Leave the Night On

by Laura Trentham

  “You’re blaming Pop?” Defensiveness bristled through him like a wild animal being poked.

  Hazel patted his knee, but he jerked it away. “Life is complicated. People even more so. Your daddy was a good man, but he wasn’t without his faults. None of us is.”

  What if, along with his hair and eye color, he’d inherited his mama’s ways? He’d never had a serious girlfriend. He still lived much like a teenager, eating canned ravioli and boxed mac and cheese. “I wouldn’t run off.”

  “No one is afeared you will.” Hazel shifted and laced her fingers together on her lap. “Except for you it seems.”

  Even in the dark, he could feel her eyes boring deep for the truth, and she would find it. She always did. As a kid he’d wondered if she was a swamp witch, but when he’d asked, she laughed and laughed. Although she’d never actually denied it to his recollection.

  “I’ve been feeling restless of late,” he finally admitted. “Maybe it’s the infighting with Ford. I don’t know.”

  “Ugly business that.” An ominous humming sound came from her throat. “How old are you?”

  The change in direction threw him. “Twenty-nine. Why?”

  “Almost thirty. Maybe you don’t want to run away but settle down.”

  His aunt’s words uncovered something he’d buried deep. “Not possible. What about the curse?”

  “Wyatt Jedidiah Abbott, do not tell me you’ve bought into that poppycock.”

  He winced at his name. “But the string of unmarried Abbott twins is legendary.”

  “All by choice, if you ask me.” The righteousness in her voice faded. “Don’t use flawed family history as an excuse to never fall in love.”

  Snapshots of Sutton scrolled through his mind. Her head tossed back in a laugh, the beauty of her eyes, her hand on his arm offering comfort. He groaned and leaned his head against the metal chain.

  Not her. He could not fall for Sutton Mize. A woman who was barely out of a serious relationship and way out of his league. A woman who was using him to save face and for a good time. Did the universe have that big a streak of irony? Or was it truly a curse?

  Before Hazel could get out her scalpel and probe deeper, he brushed a kiss on her soft cheek and stood. “I’m bushed.”

  He was halfway down the steps when she said, “I know where your mom is. Come see me when you’re ready to find her.”

  His body locked up, and his head grew swimmy. Two deep breaths unlocked his muscles, and he walked away with his body and mind weighted with too many worries. Before he stepped foot in the barn, his twin alarm sounded.

  Everything was dark, the back door open to the moonlight. Jackson was sprawled on the couch, a beer bottle dangling from his hand. Wyatt grabbed two more from the fridge, uncapped them, and joined his brother to stare out at the seemingly endless expanse of trees lit by the moon.

  “How’d things go?” Jackson set down his empty bottle and took the proffered beer.

  “Good. Fine.” The two words were too simple to convey the tangle of his feelings.

  “Seeing her again?”

  “Tomorrow. I’m taking her to a pig picking at her parents’ house.”

  Jackson grunted and took a swig.

  Wyatt scraped at the label on his bottle. “You ever wonder where our mom is? What she’s doing? If she’s okay?”

  “You mean the woman who’s never tried to get in touch even though she damn well knows we’re still here?” The force of the bitterness in Jackson’s words took Wyatt aback.

  Wyatt had missed their mama in an abstract way, not a way that gouged him hollow, but Jackson’s loss seemed more immediate and personal. “I’m taking that for a no?”

  “Don’t need her. Don’t need anybody.” Jackson took a long pull of his beer and knuckle-punched Wyatt in the arm. “Anyway, I’ll always have you, right?”

  Wyatt cast a side-eye toward his twin. Jackson tipped up the bottle and killed the rest of the beer. While it was true neither one of them would be truly alone as long as they were both alive, it didn’t feel like enough for Wyatt. Not anymore.

  He had two choices, either end his arrangement with Sutton after the pig picking or ride out the two weeks, try not to do something stupid like fall for her, and then start looking for something serious. He had to consider that their agreement might bring business into the garage and ease the tension that had taken up residence like an unwelcome squatter. He could surely survive two weeks with Sutton Mize.

  Jackson got up and stretched, jostling three empty beer bottles at his feet. The clatter sent a nesting bird flying from one of the bushes. It wasn’t like Jackson to drown his troubles. He usually met them head-on.

  “What’s going on with you?” Wyatt asked.

  “Worried about Ford and Mack and the garage. Same as you, I’d guess. I’m heading up.”

  “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

  “Yep.” Jackson was an expert at hiding his emotions behind a legendary stoicism, but Wyatt knew better. His twin had an unshakable loyalty to those he loved that was humbling. His emotions cut deep, and he hadn’t been the same since their pop had died.

  Wyatt didn’t press him further, shifting to watch him shuffle toward the corner stairs to the loft. The receding clomp of boots left Wyatt alone with his chaotic thoughts.

  Chapter Nine

  Sutton ran a brush through her hair and touched up her lipstick in the hallway mirror, keeping an eye on the front door. The sound of a throaty car engine drew her to the window.

  Wyatt pulled into her driveway. Before he even had a chance to get out, she was locking her door and smoothing the folds of a sundress she’d designed. White eyelet overlaid a simple matching sheath dress underneath. She’d changed three times, knowing everyone’s eyes would be on her.

  Even though no one was there to note his boyfriend-like behavior, he came around the car to open the door for her. She slipped by close enough for her skirt to brush against him and to smell the hint of his piney cologne.

  “You look real pretty.”

  “Thanks. So do you.” She gave herself a mental slap upside the head. “I mean handsome. You look handsome.”

  His laughter was good-natured, and instead of flushing with embarrassment, she returned his smile. He did look handsome in flat-front khakis and a light blue golf shirt. Not fancy, yet a drastic change from the work coveralls and the broken-in jeans she’d seen him in.

  When she made a move to slip into the seat, he stopped her with a hand around her wrist. “That dress…”

  “It’s one of mine. Is it not good enough? Should I change?” She fiddled with the folds.

  “No.” The word came out forcefully before his tone normalized. “It reminds me of the dress you had on the day you fell in the river.”

  Her nosediving confidence stabilized. “You remember?”

  “I told you I remembered everything from when we were young.” His eyes were hooded, not giving anything away, but his voice had roughened.

  “That was my favorite dress, and my dunk in the river ruined it. This was my vision of a grownup version.”

  “I was a big jerk back then, but you have to know that I just wanted you to notice me.” He let go of her wrist, and she slid into the seat, a little stunned at his declaration. He shut her door and made his way around.

  The drive to her parents’ house was less than ten minutes, but a fit of uncomfortable nerves had her searching for something to say. “The mayor’s going to be there. Our state representative too.”

  “Good to know. I’ll try to avoid scratching my balls before I shake hands.” Although his voice was light, an edge had her turning in the seat.

  She sighed, kicking herself for saying the wrong thing—again. “I’m sorry. I’m really nervous. Everyone’s going to be looking at us, wondering what’s true and what’s not. How are we going to pull this off?”

  “You care too much what everyone thinks.” He shot a look from the road to her and back again. “All th
is stuff you’re worrying about isn’t important in the big scheme of things.”

  Maybe he was right, but her life had been confined to the narrow path of everyone’s expectations. Breaking loose was like trying to escape a heavily guarded chain gang. All she knew right now was that she was glad to be going into the party on his arm and not alone. If that made her a selfish coward, then so be it.

  Cars were already parked on both sides of the street on the approach to her parents’ house. Wyatt slowed, looking to both sides.

  “You can go up to the front. Daddy saved a spot for me,” she said.

  He pulled into the circular driveway and drove to the front of the house, pulling next to an SUV. “The judge does know I’m coming, right?”

  She hummed and pulled the door handle, but only had one foot out when he drew out her name with a warning. “Sutton? Tell me your parents know I’m coming.”

  “I mentioned that I might bring someone.” She had a feeling she would regret not giving her parents fair warning of the identity of her date. A “don’t ask, don’t tell” mandate about her personal life had been enacted.

  “What about our agreement?”

  If hurt that she had no right to welled up. He didn’t actually care about her. They weren’t even friends. He was here with her for one reason and one reason only—his family’s garage. “I’ll pull Daddy aside for a chat.”

  He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and got out. She bypassed the double oak doors of the house and led him through a wrought iron gated arch with yellow jasmine flowers dripping from all sides.

  In the twenty years her father had been an elected judge, his yearly pig pickings had become legend. What had started as a potluck for his first election campaign had turned into a fancier affair. This year’s was bigger and better with the election fast approaching.

  Pit masters tended to two pigs in the ground at the back of the property, the smell mouthwatering, and caterers circulated with finger foods and drinks. A portable bar was set up on the patio, and chairs and tables were set up to overlook the wildflower-covered field down to the river. It made for a pretty picture.

  She stepped from the cover of the jasmine into a shaft of sunlight that had her squinting. Was the initial ebb then increased buzz of conversation her imagination, or was everyone talking about her? Her ears burned.

  Wyatt’s hand was strong around her waist as he leaned in to whisper, “How about a little alcoholic fortification?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He slid his hand to her lower back and led her toward the bar. Her mother held court under one of the giant, standing umbrellas that kept the guests from melting.

  “What’s your poison?” he asked.

  “White wine spritzer.”

  “Coming right up.”

  After he’d excused himself, her mother broke free from the couple who had commanded her attention and trekked in her direction. Sutton considered making a run for it, but her mother was there before she could decide which direction offered the best chance of escape.

  “Hello, dear.” Her mother leaned in to glance her cheek against Sutton’s and give her an air kiss.

  “Nice turnout.”

  “Not bad.” Her mother surveyed the crowd with a critical eye before returning her attention to Sutton. “Fair warning: your situation is the talk of the party. How are you holding up?”

  The sudden switch from hostess to mother brought tears to Sutton’s eyes. Yes, her mother could be controlling and overly protective, but only because she loved her. “I’m doing okay. Is Bree here?”

  “She wisely sent her regrets yesterday.” Her mother’s voice was tart.

  “What about Andrew?”

  “Still coming last I heard. The man is either truly regretful and wants to make nice or oblivious.” Her mother did not suffer fools kindly, and it was obvious in her tone what she considered Andrew.

  Wyatt returned and handed Sutton her wine spritzer, keeping what looked like a Jack and Coke. She took a too-big sip, the fizz burning her nose, and coughed.

  Wyatt patted her back. After she regained her composure, he slid his hand down and curled it around her waist. Her mother’s expression sharpened.

  “Mother, this is Wyatt Abbott.”

  “Mrs. Mize. Nice to make your acquaintance. You have a lovely backyard.” He held out a hand and took her mother’s. For a moment, Sutton thought he was going to brush a kiss over the back like some old-school Southern beau, but he only held it for a moment before letting go. Wyatt didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by her mother, who was formidable in attitude if not size.

  “We’re partial to the view.” Her mother gazed toward the river before snapping her focus to Wyatt. “You and your brothers own a garage over the river?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Your husband has been a loyal patron for as far back as I can remember. We still do mechanical repairs, but our business is moving toward the restoration of classic cars. That’s our real passion.”

  When it looked like her mother was going to launch into a game of Twenty Questions, her daddy’s voice boomed across the open space, calling for her mother. She excused herself and Sutton looked heavenward in silent thanks. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” apparently didn’t mean that her mother didn’t know exactly what was going on.

  “You handled my mother perfectly. Very polite and charming.” She shuffled toward a wall of evergreens for both shade and cover.

  “You sound surprised.” He was smiling, but a wrinkle appeared between his brows as he took a sip and surveyed the crowd. “I might be a Louisiana swamp rat, but my aunts made sure I learned how to speak to my elders.”

  She shifted toward him and put her hand in the middle of his chest, waiting to speak until he looked at her. “You’ve been nothing but a gentleman. More so than any of my actual boyfriends.”

  “Even Tarwater?”

  “Especially him.”

  “How do you mean?” His eyes turned flinty, and he seemed to bow up like a wild animal ready to defend itself. Or her.

  She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from his or remove her hand. No one had ever looked at her like this, and considering their arrangement, she didn’t know what to make of it. His heart beat against her palm, a solid, comforting rhythm that eased the beat of her own into slower and calmer waters.

  “He wasn’t abusive or anything. But he never loved me. I was a means to an end. The end being taking my father’s judgeship when he retires.” Her horse wasn’t any higher. She’d let the relationship happen to her because it had made everyone else happy. The events were as much her fault.

  “If that lump of humanity didn’t appreciate you, then his loss.” He wrapped his hand around her nape, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin behind her ear.

  She wanted to believe him. Or at least wanted to believe that he thought she was special in some small way. Because despite her bias against him from when they were kids and her current situation, she was struck by the fact he was more than a little special himself, and he deserved to hear it.

  “I think—”

  “Wyatt Abbott, you old dog, didn’t expect to see you here,” a deep male voice came from behind her.

  Wyatt dropped his hand, and she turned.

  Sawyer Fournette, the husband of Regan Fournette, Cottonbloom, Mississippi’s state representative, approached with an easy grin and his hand out for a friendly shake and shoulder bump with Wyatt.

  “How do you two know each other?” she asked, unable to keep an answering smile off her face.

  “I was a couple of years behind Sawyer in school,” Wyatt said.

  “Of course, I’d forgotten…” She let her thought stay unsaid.

  “That we’re both swamp rats?” Sawyer’s grin took any bite out of the nickname some Mississippi residents used for their brethren on the other side of the river.

  “How do you like living over here?” Wyatt asked.

  “I’ve been assimilated.”

  “You mean bra
inwashed? I heard you played for a Mississippi team last baseball season.” Wyatt’s tease spoke of a long-standing, comfortable friendship.

  Sawyer made a scoffing noise. “Cade about hung me upside down over a gator’s nest for defecting, but it made Regan happy.” He glanced over his shoulder to where his wife chatted with a group of older ladies. Regan was casually sophisticated in a dress Sutton had sold her that spring and her customary heels, her strawberry blond hair twisted up.

  Sawyer continued. “You and your brothers should team up with Cade. You boys would decimate all comers.”

  “The garage takes up too much of our time and energy.”

  Sawyer rolled his eyes in Sutton’s direction and thumbed toward Wyatt. “I tried to get our boy here to play for the high school baseball team. Three guesses what his excuse was—no time because of the family garage. Those Abbotts have oil running through their veins.”

  While they chatted about their respective siblings and caught up on gossip about their extended families, Sutton studied Wyatt. He was built like an athlete, although she might have picked football as his sport.

  Regan sent a friendly wave in Sutton’s direction and called for her husband. “Sawyer, I want you to meet someone.”

  “She’s lucky I like shaking hands and kissing babies.” Sawyer’s gaze bounced between them. “Hope I’ll be seeing you at more stuff up here, Wyatt. Good to have some Louisiana friends to commiserate with at these political shindigs.”

  “You make our parties sound boring.” Sutton’s faked outrage was ruined by a smile she couldn’t stop.

  “You said it, not me.” Sawyer backed away, wagging his finger in their direction with a wink. “You need to take her out to a bonfire, Wyatt. Show her some real fun.”

  “Good idea. See ya, bro.”

  Sawyer turned and quickstepped to his wife, throwing an arm around her shoulders and hauling her in for a kiss on the temple. Their connection was obvious even from twenty paces. Her heart ached a little.