Leave the Night On

by Laura Trentham

  “Ford is an absolute sweetheart, isn’t he?” The other women nodded and murmured their agreement. Wyatt pasted his lips shut and hummed to keep from speaking his mind.

  Sutton tugged him backward down the pew and toward the back door. “I’ll see y’all at the League meeting on Tuesday. Wyatt and I need to scoot.”

  The sunshine was blinding, but the storm had ushered in a cool front that dropped the humidity and turned the temperature pleasant. Escape was in sight when an older, distinguished looking lady flagged Sutton down.

  “Mrs. Carson probably wants to talk about the centerpieces for the gala. Can you give me a minute?”

  “I’ll wait at the car.” He took a few steps backward. She bent down to put her head close to the older lady.

  He turned, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and ambled toward the Hornet, his gaze on the faded yellow lines of the parking lot.

  “Glad I caught you alone.” Ford’s low voice came from the shade of a white flowering crepe myrtle on a landscaped bank.

  Instead of laying into Ford with his suspicions, Wyatt tried a different tack. “You know what yesterday was, don’t you?”

  A shadow of reflected grief passed over Ford’s face. “Yeah. Didn’t see any reason to show up someplace I’m not welcome.”

  “You’re our brother; you’re always welcome, but a promise not to sell out to some third party would relieve the tension around the shop.”

  At Ford’s long silence, Wyatt thought he might have gotten through to his older brother. Ford stepped closer, and Wyatt braced for a hug.

  “You need to head back over the river, keep doing what you’re good at, and let me handle cultivating connections that will turn into projects.” Ford’s tone was dismissive.

  Resentment that Wyatt had stuffed away for years sprang out like a trick snake from a can, and he shoved Ford’s shoulder. “You want me to stay in the pit, elbows deep in grease. That about right? You have no fucking idea what I’m good at. I could have gone to college like you. You’re not some special snowflake.”

  Ford adjusted his sport coat. “Threatening me like we’re on the school playground only proves my point. You’re not the kind of man we need to take Abbott Brothers Garage and Restoration to the next level. And neither is Mack.”

  Shoved somewhere deep inside him was the fear that Ford was exactly right. “And you are with your fake smile and fake manners?”

  Ford glanced over Wyatt’s shoulder and stalked off.

  Sutton touched Wyatt’s arm, and he startled.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Not really, but nothing I can do about it right now.” Or at all, he feared. Ford had deftly sidestepped any promise of not selling out. Was that by design? He shook off the confrontation.

  The sky was blue, the sun was out, and Sutton was at his side—for now. He wasn’t one to let opportunities vanish through indecision.

  “How about we grab some of Rufus’s barbeque and head back to my place for a picnic in the woods?”

  “Only if we can stop by my house long enough for me to shower and change.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He slipped behind the wheel. The growl and vibration of the engine helped stamp out the residual anger and worry from his confrontation with Ford.

  Her house was a less than five-minute drive from the church. She stowed her purse and shoes. “Do you want to brew some coffee while I get ready? Everything is in the cabinet above the pot,” she said before disappearing down the short hall and closing the door.

  His faint hope she’d invite him into the shower to keep her company died a quick death. That was okay, though; he’d have all day and hopefully all night with her. He busied himself with the coffee maker, the aroma filling the room.

  As he was pouring himself a cup, the doorbell rang, followed immediately by a brisk rapping. No use in pretending no one was here considering his car was out front. He tiptoed toward the door and peered down the hall. Hearing nothing, he continued on toward the shadowy figure he could see on the other side of the door.

  A bad feeling simmered in his belly, but he forced a smile and opened the door. Sutton’s mother stood frozen with her hand raised for another knock. When it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything, he stepped aside and gestured her in. “Good morning, Mrs. Mize. Coffee just finished perking. Want a cup?”

  “Where’s Sutton?” She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and brushed by him, heading straight to the kitchen.

  “Shower.” He didn’t miss the pointed gaze she aimed in his direction, but chose not to acknowledge it.

  A faded version of Sutton, Mrs. Mize had straighter blond hair cut into a chin-length bob. She cut a trim figure in her rose-colored Sunday suit. Fine lines etched her eyes and mouth, but he could tell she fought the encroachment with every weapon available. Only her neck and hands betrayed the creep of years.

  It was the color of her eyes that marked the biggest difference with Sutton. Mrs. Mize’s were a light, clear blue, not the complex swirl of her daughter’s. If eyes were the window into the soul, he wondered what the difference meant.

  She poured herself a coffee, obviously familiar with where everything was stored in Sutton’s kitchen. With both hands wrapped around a mug, she turned back to him. Her intense scrutiny amped up his nerves, and he fought the urge to look away or squirm.

  “You were at church today,” she said.

  “Sutton invited me. It was a very nice service.” If the woman asked him any specifics about the sermon, he was screwed. His mind had been wholly occupied with Sutton.

  Mrs. Mize put her mug on the counter, slowly and carefully, as if gathering her thoughts. “Can we talk honestly, Mr. Abbott?”

  “I’d prefer that to pussyfooting around.”

  A smile flashed so quickly, he blinked, sure he’d imagined it when confronted once again by her funereal face. “My daughter recently ended a very serious relationship.”

  “I’m quite aware. I was there as a witness.”

  She hummed. “Is what Sutton told us true?”

  “If you’re talking about pulling another woman’s panties from under the seat of Tarwater’s car, then yes. Sutton wouldn’t lie to you.” Or would she? He had no idea what she’d told her parents about him or them.

  “In that case, good riddance. I need to make sure my husband no longer includes Andrew in his foursomes for golf. He’d like to pretend it never happened, but some things can’t be forgiven. Sutton is too good for Andrew.” The steel in her voice indicated that while the judge might rule the courtroom, his wife ruled everything else.

  “I agree on all counts.”

  Mrs. Mize picked her coffee back up and took a sip, her eyebrows rising. “She’s too good for you too. You have the reputation as an excellent mechanic and quite the ladies’ man.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear. Except about my skills under the hood of the car. That’s all true.” When her expression didn’t change at his thin attempt at humor, he rubbed his nape and shifted on his feet. Looks like he was having his coffee with a side of honesty. “Your daughter is amazing and funny and beautiful and I … like her. A lot. Last thing I want is to hurt her.”

  What he didn’t add was that he was at high risk for getting demolished by her. Totaled, in fact.

  She harrumphed, the corner of her mouth drawn back. Between the caffeine and waiting for her verdict, his heart thumped so hard it was a wonder she couldn’t see it. She must have taken lessons passing down judgment from her husband.

  “That coffee smells divine.” Sutton came around the corner with a white fluffy towel wrapped her body, showcasing her long legs. “Mom!”

  “You sat so far away that I didn’t have a chance to chat with you and your young man after the service.”

  “I guess you two have had a chance to talk now?” Sutton pulled the towel tighter around her body and shot him a panicked look.

  “We have. Maggie and I were going out for lunch since
your daddy will have his butt planted in front of the TV all afternoon with a bag of Cheetos. But it seems you have plans and I’m going to get out of your hair.” She deposited her mug in the sink and nodded at Wyatt. “Nice to see you again, young man.”

  She stopped to give Sutton a kiss on the cheek and whisper something in her ear that had her glancing in Wyatt’s direction. “Toodleloo, kids,” she called out on her way out the door.

  “How awkward was that?” Sutton asked.

  “On a scale from one to ten? At least an eleven.”

  “I knew I should have gotten dressed, but I thought—” She covered her mouth.

  “You can still think. We can think.” He grabbed the long edge of towel, leaned against the counter, and pulled her between his legs. “I’m always in the mood to think.”

  “No way can I think after walking in and seeing my mother in the middle of my kitchen. Did she embarrass you?”

  “She was feeling out my intentions. It was actually really sweet.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  He wasn’t quite ready to quit pussyfooting around with her. “Promised not to hurt you.”

  She slapped his shoulder. “Why’d you do that? She might come after you with my granddaddy’s old shotgun after we part ways.”

  “Explain to me again why we’re doing this?” He wasn’t sure what he was asking, but he was getting more confused by the day.

  She backed away, clutching the edges of the towel together. “You were okay with this last week.” The defensive edge to her voice bisected his chest and left his heart exposed.

  Life could change in a week. Life could change in a day, an hour, a single moment in time. His pop’s sudden death had taught him that. The problem was his life had changed because of her, but her pivotal moment had been when he’d pulled those panties from under the seat. It had nothing to do with him. He had merely been a bystander.

  The question now was what to do about it. Was he a quitter or a fighter? He had twenty years of evidence to support the fact he never backed down from a challenge. It had gotten him stuck up trees and beat up on the playground, and he wasn’t ready to give up on her.

  “I’m still okay with it.” He tugged her close and brushed his lips across hers. “Go get dressed. I promised you a picnic.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sutton pulled on shorts, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Checking herself in the mirror, she slapped some color into her cheeks before pulling her hair up in a ponytail. Wyatt’s line of questioning made everything go topsy-turvy in her head.

  Things had gotten messy, and thoughts of the gala grew an ever-expanding pit of dread in her stomach. He was her rebound. Better to end it before she did something stupid like fall for him. She smiled at herself in the mirror until it looked natural. Fake it until you make it.

  Wyatt stood at the sink, his back to her, as he washed the coffee mugs. The man was a sex god who cleaned up after himself. How had someone not snapped him up and put a ring on it?

  His ex-girlfriend Candace’s words traipsed through Sutton’s head. He was a drifter in spirit if not actuality, going from one woman to the next. She was only a pit stop. Or even worse, a project.

  “I’m ready,” she said softly.

  He dried his hands on a dishtowel and turned with a smile on his face. But deeper emotions hid behind his eyes and gave her pause. Her heart stumbled with the sense of vertigo.

  “I called Rufus and put an order in. Should be ready by the time we get there.” He led the way to the door, and she locked up behind them.

  When they were in his car, she said, “I didn’t think he took calls on Sunday mornings. It’s usually packed.”

  “I’m special.” His wink lightened the mood and restored her sense of equilibrium. “Rufus is an old family friend. Plus, the shop orders so many lunch plates we basically keep him in business.”

  He left Sutton waiting in the car while he picked up the barbeque, and they were back on the road in five minutes. They filled the time with talk about current events and shared simple things like their favorite movies and TV shows, finding more common ground than she expected.

  He stopped off at his loft to grab a quilt and flung it over his shoulder, leading the way out the back of the barn and into the woods. The magic that resided in the woods reached out and pulled her closer.

  They crossed from sun to dappled shadows at the tree line. Birds trilled and the wind rustled the leaves. Trailing behind Wyatt, she looked around. It was a typical, normal wood, and the sense of magic dissipated, leaving her with an edge of sadness.

  She shook off the feeling and smiled at Wyatt when he turned for her to catch up. “Where are we headed?”

  “River’s not far.”

  “No gators?”

  “Probably not.” His smile was sly and teasing.

  “You heard anything from Ms. Effie?”

  “A couple of ladies have called for estimates.”

  She gasped and slapped his arm. “That’s awesome. So at least two new projects?”

  “Not exactly. Mack will give them an estimate of the work and what the car might bring at auction. He’s honest to the core. Sometimes dumping money into a car doesn’t make financial sense if they want to turn a profit. Restoration ain’t cheap.”

  “I didn’t realize how difficult it was to woo a client.”

  “Kind of like wooing a woman.”

  “Har-har.” A root tripped her up, and she grabbed his arm, not letting go once she’d regained her balance. The muscle felt nice under her hand, and he was officially hers for now. The sound of water flowing became louder, and his pace picked up.

  “Guess what Mags did,” she said.

  “Apply to clown school.”

  Her laughter spurted out and echoed back. “She convinced me to sell some of my work at Abigail’s. She even put one of my gowns on a mannequin to display in the window.”

  “That’s great. How’d it feel?”

  “I was afraid to look. But she thinks it will attract customers.” Her sister’s confidence in her clothes still had the power to bring stinging tears to her eyes. Maybe Sutton would find the courage to go through the front door on Monday morning.

  “I have no doubt you’ll be a success.” Wyatt laid a kiss on her temple and gave her a soft smile. “There’s my favorite tree.”

  Where the earth fell away to the river, a hulking evergreen stood sentinel. Branches curved to the ground giving it a teepee-like feel. The needles were sharp and piney-smelling. Sutton let go of Wyatt’s arm and hunched to see under the branches, but they were thick.

  “Come around here.” Wyatt held back a limb and she ducked under.

  Braches as thick as her leg pinwheeled from a huge trunk—the only opening was a lookout over the river that had been trimmed. The ground was covered in brown fronds. Wyatt spread out the quilt and gestured for her to sit.

  “This is the perfect hide-out.”

  “That’s what we thought too when we were kids.”

  She lay down on the quilt and stared up into the spokes of the tree. It was mostly bare inside where the sun didn’t penetrate, leaving a surprisingly amount of room. “Have you ever camped out here?”

  “A few times, mostly Jackson and I snuck out here to shirk our work and fish. First time either of us got drunk was out here.” He joined her, shoulder to shoulder.

  A few minutes passed with the two of them just being.

  “You regret last night?” he asked softly.

  “No.” The word came out more forcefully than she intended, but at least it was the truth. She was tired of the last two weeks of deception. She turned her head to look at him. “Last night was … something else, right?” She’d wanted to say “special” but wasn’t sure it would qualify as such for him.

  He rolled to his side and gave her a kiss that tasted of coffee and pine. “It was amazing. You were amazing.”

  She didn’t care if he was giving her line, it was exactly what she ne
eded to hear. He trailed his hand up her leg, the rasp unbearably arousing, her nerve endings singing. His fingers slipped under the edge of her shorts and her butt canted toward him instinctively.

  She grabbed his shirt in both hands and pulled him closer, wanting him over her. A repeat of last night.

  He resisted. “We can’t.”

  “I don’t care if someone sees us.”

  “We’d be safe enough from prying eyes, but I don’t have a condom.”

  “I don’t care.” The desperation of her voice took them both by surprise, and she crash-landed in reality. Heat suffused her face, words caught in her throat.

  “I don’t want a quickie out here in the woods, worrying about roots and fire ants. I want to spread you out on my bed and spend all night loving you.”

  His words sent a different sort of heat streaking through her body. She let go of his shirt and linked her fingers around his neck. Their lips met again, but this time the urgency was overridden by a sweetness that had her heart squirming.

  She wasn’t sure how long they kissed, their hands exploring each other’s bodies over their clothes. Was this what it felt like to be a lovesick teenager?

  He lifted his head and blew out a long breath. “Our food’s probably cold.”

  “I don’t care.” This time she laughed as she said it.

  “That’s treading close to sacrilege. And on a Sunday too.” He tsked and sat up.

  She didn’t protest, turning her face into the quilt. It was from his bed and retained a hint of his scent and … something sexier. Maybe the imprint of their night together. Later. They would have a later. The thought muffled the timer ticking down.

  They shared the cooled food, trading stories about their childhoods. Or mostly Wyatt told tall tales about running wild through the woods. Funny stories but with an overtone of melancholy that spoke to her stronger than words, considering the solitude of her own childhood.

  Her phone chimed a text. She glanced at the screen. Her father inviting her to Sunday dinner. Although his choice of words veered toward insistent. She turned her phone over. Reality wasn’t welcome.