Sweet Southern Nights (Home In Magnolia Bend Book 3)

by Liz Talley

  But then Eva had walked into the station with her dark hair braided, face free of makeup, a confident smile in place, and he’d felt shell-shocked. This wasn’t the way a firefighter should look, so…so pretty. Wasn’t as if she was delicate or girly, either. Quite the contrary, Eva was athletic, fit, full of vitality. Her squared jaw gave her a sexiness he wasn’t supposed to notice, and she looked mighty fine in the uniform that had been tucked in at a trim waist with the baggy pants failing to hide the rounded hips and tight ass. He’d been hit with full-on attraction.

  So he’d shaken her hand, excused himself while the chief gave her the tour of the main station, went to the bathroom, sat on the toilet and had a little talk with himself. When he’d finally come out, to Moon joking about the burrito he’d eaten the night before, Jake had determined he’d treat Eva just like he treated Abigail. Treat her like a sister. Respect her, protect her and bug the hell out of her. And never, ever see her as anything but a friend. No ifs, ands or buts. Eva Monroe was off-limits.

  But yesterday had changed everything.

  Last night he’d been haunted by the way she’d felt against him, breasts to chest, pelvis to pelvis, lips to lips. It had felt so damn good it had shaken him to his core…and that was probably why he dreaded seeing Eva today. If it had really been nothing, it would be one thing, but she’d knocked down that careful wall of friendship he’d built years ago, and he could no longer pretend the attraction didn’t exist. Like the flip of a light switch, he’d gotten turned on to what kissing Eva was like. And that was very dangerous. He felt off-kilter, as if he might do something crazy. Like kiss her again.

  He pushed through the swinging door into the huge stainless-steel kitchen, where they prepared the monthly Feed Our Neighbors dinner. His mother and Eva were deep in conversation.

  Fancy’s head jerked up. “Jake, glad you’re here. Take this receipt tape to Matt.”

  Eva didn’t look at him. Instead, she fiddled with her fingernails, picking at her cuticles. Probably meant she was avoiding him or uncomfortable.

  Duh.

  “Sure. That’s actually what I came for,” he said, deftly catching the roll of paper his mother tossed to him. “Morning, Eva.”

  “Morning,” she said, not lifting her gaze.

  He stood there for a minute, and his mom gave him a puzzled look.

  “Hey, E, when you have a sec, I wanted to talk to you,” he said. They couldn’t go on like this. They’d have to talk about it. Put it behind them so they could go back to the way they were before. Just f-r-i-e-n-d-s.

  He had no clue why he’d spelled it out in his thoughts, but then again, he had no idea how he was going to see Eva as his sister ever again.

  “Sure,” she said, still not meeting his gaze.

  And that’s when Fancy caught on to the discomfort. She looked from him back to Eva and then back to him, lifting an eyebrow. Jake tried to warn her with his eyes, but she plunged in anyway. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” they both said in unison.

  “Huh,” Fancy said, her eyes narrowing. “Well, none of my business anyway.”

  Which was code for “I’ll rake you over the coals later, Jakey.” His mother didn’t like being out of the loop. Her job was to manage the lives of her children, leaning heavily at times, backing off at others. She danced the Mom dance rather well.

  “That’s right,” Jake said, giving her the nod. The one that said, “Don’t bother. I won’t give up my secrets.”

  Fancy just smiled. “I’ll see you later, Jakey.”

  Jake sighed and melted out the door, back into the chaos of the rummage sale. The buzz of conversation had elevated to a dull roar in the acoustically challenged community hall. Jake ducked around a gaggle of women arguing over which purse would be the right size for the LSU home opener that weekend and ran right into his brother John.

  “Here, hold her,” his brother said, shoving Jake’s five-month-old niece into his arms. Lindsay cooed and gave him a toothless, drooly grin. “I gotta pi…uh, go to the bathroom.”

  “Wait—” Jake said, tucking the receipt tape under his arm and shifting the baby to his left arm.

  Lindsay smacked him in the face with a wet hand, and John disappeared behind the women, heading toward the lobby and the restrooms located there. The baby hit him again.

  “Hey, Linds. Don’t go abusing your ol’ uncle Jake,” he said, smiling at the baby who had blond wisps sticking out all over her head and blue-green eyes that crinkled when she laughed at him. “Oh, you think that’s funny?”

  He tickled her little round belly, making her squeal.

  “Well, if that don’t melt an old woman’s heart,” someone said to his right. He turned to find Carla Stanton standing there.

  “Mrs. Stanton. How you doin’ this fine morning?” he asked, trying to avoid Lindsay’s fingers creeping into his mouth.

  “Pretty good. Still getting over a headache. My blood pressure was out of whack,” she said, her eyes not on him but instead riveted to the baby he held. “That’s John’s baby, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jake said, juggling the baby, who stared at Carla with wide eyes before squealing again as if she had something to say to the older woman.

  Carla was John’s late wife’s mother, who had given John and Shelby a lot of grief when they’d first gotten together last fall. Bitter with pain over the death of her only child, she’d held on tight to the idea John couldn’t…wouldn’t be happy if her daughter couldn’t be happy. Hadn’t mattered that Rebecca was dead. But Shelby, Jake’s vivacious, generous new sister-in-law, had taken the high road, insisting they name their daughter in remembrance of the woman who John had loved and lost. Lindsay Rebecca Beauchamp was radiantly untouched by the pettiness of adults and turned all her adorableness on the older woman who’d nearly ruined her mother’s life.

  Carla watched the baby, a small smile on her lips. “She’s a pretty baby.”

  “Yeah, she is. Takes after her uncle Jake, of course,” Jake said, making a face at Lindsay. “Don’t you?”

  The baby smacked him again and laughed. Carla’s smile grew.

  “Here, you want to hold her?” he asked, shoving Lindsay at the woman. Her hands came up to hold the little girl, likely out of self-preservation.

  “Oh, no, I shouldn’t—” she started just as he withdrew his hands from around his niece.

  The baby stared at Carla for a few seconds before babbling something.

  “Oh, really?” the older woman said to the baby, smiling and nodding her head. “I didn’t know.”

  Jake scanned the room and saw Shelby watching them. She caught his eye and smiled, a sort of secret knowing in her eyes.

  “I’m gonna hand off this tape to Matt and I’ll be right back. You got her?” he asked.

  “Of course I have Lindsay Rebecca. We’re already old friends, and I certainly know how to take care of a sweet baby girl,” Carla said, catching the hand the baby lifted to smack her and giving it a kiss.

  So she knew the baby’s name? Huh.

  Jake hustled over to his brother, who had started beckoning him frantically. A line had formed and he looked harried. Jake tossed him the roll of tape, which he deftly caught. Matt was the athlete of the family. Though both Jake and John had been fairly proficient, Matt had been the star, netting a scholarship to play at Tulane. He might have gone pro as a tight end if he hadn’t blown out one of his knees.

  “Thanks,” Matt called.

  “No problem,” Jake said, turning back so he could take his niece from Carla. But John had already arrived and stood in conversation with his former motherin-law. So Jake turned, intending to hunt Eva down, but Fancy appeared at his side like a specter from long ago.

  Woo woo woo woooo. Woo, woo, woo, woooo. The Twilight Zone theme song played in his mind.

  “So what’s going on with you and Eva? That was weird back there,” his mother said.

  “Jesus, Mom, you couldn’t wait until—” he glanc
ed down at the watch that wasn’t on his arm, since he didn’t like to wear a watch like most guys “—seven minutes had passed? They should use you down at the police department. I’ll talk to Uncle Sam about putting you on the force.”

  She pinched him under the arm, the way she used to years ago in the second pew to the right of the pulpit.

  “Ow.” He twisted away.

  “Don’t forget I’m your mother. And that when you call on Jesus it better be for something important and not in vain, Jacob Edward.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled with only 10 percent sarcasm. “But I’m pretty sure Jesus understands. He had a mother, too.”

  That made Fancy smile. His mother could be awfully bloodthirsty for a preacher’s wife. “Even so, you know that your behavior—”

  “Doesn’t reflect on you or Dad. I’m my own person,” he said, knowing he probably sounded like a petulant child. What was it about mothers that did that to a guy?

  He knew what people around town said about him—that rascal Jake’s the family rebel. He drinks, whores and avoids church. Real degenerate. He didn’t mind that version of himself. No, because that version prevented people seeing through him to the pitiful coward beneath the bullshit.

  He couldn’t pretend to be the tortured hero, because he hadn’t been a hero on that lonely stretch of highway, in the twisted wreckage beneath that huge harvest moon. He’d lain in his friends’ blood, crying like a baby. He hadn’t been able to help Clint…hadn’t been able to save Angela. In fact, his weak attempts to tug Clint from where he lay had done more damage than good.

  Jake Beauchamp…coward.

  So he covered it up with being a degenerate. He knew he was the perfect head case for a shrink, but he didn’t care enough to change. Because changing meant he’d have to remember, have to dig the knife beneath the skin to clear all the gunk. Change meant hurting again.

  “I know who you are, honey, and neither your father nor I have tried to change you. Your behavior, however, is never off the table.”

  He nodded because she was right. Neither of his parents rode his case like they could.

  His mother patted him. “Just remember you’re in your father’s house.”

  “God?”

  “No, Dan’s. Well, you know what I mean. Now, what’s going on between you and Eva? Because I gotta tell you, Jake, I think she’s really going to need some support in these upcoming months.”

  A thread of alarm cinched his heart. “Why? What’s wrong with Eva? Is she sick?”

  “Of course not. She’s healthy as a horse, but that’s exactly my point—you don’t know what’s going on in her life, and that’s abnormal.”

  “Wait, what’s going on in—” Jake left off the rest because the good town doctor, Jamison French, had stopped right in front of them.

  “Morning, Jake. Mrs. Beauchamp,” Jamison said, giving them both his best bedside smile.

  “What’s up, James?” Jake asked, extending a hand and giving the man a good firm Beauchamp handshake.

  “Good morning, Jamison, and it’s just Fancy,” his mother said.

  “Of course. Well, looks like a good turnout,” Jamison said, making polite conversation the way any decent human being would.

  So it wasn’t that Jake didn’t like Jamison. He liked him fine. It was just that Jamison was the Cary Grant to Jake’s James Dean. They were both single, good-looking guys in their thirties with all their teeth. No baggage, from good families with a decent income. And the target on their backs in Magnolia Bend had been fixed. The thing that made him twitch was the fact that Jamison was the better of the two, with his perfectly combed blond hair and artsy-fartsy hipster glasses framing sparkling blue eyes brimming with wit and goodness. In contrast, Jake crushed beer cans, peed in the woods and wore old frat T-shirts.

  “It is a good turnout.” Fancy nodded, a pleased smile curving her lips.

  “By chance have either of you seen Eva?” Jamison asked.

  “Eva? What the hell do you want with her?” Jake snarled, puffing up his chest, hands curling into fists. He spit at Jamison’s feet and bared his teeth.

  Okay, so he didn’t actually do either of those things…but he thought about it. After all, Jamison Fancy Pants had no business asking after his Eva.

  Correction. Just Eva.

  “She was in the kitchen,” Fancy said, pointing over her shoulder, her eyes holding a question.

  “Great. I’m picking her up for the Zydeco Festival over in Garden City. Buckskin Nash is performing at noon, so…” Jamison looked at his watch. He actually had one. Nice Swiss Army stainless steel, with all those gauges divers needed. Figured.

  “Here I am, Jamison,” Eva said, from behind Jake. They all turned toward her, and Jake noticed for the first time how pretty Eva looked. She’d worn her hair in a ponytail and had put on makeup…or at least shiny lip gloss that made her lips kissable. She wore a strapless short romper thing, which looked too sexy to be wasted on Jamison. “You ready?”

  “I thought you wanted to talk,” Jake said.

  Eva finally met his gaze. Her eyes looked defiant, almost angry. “You were the one who wanted to talk. I have a date, so you’ll have to wait until later.”

  Jake frowned…something he rarely did. “Fine.”

  Eva lifted a bronzed shoulder that also looked kissable. Wasn’t as shiny as her lips. Just luminous. “Ready?”

  Jamison smiled and damn him, his eyes moved down Eva’s body. If the man had had a mustache, he might have twirled it. “Absolutely.”

  Jake clenched his fist and turned away. What the hell did he care who Eva dated? She’d dated at least three dudes since she’d moved to Magnolia Bend, and he’d not blinked one eye. Of course, that had been before she’d kissed him, chiseling a brick out of the wall of indifference he’d built between him and her obvious charms.

  “See you around, Jake,” Jamison said, using his manners.

  Jake grunted.

  “Bye, honey, have fun,” Fancy said, giving Eva a motherly smile. “We’ll talk later. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

  Eva looked at his mother with a grateful smile and followed Jamison out of the hall. She hadn’t even told him goodbye. Had treated him as if he didn’t matter, as if he hadn’t even been worth the kiss she’d given him yesterday.

  “Where are you going, Jake?” Fancy called as he stalked off.

  “To the bathroom,” Jake said, not needing to go to the bathroom but wanting to find a place where no one would talk to him or meet his eyes. He didn’t want the confusion to show, and the urinal worked as well as any place.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EVA TAPPED HER toe to the music and sipped the ice-cold beer Jamison had bought for her. The band on stage was decent, and the sun had finally retreated behind a cloud, giving them all some relief. Listening to zydeco was fun…when it wasn’t ninety-two degrees and you were sitting beneath a shady tree. Garden City hadn’t planned for the heat, which was stupid because they were holding a festival in September. That equaled scorcher on the scale of Louisiana weather.

  “You okay?” Jamison asked for the third time in an hour. He looked crisp and cool. She had no idea how, because he wore linen pants.

  “Fine,” she said, taking another sip and fanning herself. “I’m having a good time.

  “Good,” he said with a smile, raising his arms and clapping along as Beebo Nash cranked up a solo on the accordion. The ocean-blue polo Jamison wore rode up on his toned biceps and revealed a trim stomach peeking out above his pants. “I’ve been dying to take you out for a while. I’m so glad you said yes this time, Eva.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m stubborn that way. Wanted to wait a couple of months to date after I ended my last relationship.”

  Jamison slid his gaze toward her and grinned. “You have rules about dating, too?”

  “No, not really. Just felt right to wait. Do you have rules for dating?” she asked, acknowledging with a wince the sun once again coming out from behind
the clouds. Felt as if it was beating them down with the heat.

  “Sort of. Having dating rules makes things easier for me,” he said with a smile, looking way too handsome.

  Strange. Eva didn’t have real rules, just gut feelings. She sorta thought rules for dating were a bit too anal. “Like for first kisses, sex, what?”

  “More like gifts, family, house keys. That sort of stuff,” he said, curving an arm around her waist, jerking her forward as a drunk guy stumbled their way. The weight of his hand felt good on her hip. Deep down even the most vehement feminist had to innately appreciate the protective instincts of a man. Or maybe it was just Eva who felt that way. She spent much of her time as one of the guys, subject to discussion on bodily functions and field-dressing a deer. Being treated like a woman felt nice every now and then.

  “You okay?” Jamison asked yet again, concern etched on his handsome face.

  “I think you’ve asked me that four times within the hour. Must be the whole doctor thing spilling over,” she said, pressing her hands against his chest.

  His forehead crinkled, but he didn’t move his arm from around her waist. Instead, he grinned at her, his blue eyes growing almost smoky. “You know, you’re right. I say that a lot, but then again, I have to. Most women aren’t too comfortable with me. Hazard of the profession, and another reason I’m really glad you haven’t scurried away from me.”

  “Maybe if I wore a paper gown?”

  He snorted.

  “Besides, you’re the pot of honey,” she teased.

  He stared at her lips, and Eva prepared herself to be kissed, but Jamison must have decided against it. He dropped his hand and stepped back. “Honey?”

  Eva tamped down the disappointment mixed with relief. She didn’t know if she wanted him to kiss her or not—or if she was insulted or not.

  “Yeah, you’re a honey pot. Women swarm like bees around you.” She raised her voice into falsetto. “Dr. French, you’re so wonderful. Buzz, buzz, buzz.”