Georgia Pine (Southern Promises Book 3)

by K. G. Fletcher

  “You look amazing,” he crooned, his deep voice all rumbly and sexy.

  The girls’ heads whipped around, and they clamored to reach their mother and pull her into the room. Jo-Jo thrust her baby hands toward Tim, and he casually took her into his arms as if he’d been doing it all his life.

  “Thank you,” she replied, taking in the vibrant green of his eyes. “You clean up well, yourself.”

  Tim was wearing cargo shorts, flip-flops and a simple, black tee, the tattoo on his arm peeking out from under the sleeve. His hair was tied back into a low ponytail, and she could smell a trace of manly deodorant. Jessica was throwing caution to the wind stepping out on the town with a guy that looked like Tim McGill. Part of her was thrilled at the idea, and she wanted to give people something to talk about. The other part of her was scared to death, her conservative upbringing rearing its ugly head.

  When the girls were buckled into their car seats, Tim typed the address of the restaurant into the GPS system and kept their attention while Jessica drove in peace. She chuckled a few times at their animated conversation before he turned to her with a question.

  “Do you like Ceviche?” The Spanish word effortlessly rolled off his tongue.

  “I’m not sure,” she replied. “But I’m willing to try it if you recommend it.” Her comment made him smile and nod.

  Jessica navigated her large vehicle into a parking space right in front of the Los Rancheros Mexican restaurant. It was situated at the far end of a strip mall in the suburban community next to a large grocery store. When they walked through the double doors, the hostess seemed to recognize Tim and immediately greeted him, speaking in Spanish.

  “Hola, Tim. Mesa para uno?”

  Tim shook his head and gestured to Jessica and the girls behind him. “Hola, Maria. Esta noche no. Necesitamos una mesa para seis y una trona si tienes una por favor.”

  The young woman eagerly nodded. “Derecho de esta manera Señor.”

  Jessica leaned into Tim’s shoulder and whispered, “Okay, now you’re showing off.” He laughed out loud and gestured for her and the girls to walk ahead of him.

  They sat in a large booth with Jo-Jo secured in a highchair at the end of the table. Chips and salsa were immediately brought out along with water, the waiter making sure to bring Styrofoam cups with lids for the children. The place was painted a gaudy burnt-orange, and vibrant Mexican themed murals decorated the textured walls. Canned music echoed softly through the space with a lone Spanish singer crooning about amore.

  “This is nice,” Jessica said as she smiled at Tim who sat across from her.

  “As I told you earlier, it’s off the beaten path and not much to look at. But the food is awesome.” He stuck a chip in his mouth before he helped Julia pour salsa into a little bowl from a tiny carafe.

  Eyeing the menu, she listened to Tim tell the girls about some of the choices.

  “They’ve got yummy cheese quesadillas, or if you like tacos, you can get a couple with a side of beans and rice…”

  “Eww! I don’t like beans,” Jennifer interrupted.

  “How do you know? Have you ever tried authentic Mexican beans? You might like them,” he encouraged.

  “Why don’t you try, Jennifer? I’m gonna try something Tim suggested too.” Her eyes met his, and her chest swelled. She couldn’t put her finger on what she was feeling at that moment, but it took her by surprise. Sure, she was excited to be out of the house and spending quality time with her girls. It was also a nice change to get out of her shorts and t-shirt and share space with the handsome man who sat across from her, even if he wasn’t her typical type. She watched as he doted on Jo-Jo, making her giggle at the silly faces he was making when it suddenly hit her. She was happy.

  When the waiter brought out a Dos Equis beer for Tim and a frozen margarita for her, she lifted her glass into the air. “Cheers everyone. Let’s all thank Tim for taking us out to dinner tonight.”

  The little girls giggled and thanked Tim, touching their cups with his beer bottle. Even Jo-Jo raised her sippy-cup toward him. Jessica took a sip of her drink and sighed. It was delicious with just the right amount of top-shelf tequila. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed a cocktail in a restaurant with a handsome man. With the girls immersed in dipping tortillas into warm queso, Jessica decided to be bold and ask a few questions.

  “Where did you learn to speak Spanish so well?”

  Her question must have startled him because he choked on a swig of beer.

  “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. Are you alright?” She passed a handful of napkins across the table to him that he dabbed against his beard while he coughed.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Must have gone down the wrong pipe.” He paused and took a sip of water as Jilly affectionately patted him on the back. “I’m from California.” He ran another napkin across his lips. “I grew up on a nut farm.”

  Jessica scowled, a pang of fear traveling straight to her heart. She looked away, adjusting the napkin on her lap, aware that her cheeks were growing hot.

  “A nut farm?” she whispered in an attempt to keep their conversation quiet. “You mean, a psych ward—”

  “No,” he interrupted, his voice rumbled with humor.

  With wide eyes, she looked up at him and held her breath.

  “It was my parents’ farm. Almonds. Pecans.” He took a swig of beer, never taking his eyes off her. “You know, nuts?”

  Jessica bit her lip and sheepishly shook her head, welcome embarrassment filtering through her. “Oh. Those kinds of nuts. Silly me.”

  Tim chuckled, leaning his elbows on the table. “Most of the day laborers on the farm were Spanish, and I was exposed to the language when I was very young.”

  Jessica was intrigued. “You’re a long way from home. What brought you to Atlanta?” She wrapped her lips around the straw of her cocktail and waited for his response. He didn’t answer right away, and she noticed him tug on his beard a few times. Was her question out of line? She was only trying to get to know the man.

  “You don’t have to share. I was just making small talk,” she apologized.

  “No, it’s okay. I want to talk to you about it, but can we do it later? When the girls aren’t around?” His eyes seemed darker, the look on his face beseeching.

  “Sure.”

  As if on cue, several waiters with plates impressively loaded up their arms arrived at the table and passed out their order. The little girls oohed and ahhed over their dinner, eagerly diving into the Mexican feast. Jennifer took a bite of her side of beans and proudly proclaimed to Tim, she was a fan. The Ceviche Jessica ordered was light and flavorful, the delicious flounder marinated with lime juice and a special sauce, divine. Tim dug into his Steak Durango and helped keep Jo-Jo occupied by placing soft tortilla pieces and spoonfuls of yellow rice in front of her, which she fisted into her mouth.

  As customers and wait staff walked by, many smiles were offered, and guests at nearby tables looked over often, taking in their little domestic scene. A stranger would probably assume they were a family, complete with adorable children and a loving husband and wife. But Tim wasn’t her husband. He was her gardener; a man raised on a farm in California. She had been so caught up in his beguiling green eyes, impressive stature and soft lips that she hadn’t taken the time to ask him the questions she should have in the very beginning. She was allowing this strange man access to her children and home. California was a long way away. Why in the world was he here in Atlanta doing yard-work for upper-class suburbia when he could be working on his parents’ almond farm on the West Coast where he was from? The questions swirled in her mind as she finished her dinner and slowly savored the rest of her margarita.

  “Did you like it?” The low resonance of Tim’s voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she sat up straight.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Did you like your dinner, Mama?” Jennifer eagerly asked as she looked up at her.

  “Yes. Yes, of course. It was delicious. Did y
ou like yours?” The girls nodded and enthusiastically exclaimed how much they loved their dinner out with Tim. Jessica pulled some wipes out of the diaper bag and handed them around the table, asking everyone to clean their hands and faces.

  “Can I have one too?” Tim asked lightheartedly.

  Jessica passed one across the table to him before wiping down baby Jo-Jo and the mess she made on the highchair. The waiter brought the check, and they made their way to the restaurant entrance where he paid Maria with cash.

  “Espero que hayan disfrutado su cena.”

  “Yes, we enjoyed it very much. Gracias,” Tim replied.

  “Su familia es muy Hermosa,” she added.

  Tim glanced nervously at Jessica and hurriedly shoved his wallet into his back pocket. “Gracias, Maria.” He opened the door and swept his arm in a grand gesture. “After you, ladies.”

  Jessica eyed him as he held Julia’s hand. “What did Maria just say to you?”

  “Huh?” Tim had a guilty expression on his face.

  “Just now, what did Maria say?”

  Tim bit his lower lip and shook his head, his expression marked with chagrin. He hoisted each little girl up into the automobile while Jessica stood waiting with Jo-Jo on her hip. As the girls were getting settled in the back seat, he held his arms out to take the baby. When the tiny child was nestled in his muscled embrace, he paused and stared right at Jessica.

  “She said I have a beautiful family.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jessica didn’t say much to Tim for the rest of the evening. She seemed reserved, especially when they stopped for ice cream on the way back to her house, and politely declined a sweet treat of her own. The Kaufman girls were rowdy from the sugar-high and ran around the green space across the parking lot from the ice cream shop.

  Tim held one of baby Jo-Jo’s hands while Jessica held the other, and they let her teeter around on her little bare toes while her sisters skipped and jumped about them. Joanne was starting to learn how to walk, her mobility something her sisters encouraged energetically. Her baby hand wrapped around Tim’s index finger and she held on for dear life. She plopped on her diapered bottom several times but was determined to get back up.

  The sun was starting to set, and the evening night critter orchestra was loud in the lingering heat. Tim wiped perspiration from his brow and watched as Jessica instructed her older daughters on how to help Jo-Jo walk around in the grass. A faint breeze wafted through the air, blowing tendrils of hair that had come out of her ponytail. Tim sighed as he watched her put her hands on her hips, refereeing her daughters at play. She was achingly beautiful, his desire to kiss her again strong and commanding.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked as he stood next to her.

  “Nothing. Just watching my girls.” She nervously tucked her loose hair over her ear. “Thanks again for dinner, and for the ice cream. The girls loved it.”

  “No problem.” Tim shoved his hands into his board shorts, not sure what to say. They continued to watch the girls innocently play.

  “What are we doing, Tim?” she asked in a low voice. When she turned to look at him, her blue gaze was penetrating, and the look on her face held resolve. “I mean, you’re my gardener. What were we thinking?”

  “What do you mean?” He nervously shifted his tall stance as he looked down at her.

  Jessica chuckled. “Come on, Tim. Do you really think we could make a go of this? I’m newly divorced with four children, and you’re…you’re my yard guy. What will the neighbors think? What will my parents think? I owe you an apology.”

  “An apology for what?”

  “For letting you in too soon. For not asking the questions I should have.” She swallowed hard and looked at her feet before she whispered. “I don’t know anything about you, Tim. When you spoke in Spanish at dinner and told me you were from California and left it at that, my mind started going crazy. I have children to think about.” When she looked up at him, her eyes had turned a shade darker. “My daughters are my whole world now. I have to think about them, not myself.”

  Tim’s heart was heavy, but he understood where she was coming from. She had children to protect, which was a noble act. He reached out to touch her hand in reassurance, and she flinched.

  “I told you, I’d like to talk when the girls aren’t around. Can you wait a little bit longer? I’ll tell you everything,” he kept his voice low.

  “Everything? Oh, god…”

  He chuckled. “For the record, I’m not an ex-con or anything like that. And I’ve never been near a psych ward.”

  “How reassuring,” she teased. The light in her blue eyes was back, her gaze intentional.

  ***

  Jessica sighed with exhaustion. It took way longer to get the girls settled during their bedtime ritual, probably because she was anxious to get back to Tim and hear what he had to say. She finally gave up and allowed the older three to spread out in her bed and turned on a movie to pacify them. She took off her shoes and earrings and untied her ponytail, letting her hair hang loosely around her shoulders. Earlier, Tim had offered to help get the girls to bed, but she felt uneasy and insisted he hang out downstairs while she managed her wide-awake brood.

  “If you want to watch the entire movie, you have to promise to stay in my bed, understand?” She eyed her blonde-headed daughters lounging among the overstuffed pillows. Julia had her thumb in her mouth and clutched her favorite blankie. Jill was lying back with a teddy bear in her arms. Jennifer sat cross-legged, clutching the remote and looked like she was ready to pull an all-nighter.

  “We’ll stay in here, Mama. Promise,” Jennifer assured her. Jessica had heard that line before.

  As her bare feet padded across the floor, she wondered what Tim found to do while she was preoccupied. She paused in the doorway to see him leaning back in a chair and reading Architectural Digest. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies. He looked utterly natural sitting in her living room, as if he lived there too. The reading lamp cast a golden light around his mane of hair that fell over his shoulders, the brightness highlighting his presence. He was larger than life.

  “Hi,” she said, interrupting his reading.

  “Hey.” Tim put the magazine on a side table and started to stand.

  “No, don’t get up. You want anything to drink while we talk? A beer or some water?”

  “No, I’m good.” He leaned his elbows on his knees and interlocked his fingers. “Did you get the girls settled?”

  Jessica rolled her eyes. “As well as I could. Jo-Jo’s the easy one. She loves her sleep. The other three, not so much.”

  He chuckled, sat back up and held the armrests of the chair. “Sounds quiet to me.”

  “That’s because I caved and let them watch a movie. They’re spread out all over my bed in the master.”

  Tim chuckled. “Well, at least they’re engaged for the time being.” Inhaling deeply, he fixed his narrowed, green-eyed gaze on her. “Thanks for letting me stay so we could talk.”

  “Absolutely.” Jessica was aware she was sitting like a prim and proper lady with her back erect, ankles crossed and her hands in her lap. She was trying to keep her nerves that were suddenly running with the bulls under wraps.

  Tim looked away, avoiding eye contact and started to talk. “Jessica, you need to know, I’m an educated man; a University of Southern California graduate. I had a very lucrative career after graduation.” He looked at her face with determination. “You should also know that I’m the answer to a trivia question and the punch line to many jokes.”

  She scowled, not sure what he was talking about. “I don’t understand.” She watched as he bit his lower lip.

  “I don’t expect you to understand. I still don’t myself.” He sighed profoundly. “I came to Atlanta to get away. I wanted to stay under the radar and live in peace. You see, something…something unfortunate happened to me while I was in the prime of my career. I decided to retire and leave California to distance m
yself from the pain. It was death by a thousand cuts. It was like I had a scarlet letter tattooed on my forehead. Everyone knew me out there. And everyone hated me.”

  “Now you’re scaring me. And you’re too young to retire. What did you do?” Her hands began to tremble in her lap.

  Tim tilted his neck back and closed his eyes for a second before he changed position and leaned toward her. He tried to smile but shook his head, his nervous energy evident in the room.

  “Do you like football?”

  His simple question took her by surprise. Perplexed, her brow creased. “Yes. I went to UGA. I was a cheerleader in high school. Football is very important in the South.”

  He seemed energized by her reply. “Good! So, you can relate to ‘the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat,’ right?”

  “I suppose.” Where was this conversation headed? “Does what happened in California have something to do with football?” Her mind started to reel, and she couldn’t help but gasp. “Are you a sports gambler, Tim?”

  His expression was humored, and he laughed, her comment taking the edge off the conversation. “No. I’m not a gambler, Jessica. This has nothing to do with sports gambling or anything illegal.”

  “Then tell me,” she urged. His secrecy was frustrating.

  “McGill is my late mother’s maiden name,” he said slowly, his eyes fixated on hers. “I’ve been borrowing it for almost two years while I’ve been living out here.”

  Jessica’s stomach clenched with fear. “Go on…”

  “My real name is…” Tim closed his eyes as if in pain, the truth on his lips mind-blowing. “My real name is Tim Ryan. I was the quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers for ten seasons. I’m the reason for the most devastating Super Bowl defeat in the history of the NFL.”