Last Chance Beauty Queen

by Hope Ramsay

  “You’re going to sell kisses?” Hugh said, his eyebrow waggling.

  “I didn’t say that. I said I was going to go by the booth.”

  “So I see you and Dash are getting pretty cozy.” His eyes sparked, and the electricity flowed right to the tips of her toes. Obviously he knew she was faking it with Dash; after all, she’d kissed him last night.

  Idiot.

  She gulped down a breath. She really needed to put a stop to this. “Look, Lord Woolham, you can quit flirting now. I know the truth.”

  He blinked. “The truth? About what?”

  She leaned in, speaking in a low whisper. “Cissy told me all about how you’re strapped for cash. How you’re cruising for a wealthy wife and all that.”

  He paled. “She told you that?”

  “Yes, and you should know that Cissy’s private investigators are the best money can buy. I have no doubt she got it right.”

  His whole body stiffened. “I am strapped for financing. But it’s not true that I’m, how did you put it, cruising for a wealthy wife.”

  “No? What about Lady Ashton?”

  He blushed. “You know about Victoria?”

  “Well, I don’t know much about her, just that she’s loaded and Cissy said you were practically engaged to marry her.”

  “Look, Caroline, the truth is that for years everyone has expected me to marry Lady Ashton. And she’s quite amenable to the arrangement. But I’ve always wanted to make a go of it on my own. I want to see my loom revolutionize textiles manufacturing.”

  He looked away. “But of course, that’s a rather selfish goal. And I do know my duty. But still, I don’t really want Victoria to swoop in and rescue me with her checkbook, although, God knows, that’s what your Miriam Randall predicted for me.”

  Surprise jolted through Caroline. “Miriam gave you a matrimonial prediction? Really?”

  “Yes, she did. I can’t remember it exactly. Something about a woman giving me a fortune. It sounded precisely like Lady Ashton, and believe me, it didn’t make my heart go pity-pat.”

  “So you don’t love Lady Ashton?”

  He turned his gaze on her. “How should I know? I’m fond of her. But I’ve never really been in love. Have you?”

  “No. Can’t help you in that department.”

  “But you have one of Miriam’s predictions, too, don’t you?”

  “Yes, he’s going to be the salt of the earth and a regular Joe.”

  “So I heard. Everyone was thinking Bubba on Saturday morning. But since Dash lassoed you, everyone has changed their minds. Is it always like this in Last Chance?”

  “Yup. You should have seen the mayhem that ensued that time all of Clay’s ex-girlfriends showed up on the nine-thirty bus from Atlanta after Miriam said they would.”

  “Her prediction was that specific? Because, quite honestly, it seems to me that a prediction that you will settle down with an average sort of man, and I will settle down with an heiress, is not particularly startling.”

  A vague sense of disappointment stabbed at her chest. What had she been thinking in church earlier? She and Hugh were not similar at all. They were worlds apart.

  “You know,” she said, “the fact that you and I come from different worlds is a good reason that we should avoid any repeats of what happened yesterday on the pier. I’m not an heiress, and besides that slip was very unprofessional on my part.”

  He frowned. “You really do believe Miriam Randall’s predictions are ironclad, don’t you? How completely remarkable. You know, I’m rather a skeptic about fortunetellers.”

  “And not angels?”

  His eyebrow arched. “Just because I asked to speak with your father’s angels does not mean I actually believe they are out there. I was humoring him.”

  “Right. I figured that out. But you should know that Miriam’s predictions always come true.” She straightened her shoulders in irritation. Maybe he was the arrogant snob that he’d first appeared to be.

  “Well, your problems would be solved if I went home and married Victoria, wouldn’t they? That would certainly keep your father’s land safe.”

  “No, please don’t misunderstand. The fact is, Lord Woolham, that I need to find a way to get that factory built, right here in Allenberg County.”

  “Oh, that’s rather a change, isn’t it? I thought you wanted me to build elsewhere.”

  “I did, but that was before I discovered that Last Chance’s main employer may be in trouble.”

  “I see. Well, the truth is, unless I can build on your father’s land, or Jimmy Marshall buys back his swampland, I will have to return to England and marry Victoria.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  “I’m afraid it’s worse than bad. You see, my business partner was dishonest with me. He had fewer resources than I believed. And then he made this spectacularly bad investment here in the States and promptly disappeared in a small plane somewhere near Rio.”

  “Holy smokes. Are you saying he stole the money?”

  “Well, no. There is, after all, a record of the land sale where the price is listed, and the plane officially disappeared. But it’s all rather dodgy, isn’t it?”

  “Wow. Jimmy could have given him a kickback.”

  He shrugged. “You have no proof of that. However, I do believe that someone swindled me. I just cannot believe that George was the kind of trainspotter who would unwittingly buy swampland for a factory.”

  “Train what?”

  “Trainspotter. It means crazy. And George wasn’t crazy, or stupid. He was rather smooth. He could well have been a con man.”

  “This keeps getting worse by the minute. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” She turned around and sank into a hard metal folding chair. Hugh sat down beside her.

  “Because I didn’t realize the dimensions of the problem until the last few days. You, dear Caroline, have been the bearer of much discouraging news, I’m afraid.”

  “I wonder if Hettie knows her husband is a crook?” Caroline looked across the room to where Hettie was talking with the minister.

  Caroline would have to talk with Hettie. The fallout might be nasty, so she decided she would do it on her own and keep her mouth shut so the gossips of Last Chance didn’t have a field day.

  Poor Hettie. She was in for a shock.

  “So what’s next then?” Hugh asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Caroline said. “Tomorrow, I’ll call the state and see if there might be some development funds available. But short of that, I’m stumped. And more than that, I’m worried.”

  She nodded to the people in the fellowship hall. “Probably a quarter of this congregation works at Country Pride Chicken. The plant is in trouble. I think Jimmy jacked up the price on your land because he needed cash. Your partner may have seen that as an opportunity. So his problem became your problem. And now it’s everyone’s problem.”

  “I see. Well, the senator told me you could work miracles.”

  “You know, Hugh, if you were smart, you would ask Lady Ashton for money. Or barring that, you might take Cissy up on her offer and drive up to Columbia and spend some time with her. When I spoke with her yesterday, she seemed very interested in your loom technology. It makes sense that she might want to invest in it.”

  “She’d want something exclusive. That would tie my hands and probably take the factory away from Last Chance.”

  Caroline let go of a big breath. “Yes, it would. But it may be the only way out for you. You would be crazy not to pursue it. You don’t owe these people anything. I’m the one who loves them.”

  “You love them?” His voice sounded warm.

  “Yeah. They’re weird and crazy and definitely country through and through, but I have this soft place in my heart for them. And for the town, if you must know. If we lose the chicken plant, Last Chance will die like a lot of other American small towns.”

  Before Caroline could continue, Lillian Bray interrupted. “Oh, Lord Woolham,” she cried, wavin
g her hand as she came across the room, her tent dress flowing in her wake, “I’m so glad you joined us this morning. I have a huge, huge favor to ask.”

  Caroline watched as Hugh stood up and put on his peer-of-the-realm mask. The transformation was subtle but unmistakable. He stood up straighter, he clasped his hands behind his back, and his mouth turned down just a little.

  And of course, his eyebrow arched.

  “How can I be of service, Lillian,” he said, not fumbling for her name or missing a beat.

  “Well, you see, I just convinced Dale Pontius that it would be a huge mistake not to invite you to come judge the pie contest. You do like pie, don’t you, your grace?”

  Hugh’s mouth twitched ever so slightly, and Caroline almost laughed out loud. Lillian amused him in some way. That little twitch of his mouth made him all the more adorable. He didn’t have to be so nice.

  But he was. Even when he was playacting at being a stereotype.

  “I do like pie,” he said in his oh-so-perfect accent. “I’m particularly partial to berry pies, if you must know.”

  “Oh, we have all kinds. And I’m sure Jenny Carpenter made one of her peach pies, too, darn her hide.”

  “Is peach pie a problem?”

  “Oh, no, it’s just that Jenny has a small grove of her own peaches right there on her daddy’s land. Her peach pies win every year.”

  Hugh’s eyes sparkled. “Do they?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.” Lillian glanced over toward Reverend Ellis. She looked worried. “There are people in this county who lust after Jenny’s pies, and I take a dim view of lust.”

  The corners of Hugh’s mouth turned up, but he didn’t laugh or blush or anything like that. He wasn’t laughing at Lillian. It was like his reaction to Golfing for God, when he’d said that the golf course was charming.

  “I’m sure I can be an impartial judge, Lillian, even if I am partial to peach pie.” Hugh’s gaze turned toward Caroline and practically burned a hole right in her middle. “To be honest, I’m partial to quite a few things here in Last Chance.”

  “Momma, I don’t have time right now. I’m behind on my e-mail, and I have to meet Rachel at three, and—”

  “Honestly, Rocky, it’s Sunday. Take a break.” Momma pulled her Ford van into the parking lot behind the Cut ’n Curl. Caroline had accepted Momma’s offer of a ride, because of her broken shoe. She’d finally given up trying to wear it and found herself barefoot again.

  “This won’t take a minute,” Momma said. “C’mon.”

  “You want me to come in? But my shoe.”

  “Yes. I do. I need your help with something inside.”

  Caroline opened the passenger door and minced her way across the parking lot on her bare feet. Her soles were toughening up. Any more shoe disasters and she’d back in full country-girl form.

  She followed Momma into the beauty shop and stopped dead in her tracks. Jane, wearing a flowered sundress, was waiting for her. Jane had no problems displaying her cleavage.

  “We’ve declared a fashion emergency,” Jane announced.

  “Uh, wait. What?”

  Momma blocked the door. “Rocky, you are going to help sell kisses at the kissing booth today. And you’re not going to do it wearing a charcoal gray suit and a white silk blouse. For one thing, you’ll cook out there at the fairground. And for another—well—those clothes are drab, and if you keep wearing things like that, you’ll never…”

  “What Ruby is trying to say,” Jane said when Ruby’s voice faded out, “is that if you want to catch Dash Randall, you’ll have to put a little color in your wardrobe. You know what they say about honey and vinegar.”

  “Uh, wait, I’m not trying to catch Dash Randall. And I’m not selling kisses. That would be real tacky, Momma, and I—”

  “We need your help. We don’t have many single girls to do this. Rachel’s helping.”

  “She is? Really?”

  “Well, maybe not entirely willingly, but her momma laid down the law, and besides, that girl needs to build a little confidence, and selling kisses is sure to help her out.”

  “But I can’t. It would be embarrassing to sell kisses. And I’ve already been in too many embarrassing situations over the last couple of days. I’m here on business, Momma, not to help out at any kissing booth.”

  “It’s Sunday. You can take a day off from your business and help out with the cause. I’m sure your daddy would appreciate any help you could give,” Momma said.

  Boy, Momma had just brought out the big artillery, hadn’t she?

  “Momma, please, I—”

  “And besides, we’ve fixed it so Dash is going to buy most of your kisses anyway,” Jane said. “I think it’s kind of cute, you know?”

  Caroline stared at her sister-in-law in stark panic.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No,” Momma and Jane said in unison, and then they both kind of giggled.

  Oh, brother. This was her worst nightmare.

  She looked at Jane and Momma and thought about telling them the truth about Dash. She wanted to unburden herself. After all, Dash had kind of tricked her into this charade.

  But on the other hand, if she told them that she and Dash were just faking it in order to send a message to Bubba, she would be in trouble. Momma always expected her children to be honest. And besides, telling the truth might have no impact on the situation, given Miriam’s prediction. The church ladies loved matchmaking. They were probably not going to let go of this idea that Caroline and Dash were a match made in Heaven.

  Jane headed into the storage room and came back with a garment bag. She unzipped it, and there in all its pink and green glory was a little seersucker sundress with appliquéd watermelons on the skirt.

  It was girlishly cute. This was not the sort of thing a senator’s aide wore in public.

  “You want me to wear that?” Caroline asked, her voice cracking in alarm.

  “I’m sure Dash will like it,” Momma said.

  Probably not. She had a feeling Dash liked his woman wearing something a little more mature.

  But she was stuck. She was going to have to put on that dress and go kiss Dash, or run the risk of infuriating her mother and undoing any progress Bubba might have made as a result of the Lasso Fiasco.

  CHAPTER

  14

  It was stifling in the Exhibit Hall that afternoon when Caroline, Jane, and Momma finally arrived for the big kiss-off. Apparently the Committee to Resurrect Golfing for God had photocopied a whole bunch of handbills advertising the fact that the single girls of Allenberg County would be selling their kisses between 3:00 and 5:00 p.m. The handbill made it clear that anyone with a deep enough pocket could participate in the kiss auction at the beginning of the event.

  In the hours between church and the kiss-off, Jane and Momma had polished Caroline’s nails, given her a pedicure, trimmed and coiffed her hair, and let out the top of that stupid watermelon sundress.

  Rachel was waiting for them at the kissing booth by the time they all arrived. She was wearing her own little pink and green dress and looked way cuter than Caroline, in a deeply tanned, beautifully straight-haired, and uneasy way.

  Caroline took a seat next to her friend at a long table where six other young ladies were sitting. Most of these women were college kids, the daughters of members of the Committee to Resurrect Golfing for God. “I was sandbagged and hoodwinked and all but roped into doing this. What’s your excuse?”

  Rachel managed a little smile. “I, quote, volunteered, unquote, after Momma twisted my arm. I’m sorry I didn’t give you fair warning. But I reckon it’s okay because Dash is going to buy up all your kisses. You better be prepared to give everyone a real big show on the first one, though.”

  Caroline had already figured out that she was going to have to tongue kiss Dash Randall—in public. Just thinking about it made Caroline’s throat close up right to her tonsils.

  She scanned the growing crowd, made up mo
stly of younger, college-aged men. “This is unseemly, you know. I think I’d rather be the victim in one of those dunking machines.”

  “You don’t mean that. Just think about it for a minute. If you get dunked in one of those machines, you end up in a wet T-shirt,” Rachel said.

  “Oh. Yeah. I forgot. Maybe this is better. Not much better, but better.”

  “Quit whining. I’m sure those young guys are not here to kiss an old maid like me. And I don’t have someone like Dash in the wings to buy up my kisses. I’m going to get all the frogs. I’m hoping one of them will turn into Prince Charming. At least that was what Momma said when she was twisting my arm.”

  Caroline scanned the crowd. “Well, you could always hope.” And then she saw him, a head taller than most of the other men and wearing another one of his Cutter & Buck golf shirts. Hugh deBracy did not fit in with this crowd. An ordinary man he was not.

  But one glance at him and Caroline’s hormones started waltzing.

  “What’s he doing here?” Rachel asked, nodding toward his Lordship.

  “Maybe he fancies you.”

  Rachel started laughing and then stopped abruptly. “He’s with Bubba. Oh, bless his heart, his face is a mess.”

  Bubba looked a little better today. The splint was off his nose and his shiners were fading from dark blue to various shades of green and yellow. His lip still looked puffy. And the stitches were pretty obvious.

  “I don’t think he’s going to be doing much kissing,” Caroline said. “But what in the Sam Hill is he doing with Hugh?”

  Rachel blinked. “You don’t know?”

  “Uh, no. Is there something I should know?”

  “Last night, Lord Woolham apologized to Bubba and then offered to help him with his derby car on account of the fact that Bubba is really ticked off at Dash over the lasso incident, not to mention the way the two of you were dancing last night. I’m a little worried that Bubba is not going to be happy with Dash buying up all your kisses.”

  “Hugh helped him with his derby car? Really?”

  “Yeah, I heard he’s a real good mechanic. And since when are you calling him Hugh?”