Boots and Bedlam

by Ashley Farley

  Table of Contents

  ALSO BY ASHLEY FARLEY

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  A NOTE TO READERS

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Also by Ashley Farley

  Lowcountry Stranger

  Breaking the Story

  Merry Mary

  Her Sister’s Shoes

  Saving Ben

  For my patient and supportive husband

  ONE

  Cardboard boxes, worn from years of use, and large plastic storage bins packed with decorations littered every surface of Samantha Sweeney’s sitting room as she sat against the wall next to an electrical outlet testing strands of white lights one by one. Sam had a standing appointment with her son, Jamie, for the Saturday after Thanksgiving to string the lights up on the outside of the house. She’d taken the day off from her family’s seafood business with this purpose in mind, but he had disappeared right after lunch. And, after hauling the boxes and bins down from the attic, she lacked the energy to do it herself.

  The back door in the kitchen creaked open. Seconds later Eli entered the room, stopping short when he saw her sitting on the floor in tattered jeans, a USC sweatshirt, and a baseball cap pulled low, hiding much of her face. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I think you look hot in your work clothes. But I hope you’re not planning to wear them out to dinner.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not wearing this out to dinner.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “It’s only five thirty. I thought you weren’t coming until six. And why are you so dressed up?”

  Dressed up for Eli meant his khaki pants were pressed and he wore the nicer of the three flannel shirts he owned—the plaid one from the men’s store on Main Street that she’d given him for his birthday.

  “Since when is it wrong for a man to want to look nice for his girl?” Holding out his hand to her, he pulled her to her feet. “We have a reservation. They’ll hold it for us, but you’d better put it in gear.”

  “What reservation? I thought we were going to the Pelican’s Roost for dinner?”

  “Change of plans. I’m taking you somewhere special tonight. Go!” He smacked her on the rear. “Put on something pretty.”

  “Please tell me I don’t have to wear a dress,” she said, walking backward as she exited the room.

  He let out a bark of laughter. “Since when do you own a dress?”

  “Funny, ha-ha. I actually own two.”

  “A dress isn’t necessary unless you just feel like wearing one. Which I’m sure you don’t. Hurry.” He shooed her out of the room. “We’re gonna be late.”

  Sam went in the bathroom. She was turning on the shower when she heard the sportscaster announced the score of the Alabama-Auburn game on the TV in the other room.

  Maybe I can convince him to stay home, order a pizza, and watch football. What man doesn’t want to watch the college teams play their big rivals?

  Wishful thinking. She stripped off her clothes and stepped in the shower. She’d seen the determined set of his jaw. He had something up his sleeve.

  Despite Eli’s insistence that she hurry, she took extra time with her appearance, styling her short hair and applying a touch of makeup—a swipe of clear gloss to her rosy lips and a hint of blush to her pale cheeks. She slipped on her one pair of designer jeans and a white silky blouse that clung to her slight figure before tugging on her cowboy boots.

  When she emerged from her bedroom twenty minutes later, Eli was waiting for her in the hallway. “Turn around and place your hands against the wall.”

  “Ooh . . . I like the sound of that. Are you planning to frisk me, Officer?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m placing you under arrest.” After a quick pat down, he covered her eyes with a blindfold. “You’ll need this. It’s cold outside.” The familiar weight of her Barbour coat cocooned her body.

  “I guess this means we can’t stay home and watch football.”

  “No football tonight. Sorry.” He spun her around and fastened something cold and hard, which she assumed were handcuffs, around her wrists.

  “What exactly do you have in mind for me tonight, Lt. Marshall?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.” He scooped her off her feet and carried her outside to the car—her Jeep judging from the squeaky passenger door and the smell of mildew inside.

  “Where are we going?” she asked when he set her down on the seat.

  “Stop asking so many questions. You’ll find out when we get there,” he said, and slammed the door.

  Sam kept track of the number of turns and the time in between each one. When she felt a bump and the crunch of gravel beneath the wheels, she guesstimated they were on the waterfront somewhere close to her younger sister Faith’s house. The Jeep rolled to a stop, the engine grew silent, and the driver’s door opened and closed. Seconds later Eli was at her side, gripping her arm tight as she climbed out. He removed the handcuffs and untied the bandanna from her head. She rubbed her wrists and blinked her eyes until they adjusted to the scene in front of her.

  Tiki torches lined the stone sidewalk leading to a low-slung house with coffee-colored hardy plank siding and black Bahamas-style hurricane shutters. Despite the Cape Cod-style dormer windows, Sam classified the bungalow as midcentury modern.

  “Who lives here?” she asked.

  “No one at the moment. It’s on the market.” Eli took her by the arm and guided her to the front stoop. “But if it meets your approval, I may make an offer.”

  A short entry hall led to a great room with stone fireplaces occupying the walls on both sides and a bank of windows and french doors in front of her. She assumed the doors opened onto a porch or deck although it was too dark outside to tell. Standing in the center of the room was her handsome son with his too-long dark hair curling up over the collar of his white button-down shirt.

  “Welcome, folks. I’ll be your server for the evening,” Jamie said in a deep voice.

  “Young man, what have you done with my son?” She ran her hand down his cheek. “You look like him, but your voice is much too deep and formal.”

  “Can I offer you a glass of sparkling wine?” Jamie presented a tray bearing two champagne flutes fizzing with sparkling wine. “It’s nonalcoholic of course.”

  Sam removed a glass from the tray. “So this is where you’ve been all day. I’ve been waiting at home for you to help me with the lights.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said in his normal voice. “Eli asked me to help him out. I couldn’t very well tell him no.”

  Sam smiled, thinking that even though Jamie had grown up without a father, Eli had become a wonderful stand-in and had formed a relationship with Jamie that was more about friendship than parental authority.

  “What is all this anyway?” Sam noticed the round table set for two with crystal and linens in front of one of the fireplaces. “Are we eating here?”

  “We are.” Eli took her by the hand. “Come with me, and I’ll show you the kitchen and introduce you to the chefs.”

  Sam followed Eli into the adjoining room. Known in the Lowcountry as the connoisseur of seafood, her mother, Lovie Sweeney, was working side by side at the kitchen counter with Jamie’s half sister, Annie.

  Lovie looked up from her cutting board, her gnarled fingers wrapped around the bl
ack handle of a butcher knife. “I just love this kitchen, Samantha. If you don’t buy this charming house, I might.”

  “I hate to tell you, Mom, but I’m not the potential buyer.” Sam aimed her thumb at Eli. “He is.”

  “This house does have a certain masculine feel to it. Especially in here.” Lovie waved her knife around.

  Sam took in the handsomely appointed kitchen—the heavy millwork on the gray cabinets and the mahogany countertops.

  Annie gestured at the Wolf range. “I can totally see Louis Tikaram cooking at that stove.”

  “Who is Louis Tikaram?” Sam asked.

  Her mouth fell open. “Where have you been, Sam? He’s one of the top up-and-coming chefs in the country.”

  Jamie rolled his eyes. “You just think he’s hot.”

  “That too,” she said, a smile spreading across her lips and reaching her eyes—the eyes that resembled Jamie’s in shape, wide set and upturned, but not in color. Hers were nut brown, while his were as black as a stormy sky.

  “Think of all the entertaining we can do in this kitchen.” Eli stepped back from the counter where they were standing. “You can put at least three bar stools here. And seat six or seven more people over there.” He pointed at the built-in banquette against the south wall where an attractive middle-aged woman with a silver bob sat typing away on her laptop.

  “Sheila, this is Samantha Sweeney. Sam, meet Sheila Townsend, my realtor.”

  Sheila wiggled her fingers at Sam. “Don’t mind me. The owners insisted I be here. Consider me invisible.”

  “I’m sure the owners are motivated to sell, but it was nice of them to let Eli host his dinner here nonetheless.” Sam leaned across the counter to Annie and Lovie. “I’m sure these two will feed you. What’s for dinner, by the way?”

  “It’s a surprise,” Lovie said.

  Sam eyed the gooey patty in Annie’s hands. “Looks like crab cakes to me.”

  Annie’s eyebrows reached her honey-colored hairline. “You should know by now that a crab cake is never just a crab cake when Lovie and I are in the kitchen.”

  “Go on now.” Lovie pointed her knife at the door. “Leave us to our work.”

  Taking her by the hand, Eli led Sam back across the great room and into the master bedroom. “I’m not sure what to think about all these windows,” she said, when she encountered yet another wall of glass. “The view must be incredible during the day, but right now, at night, I feel like a guppy in a fishbowl.”

  He rubbed the scruff on his chin as he considered the windows. “I know what you mean. Can’t we throw up some curtains or something?”

  “Plantation shutters or roll-down shades might work better.”

  “Wait until you see the bathroom.” He gestured for her to follow him into the en suite bath.

  She ran her fingers across the smooth countertop. “This marble must have cost someone a fortune.” She ventured into the glass-enclosed walk-in shower. “And this shower is bigger than my garage. I would need a fire hose and a water tower full of Windex to clean it.”

  Eli pinned her against the wall and planted a trail of kisses on her neck. “Think how much fun we could have in here.”

  She pushed his head away. “Stop! My family is in the other room.”

  “I can’t help myself,” he said as he dove in for another nibble of her neck. “The cowboy boots drive me crazy. I want to see you wearing them naked.”

  She untangled herself from his embrace and straightened her clothes. “You better show me the rest of the house before you get carried away and embarrass yourself.”

  The tour of the small but adequate upstairs took less than five minutes. Jamie was waiting to refill their glasses when they returned to the great room. “Your appetizers will be ready soon.” He punched in a series of commands on a control panel beside the doorway to the kitchen. The lights dimmed and jazz music began to play softly from the speakers in the ceiling. Jamie turned to face them. “Can I get anything else for you while you wait?”

  “We’re fine, honey, but thank you,” Sam said. “You’re doing a nice job as a waiter.”

  “I know what you’re thinking, Mom, but don’t worry. I’m not planning to drop out of college and become a waiter.” He retreated to the kitchen, pulling the pocket door closed behind him.

  “So, what do you think?” Eli asked, his arms spread wide.

  “I have mixed emotions. But overall, I agree with Mom that it has a certain charm. How long has it been on the market?”

  “For a while. There’s a good chance they’ll accept a lowball offer.”

  “I can’t believe the realtor let you do all this.” She tossed her hands in the air, sending a stream of wine splashing to the floor.

  Eli removed the bandanna from his back pocket and wiped up the spill. “Apparently the owners are desperate to sell.”

  “Did they move away?”

  “No, they’re from up north somewhere. They used this as a second home.” He pocketed the bandanna.

  “I can see why it might be hard to sell. It’s not exactly user-friendly for a family with small children. There’s no place for them to play except in here and the two bedrooms upstairs. A first-floor master would work for us, but I can’t imagine being that far away from a baby or small child at night.” Sam wandered around the room, exploring it from every angle. “I’m not creative enough to figure out how to use this space. It’s one gigantic square that would need to serve multiple purposes.”

  “Sam, you have a sister who just happens to be an interior designer. We’ll hire her. Jackie will know how to handle it.”

  Sam sipped her wine. “You keep referring to we, like you’re planning on me moving in with you. Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.” He set her champagne flute on the mantel above the fireplace and took her hands in his. “Before you get all worked up, just hear me out. I promised you last summer, when we got back together after our breakup, that I would refrain from using the c word. But you seem to have come to terms with your fear of commitment.”

  “That’s because you haven’t been pressuring me.”

  “Please, let me finish.” He winked at her. “Yes, I’m hoping you’ll move in here with me. As my wife. These past six months have been the best. At least for me. We can have the happily ever after, if you’re willing to give us a chance. We can wait five years if that’s what you want, but I’d rather you say yes right now so we can move on with our lives together. Whether that means in this cool bungalow with the sexy master bath or another house somewhere down the road, literally and figuratively.”

  She cocked her head, waiting for him to continue. When he remained silent, she said, “Am I allowed to speak yet?”

  “By all means.”

  “My answer is yes.”

  His gray eyes brightened like shiny silver dollars. “You mean . . .”

  She nodded her head vigorously. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  “Wait a minute. I’m confused.” He dropped her hands and raked his fingers through his thick dark hair. “I fully expected you to argue, or get mad and storm out, or—”

  “Shh!” She held her finger to his lips. “It’s my turn to talk. You’re right. Things have been great between us, Eli. You are good for me. I couldn’t love another person more than I love you. Until I started seeing you, I’d only been on a handful of dates since Jamie’s father left me. I freaked out last summer, because I was confused, because it was all happening too fast for me. But I’ve learned a lot about myself since then. I know what I want. And more than anything, I want to be your wife.”

  He dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out a diamond engagement ring. “This was my grandmother’s. I hope you like it.” He slipped the ring on her finger.

  She bit down on her quivering lip. “It’s beautiful.” She held her hand out, admiring the way the light bounced off the diamond solitaire. “How special that it belonged to your grandmother.” She wrapped her ar
ms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. “If you break my heart, Eli Marshall, you’ll have to contend with my son.”

  “Funny, Jamie said that very thing to me when I asked his permission last week.”

  She drew back from him. “You actually asked my son for permission to marry me?”

  “He would’ve been disappointed if I hadn’t.”

  “You’re right about that,” she said, smiling. “What about Mom and Annie? Considering your elaborate scheme, I’m guessing they know you were planning to propose as well.”

  The pocket door slid open revealing three eager faces. “Of course we knew about the proposal.” With outstretched arms, Lovie crossed the room in three strides. “And it’s a darn good thing you said yes. Or you would be answering to the three of us.”

  Lovie’s body felt frail against Sam’s, a reminder that her mother would turn eighty-four in January. She held Sam at arm’s length while she studied her face. “Good for you, Sammie,” she said, chucking her on the chin, like a coach to her Little League baseball player.

  Jamie smacked Eli on the back. “And you’re right. I would’ve been disappointed if you hadn’t asked my permission.”

  “Let me see the ring!” Annie grabbed Sam’s hand and brought it up close to her face. “It’s so beautiful. I’m so happy for you.” She threw herself into Sam’s arms.

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” Sam said, removing a strand of Annie’s hair from her mouth. “I’m glad you’re sharing this special moment with us.”

  “Stand in front of the fire, and let me take your picture,” Jamie ordered.

  Eli dragged Sam over to the fireplace. “You can text it to our family, but don’t you dare put it on social media,” she said.

  “Only on Facebook,” Jamie said as he began to click the pics on his iPhone.

  Once Jamie had gotten the shot he wanted, Eli pulled him aside. “Whatever you do, don’t say anything about the house, especially on Facebook.” He squeezed Jamie’s shoulder. “We haven’t decided whether to make an offer or not.”

  Jamie nodded. “Understood.”

  “Come on, you two.” Lovie pointed Jamie and Annie toward the kitchen. “Let’s give these lovebirds a minute alone while we put the finishing touches on dinner.”