggie sighed. She pressed her cheek against his palm as a couple of tears escaped. “I would do anything for her.”

  “I understand. I feel that way about my nephews and niece. Come here.” She came willingly and melted into his arms.

  Her arms encircled his chest. Her head tucked neatly under his chin, wayward locks tickling his lips. His breath caught. This felt so right. She fit so perfectly against him.

  Their breathing synchronized. Somewhere in the distance, a whippoorwill sang. The scent of the blooming dogwoods mingled with her honeysuckle shampoo. The wind blew a few of the petals across the air in front of them.

  His heart pounded against his ribs as her hand crept across his chest.

  He looked down at her as she rubbed her nose. “I smell, don’t I?”

  She blushed and giggled. “Just a little. Like an overcooked grill.”

  “Great.”

  “It’s okay . . . just charcoal-y . . .” She pushed at him, straightening up. “I really need to go. It’s late. Poppy has school tomorrow. I have work.”

  David caught her hands and pressed them between his. They were so small, so slender. He didn’t want her to leave, not yet. “You’ll find me if ever you need to talk?”

  “I will.” Her eyes traveled back and forth as she watched him. Her face softened.

  What did she want?

  He traced a finger over her brow and down the side of her face. She was beautiful. Sapphire eyes. Pink lips. He leaned forward. Her eyes fluttered closed. Just a touch. That was all he wanted. Just one touch.

  Her cool lips met his. Soft and yielding. His fingers buried themselves in her silky hair and cupped the back of her head. She didn’t pull back. Her arms circled his chest, pressing him closer.

  He couldn’t get enough. She tasted like cotton candy. He wrapped his other arm around her waist. His hand fell to her hip–

  Hot, humid air rushed between them.

  Through hazy vision, he watched the cloudy, soft look disappear from her face. Her hand pushed at his chest.

  “I’m sorry. I
shouldn’t have let that happen.” She jumped from the tailgate, staggering once under her bad ankle.

  For a second or two, he sat there. He blinked and pushed back the red heat of desire. She was already in the cab. He slammed the tailgate shut, barely missing his finger. He hurried to the front of the truck. Another near miss as he caught the cab door before she closed it.

  “Maggie–”

  “No. Look. Let’s just forget it, please.” She struggled with her seatbelt.

  He jerked the door from her hand. “No. I won’t forget it. I . . .” He took a breath. “I’m sorry. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  She slumped. A hurt expression crossed her face. “No. That’s what you wanted, David.” Her hand closed around the door handle and pulled.

  He allowed her to close the door, but he stopped her with a hand on the steering wheel before she cranked the truck. “That’s not all I want.”

  Cool gemstones stared at him. Passion no longer swam in her eyes, but her lips were still swollen from their kiss. “Prove it, then. I’ve heard enough to know that you play fast and loose–”

  “Not true.” He clenched his jaw. Funny how lies of the past haunted him. “I never did.”

  “What would have happened just then, huh? Don’t tell me that was just an innocent little kiss.”

  He snarled. “Don’t tell me you didn’t want something more.” Women. They all promised but never delivered. He could do without that kind.

  Her hand covered his, and his anger receded at the cool touch.

  “Maybe what they say isn’t true, but I see in you a man who doesn’t want anything more than a physical relationship. I can’t be in another relationship like that.” She stroked his hand with a finger. “Prove to me that you want me beyond the physical.”

  David leaned inside, inches from her lips. “Be careful of what you ask for.”

  She patted his cheek and leaned forward. Her lips were soft against his flesh. The cotton candy scent invaded his senses. “Be careful of what you promise. Good night, David.”

  She smiled and then backed up into the street. He watched as her truck disappeared down the street. Then he glanced around the deserted square.

  He had just been snookered. The woman was determined to make him fall for her. Well, she asked for it. He’d prove to her that it wasn’t just physical. Yeah. Two could play that game. Only after a cold shower, of course.

  Chapter 9

  DAVID PUSHED THE DOOR open. Chaos greeted him. Boxes littered the floor of his studio apartment. Sunlight poured through the windows. Way too bright. One of these days, he would have to buy some blinds or curtains. But not today.

  He shoved a box to the side with a foot. That box needed to go live in the dumpster. Two more opened boxes, contents glaring at him, stood in the way. He stepped over them. One of these days, he’d finish unpacking. Wednesday had given him enough time to move into the apartment but not to unpack.

  He set the bag he carried on the counter and unloaded the few items: milk, eggs, bread, bacon, cereal, chips, beer, and frozen dinners.

  He stuffed the food away and placed a frozen dinner into the microwave. The six pack rattled as he slid it onto the shelf and grabbed one of the bottles. The top to the beer bottle flew across the kitchenette as he wandered to the small flat screen across the room. The cold malt soothed his parched throat as he searched through a box full of movies. He needed a good shoot’em up. Especially after his horrible night. A few choice words about the rookies escaped his mind. Apparently, the academy had lowered its standards.

  The microwave dinged.

  He slipped the DVD into the slot on the Xbox console. One of these days, he’d buy a nice Blu-ray player. He padded to the kitchenette and retrieved his cardboard meal.

  The last few drops of his Heineken increased his thirst for more. He chucked his empty beer bottle into the garbage can, and it rattled against the bottom. He grabbed two more beers and settled into his leather chair with his meager fare.

  Man, what he wouldn’t give for his mom’s home-cooked meal. Price he had to pay for moving out. Oh, well.

  He played the movie. Time to enjoy the mind-numbing action of zombies being mutilated. After a couple of stale bites, he set the tray on the floor. Tasted exactly as it smelled, cardboard and plastic. He drained his bottle and set it on the floor. The top of the next one sailed across the room and bounced against the door. He’d find it later. His chair was way too comfortable at the moment.

  Halfway through the beginning of the movie, he drifted away with the sounds of the film and a pleasant buzz in his head. Gunfire, yells, and the movie’s background music merged with the collage of scenes in his mind. A weeks’ worth of work and stress interspersed with a smiling, freckled-faced pixie danced behind his closed eyelids. The image of her blue eyes, sparkling and laughing, faded into a red haze. In the distance, fire crept closer, beating out a tempo–one, two, three. Repeat. It advanced closer and louder, yelling his name.

  He jerked awake, spilling some beer across his stomach. His curse echoed in the room, competing with the loud knocking at his door.

  “In a minute!” His heart rate slowed, and his body protested as he levered himself out of the chair. He drained the rest of the lukewarm beer and threw the bottle into an empty box as he passed by.

  “David?” The muffled voice called from behind the door.

  He rolled his eyes. Darlene. He forgot she was going to visit today. He pulled open the door and leaned against the frame. Her green eyes stared up at him, deep dimples forming on both sides of her face. “You’re early,” he told her.

  She pushed past him, carrying a covered dish. The scent of chicken and melted cheese floated up to him. “Yup. And I would have told you if you had answered your phone.”

  “What is that?” He kicked the door closed. The metal top from the beer gleamed from the corner. He scooped it up and threw it into the box holding the bottle.

  “Chicken casserole.” She slid it across his counter and uncovered it. “I thought you could probably use a good meal.”

  “Yeah, I could. Thanks. Tried a microwave meal, but it was nasty.” He picked up the empty bottle and half-eaten meal. They joined the other Heineken in the can.

  Darlene eyed his shirt, pushing her brown locks back under her red headband. “What’s on you?”

  “My drink. I was dozing when you knocked. Spilled my beer.”

  “Well, go change, and I’ll fix you a plate.”

  He sighed. She wasn’t going to leave anytime soon, so he might as well settle in for a chat. His new mattress squeaked as he sat on its edge and pulled a green plastic tub to him. Somewhere in the pile of clothes was his black t-shirt. Darlene started talking as he stripped off his beer-soaked garment.

  “I told Marty that we need to have a bash next month. It’ll be Marty Junior’s birthday. Of course, Marty Junior didn’t want a birthday bash until I told him that he could pick the place. So far, he is still thinking . . .” She turned from the counter with a full plate as he sent the dirty shirt sailing toward the bathroom door. “You know, I still can’t get over that tattoo. Whatever made you decide on that design? I see you as more of a phoenix or dragon.”

  He smiled and pulled the clean, black AC/DC shirt over his head. She walked toward him as he looked around for a chair or box for her to sit on. “I like it. Figured flames suited me.”

  She shrugged. “Well, I guess it does. Anyway, the boys are still going on about it. Sarah is livid because Dennis already said that he’s getting one once he turns eighteen. You really like to start a riot in the family.” She waved him to the leather chair. “Sit. I’m fine. Actually, seeing your place now, and the mess it is in, is driving me nuts.”

  He accepted the plate and sampled the food. Cheese, onions, and moist chicken melted in his mouth. His eyes closed in pure pleasure. “Um. So good.”

  She kissed his head. “Enjoy. I’ll only make you something every once in a while, Mr. Bachelor
.”

  “Darlene,” he spoke around his mouthful, “you don’t need to clean my place.”

  “It’s a pigsty, little brother.” She scooped up a handful of magazines and stacked them on top of an overturned box. “And knowing you, you’ll put it off until you’re keeping company with rats and roaches.”

  “Now, that’s disgusting. I’m not that bad.” He shoveled another bite into his mouth and ignored her pointed stare. When she leaned down and opened a box, he jumped from his chair, sliding the plate onto the cushion. He should have thrown that box away earlier. “No! Wait.”

  She pulled out a magazine. Her hand flew to her mouth. “David!”

  He reached over her head and ripped it from her hands. She bent down and pulled another one out of the box. “Darlene! Come on, that’s–”

  “Porno? Seriously?” She dodged his hand and opened it. The centerfold page unfolded.

  Heat flooded his face as his sister stared at the nude photograph of the blonde model. He dumped the one he held back into the box.

  She danced away from him, keeping the magazine out of his reach, and flipped through the pages.

  She laughed. “Don’t tell me you are reading them for the articles.”

  He held back his growl. “There are good articles in them. Give me that!”

  “No.” She hopped over a box and waved the magazine at him. “You know they’re airbrushed, right? No woman is that toned or that tanned.” She gazed intently at the centerfold again. “Definitely not real.”

  He snatched it from her hand and threw the crumpled magazine back in the box. “And the point being? I know they ain’t real.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t really be into that, can you?”

  “I bought them last year. Haven’t bought any since.” He closed the box and shoved it toward the door. His face still flamed. “I’m not addicted to it.”

  “I would hope not. I mean, those models are like what? Eighteen or nineteen at most? What would you think if Sophie was in it?”

  He grimaced. His niece in a porno magazine? What did she think? That he was some sort of pervert? “Not cool.” He ignored her gaze. “I was planning on taking that box to the dumpster.”