Surrender To Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  “I saw June at the drug store,” she said, “and I almost called her by her married name.” Leah wasn’t supposed to know that her childhood friend had married Luke Gallagher, or that they’d finally gotten pregnant after a year of trying. She hated lying to the whole town like this. It was just a matter of time before she slipped up.

  “Have you called Rachel yet?” Daddy asked.

  A heavy sigh puffed Leah’s cheeks, and she sank onto her haunches, resting her chin on Daddy’s knee. “No. I’m waiting for the right time.”

  “The right time, huh?”

  He didn’t need to say more; they both knew what he was thinking. There was no right time to apologize to the BFF she’d abandoned without so much as a good-bye, especially when that best friend was bound to ask questions. Which meant more lies.

  “First we need to get our stories straight,” she said. “I’m sure people are already talking. Won’t take them long to compare notes.”

  “I say we keep it simple.” Shrugging one shoulder, Daddy suggested, “I’ll tell folks that word got back to me about what you and Colton had done, we had a nasty blow-out—said some things we regret—and you left.”

  “Sounds good,” Leah said a few octaves too high.

  She couldn’t believe it, but the mere mention of “what she and Colton had done” brought a flush to her cheeks. Without warning, she felt the ghost of his hot breath stirring against her throat, the graze of his teeth scraping her shoulder. Seductive whispers caressed her ear, bringing chills to the surface of her skin. I’ll stop whenever you want, Angel, just say the word. She remembered vividly that while she’d wanted to say the word, she hadn’t asked Colt to stop. He’d bewitched her with those wicked fingers and his dedicated tongue, and the only command that had left her lips was more.

  A heavy warmth settled low in her belly at the flashback, reminding her of how long it had been since she’d enjoyed a man’s touch. But that wasn’t something she wanted to contemplate with her daddy in the room. She cleared her throat and hoped he couldn’t see her blushing.

  “Colton pulled me over,” she said. “About an hour ago.”

  Daddy gripped the faded corduroy armrests. “Everything go okay?”

  “Mmm-hmm. He didn’t say much. I think he was surprised to see me.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said, letting go a relieved chuckle. “I’m not surprised he nabbed you. That Caddy’s about as inconspicuous as a porcupine in a balloon shop. He write you a ticket?”

  “No, but he drove off with my license and Benny’s papers.”

  “Huh.” Clearly, it didn’t make sense to him either. “That boy always was an odd duck.”

  More like something that rhymed with duck.

  “Hey,” she said, turning the subject away from ducks and scoundrels, “I was thinking of buying June’s old car to use while I’m in town.” June had been hanging flyers when Leah’d run into her at the drugstore. The old purple hatchback for sale wouldn’t win any beauty contests, but the price was right.

  “What about the Escalade?”

  Leah was grateful to her boss for the loaner, especially considering she didn’t have a credit card and thus couldn’t rent a car, but it was too nerve-wracking driving something that cost more than a double-wide.

  “I’m scared I’ll ding it,” she said. “Besides, now that I’ve got a real license, I can title June’s car under your address.” For the first time in her twenty-seven years, she would own a vehicle. The idea made her smile. Better late than never.

  “Whatever you want, Pumpkin. Sure was nice of Benny, though.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “He’s been real good to me.” Like a second father. She kept that last bit to herself, not wanting to hurt Daddy’s feelings. “The least I can do is keep his pride and joy nice and shiny.”

  Daddy made a noise of agreement, but his averted gaze and slackened smile warned her a change was coming in their innocent small talk. And sweet Lord, he didn’t disappoint.

  “I bet his real pride and joy is that boy of his. A doctor, right?”

  Leah’s stomach dropped. She didn’t want to talk about Ari.

  “Have you, uh…” Daddy began awkwardly, then paused to swallow. “Have you two worked things out? Last we talked, you thought he might change his mind about—”

  “No.” Leah lifted her chin and pushed to standing. There was nothing to work out. Ari wanted something she couldn’t give, so he’d broken their engagement. It was as simple—and as painful—as that. She hooked a thumb toward the kitchen. “I’d better get started on breakfast. It’s already late.”

  “Sorry, hon. His loss.” Daddy caught her hand before she could get away. He gave a playful tug, trying to lighten her now sour mood. “If you’re cookin’, I’ll have a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit.”

  Leah laughed without humor. “Well, that’s not what you’re gonna get.” Not on her watch, anyway. “You’ll have oatmeal.”

  “Aw, come on, Pumpk—”

  She silenced him with a flash of her palm. “There’s what we want, and there’s what’s good for us. The two are almost never the same.” Boy, had she learned that lesson the hard way. “It won’t be so bad. I’ll add some cinnamon and vanilla.”

  “And chocolate chips?”

  “Nope.”

  “Syrup?”

  “Unh-uh.”

  “Brown sugar?”

  “No deal.”

  “Need I remind you that I’m the head of this house?” Daddy asked.

  “You know what they say, Daddy.” Leah strode into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “You’re the head, but I’m the neck. I’ll turn you whichever way I want.”

  But despite her tough words, Leah pulled a tub of raw honey from the pantry when she gathered her ingredients. In her heart, she understood how it felt to choke down life’s bitter lumps, and she couldn’t deny her daddy a little sweetness.

  She grabbed a pot and stood before the old stove, its electric burners scrubbed to a dull black and revealing gleaming silver bowls beneath. Daddy’s kitchen was cleaner than she’d expected. Too clean. No traces of dried tomato sauce or smudges of grease existed anywhere except the inside of a white microwave oven that stood in odd contrast to the original harvest gold appliances. That’s how she knew Daddy didn’t cook for himself. A well-used kitchen was never this spotless. If she had to guess, she’d say he subsisted on Hungry-Man dinners and takeout. To test her theory, Leah took three steps toward the fridge and tugged open the freezer door. A waft of cool air greeted her, along with two dozen boxes of Salisbury Surprise, Mexican Fiesta, and Pub Favorites.

  Mmm-hmm. Just as she thought.

  Shaking her head, she returned to the stove, where she combined two parts skim milk with one part rolled oats. She added a teaspoon of cinnamon and vanilla, and before long, the mixture had come to a rolling simmer. Moist steam swirled up from the pot, smelling of bland, watery grain, and eliciting a frown in response. Leah would never admit it to Daddy, but she didn’t like oatmeal either. In fact, she detested it.

  She hated everything about oatmeal—the dull flavor, mushy texture, the way it lingered in her stomach like mashed lead. What she really craved was an ooey-gooey chocolate éclair with an extra-thick layer of fudge icing. Richman’s grocery made them fresh, right down the street, and she still remembered the culinary ecstasy of sinking her teeth into one. Her toes almost curled when she imagined the way that sweet custard would burst across her tongue when she’d take a big, sinful bite.

  Oh, heavens. Was she drooling? Sadly, yes.

  She wiped a hand across her lips and returned her attention to the oats before they stuck to the bottom of the pot. Like she’d told Daddy, what she wanted and what she needed were two different things.

  Or at least she’d always thought so. These days, she wa
s beginning to wonder.

  For the last ten years, she’d forgone happiness in the interest of doing what was right, hoping the Lord would reward her sacrifices. Even her relationship with Ari had started that way. They’d been friends at first, and she hadn’t wanted anything more. But when the spark behind his eyes had told her he felt differently, she couldn’t turn him down, not after his father had taken her in and given her a new life. Besides, Ari was a genuinely wonderful person, so she ignored the way his thin lips had never fit against her own, or that his embrace didn’t set her insides on fire. She didn’t need lust, just the love of a good man, and Ari had offered her that. Loving him back should have been safe…but look how that’d turned out.

  Was God trying to tell her she wasn’t forgiven? That even when she settled for less than her ideal, she still wasn’t worthy of a family? Or was it just bad luck? She didn’t know, but darn it, that chocolate éclair sounded mighty good right now. Her eyes darted toward the living room, where the theme song to Monday Morning Ministry played on the television. If she was quiet, she could sneak down to Richman’s and be back before Daddy even knew she was gone. The oatmeal needed a few minutes to thicken anyway. Wasn’t she entitled to a little splurge? Heck, maybe Daddy too. A few bites wouldn’t hurt him.

  Yes! she decided with a nod, turning off the stove with one hand and plucking her purse from the countertop with the other. A spoonful of sugar, and all that. Creeping on her tiptoes, she crossed the kitchen and slipped on her shoes, then fished her Escalade keys from the wall hook beside the back door. She’d just reached for the doorknob when three loud knocks sounded from the other side. She flinched back, clapping a hand over her heart and dropping her keys in the process.

  “Who is it, Pumpkin?” Daddy called from the front room.

  “Crumbs,” Leah whispered to herself. So much for her sneaky donut run. “I don’t know.”

  She pushed aside the curtain to identify their visitor and came face-to-face with a pair of turquoise eyes shaded by a tan Stetson. A flutter tickled Leah’s chest, spreading to her stomach when Colton’s full lips curved into a sexy, crooked grin and he tipped back his hat with one finger. She dropped the curtain, but the image of Colt’s stunning face hovered in the air like a specter. He’d always been a gorgeous boy, but time had hardened his features—sharpening the angle of his jaw, strengthening his forehead, and drawing out his Cherokee heritage until he’d transformed from gorgeous into downright decadent. She hated that he still had the power to give her butterflies, but he did all the same.

  She composed herself and opened the door.

  “Hey,” he drawled, slow and deep, leaning against the doorjamb with one booted foot crossed over the other. He folded his muscled arms as if he’d come here to shoot the breeze with an old friend.

  But they weren’t friends, and she made that clear with a tight nod.

  He glanced over her shoulder into the kitchen. “Somethin’ smells good.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Gonna invite me in?”

  “Nope.”

  He patted his shirt pocket. “But I’ve got your registration.”

  “Good.” She extended one hand, palm up. “Then give it here.”

  Whatever he wanted from this ridiculous visit, it must’ve occurred to him he wasn’t going to get it, because his coy smile faded and he removed his hat, then raked a hand through his shoulder-length black hair.

  “I, uh,” he began, “don’t have your license, though. Left it in my office.” He gestured to the sheriff’s cruiser parked on the curb. “Why don’t you come with me, and we’ll go get it real quick?”

  Leah shook her head at the stone-cold, sneaky son of a motherless dog. She’d dip herself in honey and roll in a nest of fire ants before spending one minute alone with him. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Colton Bea.”

  “It’ll only take a few—”

  “Never mind,” she interrupted. “Just keep it.” She closed the door and locked the deadbolt with extra force, so he’d hear it and get the message.

  To his credit, Colt didn’t linger more than a few seconds. His heavy boots clopped slowly down the wooden steps, and soon she detected the sound of his car starting and motoring off into the distance.

  “Who was it?” Daddy called again.

  Leah kicked off her shoes, tossed her purse onto the counter, and padded to the stove, where she dished up two bowls of nice, safe oatmeal—a breakfast that, while bland, had never hurt anyone. She wasn’t in the mood for éclairs anymore.

  Joining Daddy in the living room, she shrugged and told him, “Nobody.”

  Chapter 3

  The next morning brought a flurry of visitors, as nearly half of Daddy’s congregation circulated through the living room to wish him well. Most of his guests came bearing gifts of tater-tot casseroles, fruit pies, creamed soups, and cookie bar mixes sealed in Mason jars. While Leah knew their hearts were in the right place, it was the occasional crossword puzzle and handheld video game she really appreciated. Those were the kinds of distractions Daddy needed—to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied so he didn’t munch himself into another stay at Sultry Memorial.

  To her relief, she and Daddy worked well as a team, fielding questions about her ten-year absence with a generic, “We had a falling out, but we’re mighty grateful the Lord brought us together again.” If anyone pushed for details, Leah told them she didn’t want to dwell on the past, and that generally shut them up. And when Miss Pru asked if Leah was single, all talk of family rifts abruptly shifted to matchmaking. No less annoying, but at least it took the pressure off.

  After lunch, June and Luke Gallagher stopped by to transfer the title to June’s old car. A cold front had moved in, so Leah grabbed her cardigan before following the couple down the street, where they’d parked behind half a dozen of Daddy’s friends.

  Poor June had adopted that third trimester waddle, pushing out her distended belly while supporting her lower back with both hands. Despite the chill, her face was dewy with perspiration, her ankles so swollen she’d been forced to wear flip-flops. But bless her heart, she didn’t complain once. June’s rounded cheeks exuded the radiance of a woman who’d finally earned everything she wanted out of life: a devoted husband who couldn’t go thirty seconds without touching her and a healthy baby girl on the way.

  It warmed Leah’s heart to see them together. June and Luke had graduated a few years ahead of her, but she remembered the way June had always gazed at Luke…and the way he’d gazed back when he thought nobody was looking. Leah had hated to miss their wedding. She’d missed a lot of nuptials over the years…like Rachel’s. And the divorce that came shortly afterward, she thought with a prickle of guilt.

  “Well,” Luke said, stopping in front of a purple spray-painted hatchback, “here’s old Bruiser.” He gave the hood a hearty smack. “Not much to look at, but he’s tougher than a two-dollar steak. I don’t think he’ll die on you, but if he does, I’m sure whoever wins the pool will split the pot with you.”

  “People are betting on how long it runs?” Leah craned her neck and glanced at the mismatched hubcaps—one silver, one black—which drew her attention to a baseball-sized rusted hole near the gas tank.

  “Yup.” Luke’s eyes darted to a sarcastic wash me message traced on the front fender. He erased it with the side of his fist. “Last I heard, it’s up to five hundred.”

  “Oh, god.” June bit her lip, covering her face in shame. “I feel awful asking anything for this heap.” She splayed both hands in front of her and begged, “Just let me give it to you.”

  “No, no, no.” Leah dug into her back pocket to retrieve her cash, then thrust the wad at June. “I can’t.”

  “Pleeeeeeease?”

  “No, really.” Leah appreciated the offer, but she couldn’t handle freebies. Instead of enjoying gifts, she al
ways felt obliged to repay them with kindness, which probably explained why she’d said yes to a first date with Ari five years ago. “Thanks, but it’d make me feel—”

  “Believe me,” Luke said, gripping his hips, “I get it. Nobody likes taking charity, least of all me.” He accepted her money, but counted out a couple hundred dollars and handed it back. “How’s that? Now neither of us has to feel like shit.”

  “Language!” June chided with a light slap.

  Leah laughed and shook Luke’s hand. “It’s a deal.”

  While the two of them pocketed their money, June cradled her swollen belly between both palms, stroking it and making gentle shushing noises as if Luke’s curse had injured the child nestled within. A contrite Luke knelt at his wife’s puffy feet and lifted her shirt so he could whisper apologies through her navel.

  “Daddy’s sorry, Sweet Pea,” he crooned while June lovingly swept the hair from his forehead. “I’ll go easy on the swears from now on. Promise.”

  At first, it was positively the most adorable thing Leah had ever seen. But then she began to feel a tug of envy in her stomach, a dropping sensation like she’d missed the last step at the bottom of the porch. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d pressed one hand to her own abdomen, directly over her hysterectomy scar. Her chest knotted, pulling tighter as she watched Luke nuzzle his wife’s belly. Leah would never share this moment with a man, never place his palm on her tummy to feel their baby’s tender kicks. Never. And she wanted it so badly she ached.

  June must have seen the longing in Leah’s face and mistaken it for embarrassment, because she tugged her shirt down and backed away from her husband, leaving him on his knees making kissy noises into empty air.

  “Sorry,” June said. “It took a long time for us, and we’re still kind of slap-happy.”

  “Don’t apologize.” Leah swallowed her self-pity and found a smile. June and Luke were good people, and they deserved this joy. “I think it’s sweet.”