Surrender To Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  Rachel lowered her voice and mimicked a British man, never mind that Steele Industries was headquartered in New York. “I say, Marcus, old chap, here’s your deviant sexual paraphernalia. Let me know if those male enhancement pills work.”

  The mental image sent Leah into a fit of laughter. She braced herself against the wall, and when her belly started to ache, she collapsed onto a pile of sacks of concrete, doubling over in chortles. Rachel joined her, and together they giggled until they could barely breathe.

  “Oh, god.” Rachel wiped beneath her eyes and rested her head on Leah’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here, Tink. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

  Leah was glad too. If she couldn’t stop the store from closing, at least she could lift her friend’s spirits. “You’re the strongest person I know, babe. You’re going to be okay.”

  “Yeah,” Rachel said, “I think I am.”

  “And now you can embrace your true destiny.”

  Rachel lifted her head and gave a questioning glance.

  “As a back-up dancer,” Leah explained. “Didn’t I say your talents were wasted here?”

  “Oh, totally. Just in time too.” Rachel pushed to standing and performed a clumsy hip roll. “I heard they’re making another Magic Mike.”

  “Sweet. I want to see what you’d do for a twenty.”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” Rachel teased, hooking two fingers around her shirt lapel as if to tear it open. “’Cause I’ll show you.”

  Leah shielded her eyes. “I take it back. All I’ve got on me is a ten.”

  “Never fear. A ten will get you plenty.”

  From nearby, a man cleared his throat and interrupted the striptease. “Uh, Rachel?”

  They glanced down the aisle at old Mr. Phelps, the pharmacist, who studied them with a puzzled expression.

  Rachel straightened and smoothed both hands over her shirt. “Hey, Mr. Phelps. How can I help you?”

  He gestured out the front window to his store across the street. “Just heard the news, and I wanted to stop by and tell you how sorry I am. Anything I can do?”

  “Thanks, but no,” Rachel told him. “Mama and I decided to go out on top.”

  Mr. Phelps nodded slowly, a flicker of fear sparking behind his bifocals. He and the other Main Street merchants were probably worried about their own fates. Rachel must’ve seen it, too, because she reassured him, “The council’s already made sure this won’t happen again. Any commercial outfit, no matter how big or small, has to make it past a committee now.”

  “Oh. Well, I suppose that’s good.” His withered form relaxed. He glanced at a display of emergency generators, turning the subject away from bankruptcy and heartbreak. “Been meaning to pick up one of these. Guess now’s as good a time as any.”

  “We’re getting ready to mark everything down,” Rachel said. “If you wait till tomorrow, you’ll save—”

  “No,” he interrupted, “I want one now. Big storm comin’ later. I’ll probably lose power, and I’ve got lots of orders to fill.”

  Leah gave him a smile. There were no storms on the horizon today, and anyone with a radio or television knew it.

  Over the next few hours, other locals trickled in, claiming they wanted to get a head start on their Christmas shopping. They stocked up on power tools and paint supplies, each refusing the discount Rachel offered them. The community support warmed Leah’s heart, and she couldn’t stop Daddy’s words from turning over in her mind: Maybe it’s time to make a life for yourself—here, at home, with the people who love you. Had she been too quick to dismiss the idea? Daddy and Rachel needed her. Could she say the same for anyone in Minnesota? She wasn’t sure.

  At noon, Rachel and Leah escaped to the stockroom, where two sack lunches awaited, complete with sandwiches, barbeque potato chips, and Mrs. Landry’s oatmeal butterscotch cookies.

  Rachel wore a smile as she tore into her turkey club and took a seat on a Rubbermaid bin. She asked with one cheek full, “So what’d you do last night? When I called, your dad said you went out, but he didn’t say where.” She popped open a Coke and took a deep pull. “June tried reaching you too. She only called Colt as a last resort.”

  Leah picked at the corner of her Ziploc baggie. She was in no mood to hear a laundry list of Colt’s faults or endure a lecture about how men never changed. “I’ll tell you,” she decided, “but you have to promise not to give me any shit for it…pardon my language.”

  Rachel held up one hand in an oath. “No shit.”

  “I drove out to the hot springs to meet Colt, but he wasn’t there. I guess by that time, he’d left to pick you up at Shooters.” They must’ve missed each other by minutes.

  “Oh,” was all Rachel said before taking another bite of her sandwich.

  “That’s it?” She hadn’t seriously expected Rachel to honor that no shit promise. “Just oh?”

  “None of my business who you sneak around with,” Rachel mumbled. “Besides, maybe he’s not as bad as I thought.”

  “Whoa.” In Rachelspeak, not so bad was a screaming endorsement—with pompoms waving and back flips. What had happened between those two last night? “Since when do you think Colt is anything less than the antichrist in cowboy boots?”

  Rachel pointed her turkey club at Leah’s nose. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. I’m mature enough to admit when I’m wrong. All I’m sayin’ is he’s not so awful. That doesn’t mean I want to braid Colt’s hair and sing ‘Kumbaya.’”

  “Fine. Forget I asked,” Leah said, grabbing her cardigan. “I’ll get it from the horse’s mouth.” She’d planned to drop in on Colt and thank him, anyway. “I’m going to the sheriff’s office real quick.”

  Rachel didn’t take the bait. “Mm-kay. Have fun.”

  “I will.” She pushed her arms through the sleeves as quickly as she could without snagging her watch. The mere prospect of seeing Colt had her insides all fluttery and her limbs twitching to run.

  After gathering her sandwich and bottled water, Leah slipped out the back door and made her way around the side of the building to the sidewalk. To show her body who was boss, she slowed her pace and focused on the scents of grilled chicken and car exhaust, an oddly pleasant combination, and the cheery sounds of carols drifting though the pharmacy’s open door. When the breeze kicked up, she tucked her water bottle beneath one arm and buttoned her sweater. Compared to Minnesota, where the first snow had already fallen, fifty degree weather should feel like a tropical vacation, but it didn’t. Funny how quickly she’d acclimated to the mild Texas weather. If she stayed here much longer, she’d get spoiled…if she wasn’t already. This wasn’t an easy place to leave behind.

  With Thanksgiving only days away, holiday decorations were out in full force. Bright red bows adorned the tops of the streetlights, each one connected by strands of plastic garland leading to “The Square,” where the town spruce would soon take up residence beside the fountain. As a little girl, she’d always looked forward to the tree-lighting ceremony. Daddy would say a few words asking folks to “remember the reason for the season,” then offer a quick prayer before the mayor threw the switch. Afterward, families would line the sidewalk to watch the parade—nothing big or fancy, mostly an excuse for business owners to throw Tootsie Rolls to the children and mark Santa’s arrival at the general store. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the high school band playing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

  God bless, she’d missed celebrating the holidays here. Just thinking about what she’d serve for Thanksgiving dinner put a spring in her step. She only wished Rachel and her mom would be in town to share it with them. Nothing beat a full table, bustling with laughter and conversation, except a friendly game of touch football on the front lawn afterward. Too bad Daddy wasn’t ready for that yet.

  A nasall
y voice from the street interrupted her reverie. “Hey there, Miss McMahon.”

  She glanced over and waved to a young deputy who’d rolled down his cruiser window. He crept along in time with her steps, slowing the line of cars behind him. She wondered how he recognized her, because they’d never met.

  “You doin’ okay?” he asked. “Need a hand, or a ride, or somethin’?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good. Just taking a walk.”

  “Okay.” He pointed to a black name badge she couldn’t read from the sidewalk. “I’m Matt. Just holler if you need anything—anything at all.” Then he grinned and added, “Be careful not to stub your toe,” before rolling up his window and resuming his patrol.

  What? He didn’t even know her. What a strange man. She made a mental note to ask Colt about him, then jogged across the courthouse parking lot to the adjoining sheriff’s building.

  After taking a moment to fluff her hair, she climbed the front steps and tugged open the door, where she met Darla Jameson’s wide brown gaze from the other side of the reception counter.

  “Hiya, hon.” Darla pushed a pen behind her ear and waved her red-tipped fingers. She wore a silky black top that fit her like a second skin…with an unlined bra underneath. And apparently, it was quite cold in here. If that wasn’t bad enough, Darla’s heart-shaped locket dangled an inch above a line of cleavage deep enough to hide an elephant. Did she always dress like this on the job?

  From out of nowhere, a surge of envy knocked Leah’s breath loose, and she had to mentally slap herself before she could return the greeting. She and Darla had never run in the same circles, but they weren’t enemies. Leah had no reason to feel jealous of the busty blond bombshell…except for the fact that she worked directly under—

  “Colt!” Darla shouted across the lobby. “Look who’s here!”

  Yes, Colt. She wondered if Darla had worked under him too. She turned and found the good sheriff, shoulder-to-shoulder with two deputies, decorating a battered artificial tree that had probably been around since the original Christmas. Colt had slung a rope of lights around his neck, and when his eyes met hers, his face glowed brighter than every bulb on the strand, his wide, answering smile wrinkling the tawny skin above his cheekbones. And he wasn’t looking at Darla. He made Leah feel like the only woman in the room. Heck, in the county.

  “What a nice surprise,” he drawled, slow as honey and deeper than night.

  Leah imagined herself melting into a puddle, right there on the checkerboard tile. Her Ziploc baggie plunked to the floor, and for the second time, she struggled to breathe. The war was over—her body had triumphed over her mind in a full-on blitz. It had shown her who was boss. How did Colt do it?

  While she stood there like a lawn jockey, he detangled himself from the lights and joined her, then picked up her sandwich. He peered through the plastic and asked, “Turkey?”

  “Uh-huh,” she stammered. “And ham. Rachel’s mom made it.”

  “Looks good.”

  She could only nod.

  “If you’re in the mood to share,” he said, “we could eat in my office. Or if you want, we can go—”

  From behind him, a deputy dropped a glass ornament and swore loudly.

  “Hey!” Colt whipped off his Stetson and pointed it at the man. “Watch your mouth, all you bastards. There’s a lady present.”

  Darla huffed and folded her arms beneath her gargantuan breasts. “What does that make me? I’ve been dodging your f-bombs for years.”

  Colt tossed his hat back on his head and gave Darla a teasing grin. “Aw, c’mon. You know you’ve got the dirtiest mouth in here.”

  Leah’s stomach tightened. Just how familiar was Colt with that dirty mouth? Maybe it was time to quit pretending and admit the truth: Colt had plucked Darla more times than a West Virginia banjo. Leah squeezed her water bottle and tried not to picture them together—that was the old Colt. He’d apologized for his wild days, even though it was none of her business. He’d changed. She needed to remember that and leave the past where it belonged.

  The offending deputy apologized to Leah while stretching high to place the tree topper—a Kermit the Frog hand puppet—on the highest branch.

  “That’s your topper?” Leah asked them, looking to the faces around her for some insight into the joke. Nobody was laughing.

  Colt scratched the back of his neck and studied his boots.

  “We used to put an angel up there,” Darla said. “A long time ago. She was real pretty, with a white gown and hair down to her waist. But Colt made us pack it up when he got elected.”

  Colt’s warm hand appeared at Leah’s lower back. He muttered something about the separation of church and state while steering her toward his office. Once he’d maneuvered her well out of earshot, he admitted, “It made me think of you.”

  She wanted to tell Colt she’d had a living, breathing reminder of him for the past nine years, but she couldn’t do it. Not until she was certain he’d leave Noah in peace. She shook those thoughts out of her head and said, “Well, at least buy a star. I like the Muppets and all, but Kermit looks ridiculous with a tree branch up his butt.”

  Colt ushered her inside his office and cleared a pile of paperwork from the chair opposite his desk. The masculine scent of his aftershave lingered in the tiny room, at once familiar and comforting. She’d missed that smell, especially when it came directly off his heated skin.

  “I think I’ll unpack the angel.” He brushed his fingers casually down the back of her hair as she sat down. “No star could outshine her.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Want half my sandwich?”

  “Sure.”

  She noticed him lower to his rolling chair without grimacing or bracing his hands on the desktop. He’d made pretty good progress. “You’ve been doing your stretches,” she said, tipping her water at him.

  “Every night, just like I promised. Been getting massages too. And you’ll be happy to know I have an appointment with the chiropractor, even though I still don’t believe in that mess.” He pulled a handful of napkins from his side drawer, reminding Leah of her long-lost driver’s license. But before she had a chance to ask him about it, he slid half the turkey club across the desk and stunned her with a hungry gaze that had nothing to do with lunch. “I won’t be out at the springs tonight,” he said, keeping their eyes locked. “Just in case you’d finally decided to meet me.”

  This time, more than just her cheeks heated. She broke the static contact and took a bite of her sandwich, not tasting a thing. Once she swallowed, she peeked at him again. “I did come out. Last night.”

  “You did?”

  “Mmm-hmm. But you were already gone.”

  He sat back, seemingly pleased to hear it. “Sorry I missed you.”

  “It wasn’t by much.” Which made her remember the real reason for this visit. “Thanks, by the way. For taking care of Rachel. I know she’s never been your biggest fan, and if she was drunk, she probably didn’t go easy on you.”

  Colt finished his half of the sandwich in two massive bites, then gave a dismissive shrug much like Rachel had done. “Wasn’t so bad.”

  Leah laughed dryly. “Did you two rehearse lines? That’s exactly what she said about you.”

  “She doing okay?”

  “Pretty much. She and her mama are headed out of town for Thanksgiving. I think it’ll be good for them. You know, get out of Dodge for a while, away from the reminders.” When he nodded in agreement, she asked, “How about you? Are you going to Oklahoma for the weekend?”

  “Nah.” He removed his hat and set it on the desk, then refastened his ponytail. “Avery and Emma are riding up with Granddaddy and Pru. I’m scheduled for patrol.”

  That surprised her. Wasn’t the biggest perk of being the boss the freedom to take off whenever you wanted? “You mean th
e sheriff has to work on Thanksgiving?”

  He laughed and gestured toward the county jail at the rear of the building. “Wouldn’t you know it, the criminals don’t observe federal holidays. But I don’t mind. Gives the other guys a chance to be with their families.”

  If her heart hadn’t already melted, that would’ve done it. “That’s sweet of you.”

  “Besides, I’m only working a half day.”

  She imagined Colt all alone in his kitchen, cooking up the steak and baked potato she’d seen in his Sack-n-Pay basket a couple weeks ago. “You know,” she said, “it’s just me and Daddy this year, so I’m only cooking a breast instead of a whole turkey. But there’ll be plenty to go around if you want to join us.”

  A flicker of happiness flashed behind his aquamarine eyes. “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then it’s a date.”

  The word “date” made her feel equal parts cautious and giddy. She didn’t know how to label what was going on between the two of them, but dating wasn’t it. In an effort to make the invitation more casual, she told him, “You can bring the mashed potatoes. Dinner rolls too. And don’t expect anything fancy. I’m too nervous to use Mama’s china, so we’ll eat off the Corelle.”

  “Hell, I’ll bring paper plates if you want,” he said. “But do we get to eat at the table?”

  “Of course.” Where else would they eat Thanksgiving supper?

  “Good.” A sinful grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “’Cause I do love eatin’ at that table. Everything tastes so damn good on there.”

  Leah stared into her lap and bit her lip to hide a smile, feeling bashful but not the least bit ashamed for what they’d done. She wasn’t sure if inviting Colt back into her kitchen was a wise idea, but she knew this: she didn’t regret it. For once in her life, she’d given Colt more than she should, and she wasn’t sorry.

  “Let me take you to lunch,” he said. “We can hit the diner, or I can fix something at my place. I’m not half-bad in the kitchen.”