Surrender To Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  No doubt. But she was pretty sure lunch at Colt’s house wouldn’t involve food. And judging by the wolfish set of his grin, he wouldn’t stop at third base this time. Was she ready for that?

  He made you sorry before, a small voice warned. And you never saw it coming.

  She ignored the words and reminded herself to let go of the past. She’d made mistakes too—far worse than playing kiss-and-tell in the boys’ locker room. One day, she’d have to confess the truth about Noah, and how could she expect forgiveness from Colt if she wasn’t prepared to offer it in return?

  But despite her bold resolve, she declined his lunch offer. For whatever reason, she wasn’t hungry anymore.

  Chapter 13

  Once the butter melted and danced in the skillet, Leah tossed in a cup of diced onions, instantly filling the kitchen with a loud sizzle and a savory aroma. She added the garlic and celery, then left them to sauté while she fished inside the refrigerator for the spicy ground sausage that would make this recipe pop. Was it heart-healthy? No. But her mouth watered at the mingling of bold flavors, and a few bites wouldn’t hurt anyone.

  “Smells good,” Daddy hollered from the living room. “What’cha making?”

  “Mama’s stuffing.” Which she hadn’t planned on serving until a couple of days ago. The same was true for the pecan pie in the freezer. She tried telling herself these last-minute additions to the menu had nothing to do with her desire to impress Colt, but a smile ghosted her lips when she imagined how he’d go back for seconds and thirds, then whisper that not even his step-granny’s cooking held a candle to Leah’s. The way he savored each bite—eyes closed, leaning back in his chair with one hand over his heart—made her feel special. And who didn’t like feeling special? In fact, maybe she should whip up some sweet pumpkin butter for the rolls.

  From the living room, Daddy turned on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade loud enough for her to overhear that the Snoopy balloon had sprung a leak and was headed for a full-body collision with Spider-Man. The reporter’s enthusiasm for each float was infectious, quickening Leah’s pulse and filling her mind with images of Christmastime. When the festivities segued into a JCPenney Black Friday jingle, Daddy joined her in the kitchen.

  “Anything I can do?” he asked, leaning casually against the fridge.

  Leah slid him a glance. Something was up. Daddy had always considered himself allergic to cooking, hence the drive-through diet that’d landed him in the hospital. If his congregation hadn’t stepped up after Mama died, Leah would’ve grown up on Hamburger Helper and Spam sandwiches. She pointed to the stove and said, “Sure. You can brown the sausage while I marinate the turkey,” but she didn’t expect him to stick around long.

  He cut off one end of the sausage tube, then squeezed it into the skillet while Leah gathered the seasonings she needed from the pantry. For several minutes, he focused on his task, silently pushing a wooden spatula back and forth across the pan. He cleared his throat a couple of times as if to speak, but hesitated and went back to work.

  Something was definitely wrong.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  He licked his lips and stared at the sausage. “I’ve been thinkin’…”

  “I thought I smelled something burning,” she teased.

  Her attempt to loosen him up didn’t work. It took him two more tries before he finally said in a rush, “I think it’s time Colton knew the truth about Noah.”

  Leah’s stomach tried to escape her body by way of her throat. She tried to stay calm while fetching the turkey breast from the fridge, but she plunked it onto the counter loud enough to rattle the porcelain cookie jar beside the sink.

  “Absolutely not. It’s too soon.”

  “Just hear me out,” Daddy said over the sizzle and crackle of sausage fat. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Won’t make any difference. I know what’s best for my son.”

  Daddy shrugged. “If your mind’s already made up, then there’s no harm in hearing me out, is there?”

  “Suit yourself.” She busied her hands unwrapping the turkey, unable to look Daddy in the eyes any longer.

  “Look,” Daddy said, “we both know Colt acted the fool. I watched him do it. Every time he fell down drunk or got in a fight, I told myself we’d done the right thing. He even streaked the mayor’s inauguration—buck-naked, wearing a wrestler’s mask—but everyone knew it was him because he’s got angel wings tattooed on his backside. What kind of father sets an example like that?”

  Leah glanced at him, wondering where Daddy was going with this. His story only proved that neither she nor Colt were ready for parenthood back then.

  “I kept on following the talk about Colt,” Daddy went on, “even though I preach against gossip. I couldn’t get enough.” He pointed the wooden spatula at her. “You know why I did that?”

  She shook her head.

  “Neither did I, till recently.” He broke their gaze as if ashamed. “I think I knew—deep down in my soul—that keeping your secret wasn’t right, and I needed to justify what I’d done. All those dirty stories about Colt’s drinking and hell-raising and running around made me feel like I’d committed the lesser of two evils.” He turned his attention back to the skillet. “But two wrongs don’t make a right.”

  “No, they don’t,” Leah agreed. “But it’s not that simple. The right thing for Noah wasn’t the right thing for me and Colt.”

  “But he changed,” Daddy said. “Years ago. The gossip dried up, and all my excuses died with it. I tried ignoring Colt, but I couldn’t ignore my conscience. Because I didn’t just wrong that boy, Pumpkin.” With rounded shoulders and a face full of contrition, he added, “I wronged you too.”

  Leah’s fingers froze around the cellophane. Wronged her? Daddy had never been anything less than loving and supportive. “What do you mean?”

  “When you came to me all those years ago,” he said, staring at the stovetop, “and asked for help running off to Minnesota, I should’ve told you no. You were young and scared—you didn’t understand the gravity of giving away that baby. I was the adult. It was my job to make the right choice.”

  “I knew what I was doing,” Leah insisted. “And it was the right choice—for Noah.”

  Daddy shook his head. “You were only seventeen. And my reasons for letting you go weren’t as pure as I led both of us to believe.”

  She didn’t understand. “Then why’d you do it?”

  “I was worried about my reputation,” he admitted. “What would the congregation think if they found out my teenage daughter was pregnant by the town degenerate? Would the elders believe I was fit to run the church if I couldn’t even run my own family?” He hung his bald head. “I made my decision out of pride, not what was best for you or that baby. And certainly not what was best for Colt.”

  Leah stared at her daddy for several long beats.

  His pride? That was why he’d agreed to send her away? A spark of anger flushed her cheeks when she imagined what might have been. If Daddy had insisted on keeping her home, she never would’ve placed Noah with another family. She’d have her boy in her arms right now. Everything would be different.

  Including Noah, her conscience reminded her. He’d be different too. You and Colt weren’t ready. What would your immaturity have done to him?

  Just like that, her anger died. It might be easier to blame her heartache on Daddy, but everything had happened for the best. She had to believe that.

  “Noah’s better off for it.” That’s what mattered most.

  “Maybe,” Daddy said. “Maybe not. But it wasn’t our choice to make. Colt should’ve had a say.”

  Leah rinsed her hands in the sink, then dried them and gave Daddy’s shoulder a gentle pat. “We both did the best we could. We can’t go back.”

  “I know.” He turned
off the burner and shifted the skillet away from the heat. “But we can set things right. Colt’s a good man. I think it’s time to tell him the truth and face whatever consequences come from it.”

  Leah understood his burden—for almost a decade, she’d felt the cold weight of guilt like a layer of ice around her heart. But she’d gladly bear the pain for the rest of her life if the truth put Noah at risk. She returned to the sink and absently gazed out the window to the carport. “Colt’s got legal connections. What if he tries to take Noah away?”

  Daddy countered at once, as if he’d anticipated her argument. “No judge in his right mind is gonna remove a nine-year-old boy from the only family he’s ever known.”

  “You can’t guarantee that.”

  “I quit lying to myself, hon.” Daddy gripped her upper arms and turned her to face him. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Leah tugged her brows down low. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Are you really scared that Colt’s gonna rip Noah away from his parents?” Daddy demanded softly. “Or are you more afraid that Colt won’t forgive you for what you’ve done?”

  Her jaw dropped. How could he possibly think her motivations were that selfish?

  “I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Daddy said. “Ask yourself if all this talk about keeping Noah safe with the Ackermans isn’t your way of avoiding the real issue—you don’t want to lose Colt.”

  “That’s not it!” she insisted.

  “You sure about that?” The question was rhetorical. She knew he wouldn’t listen, no matter how she answered. “Just give it some thought. Really search your feelings.”

  Great, now he was channeling Obi-Wan Kenobi.

  “If you and Colt are meant to be,” Daddy said, “then he’ll find a way to move past it.”

  I wouldn’t forgive me, she started to say, but changed her mind because she didn’t want Daddy thinking all she cared about was Colt’s forgiveness.

  “Eventually, you’ve got to tell him.” Daddy lifted her chin and gave her a sad smile. “The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be for both of you.”

  But what about the Ackermans? She’d lied to them, too, when she’d claimed not to know who fathered her baby. If Colt hired a lawyer and raised Cain, would they retaliate by cutting her off from Noah? They could do it—she didn’t have any legal rights to see her own son.

  Neither does Colt, she chided herself. You’ve never cared about his rights. Maybe this is what you deserve.

  No. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn’t believe that. Her motivations had always been pure—Colt and the Ackermans wouldn’t punish her so hurtfully for wanting to give Noah the best life possible.

  At least she didn’t think they would. She had no way of knowing for sure.

  Daddy left her with a kiss on the temple and returned to the living room, where boisterous, cheery parade noises rang out in contrast to her now-dark mood. In a daze, Leah measured spices and oil, mixing a sloppy marinade, as her mind reeled with impossible questions.

  Was Daddy right—should she tell Colt now and rip off the Band-Aid? Daddy had a point when he said it would only get harder with time, and in all honesty, a judge probably wouldn’t remove Noah from his home, not at his age. But a persistent burning inside her chest warned her to reconsider. Something about the hypothetical confession felt wrong, and not just because she feared losing Colt’s friendship. Her thoughts traveled in circles, and by the time she slid the turkey in the oven, she was more confused than ever.

  So much for her perfect holiday.

  ***

  “Thanks, Colt.” Avery fisted the lapels of her ratty pink bathrobe and slumped against the doorjamb. She coughed and then immediately winced, pressing a hand against her lower belly. After a long groan, she murmured, “I hope you didn’t have big plans.”

  Big plans? Nah. Just winning over the love of his life before she got bored and returned to her rich ex-fiancé in Minnesota, that’s all.

  At his hesitation, Avery nodded at Emma and said, “Just take her with you.”

  From beside him on the front stoop, Emma tugged his jacket hem, bouncing to the rhythm of her shouts. “Tur-key day! Tur-key day!” She beamed up at him. “It’s turkey day, Uncle Colt! Can we have chicken nuggets? I want a Happy Meal, but not with a boy prize. I want the girl prize, the My Little Pony with the pink tail.”

  “Uh-huh,” Colt said absently. “Whatever you want, hon.” He raised his hand to indicate his sister’s waxen, dewy forehead. “You sure this isn’t contagious? The preacher’s still recovering, and I don’t wanna risk his ticker by giving him a virus.”

  “Trust me, there’s no way he can get this,” Avery promised. She leaned in and whispered, “I got a raging bladder infection from this banana-flavored lube Mike used last weeken—”

  “Holy shit!” Colt covered his ears and shut his eyes, desperately trying not to picture his sister fooling around with her boyfriend’s banana, or any of his other parts for that matter. Why couldn’t she save those details for her friends? “For the millionth time, that skeeves me out!”

  “Ho-ly shit!” Emma chanted with balled fists. “Ho-ly shit!” She stomped her feet, triggering the lights inside her sneaker soles.

  Avery narrowed her eyes and shot him the death glare. Great, so he couldn’t swear around the kid, but mentioning sex toys was hunky-dory? Talk about screwed-up logic.

  “I need to go to the bathroom again,” Avery said, then bent to give Emma a kiss. When Avery stood, she reminded him, “No caffeine and go easy on the sugar, okay? I don’t have the energy for a bedtime battle tonight.”

  “Got it.” Colt gave Emma’s brown ponytail a gentle tug. “Ready to roll, monkey face?”

  “Are we goin’ to McDonald’s?” The front door clicked shut, and Emma wrapped her sticky fingers around his hand, skipping down the steps toward his cruiser. “The one with the ball pit?”

  “Nope, someplace even better.”

  “Better than McDonald’s?” she asked, as if such a thing weren’t possible. “But they have sundaes.” She scrunched up her brow and added, “And a slide that makes my hair stick up when I come down it.”

  Ah, yes, The Shocker. Colt remembered that godforsaken instrument of torture from the few times he’d taken Emma out for lunch. “Remember my friend Miss McMahon?”

  “The one with the pretty princess hair?”

  “Yep.” Angel hair, but whatever. “We’re going to her house for dinner. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  While he opened the car door for her, Emma considered his question, sucking her bottom lip and staring at her rhinestone-studded jeans in deep thought. After he’d installed her booster and helped fasten the seat belt, she asked, “Will there be other kids there?”

  “Well, no. But that means you get Miss Leah all to yourself.” He’d give anything for that privilege.

  The prospect didn’t seem to float Emma’s boat, but Colt didn’t much care. He shut the door and jogged around the cruiser’s front end, then smiled, realizing how long it’d been since he’d managed a run, albeit a slow one. He hated to admit it, but Leah was right about the chiropractor. If one adjustment had made this much of a difference, he couldn’t wait to see how he’d feel after a few more.

  After only twenty seconds, the inside of the cruiser smelled like peanut butter, Emma’s signature scent. Colt began to wonder if she dabbed a little Skippy behind her ears and on the insides of her wrists each morning before she got dressed.

  “Can we take your motorcycle instead?” Emma asked, planting her dirty sneakers on his glove box.

  He pointed at her feet in a silent message, and she dropped them to the floor. “Your mama would string me up by my heels. Besides,” he hitched a thumb toward the back, “I’m bringing mashed potatoes and rolls. How’re we gonna car
ry all that on the Harley?”

  She tapped her chin and stared out the window at a field of tall brown cornstalks. “I know!” she declared. “We’ll put ’em in backpacks. I’ve got a Dora one, and it holds lots of stuff.”

  “Okay,” Colt said, playing along. “But there’s still the issue of your mama killing me when she finds out I put you on my bike.”

  Emma shrugged. “That’s easy. We won’t tell her.”

  Poor Avery was going to have her hands full with this one. Hell, she had her hands full now—Colt shuddered to imagine Emma as a teenager. With any luck, she wouldn’t turn out too much like her uncle. Otherwise, Avery should go ahead and invest in a distillery, maybe stock up on Valium too.

  “No deal,” he told her. “Your mom and I are on the same team, monkey. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

  Emma switched gears right away, filling the silence with knock-knock jokes that made no sense but cracked her up regardless. By the time they parked on the driveway behind Bruiser and made their way to Leah’s front door, Emma was so slap-happy she’d laughed her own ponytail loose.

  He tried gently tugging her hair back in place while Emma punched the doorbell, but that only made it worse. Her head resembled a windblown haystack when the preacher answered the door.

  “Well, who do we have here?” Pastor Mac said to Emma with a wide grin.

  She responded with an enthusiastic, “Uncle Colt said I get Miss Leah all to myself!”

  Colt chuckled and lifted his Pyrex dish in Emma’s direction. “Hope you don’t mind. My sister’s under the weather, so she canceled her trip at the last minute.”

  “Course not.” Pastor Mac stepped aside and opened the door for them. “The more the better. Leah made enough food for half the county.”

  Colt led the way into the living room, where the air was thick with the aroma of pecan pie and roasted bird. Even better, Pastor Mac had turned on the Texas A&M game. No Thanksgiving felt complete without a little pigskin action. Colt had just started to check the score when Leah padded in from the kitchen and tore his attention away from football. National pastime or not, no man in his right mind would prefer watching a huddle of sweaty athletes instead of Leah.