One Hot Summer

by Melissa Cutler

“Not in me?” she croaked, empty now that the act had been so brief.

  He collapsed next to her on the sand and pulled her into his arms. “I’m not done with you yet, not by a long shot.” He kissed her temple. “Let me take you to your place so I can get you naked and love on your body in a proper way. I’m in the mood to hear you scream my name.”

  She scratched the hair at the base of his softening cock. “Only if I get to love on your body, too.”

  “Darlin’, I’ll take whatever you give me. That’s always been the case.”

  A note of anguish touched those last words. As though she held all the power, his heart in her hand. She took hold of his head and arched up to kiss him full on the mouth. “Then I guess we’d better get going, because I plan on giving you everything you want.”

  Touching and kissing, they hurried along the trail to her house, her in her wet suit, minus her underwear, and him going commando in his jeans, with his wet briefs and shirt stuffed into the waistband of his pants. When they arrived at the steps up to her back deck, he pressed her against one of the deck’s wooden support pillars and took her mouth in a demanding kiss that left her dizzy and needy all over again.

  A car drove by, breaking the spell. “Let’s get upstairs,” he said. “You first so I can admire your ass.”

  Remedy realized halfway up that the door to her back deck was open. “I didn’t leave that door open. I’m sure of it.”

  Micah swept past her, all business. “There’s a white SUV parked in front and a big bruiser of a guy guarding it,” he whispered. “I don’t know what’s going on, but let’s get back to my truck and call the cops.”

  “Surprise!” came a booming voice from above.

  Remedy nearly leaped out of her skin. Judging by the looks of it, Micah had experienced the same reaction. Hanging over the deck railing was none other than Remedy’s mother.

  It took a moment for Remedy to recover her wits before she could answer. “Mom? What are you doing here?”

  Micah looked from Remedy to her mother in a stupefied silence, his eyebrows raised. Then, silently, he donned his T-shirt. Remedy sent him a silent apology. At the sight of pink fabric in his pocket, she got his attention and gestured for him to stuff her panties deeper inside.

  “We heard on the news about the fire at the resort.”

  “We?” Remedy said as her father stepped out of the back sliding door and stood shoulder to shoulder with Mom.

  Remedy shifted her gaze between the two, stunned silent. It took a nudge from Micah for her to find her voice again. “You’re both here. Together. Why? I mean, what a nice surprise. No. I take that back. I mean, why? Seriously.”

  Her dad’s smile crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes. He set a hand on her mom’s shoulder, as though that was the most natural thing in the world to do. “We wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  Remedy tore her gaze from his hand and let her focus shift between her parents. “Why didn’t you call? I could’ve told you I was all right over the phone.”

  Her mom waved off the suggestion. “Surprises are a lot more fun. Plus Cambelle, Wynd, and Helen heard about the fire, too, and they wanted to come find out if it was going to affect their wedding. So I called your father up and we decided, What the heck? Let’s join them.”

  A tingling started in Remedy’s throat. “Cambelle, Wynd, and Helen are here? Where?”

  “At Briscoe Ranch. They were golfing, last I heard,” her dad said.

  Oh boy.

  “Why don’t you two come on up and we’ll have some champagne,” Mom said. “I can’t wait for you to introduce us properly to your strapping firefighter man”—she cupped a hand on the side of her mouth as though telling a secret—“who doesn’t look a thing like Tom Selleck, just like you told me he didn’t.”

  Micah raised an eyebrow in question, but Remedy shook her head. “You don’t want to know.”

  He took her hand. “Something tells me I’m about to find out anyway.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Two words: Vintage Safari.”

  Remedy couldn’t decide if Helen’s blank expression was due to abject horror at the idea or because of a recent Botox treatment.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Wynd Fisher’s gaze shifted from one end of the golf course to the other, whipping his salt-and-pepper ponytail this way and that.

  The night before, after an awkward cocktail hour in the heat of her un-air-conditioned house in which her parents sat weirdly close to each other on her sofa and peppered Micah with all manners of crazy questions that he indulged like a champ, Remedy had suggested they relocate to the resort. Micah begged off joining them because he had to go to work. Lucky duck.

  At the resort, Remedy’s parents had disappeared up the elevator, off to their respective rooms with the promise of meeting Remedy again for dinner. Remedy’s next stop had been her office, which was where she learned that Ty’s secretary had scheduled a Sunday morning meeting with Cambelle, Helen, and Wynd.

  Which was how she found herself on Sunday morning leading a caravan of golf carts onto the twelfth green, completely ignoring the fact that the midday temperature was pushing ninety-eight degrees. Perhaps if she didn’t acknowledge the extreme weather the bridal party wouldn’t, either.

  “Vintage Safari Chic is no joke. It’s a trend waiting to happen.” Remedy tipped her head toward the bank of the river where the mangroves with their gnarled roots turned the setting exotic and cool, and where she’d commissioned a crew of maintenance workers to arrange a sitting area for them, complete with a chilled bottle of champagne resting in an ice bucket. “Walk with me.”

  She led them into the shade. “Picture the glamour and romance of traveling to far-off lands in bygone days. It answers the question what if the Titanic had gone south instead for a vacation plucked from the film Out of Africa? This will be the ultimate in destination weddings because your guests won’t have to leave the country to be swept away to another time and other land.”

  “You have a month,” Helen said, wrinkling her nose and smoothing a bead of perspiration off her temple. “Can’t you make that wedding barn larger to accommodate five hundred guests? I don’t want to have a reception in a tent. That’s so low-class. We’re not hobos.”

  “I see you’re not familiar with the caliber of tents that are available for luxury weddings these days,” she said with just a hint of condescension. “Tent weddings are the peak of glamour, but only for those who can afford the right kinds of tents. Air-conditioned, crisp linens, vaulted ceilings. I don’t expect you to be in the know about the latest technology for weddings. That’s my job.”

  Cambelle balked. “I’m not sure about this. We agreed on a Farm Chic theme.”

  Time to put Carina’s advice in action. Remedy gestured to the artfully arranged chairs and tables she’d had the resort crew set up in the shade of the mangroves in advance of their arrival; then she poured each of them a glass of the resort’s most expensive champagne. “I’m not sure how to put this delicately, but we’re all friends here, so I think we’re beyond politeness, yes?”

  Wynd puffed out his barrel chest. “I’d like to think so. What’s on your mind?”

  Remedy painted a condescending smile on her face. “Here’s the problem. You told me you’re looking to make a statement. You want to show the world, your friends and your fans, something they’ve never seen before. This wedding will not only be launching your lives together but launches your careers into a different stratosphere altogether. Cambelle, you’re going to be a household name like you’ve always dreamed of becoming—if we do this right.” Time to pour on the pity for these poor, uninformed clients. “But I’ve been giving a lot of thought to your wedding ideas, and”—she faked a cringe—“I have to be honest with you. I feel that we’re in danger of falling short of that goal.”

  Helen gasped. “What are you trying to say? My Cambelle’s wedding ideas were brilliant.”

  Remedy went Method acting a
nd tried to channel the look on her dad’s face that one time he was trying to pass a kidney stone. “I always try to honor the bride’s vision for her special day, but I feel like you have the right to know that this year alone at Briscoe Ranch Resort we’ve hosted twenty-four Farm Chic weddings. And even though I’d make sure yours surpassed all of those, there’s no getting around the truth that Farm Chic is passé. It’s been done before. A lot.”

  Remedy placed a hand over her heart. “As I said, it’s against my policy to bring that up. But you hired me because I have the skills and the vision to give you something new, something fresh. I understand the demands of Hollywood and the trends of the wedding industry better than anyone else in either business alone. Let me show you how to give the world a wedding they’ve never seen before. Let me make you a star, Cambelle.”

  Cambelle’s expression turned giddy. She hugged Wynd’s arm. “That’s what I want, baby. Don’t you want your little girl to be a star?”

  Remedy squelched a shudder of horror at that sentiment because she had them hooked real good now. She spun away, her arms outstretched to frame the shot for them. “Picture the customized, luxury tents over here, the tent walls completely open and airy, but with canopy tops so the media helicopters can’t get a clear shot of you or your guests. That way you’ll be able to control your own spin and sell your own, tasteful, perfectly rendered photos to the media outlet of your choosing.”

  “That’s a great point,” Helen said. “You really have thought of everything.”

  Indeed. “Over here, we’d stage a Polaroid photograph station, complete with live animals to pose with. For a touch of whimsy, your guests can dress up in vintage clothing and accessories for their pictures.” They didn’t need to know that Remedy had just utilized that very idea for the firefighter ball.

  Cambelle made jazz hands in the air. “What kind of animals? Because Jade Iovine had a panther at her wedding in this huge metal cage, just like Beyoncé used in that video. I’ve got to top that.”

  “And so we will. I’ve already reserved six luscious parrots for your wedding at your request. I was thinking of adding peacocks, a zebra, and—this is short notice, but I have a personal connection with a company who rents out elephants.” God help her if the elephant handlers sent Gwyneth again, but that was a risk she had to take. So much for that elusive no live animals policy she dreamed of enacting. But she had a feeling that might be the tipping point for Cambelle.

  Helen said, “I like this new theme, but we’ll have to reorder invitations.”

  “That is something the resort would be delighted to comp you on.”

  “Not necessary,” Wynd said. “When I told these two girls of mine that I’d spare no expense for this wedding, I meant it.”

  “You’re a generous man,” Remedy cooed, smiling. “For the invitations, I’m thinking we’ll overlay the font over vintage, sepia-toned maps of Africa. You and your guests will be attending the ultimate exotic destination wedding. We’ll bring the savanna to Texas. Instead of golf carts, we’ll bring in safari Jeeps to transport your guests. As Wynd said, no expense will be spared, no detail left unrealized.”

  “I have one question left. How many safari-themed weddings have you planned this year?” Helen asked.

  Remedy offered Helen her most radiant smile. “This would be the first, not only for me but for the resort. Perhaps for all of the United States. I certainly haven’t heard of one this grand, with the inclusion of live animals and safari Jeeps. You really can’t do that anywhere else but Texas due to laws and a lack of availability of exotic animals in most states, so consider yourself lucky that you’re holding it here.”

  “What about fireworks?” Wynd asked. “My darling wanted fireworks to celebrate our marriage. Will they allow those on the golf course?”

  Remedy was ready for that question. “The exotic animal handlers won’t contract for a wedding that includes fireworks. It stresses out their animals too much. But I guarantee you won’t miss the fireworks at all.”

  “Oh, Cambelle, you can do without those,” Helen said. “This is what you want. A true one-of-a-kind event.”

  Carina had been right. All Remedy had needed to do was take control.

  * * *

  From the back of the limousine that Wynd had rented for the weekend, Remedy checked the time on her phone as discreetly as possible. Four hours until Micah was picking her and her parents up for his family barbecue. Four hours that she should have devoted to the flood of details of Cambelle and Wynd’s wedding that demanded her attention now that they’d settled on a new theme and venue.

  But Helen had insisted Remedy and her parents all enjoy a lunch together in celebration of the new wedding plan, and Cambelle had latched on to Remedy as her long and distant friend, insisting that they catch up with the details of each other’s lives. There had been a time that Remedy had thought of Cambelle as one of her closest friends, and so in the name of nostalgia, and because Remedy’s parents would also be joining them, she’d agreed to accompany the group to San Antonio for lunch.

  They’d only made it as far as Dulcet’s Main Street when Wynd had a change of heart.

  “Remedy’s our local girl,” he said. “How about a tour of town first? Maybe there’s somewhere you can take us to eat around here.”

  Remedy’s mother smiled brightly at her. “What a great idea! Remedy, tell the driver where to go. Where does your young man live? That would be a fun place to start.”

  Remedy might have spent the past eight weeks in Dulcet, but she doubted that the places she frequented would hold any interest. Maybe Petey’s, since it was filled with old-time TV paraphernalia, but that was about it. “Well, okay. I don’t go out much because my job keeps me so busy, but um, let’s see what we’ve got. Turn onto Main Street,” she said to the driver.

  She pointed out the two bridal boutiques, the grocery store, the bars, and the church where Albert and Tabby’s wedding had been held.

  “This place is so quaint,” her mother said, not sounding entirely enthusiastic in her assessment.

  Quaint was one of those words that Remedy had used a lot when she’d arrived in Dulcet, but she’d since figured out, with Micah’s help, how patronizing the term was to the proud residents of the town. “I don’t think quaint is the term you’re looking for,” Remedy prompted gently. “Maybe charming or small?”

  “No,” her mother decided after a moment’s pause. “I mean ‘quaint’ and ‘run-down.’ Look at the crumbling paint on all the walls of that row of storefronts. It’s as if these business owners don’t care about their town’s appearance at all.”

  While the town was wearing a bit at the edges, it had a comforting appeal that had grown on Remedy. None of the business owners were well-to-do, but they all worked their asses off and did the best they could. More important, they looked out for one another and they cared deeply about their hometown.

  “They do, Mom. Trust me. You remember what it was like growing up in Tulsa, the way Grandpa’s shop sometimes got run-down when money was tight.”

  Her mom hmphed, as in denial of her humble roots as she ever was.

  “I’m with you, Virgie,” Remedy’s dad said, touching her mom’s knee.

  Virgie? Since when did her dad call her mom that? Not since they’d been married. But Remedy was the only one in the car who seemed to notice the uncharacteristic display of affection.

  “It’s hard to believe a world-class resort is drawing in elite clientele from all over the world and only a few miles away the townspeople can’t be bothered to clean up after themselves,” her mom said. “You’d think they’d be grateful for the business the resort brings in.”

  Yikes. Had Remedy really sounded like that only a couple months ago? She cleared her throat. “And that’s Micah’s house, next to the fire station.”

  Cambelle’s face screwed up. “That’s where your boyfriend lives?”

  “Yep.”

  Cambelle pressed her hand to the window. “Li
ke, that tiny brown … thing?”

  Remedy chewed her lower lip, her irritation mounting. “It’s a house. And a perfectly nice one at that.”

  “You didn’t tell me you were dating down. What happened to suits, not boots?” Cambelle said.

  Dating down was a term that had been passed to them by their mothers’ generation and it was never thrown around in a positive way. Dating down was the opposite of what Cambelle was doing with Wynd, and it meant the woman either was suffering a nervous breakdown or had turned delusional about the importance of wealth and status in the world. No woman in her right mind would subject herself to a lifetime of washing her own dishes or making do with less than four thousand square feet of property. Remedy had never consciously subscribed to that way of thinking, but she must have, given the disdainful way she’d viewed Micah and his crew that first time she’d met them. Guilt settled in her chest like a stone.

  “Don’t give her a hard time,” Remedy’s mom said. “She’s happy. What more could a mother want?”

  Remedy’s dad made an odd choking sound, a not-so-subtle protest. Clearly, he was siding with Cambelle.

  “No, it’s okay, Mom. I’ve got this. Cambelle, I’m not dating down. I found a man I liked—a lot, by the way—who happens to wear boots and work hard for a living.”

  “I work hard for a living,” Wynd said, “but I’d never even subject my maid to living in a house like that. What kind of life will he give you?”

  “Exactly,” Remedy’s father said.

  “That Micah fellow seemed nice enough when we met him yesterday,” Remedy’s mom mused. “But Wynd has a point.”

  Remedy’s hand curled over the limo door handle. She would give anything, anything, to get out of that vehicle and away from this conversation before she was forced to confront her parents over a prejudice she’d never realized they had. How could the two people who’d hung the moon for her for so long—her heroes, her family—think such ugly things about Micah and the town she’d come to love? Especially since both her parents had grown up in small midwestern towns. Had fame stolen their memories of what it meant to be members of working-class America?