Surrender To Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  A new voice from the doorway said, “You wash your hands after you pick your nose?”

  Colt glanced up to find Leah watching them. A thrill ricocheted up and down the length of his body from groin to chest. “Every single time,” he told her. “I have standards, you know.”

  “Hmm. I’ve heard mixed reports on that.” She folded both arms beneath those magnificent bubbies, and Colt’s mouth broke into a grin. No matter how exotic, that buxom cartoon character had nothing on Leah.

  He let his eyes trace the gentle curves of her denim-clad thighs and a teasing swell of hips peeking out from beneath an oversized Vikings sweatshirt. Nothing screamed sexy! like a woman who loved football, even if she did pull for a shitty team like Minnesota. Leah didn’t need to put all her goods on display to make Colt’s heart thump. She was a natural beauty without even trying.

  “Emma,” Colt said when he’d finished ogling, “this is Miss McMahon. She and I were real good friends once.”

  Emma turned her wide, brown eyes on him and tipped her head. “But you’re not friends anymore?”

  He glanced at Leah and lifted his brows, a silent message that it was entirely up to her.

  “Is she yours?” Leah asked, ignoring the question.

  He shook his head. “My sister’s. You never met Avery. She was still in Oklahoma when my folks sent me to live here. She moved to town about seven years ago, right before she had Emma.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Leah said, crouching down to Emma’s height. “I like your sparkly pants. Oh, and your sticker! She’s my second favorite, right behind Ariel.”

  With that, Emma was sold. She skipped over to her new best friend and began twirling Leah’s hair between her fingers. “I like Ariel, too, but I don’t think Uncle Colt does.”

  “No?” Leah asked. She raised her gaze to his. “Why not?”

  Colt shrugged. He didn’t know Ariel from an areola.

  “’Cause he don’t like it when girls show off their belly and their bubbies.”

  Leah tipped back her blond head, laughing in a warm, high tinkle that settled in Colt’s chest and radiated outward until his fingertips went tingly. She glanced at him with those crystal-blue eyes all lit up like the noonday sky, and for an instant, she was his angel again.

  It felt like heaven, but it didn’t last nearly long enough. The smile died on Leah’s lips, her gaze dimming as she pushed to standing and took two steps toward his desk.

  “Rachel said you wouldn’t give her my license.” She pressed her lips together and peered at him a moment before taking a sudden interest in his stapler. “I need it so I can get tags for my car.”

  “Oh, sure.” He stiffened his spine in an effort to hide his disappointment. “Got that right here in my desk,” which was a bald-faced lie. He kept her license in his shirt pocket, where he could pull it out during the day and gaze at her. To appease her, he tugged open his center drawer and rooted through paperclips and invoices until he found Benito Alvarez’s registration.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing it across the desk. “By the way, who is this guy?” Based on what Colt knew of Alvarez—age sixty-one, widowed, one child, clean record, owner of B&A Home Health Services—he guessed Leah worked for the man, but some secret part of him feared Alvarez was more than just a boss. Colt added with a wink, “You didn’t steal his Escalade, did you?”

  Leah took the document but didn’t meet his eyes. “If I did, you think I’d be stupid enough to tell the town sheriff?”

  “Probably not,” he conceded, pretending to search the drawer for her license. “You always were a smart girl.”

  A humorless chuckle shook her chest. “That’s debatable.”

  “Hey, I wouldn’t have passed Senior Chem if it weren’t for you.” After Colt had transferred to Sultry High, the science teacher partnered him with Leah, who’d offered to bring Colt up to speed. Within a couple of weeks, they’d started meeting after school in his granddaddy’s shed to make a little chemistry of their own. “You were a real good tutor.”

  The light flush that stained her cheeks told him she remembered all the study sessions where they’d never once cracked a book. Where he’d memorized each fragrant curve of her body instead of chemical equations. Where he’d lifted her onto a sawdust-coated worktable, stroked her into a frenzy with his fingertips, and then taken her virginity to the backdrop of a violent late-summer storm.

  He remembered, too, and the mental echo of her gasps of pleasure made his pants suddenly snug in the front. He rolled his chair forward until his belly bumped the desk. For good measure, he did an algebra problem in his head.

  “I don’t remember it that way.” Leah went quiet when her eyes darted to Emma. Clearly, she had more to say, but not in the company of a princess-in-training.

  “Well, you put up with a dumb jock like me.” Emma tugged on Colt’s sleeve. He ignored her and added, “I was mighty grateful.”

  Leah seemed to warm at that, shrugging one shoulder and favoring him with half a smile. “You weren’t stupid. I always hated that you thought so.”

  “Uncle Colt?” Emma interrupted. “I’m hungry.”

  “Just a minute, hon.” He waved her away and focused on Leah. “You used to get so mad at me for saying that. Remember?”

  “Uncle Colt?”

  “Because it wasn’t true,” Leah insisted.

  “Uncle Colt?”

  “Tell it to my transcript,” he countered.

  “Uncle Colt?”

  “There’s more than one kind of smart,” Leah pressed.

  “Uncle Colt?”

  “Only one kind that counts for anyth—”

  “UNCLE COLT!”

  Colt sucked a loud breath through his nose and closed his eyes while fishing inside his pocket for a dollar bill. Damn it, he was finally beginning to crack Leah’s shell. If he could only get rid of Emma for a few minutes…

  He pushed the money into her little fist. “Go find Miss Darla at the front desk. She’s selling Hershey bars for the school marching band.”

  Emma’s face brightened. “Reese’s Cups too?”

  He gave her another dollar. “Buy one of each.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Colt!” After hugging his arm, Emma skip-ran from the room and left them in peace.

  Colt tried resuscitating the conversation, but when he returned his gaze to Leah, he found her studying him in open-mouthed surprise.

  “You’re letting her have chocolate,” she peered at the old analog clock on the wall, “at nine in the morning?”

  “What?” Colt shrugged. “It’s not gonna kill her.”

  Those warm blue eyes turned frosty, and just like that, he lost her. She held out one hand. “Where’s my license?”

  Wait, what had he done wrong? A little candy never hurt anyone. And what did Leah care? Emma wasn’t even her kid. Oh, all right, he knew it wasn’t the best move, but…

  “My license,” she repeated.

  “Can’t find it.” Scooting back, he pulled his drawer completely open and pointed inside to show her. “Want to stay while I keep looking?”

  “Forget it. I’ll just swing by the courthouse and get another.”

  “No, wait.” He couldn’t let her do that. Holding onto her license gave him a sliver of hope—no matter how slim—that she’d stay in town. “I think I gave it to Horace. When he comes off patrol duty, I’ll ask him.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Fine.”

  “I’ll track you down once I have it. You gonna be at Trey Lewis’s party tonight?”

  Her eyes flew wide. “Why? Are you?”

  Colt wasn’t book smart, but he had enough intelligence to understand that Leah hadn’t expected him at the potluck. Nor did she want him there. He didn’t hesitate to tell her, “No, I hate those kinds of thin
gs.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed a few inches. “Too bad. I’ll bet he’d like to see you.”

  “I’ll catch him another time. Small town, remember? We’re bound to run into each other, probably before lunch.”

  Leah grumbled something that sounded like, “Tell me about it,” and with a halfhearted wave good-bye, she made her exit.

  Colt hoped he’d told a convincing lie. The last thing he wanted was for Leah to hole up inside her daddy’s house again. She didn’t know it, but Colt had big plans. Big, sneaky plans.

  Tonight, he’d get Leah back in his arms or die trying.

  Chapter 5

  Leah straightened the bodice of her cherry-print sundress as she crossed the dark parking lot, gravitating toward the sound of Toby Keith’s “Red Solo Cup.” The sharp autumn breeze brought goose bumps to her bare arms, but she resisted the urge to return to the car for her sweater. She knew from experience how sweltering the fellowship hall could get when filled to capacity, and judging by the distant din of laughter and conversation, the party was already in full swing.

  The familiar scents of Lit’l Smokies and Hawaiian Punch greeted her beyond the hall’s double doors, bringing back a flood of childhood memories—everything from her baptism social to the youth group mixer where she’d stolen her first kiss from Josh Schroder behind a dusty silk ficus tree in the corner. The ficus was gone, but little else had changed.

  Like the old junior high cafeteria, dozens of long plastic tables and folding metal chairs claimed the floor in two parallel rows. Right now, the eggshell tile wasn’t visible beneath hundreds of shuffling sandals and boots, but Leah knew Ms. Bicknocker kept it waxed to a high gloss that would reflect the overhead fluorescent lights during clean-up later. The decorating committee had peppered the walls with an assortment of photographs of the Lewises, and white paper streamers crisscrossed the length of the room, leading to a faded, well-used Welcome Home! banner that hung above the head table.

  A prickle of envy tugged at Leah’s heartstrings. As the daughter of the town preacher, this church had been her second home, its people a natural extension of her family. If she’d told anyone about her plans to return to Sultry Springs, would they have thrown her a party like this?

  She doubted it. Daddy’s congregation was too angry with her for “running away and breaking his heart.” But they didn’t know the real reason she’d left. They didn’t know her. Nobody did, and it made her feel like a stranger in her own hometown.

  She lost a few inches as she strode toward the punch bowl for a little high-fructose fortification. Just as she’d predicted, the air heated the farther she waded through the crowd. By the time she lifted a cup of fruity red punch to her lips, she wasn’t surprised to find it warm and watered-down. Thank goodness she’d discovered this old summer dress at the back of her closet. She only wished she’d brought an elastic to lift the heavy waves of hair off her neck.

  “Hey,” June’s voice called from behind. “You made it!”

  Leah turned with a grin on her lips, which immediately fell once she caught a glimpse of her friend. Oh, Lord. June looked more bloated than a wet breadstick. Her taut, dewy cheeks could barely manage a smile, her fingers so puffy she’d removed her wedding band and looped it though a chain around her neck.

  “Are you okay?” Leah asked.

  “Mmm-hmm.” June fanned herself with a discarded church program. “Why?”

  Leah stalled. She couldn’t very well say You look like a tick about to pop. “I noticed your hands are a little swollen. When’s your next doctor’s appointment?”

  “Oh.” With a nod, June touched her face and seemed to blush. It was hard to tell, because her skin tone already resembled the inside of a ripe watermelon. “I just saw him last week, so I won’t go again for another month. I’m retaining water. It’s probably time to lay off the Doritos.”

  “How’s your blood pressure?” Leah didn’t mean to be nosy, but after what happened to her mother, she couldn’t help it.

  “A little higher than pre-pregnancy, but the doctor’s not worried.”

  “Any headaches or spotty vision?”

  Laughing, June squeezed Leah’s arm. “No, Nurse McMahon.”

  “Preeclampsia’s nothing to mess around with,” Leah warned. “Keep an eye on your blood pressure. And not with one of those machines at the drug store—sometimes they’re not calibrated. Come see me if you can’t get in with your doctor. I brought my cuff.”

  “Will do,” June promised, tugging Leah toward the head table. “Come on. I want you to meet Trey and Bobbi.”

  As they wove between tables, Leah scanned June’s swollen feet and ankles, wondering if she’d made a big deal out of nothing. Most women suffered from edema, especially in the third trimester. She certainly had. Birkenstocks were Leah’s best friend during her last month of pregnancy.

  It’s probably fine, she decided. June’s doctor knows best.

  Once Leah quit obsessing and glanced up again, it was to the shock of two faces so gorgeous she expected to spot a Hollywood camera crew nearby.

  “Hey there,” said a blond-haired, blue-eyed beefcake, extending a hand. “I’m Trey. You must be Pastor Mac’s daughter.”

  “Leah.” She grasped his palm and studied him as he pumped her arm up and down. He wore a Cubs baseball cap and an easy, genuine smile that made her like him immediately. Just when she thought he couldn’t get any cuter, a pair of deep dimples appeared in his cheeks. If she looked up All-American Boy Next Door in the dictionary, she’d expect to find his photo there. He reminded her of a young Brad Pitt.

  “Easy, Golden Boy,” chided the stunning redhead at his side. “You’re gonna shake the arm out of her socket.” The woman claimed Leah’s hand in a firm grip and said, “I’m Bobbi. You probably don’t remember me, but—”

  “Sure I do,” Leah told her. “Mrs. Eckleman’s preschool class. We used to eat Play-Doh when she wasn’t watching.”

  The group laughed at that, except for Bobbi, who only smiled and studied Leah with a critical eye. Having grown up in Sultry Springs, population: 975 righteous souls, Leah knew that look. Someone had filled Bobbi in on some juicy gossip, most likely having to do with her mysterious departure ten years ago.

  By now, Leah was used to the judgment, but she didn’t expect Bobbi to say, “So you’re the girl who broke Colton’s heart.”

  Leah froze as everyone around her drew a collective breath.

  Luke Gallagher pinched the bridge of his nose and whispered to his sister, “You just had to go there, didn’t you?”

  Leah shook her head in shock. She’d broken his heart? More like the other way around! Everyone in town knew what he’d done to her. Everyone! Mothers throughout Sultry County still recounted The Shameful Misfortunes of Leah McMahon to their teenage daughters in hopes of warning them away from the likes of Colton Bea. Had the jerk spun his own twisted version of their tale?

  She gulped enough air to demand, “Is that what he’s been telling people?”

  Panic sparked behind Bobbi’s widened eyes as she flashed a defensive palm. “No, no, no! Not at all. In fact, he told me you didn’t do anything wrong. He said it was all his fault. I just meant—”

  “Leah,” Trey interjected, wrapping a casual arm around his wife to rein her in. “I forgot to ask how Pastor Mac’s doing. Didn’t he just have the ol’ ticker fixed?”

  Heat rose into Leah’s face, and she shot Trey Lewis a glare that said she didn’t appreciate the change in subject. “This wouldn’t be the first time Colt’s spread rumors about me. I want to know what he’s told y’all.”

  “Hardly anything,” Bobbi said. “It takes a crowbar to get information out of that man.”

  “Or a bottle of whiskey,” Trey added. “Look, Leah, it’s none of our business.” He delivered a pointed look to his wife when
he said, “And we agreed to stay out of it, didn’t we?”

  “We didn’t agree to jack squat,” Bobbi retorted before returning her attention to Leah. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I got to know Colton a couple of years ago. Your name came up, and I could tell how much he still cared for you. He’s been looking for you a long time. That’s all.”

  Leah had a hard time believing Colt cared for anything other than his motorcycle and his willy, not necessarily in that order.

  The doubt must have shown on her face, because Bobbi promised, “Really. I have video footage I could show you from Sex in the Sticks. You can see how much he’s hurting.”

  “Sex and the what?” Leah felt her eyeballs bulge. “Is that some kind of adult film?”

  Trey laughed with a mouth full of punch and wound up sputtering fruit juice into his fist. He used the back of his hand to wipe red dribble from his chin. “Sounds like a porno, doesn’t it?”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Bobbi said, elbowing him in the side. “It’s a documentary about me and Golden Boy” nodding at Trey, “finding love in this small town. In fact, we’re wrapping up a special feature tonight.” She pointed across the room to a mammoth, blue-haired Asian man with a camera perched on his shoulder. “Weezus is about to start filming.”

  “Filming what?” Leah asked, instinctively backing up a pace. She didn’t want any part of this.

  “Mostly the two of us,” Bobbi said, then gesturing at the crowd, added, “and a few shots of our friends and family. You know, to show community support.”

  Leah took another step back. “I can’t be on camera.” The tremor in her voice didn’t escape Bobbi’s notice. Those relentless green eyes narrowed in scrutiny while Leah scrambled for damage control. “Uh,” Leah added, pointing at her own face, “no makeup!”

  “Uh-huh,” Bobbi said, clearly not buying it.

  With a nervous twitter, Leah pressed one hand over her stomach. “I’m starving. Think I’ll grab some of Pru’s famous German potato salad.” She waved while continuing to back away from the group. “Great meeting you.”