Set the Night on Fire

by Laura Trentham

  “Why?”

  “Your car is still at the garage, and Megan’s is at the Tavern. You’re carless. Unless you have a hot rod stashed in the garage I’m unaware of?”

  “I totally forgot. Nothing hidden away in the garage unfortunately. Hang on for a second.” She popped into the guest room.

  Megan was spread-eagle on the bed with the covers kicked off, her arm over her eyes. “The room is spinning.”

  “Not much to do except sleep it off.” After making Megan take the aspirin and drink most of the water, Ella backed out of the room and joined Mack on the porch. “Thanks again for tonight. You made things easier.”

  “That’s what friends are for. To make troubles easier to bear.”

  While she still took issue with his classification of their relationship, the sentiment was appreciated. “I guess that’s my job with Megan.”

  “Maybe, but don’t let her take advantage of your big heart.”

  Big heart? She felt emotionally stunted at eighteen, her heart contracting a little more each year of her marriage. Not sure how to respond, she said simply, “I’ll see you in the morning, then?”

  “Soon, we’re going to watch the sun rise over the trees from my bed.” He wrapped his hand around her nape, his thumb brushing her cheek.

  She closed her eyes and shifted enough to lay a kiss on the edge of his palm. “Is that a guarantee?”

  “It’s a promise.”

  “Promises can be broken.” The air around them thickened with currents that couldn’t be explained by meteorologists. They weren’t discussing a simple sunrise anymore.

  “I keep my promises.”

  She wanted to believe he was different—an outlier—but her life had provided too much evidence to the contrary. For now, she’d ride this wave with Mack as long as it lasted.

  “I can’t wait.” Her tone was overly perky. His eyes narrowed, and before he could question her, she said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He kissed her. The press of his lips was brief and hard as if he wanted to make a point. He sidestepped down the stairs, never taking his eyes off her. As he climbed behind the wheel of his truck, he called out, “Dream about me tonight.”

  “I will.” She had no doubt that was a promise she would keep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jackson and Willa showed up at her door bright and early. Her disappointment had been sharp. Fantasies of pulling Mack straight to her bedroom had had her pacing the floor since seven. It wasn’t just her body acting like it was being denied food and water, but she had been looking forward to sitting next to him and talking about mundane things on the way to work together.

  Why had he sent his brother? Was she becoming a bother? Or could it be that she was overreacting instead of trusting him and herself? Since she wasn’t going to put voice to her insecurities in front of Jackson and Willa, she accepted her keys with a smile and thanks.

  Instead of the garage, Ella headed for downtown Cottonbloom and parallel parked across the street from Regan Fournette’s design studio. Was she actually doing this? She checked her hair and gave herself a galvanizing smile in the makeup mirror before crossing the street and stepping inside. A bell tinkled overhead.

  Regan popped her head around the doorjamb of a room in the back, a phone pressed to her ear and a welcoming smile on her face. “I’ll be with you in a sec, Ella.”

  Ella and Regan had crossed paths at several Cottonbloom events, but they were acquainted on only the most superficial level. Certainly not the sort of connection that invited favors.

  Ella wandered farther into the room, running her fingers along upholstery swatches hung onto rods. A bin of throw pillows was in the middle of the room, and she sifted through them, more to occupy her hands than out of a true interest in buying one.

  She planted herself at the counter and flipped through the pages of a book full of Regan’s previous designs. Her design style was warm and welcoming but with a sophisticated edge. The woman was talented.

  “Sorry about that. No rest for the wicked politician.” Regan walked to the back side of the counter and slid onto a stool.

  “Are you keeping them straight up in the state house?” Ella asked.

  Not only did Regan own a successful interior design studio, but she was also the Mississippi state representative for their district. Juggling two successful jobs had to be stressful and time consuming. Surely she could use help in the studio.

  “They’ve taken to calling me the Dragon behind my back.” Regan winked and waggled her eyebrows. “Which I secretly love, of course. What can I do for you? Are you looking to update your house?”

  “Actually, I’m here about Megan Boudreaux. She inquired about a job yesterday. Do you remember her?”

  “Of course I do. Although, I didn’t put two and two together. Are you two cousins or something?”

  “Not exactly.” How much should she tell Regan? Too little, and she wouldn’t generate enough empathy for Megan. Too much, and they would end up being the talk of Cottonbloom.

  “She’s married to my ex-husband.”

  Regan’s eyes widened, but other than that she showed no response. “Are you here to warn me off hiring her?”

  A laugh sputtered out of Ella. The situation was ridiculous and borderline crazy. “The opposite, actually. We’ve become sort-of friends, and I’m here to put in a good word for her, if it means anything.”

  “I guess you two have got something in common.” Regan’s smile hinted at an impish sense of humor.

  “True. Although, it’s like being bonded by war.”

  “That’s why he’s your ex, huh?”

  “Exactly. Maybe soon to be Megan’s ex too. She’s looking to start over in Cottonbloom.”

  Regan leaned back on the stool and set her hands on the counter. “I see. That’s why she needs a job.”

  “It is. I know you took her resume and said you call if something opened up, but you were being polite, weren’t you?”

  “I was. Honestly, I could use the help, but she doesn’t have the experience.”

  “She’s got a great eye, though. After Trevor and I divorced, she redid my old house from top to bottom. It looked fabulous.”

  “It’s more than having a good eye though. It’s about being responsible, trustworthy, and good with people.”

  “Do you have anyone else in the running for the job?”

  Regan sighed and looked to the ceiling. “Unfortunately, experienced applicants aren’t running amuck around Cottonbloom.

  “Why not give her a trial run? Two weeks. If it’s not working out then let her go, no harm, no foul.”

  “Will she agree to that?”

  “I’m sure she will, but you have to be the one to offer her the job. I don’t want her to know that I came here. She’s already struggling with her confidence.”

  Regan chewed her bottom lip and fiddled with the strawberry blonde hair at her nape. “A two-week trial. If we don’t get along or I can’t count on her, then it’s done.”

  Ella grinned. “Would you call her today?”

  “Right now, if you want.”

  Ella’s smile morphed into a grimace. “Could you wait until this afternoon? She wasn’t feeling great when I left this morning.” An understatement if her green complexion and dark under-eye circles were evidence.

  “I hope she appreciates you. I sure don’t know where I’d be without my best friend.” Regan came around the counter to offer her hand. They shook as if making a pact.

  “I wouldn’t call us best friends.” Although, considering Ella couldn’t name another female friend, she supposed by default Megan qualified.

  As Ella reached the door, Regan said, “Sawyer told me you’re planning a car show in downtown Cottonbloom.”

  “I am. Abbott Brothers Garage is sponsoring, but I’m hoping other businesses will take part and the show will attract people from all over to compete.”

  “It’s a great idea. Anything to draw tourists to
downtown and get them to spend their money. Lots of good advertising and profit for the garage too.”

  “We want to get the word out about our restoration business, but any profits will go toward Dave Dunlap’s medical expenses.”

  “Poor Dave. I’ve used him quite often on projects. No one can build a set of bookcases like him.” A fire entered Regan’s eyes, and with the red in her hair, Ella could see why she’d earned her nickname at the statehouse. “How can I help?”

  Ella was smart enough to recognize an asset and humble enough to accept help. “Any vendor contacts you have would be great. I’ll need to book food and drink carts.”

  “I’d be happy to pass that info along. I still have a file on my computer from when I was mayor of Cottonbloom. I’ll email you.”

  Ella rattled off her number and email, and Regan entered the information into her phone.

  “Hang on a second. I want to give you something now.” Regan disappeared through the door in the back. Ella didn’t have long to wait. Regan emerged holding a piece of paper. “Here.”

  It was a check for a thousand dollars made out to Abbott Brothers Garage. Ella shook her head. “What’s this for?”

  “A donation for Marigold and Dave’s medical fund.”

  Ella bit the inside of her cheek to distract from the stinging tears in her eyes. Past experiences had dulled her optimism and lowered her expectations. Slowly but surely, Cottonbloom and the people in it were dusting them off and raising the bar. “This is so generous, Regan. Thank you so much.”

  “Marigold and Dave are good people.” Regan gestured toward her front door. “If you ask, most of the businesses will donate something. Never be afraid to ask for what you want.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Ella folded the check and tucked it into her pocket.

  “I’ll be in touch with both you and Megan soon.”

  Ella stepped outside and took a deep breath of spring air. Energized by her victory, she bypassed her car and visited the local businesses up and down the street. Not only did she book the pizza place and ice cream shop for the car show, but they too offered donations. Before she could second-guess herself, she wrote another check from her Magnolia Investments account for two thousand dollars. Even if the car show didn’t make the kind of money they were hoping, Marigold and Dave would still be better off.

  She stopped on the footbridge connecting the two sides of Cottonbloom and stared into the water. It rippled over grasses and reeds that had sprung up with the warming weather. Yellow and orange buttercups bloomed on the Louisiana side with dozens of buds from other types of flowers reaching for the sun.

  A sense of calm flowed over her like she was one of the bending reeds in the river. No, not calm. Happiness. She was happy. It had been too long since she’d felt this way. Since before Grayson had died. Her happiness wasn’t entirely of her own making though. It was Mack related, and the realization niggled.

  She tossed her head back and closed her eyes. Pinpricks of light from the bright sun danced on her eyelids. Putting her trust and happiness in someone else’s hands was dangerous. Especially a man who did nothing to hide his ultimate goal. He wanted something she possessed, but it wasn’t her heart.

  * * *

  Mack wrote a note on the ledger he used for work orders and glanced down the road. He’d sent Jackson in the tow truck on a call with Willa trailing behind in Ella’s car. They’d delivered her car and picked up the stranded vehicle on their way home. Except Willa and Jackson had returned two hours earlier and there was still no sign of Ella.

  After finishing the estimate on the disabled car, he weaved his way around full bays.

  Jackson looked up while continuing to torque a bolt on the underside of a Ford sedan up on the lift. “What’s up?”

  “What exactly did Ella say when you dropped her car off?”

  “She said, ‘Thanks, Jackson. Appreciate you.’”

  “What then?”

  “Then, I told I’d see her later, waved, and left. What kind of information are you digging for?”

  “I don’t know. Did she look mad or disappointed or whatever to see you and Willa?”

  “Who was she expecting? You?” Jackson raised his eyebrows, the twitch of his lips slight enough to masquerade as bland if Mack didn’t know better.

  “I told her I’d bring it by, but the Corvette showed up.”

  A man from Baton Rouge had rolled up in a beautiful but neglected 1970 Corvette LT-1. Her paint job was cracked and faded and the panels were rusted in places, but the engine still had the power to vibrate his internal organs. Or maybe that was his excitement at the potential project. His cousin Landrum Abbott had steered the man in their direction. Next time Landrum was in Cottonbloom visiting his parents, Mack would be sure to buy him a bottle of Jack.

  Mack had spent over an hour with the man detailing what needed to be done and his estimates for the work. It was a fair price. The man had left with a handshake and a promise to bring her back at the end of the week to get started.

  “That’s going to be a jacked ride when we get done,” Jackson said. “I’ve got to button up the Ford and test for leaks, and then I’ll get started on the car we towed in.”

  “Sounds good.” Mack drummed his fingers on the ledger. “She didn’t say anything else?”

  Jackson dropped the socket wrench into the bottom drawer of a red toolbox on wheels and emerged from the dim underside of the car. “What’s going on? Did you want her to be upset it wasn’t you? You said you helped her get her drunk friend home. Is there something else going on? Because, I’ve got to tell you, Willa thinks you’re sweet on Ella.”

  Mack made a scoffing noise. “Sweet on her?”

  The truth was he was more than sweet on Ella Boudreaux. He was addicted. She was all he thought about and dreamed about and worried about.

  “You usually don’t shave until Easter. That’s still two weeks away.”

  “Blame global warming.” Mack concentrated on his nails and the grease that had worked its way under. He’d shaved for Ella. Beard rash on her inner thighs did not sound comfortable. The way she’d kept touching his face last night made his early shave well worth it.

  Jackson threw a blue shop towel at their feet. “Foul on the play.”

  “What’s going on?” Wyatt joined them, a grin on his face. Of course, he was always grinning these days. It was nauseating.

  “Mack lied right to my face.” Jackson crossed his arms over his chest, but didn’t look the least bit upset. In fact, a hint of dimples showed on his cheeks. “Mack is sweet on Ella Boudreaux.”

  Mack looked around and shushed Jackson. It would be his luck Ella had snuck in and could hear everything.

  “Holy shit. Goldilocks has tamed the bear.” Wyatt snickered.

  “Or did Little Red Riding Hood vanquish the wolf?” Jackson stroked his chin as if seriously considering it.

  “Shut up.” Little ire made it into Mack’s voice.

  Honestly, he was happy to be able to discuss his confusion with his brothers, if they’d stop making fun of him long enough to get serious. It was strange to think his little brothers had a leg up on him in terms of experience with women.

  “How long has this been brewing?” Wyatt asked.

  Before Mack could answer, Jackson did. “Since the New Year’s Eve party. She got under your skin that night, didn’t she?”

  Was he ready to be honest? “She got under my skin, but more because she was confident and—” Sexy. He bit off the admission. That veered into brutal honesty territory, and he wasn’t ready for that. Yet.

  “So all the fighting has actually been foreplay. Nice.” Wyatt held up a hand for a high-five.

  Mack batted it down. “This is not funny. She still owns a quarter of the garage, and I want it back.”

  Jackson scratched the back of his head and sent a glance through his lashes toward Mack. “I understand getting Ford’s part back into our hands would be ideal, but is it that big a deal? Ella
has proved an asset, and you like more than her office skills. Why not let the arrangement ride as is?”

  Mack paced in the small space and jammed a hand through his hair. “Because it’s all my fault. Pop would be disappointed in me.”

  Wyatt grabbed Mack’s arm, forcing him to a stop. “Whoa. That’s a lot to unpack. How is this remotely your fault? Ford’s the one who got himself in trouble gambling and was forced to sell.”

  “But, I should have … I don’t know, done more. Been the bigger man. Instead, I rubbed it in. Made everything worse. You two know I did.”

  The twins exchanged a glance that encompassed a conversation he would never be privy to. It was part of their powers.

  “As much as you like to take responsibility for everything, we can’t let you take all the blame for Ford. We played a part and so did Pop.” Wyatt gave his arm a squeeze before letting go. “And Ford has to live with his decisions.”

  “You think he feels bad about selling out?” Mack looked back and forth at Jackson and Wyatt. They didn’t look alike, but something in their different-colored eyes reflected the same regrets and worries Mack carried for their oldest brother.

  “Don’t know.” Jackson stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coveralls. “But he’s not dead. You can ask him. Make peace. Invite him down for the car show. The aunts miss him.”

  In a strange way, so did Mack. “I’ll think about it.”

  Jackson and Wyatt nodded in synchronicity.

  A clatter from the back broke them up. Willa and River moved through the garage. Jackson met her halfway, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her into a hug. Mack turned away.

  River gave a yippy, happy-sounding bark and streaked across the garage. Ella stood frozen inside the door, both hands around her throat as if genuinely scared River might go for her jugular.

  Willa scooted around Mack to corral her dog, but Mack caught her arm. “I’ll handle River. And Ella.”

  Willa nodded, but twisted a shop towel in her hands. “I don’t know why River goes crazy around her.”

  Mack could say the same thing about himself. He strode across the floor and tugged River back by her collar. Her lolling tongue and expressive eyes held a joy only dogs possessed.