Surrender To Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  “I kept telling you I’m no angel.” The words sounded flippant, and she regretted them the instant they left her lips.

  “Well, you sure showed me, didn’t you?”

  “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” He found what he’d been searching for in his wallet and tossed it onto the coffee table beside her bouquet of daisies. It was her driver’s license, the one he’d confiscated all those weeks ago. “I’m not sure what I’m gonna do about this, but either way, my decision won’t involve you. Since you didn’t bother involving me, it only seems fitting. So feel free to go back to Minnesota whenever you damn well please.” He stalked to the front door and left her with two words before walking out of her life. “Good riddance.”

  Chapter 17

  Colt awoke the next morning with a mouthful of rancid cotton and a jackhammer battering away at his temples. He squinted against the sunlight streaming through his window shade, cringing when his skull throbbed in tandem with his stomach. Every little sound rattled his brain, the whoosh of forced air through the ceiling vents louder than an ocean’s roar. He pressed the heels of his hands over his scratchy eyes in an effort to block out the stimuli. God damn, he couldn’t drink like he used to. When had he turned into such a lightweight?

  Once he adjusted to the harsh light, he turned his head on the pillow and glanced at his nightstand, where a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels distorted the alarm clock’s red glow. He shoved the bottle aside and struck an object with a faint clink. Propping on one elbow, Colt peered closer to investigate and immediately wished he hadn’t. Because for a few fleeting seconds, he’d managed to forget the reason he’d taken a bottle to bed in the first place. Mocking him from atop the snooze button was Leah’s ring, the one he’d never given her. The one he’d traded his Harley for. The one hiding a big, ugly black spot beneath a facade of gleaming platinum.

  How fucking appropriate.

  He still couldn’t believe it. The girl he’d called his angel for the last decade—whose deceptively innocent face had haunted him night and day—was a liar and a thief. What she’d done trumped the crimes committed by every slimy bastard currently taking up residence in the county lockup, because she’d stolen something that couldn’t be returned. Unlike a car or a box of tools or a flat screen television, she couldn’t give back the years he’d missed with his son.

  Christ. He had a son.

  He couldn’t believe that either. The kid looked just like him—the living spit of himself at that age, his blue-green eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief, his black hair scraggly and a few inches too long, a gap between his two front teeth wide enough to hold a Tic Tac. If he’d passed that kid on the street, he would’ve assumed a rogue scientist had cloned him. No wonder Leah had moved to Minnesota. It was the last place Colt would visit and spot the boy, though he should probably remedy that soon. A quick scan of the database last night had turned up the Ackermans’ street address. He could drop in on the happy little family whenever he pleased, but at the same time, he didn’t want to scare the boy by showing up on his doorstep. Colt had tried calling Granddaddy for advice, but couldn’t reach him in Oklahoma. He wondered if he should lawyer up now, just in case Leah had already called her co-conspirators to warn them. Or was that overreacting?

  Hell, he didn’t know what to do.

  But since he was already late for work, he dragged his aching ass out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, figuring a warm shower would clear his head. But while the steam soothed the throbbing between his temples, it did nothing to alleviate his confusion or to expel thoughts of Leah. He couldn’t stop replaying their night together, especially the sound of his name spilling from her parted lips and the clench of her tight silky walls around him. By the time he shut off the water and grabbed his towel, his johnson was hotter and harder than asphalt in July. Damn it, he still wanted her, even after the awful shit she’d done. He hated himself for his weakness. Hated her too.

  Reminders of her lingered throughout the house—the deflated balloons drooping in every corner of the living room, the crumpled prom banner he’d torn from the ceiling, the wooden chair where he’d pulled her into his lap and made her come twice with only his fingers. Colt found himself rushing though his morning routine in an effort to escape Leah’s ghost.

  During his drive to work, he cranked up George Strait on the radio and sang “All My Ex’s Live in Texas” at the top of his lungs. Just when he’d gone five minutes without thinking about Leah, Colt strode into the station lobby and noticed an angel atop the old artificial Christmas tree, her hands pressed together in prayer, blue eyes turned toward the heavens, waves of blond hair rippling to her waist.

  A bubble of rage burst inside his chest, and he locked eyes with the nearest deputy, who happened to be Horace. Colt barked, “Have one of the boys take that thing down!”

  The old guy cocked a brow. “What? The tree?”

  “No, damn it!” Colt pointed at the topper. “The angel. I told y’all about keeping it secular in here!”

  Horace tipped back his hat, clearly confused. “I thought you changed your mind.”

  “Well, I’m changin’ it back.”

  Without another glance at the cursed tree, Colt turned and stalked down the hall toward his office. Darla met him halfway there, her eyes brightening when she saw him.

  “Congratulations!” She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her giant tits against his chest in a tight hug.

  He pushed free, in no mood for another of her advances. “What the hell for?”

  She smiled and bounced in place, making the buttons on her sweater beg for mercy. “I saw Greg Cowan at the gas station filling up your old Harley, and he told me the news!”

  Colt froze while his stomach dropped. “What news?”

  “That you and Leah are getting married, silly.”

  Oh, shit. It hadn’t occurred to him that Greg might spill the beans. By now, half the town was probably abuzz with news of the impending nuptials. And he knew firsthand that shutting down a rumor took a hell of a lot more work than starting one. He’d be fielding questions about his broken engagement until next Christmas.

  “I wasn’t gonna say anything,” Darla continued, “but I noticed how happy you’ve been since Leah came back to town.” She winked. “You know what they say about the preacher’s daughter…”

  “We’re not engaged,” he told her. “So you can keep—”

  “Oh!” She clapped a hand over her cherry-red lips. “You haven’t popped the question yet. Don’t worry, boss. I won’t spoil the surprise.” Then she patted him on the shoulder and sashayed to the reception desk.

  Son of a bitch. It was only nine o’clock, and already this day couldn’t get any worse.

  Colt hid inside his office for the next couple of hours and let his calls go to voice mail while he Googled adoption laws in Minnesota and Texas. He stumbled across a ruling that overturned an adoption in favor of the biological father, but the child in that case was only fourteen months old. Colt didn’t know his son’s birthday, but the boy had to be nine, maybe ten. The best Colt could hope for at this point was visitation rights. He’d have to file a motion, and for that, he was definitely going to need a lawyer.

  Three quick knocks sounded from his door before Bobbi Lewis poked her red head inside and said, “I just heard the news! Ohmygod, I’m so excited for you!”

  Colt hung his head and groaned. He couldn’t take much more of this. “Who told you?”

  “I heard it from June, who heard it from Luke, who heard it from—”

  “Never mind,” Colt interrupted. “It doesn’t matter. Just come in and shut the door behind you.”

  Bobbi’s smile fell. “What’s wrong? Trouble in paradise already?”

  More like trouble in hell. “Just shut the door.
I don’t want this getting around.”

  She stepped inside and slung her laptop bag over the back of his guest chair, then took a seat on the edge of his desk. “Talk to me.”

  So he did. He told her everything, starting with the proposal that never happened and ending with the news that he had a son who belonged to strangers. Bobbi listened passively the whole time, never betraying any emotion. Loyal as she was to him, he expected her to rage against Leah or at least call her a few choice names, but she didn’t.

  “Well, they’re not strangers,” she finally said when he’d finished unloading. “Not to that little boy. They’re his mom and dad, and you’re the stranger. I know that hurts, but it’s the truth, and you need to remember it before you go off half-cocked and do something stupid.”

  Colt drew back, offended. He’d just learned that his flesh and blood had been snatched out from under him, and Bobbi made him sound like the villain. “I have the right to know my own son.”

  “Of course you do,” Bobbi said. “But there’s a right way to get to know him, and threatening the stability of his family isn’t it.”

  “I’m his family.” Why couldn’t she see that?

  Bobbi shook her head. “Family’s about more than DNA. I know firsthand.” She dropped her gaze to the tips of her ankle boots, warning him the conversation was about to get heavy. “My mom abandoned Luke and took me with her when she left, but she did a shit job of raising me. It wasn’t until she OD’d and two strangers adopted me that I knew what a real family was. Now I can’t imagine my life without my dads in it. I’m not saying you would’ve done a shitty job too—”

  “Good,” he interjected. “Because I would’ve manned up, but Leah never gave me the chance.”

  Bobbi offered him a sympathetic grin. “I know. I’m just trying to say that what’s done is done. You have to think about what’s best for the child.”

  What’s best for the child. Colt was really friggin’ sick of hearing that. Why did everyone else get to decide what was best for his son? He was the father. Why didn’t he get a say?

  “For what it’s worth,” Bobbi said, “I wouldn’t judge Leah too harshly.”

  “It’s not worth shit, so save it.”

  She flashed a palm. “Fine. But I want you to see something real quick, then I’ll leave you alone.”

  Bobbi unzipped her bag and pulled out her laptop, then situated it on the desk in front of him. Leaning over his shoulder, she clicked and tapped through several files until she found some old footage of him from the Sex in the Sticks project. When she hit the play button, he recognized the scene instantly. It was from Trey Lewis’s farewell party at the church fellowship hall, right before he shipped out to Dubai. It was also the night Barbara Lee had run Colt down in the church parking lot.

  “Got something to say to the camera,” Bobbi said from the computer speakers. Her hair was shorter then, but otherwise she looked exactly the same. “You’re the last one.”

  Even though the footage was only two years old, Colt seemed so much younger in his short-sleeved deputy shirt, leaning back in his chair with both arms folded behind his head. He still had that cocky, easygoing look in his eyes, the one he’d lost after the accident. He smirked and told Bobbi, “I’ve got somethin’ to say to both of you.”

  “Both of who?”

  “You and Lewis.”

  Bobbi turned away from the camera and gazed off into the distance, probably at Trey. She was clearly sprung for the guy. Colt had seen it from day one.

  “Yeah,” Colt said, “you got it bad.”

  Bobbi shrugged. “I’ll live.”

  “No, you won’t.” Colt leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, his expression hardening. “You’ll survive, but you won’t live. Trust me, there’s a difference.”

  “Look.” Bobbi paused the footage and pointed at Colt’s image: his eyes unfocused as he stared at the floor, his mouth pressed into a line. “I remember how miserable you were back then.”

  Not much had changed. He was miserable now.

  “I’m not saying what Leah did was right, because it wasn’t.” Bobbi closed the file and his image disappeared from the screen. “She should’ve told you about the baby as soon as she found out she was pregnant. But she was just a kid, Colt. I’m sure you did a few things at that age you regret.”

  “Nothing like that.” His drinking and whoring and stealing had never hurt anyone. Not long-term, anyway. “I was stupid, but I wasn’t cruel.”

  “You still love her.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t deny it. Bobbi rested her hand near the top of his shoulder and gave a light squeeze. “I want to see you happy. Why not try and forgive her?”

  Why not? Because that would defeat the purpose. The reason he’d fallen in love with Leah in the first place was because she had the purest heart on earth. She was good, all the way down to her soul. Or so he thought. Now she was no different from any other woman in town.

  Another rap of knuckles sounded from the door, this time soft and timid—a knock with an apology behind it. Colt knew who was on the other side of that oak barrier, and his chest constricted in a mingling of dread and anticipation.

  Just as he expected, Leah stepped inside, wearing her Vikings sweatshirt over jeans, hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes widened when she spotted Bobbi sitting on his desk with her hand resting on his shoulder. Colt realized how it must look, but he didn’t care. Let her think the worst. Let her cry some more. Why should he be the only one to feel like his heart was about to explode?

  Leah lowered her gaze to the tile. “I’ve been trying to call you all morning, but I keep getting your voice mail.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he replied flatly, making no effort to move Bobbi’s hand. “There’s a reason for that.”

  Bobbi scooted off the desk and stuffed her laptop inside her bag. “I’m gonna head out and let you two talk.” She told Colt, “Remember what I said,” and then gave Leah a consoling hug on her way out.

  Traitor.

  “Is she the only one who knows?” Leah asked after the door shut.

  “For now.” But that wouldn’t last long. “Why? Worried about your reputation?”

  She ignored his question and sank into the chair opposite him, keeping her gaze fixed on her folded hands. “On my way over here, three people stopped and congratulated me on our engagement.” She peeked up. “I don’t get what that’s all about, but I thought you should know.”

  “Duly noted,” he said and nodded at the door. “You can go now.”

  Pain flashed across her ivory features, and he felt it like a mule kick to the gut.

  “That’s not what I came here to tell you.” Her voice was so damned pitiful that he had to hold back from offering her a glass of water. Shit, what was wrong with him? “I talked to the Ackermans last night.”

  “I figured you would.”

  “I asked them to bring Noah for a visit so you two can meet.”

  Colt raised a brow. “What’d they say?”

  “They said yes. They’re flying down next week.” She bit her lip and flicked a glance at him. “There’s just one thing…”

  He didn’t like the sound of that.

  “…I told Jim and Diane that if they’d come to Sultry Springs, the four of us would sit down and resolve all this without lawyers.”

  “Ah, Jesus.” This was un-friggin’-believable. Colt slapped his desk and shot to his feet. “There you go again, making decisions for me! You had no right to tell them that.” He still hadn’t figured out what course of action to take, but he lied and said, “I’ve already got a lawyer.”

  “Just listen. Please.” She begged with her eyes, and he couldn’t bring himself to toss her into the hall. He really was going soft. “We all love Noah,” she said. “It’s in our
best interest to work together and balance his needs with our own. Let’s try it and see what happens, and if we can’t come to an agreement, then bring in your attorney. I’m surprised he hasn’t already advised you to try this before taking it to the next level.”

  Colt dodged that last bit by grumbling something about not having time for a formal consultation yet. Then he lowered to his chair and tried to think over the rush of anger dulling his brain. Leah was probably right, even though she went behind his back—again—to facilitate the meeting. It made sense to try and work out a deal with the Ackermans before involving the courts.

  “Fine,” he decided. “But don’t ever speak for me again. You’re not my go-between, and you don’t have a say in what I do. Stay the hell out of my business. Are we clear?”

  “Perfectly clear.” She stood from her chair but made no move to leave. Instead, she clasped both hands behind her back and chewed her bottom lip, just like the first day she’d returned to town. And the first time he’d kissed her. “I just want to say again how sorry I am. I know what I did was wrong, but I had good intentions. I swear I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

  Colt couldn’t look at her. He grabbed his clipboard and flipped through the citizens’ complaints, hoping she’d take the hint and go.

  “I know you’re angry,” she went on. “And hurt. But I hope you can forgive me someday. Is there anything at all I can do to make this right?”

  Unless Leah had discovered a way to time-travel, that wasn’t going to happen. But there was one thing she could do to make his life a little easier. The reminders of her were bad enough inside his empty home. He couldn’t survive bumping into her at the Sack-n-Pay and the coffee shop for the rest of his existence.

  “I want you to go home to Minnesota,” Colt said. “When your daddy’s back on his feet.” He chanced a split-second glance at her—it was all he could bear. “If you stay, it’s gonna be difficult for both of us to move on.”

  She fell silent for several beats while Colt stared at his reports, seeing nothing. He didn’t want to think about her moving on with another man, but it would eventually happen.