The Dixie Belle's Guide to Love

by Luanne Jones

  “Maybe if you showed her there was something genuinely heroic to look for in others, to strive for in herself. Maybe if you were more of a presence in her life, you’d counteract some of the other…influences.”

  He laughed, but not brightly. “In other words, Mother.”

  “Miss Peggy isn’t a bad sort, really, she’s just…”

  He held up his hand to stop her. “I don’t need another lecture from you on my responsibilities to my loved ones, thank you.”

  “Your family is a mess. You know that much, don’t you?”

  He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.

  “You know a lot of your mother’s stirring up trouble all the time stems from pure loneliness.”

  He conceded as much with a nod so curt it hardly qualified as a head movement.

  “And did you know that Jillie has decided that since there are no good men left on the face of the earth, she’d rather take up with outright rotten ones? Just to save herself a lot of heartache?”

  He clucked his tongue. “That’s her choice.”

  “Well, it’s a bad one.” She didn’t have to tell him that, did she? Surely he had enough moral grounding to know this was a bad, bad thing and enough concern for his sister to want to know the truth. “She’s dating a married man. Did you know that?”

  “Paul?” His features clouded.

  “You do know?”

  “I teased her about him but, no, I never thought she’d…” He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows with one crooked knuckle. “Damn it, Rita. What is wrong with her?”

  For an instant she actually felt bad for unloading the specifics on him.

  But he shook it off before she could so much as backpedal an inch. He let his shoulders drop and scored his thumbnail over the gouged lunch counter’s surface. “You’re her friend, why don’t you talk to her?”

  “You think for one minute I’ve stayed silent on the subject?”

  He laughed.

  “But it all boils down to the fact that a friend is not family. She needs her family. She needs you to talk to her.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to say. I’m not exactly…” He let the thought trail off.

  “And you think I’m a prime example?” She leaned one elbow on the lunch counter. “You think I’m the person to stand up and lecture anyone on how many good men are out there looking for decent women to become their lovers and lifelong helpmates?”

  His expression gentled. “I see your point.”

  She straightened her back. “Don’t take that as a slap at Pernel, now.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “That’s about me and my faults.”

  “I know that’s how you see it. You take on the blame and worry for far too much of your loved one’s problems.”

  “And you won’t take any of either.” The man brought out the fire in her, for sure. Fire and foolhardiness. Still, once she’d blurted her true opinion out she couldn’t take it back, so she rushed on. “You accept none of the blame. None of the worry.”

  “Why should I?” He rubbed the heel of his hand down his jeans, his gaze distant. “In the end what Jillie does is her call, too. Not much I can do about it.”

  “Should that stop you from trying? If my family was in the kind of disarray yours is in, and I could do anything, anything to help them, nothing short of an act of God could keep me from it.” Now it had gone personal. She blinked and cursed the tears welling in her eyes. “Of course, I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do—”

  “Uh-oh.” He laughed.

  “What?”

  “When a Southern woman tells you she is not going to tell you what to do that is precisely what she has in mind. Stridently, ardently, no holds barred, she’s going to tell you just what she thinks, what you should do and probably offer to kick your butt into gear to get it done, as well.”

  “Maybe we should stick to talking about the Palace renovations.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Like I said, I want to keep things uncomplicated.”

  “If that’s really what you want—gut the place and walk away. Can’t get much simpler than that.”

  “That’s your ultimate solution, isn’t it?” She wasn’t just talking about the Palace. “Trash it all. Move on. Don’t look back. Leave trying to make things better to somebody else.”

  “That’s all I committed to do here, Rita. Consult on the remodel and put you in touch with the professionals who can do it.”

  How could she argue with that? She looked around her. He made it sound so easy when to her it was the most difficult task she’d ever faced—getting herself on the right track for the rest of her life.

  “You want this?” Will had snatched the last chicken leg off the platter she had brought down for their lunch and held it up.

  “No.” She folded her arms not caring that it made the bib of her baggy overalls gap down to show her cleavage in her scooped-neck T-shirt. “As a matter of fact I don’t want any of this. If you recall this was all your sister’s doing. Hers, Cozie’s, and yours. Not mine.”

  “Uh-huh.” He made no pretense of looking away from her breasts. He didn’t even have the decency to act the teeniest bit contrite at wangling her into accepting his assistance. “What about the chicken?”

  “What about it?”

  “Best damn fried chicken I ever had. Best meal I’ve had since I don’t know when. Mind if I polish it off?”

  “No.” Good gravy, how could you stay mad at a man who liked your cooking that much?

  “Guess if you can’t make a pig of yourself at a place with a princess of pork as its symbol, where can you do it?” His fork scraped the plate as he got up every last bit of potato salad for one man-sized bite.

  Rita sighed and plunked down on the stool next to his. “I do like to see a man who enjoys eating.”

  “Way you cook, darling, it’d be a sin not to enjoy it.”

  “Still, seems like nobody enjoys eating anymore, they’ve gotten so all-fired worried about fat and cholesterol and carbohydrates.”

  “I could stand to think about those things myself.” He hooked one thumb under the waistband of his jeans but kept a firm grip of the chicken leg in his other hand.

  “You?” She snorted. She set out to laugh deep and sexy in the back of her throat but snorted instead. Still, she tossed her hair back the way she had intended to if she’d actually pulled off the husky flirtation. “What would you worry about? You’re fine just as you are.”

  He leaned on the counter with both elbows, his gaze fixed on her. “Not like I was when I played football for the Hellon Hurricanes.”

  “Why would you want to be like that? So you’re a little thicker in the middle, a little broader in the chest.” She held her hands apart.

  “Those aren’t the only places I’ve grown since adolescence.” With one leg braced straight and the other on the footrail of the lunch counter, he gave the sense of someone relaxed yet ready to manage anything thrown at him. “If you’re measuring.”

  He spoke of personal growth, personality, depth of character, of course. Still she found herself struggling against the powerful urge to glance at his jeans.

  He put the chicken leg down and began lazily to lick his fingertips. “But then not many of us look the way we did at seventeen.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear. She wondered if she suddenly sucked her tummy, would he catch her at it and tease her? Instead of risking it, she went on. “You were a scrawny, snot-nosed kid then. Who wants that? Now you’re a man, a real man with a real man’s needs and appetites.”

  “True enough, Rita.” His dark eyes glittered, and his smile—if you could call that slow, smirky tilt of his lips an authentic smile—never faltered. “True enough.”

  She felt a perfect fool. All her blustering the past few days, all the speeches she had made to herself about how she would stay in control and not let him rattle her, and she had not lasted through their first lunch before blurting o
ut something dumb. “All right, you win. Clean your plate. Take your notes. We’ll go over them tomorrow, then you can be on your way.”

  “With the satisfaction of having done my good deed for the decade and not having had to spend more than a single night in Hellon.” He said it in an undertone, like a commentator filling in what Rita had kindly left unspoken.

  “I didn’t say—”

  “But that’s what you thought, and we both know it. Despite my efforts on your behalf, Rita, you don’t really think any more highly of me than you did six years ago when you told me off.”

  “Eat the last biscuit, too. No sense in its going to waste.”

  He took the biscuit in one hand and turned it over once, then again. “You’re the one who insisted you wanted things uncomplicated. Well, this is about as simple as it gets. I make my recommendations and a list of people who will give you a break on costs. If you choose to follow through, you follow through. If you don’t…”

  You’re a damned fool. It always came down to that with her and Wild Billy, didn’t it? He was cool and sexually smoldering. He said and did all the right things. She was cautious and a little too lumpy to have inspired lust even in her own husband.

  “If I don’t follow through on your suggestions, you’ll never know the difference.” She smiled at him. “So why make an issue of it now? Do what you came to do, then tomorrow we will go over your ideas, I’ll thank you as sincerely as I can, we’ll shake hands, and say—”

  “I hope you’re happy!” The front door banged open and Jillie stood in the threshold, her hands on her hips. “Because now the shit has really hit the fan!”

  Chapter 4

  EVERY DIXIE BELLE HAS HEARD:

  Only an untrained hound sinks his teeth in a decoy. The harder you try to fool people into thinking you’re on the high road, the more down and dirty the gossip is going to get.

  “First rule of life in a small town.” Jillie pointed her finger at his face and walked into the Palace, a diva taking center stage. “When you are up to something you don’t want absolutely everybody to know about, you should never, never, never park your car in a place where just anyone can come along and clap their eyes on it.”

  “I’d have thought you of all people would know that.” Rita went up on tiptoe to peer out the front window, then lowered her lashes to nail him with a glance over her shoulder.

  Will wasn’t looking at her eyes or her shoulders. “I’ve never been one to hide my light under a bushel. I thought the two of you would know that.”

  Jillie snorted.

  Rita didn’t say a word, though her lips parted in a way Will found absolutely riveting. Or was it tempting? His gaze wandered downward over her body again.

  A sudden flush spread over her cheeks. She sucked in her lower lip.

  Tempting. Definitely tempting.

  She turned away, glanced behind her, then took a step to place a chair between them, hiding her lower body from his eyes.

  Will frowned at the predictable reaction. He wanted to tell her to knock it off. He wanted to challenge her the way she had challenged him in the past. He wanted to rant at her for buying into the belief that if a woman’s body didn’t fit into that ever-narrowing mold, that she should feel ashamed of it.

  Rita didn’t fit any mold, and that made her all the more remarkable. She was round and ripe and…full. That’s what he wished he could make her see. Her breasts were full, her hips, too, but more to the point her heart and mind were full and rich with the things that really mattered in life. If he could convince her of that, he’d have given her a gift greater than any business expertise he had to offer.

  “Listen, Rita—” He stepped toward her.

  “No, you listen.” She did not say it rudely, but more like someone sharing an idea. She pointed toward the ceiling, and her expression was no-nonsense. “Maybe you’ve forgotten the Palace is also my home for the time being. Having your car parked outside is bound to stir up some talk.”

  “Talk? Why?” He laughed. “Nothing illegal or immoral is going on here. I’ll drive back to Memphis before dark and make a big show of coming back in broad daylight. Tool straight through the center of town with the top down and the radio blasting just like the old days if that’s what it takes.”

  “Mercy, don’t do that! Only an untrained hound sinks his teeth in a decoy.” Rita slashed both hands through the air. “And there are no untrained busybodies in Hellon. The harder you try to fool people into thinking you’re on the high road, the more down and dirty the gossip is going to get.”

  “Either way, my car won’t stay there overnight. If a few people with nothing better to do think they can spin that into some kind of scandal, let them try.”

  “This is Hellon, Billygoat. They will try.” Jillie walked over to Rita, then turned to face him. They both folded their arms forming a would-be wall of feminine solidarity.

  He hit his share of walls in his life, one more didn’t faze him. “Let them. What do I care about a bunch of idle gossip?”

  “I care. I wish to God I didn’t.” Rita rubbed her forehead and sighed. “But after all I’ve gone through these last few years, can you blame me if I shy away from offering up one more juicy tidbit to circle town at my expense?”

  “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Why would you?” It was a question devoid of bitterness, and yet it and her expression conveyed every ounce of her disappointment in him, or in something about him that touched the deepest hurt in her. “You’ll be out of here in a day or so, with all this left behind and forgotten.”

  “Don’t count on that.” He met her gaze and held it, hoping he could convey even an inkling of the esteem he held her in.

  She looked away first.

  “I don’t understand why this is such a problem.” He hadn’t expected to hear the ring of hardness in his own voice. Still, he pressed on. “I’m here on business, plain and simple.”

  “Yeah, but it’s my business.” She put her hand above her breasts and shut her eyes. “Your consultation not withstanding, Will, I haven’t decided exactly what I want to do with the Palace. I hope to spare myself a few dozen heaping helpings of ‘constructive’ input mucking up the process while I’m making up my mind.”

  “Then don’t put up with it.”

  “I have to. Don’t you understand that? I live here. Maybe you don’t recall what that’s like anymore.”

  “Of course I recall it. Why do you think I live in Memphis?”

  “You can take this lightly. It all rolls off you like water off a duck’s back. But I’m the one who has to stay and deal with the aftermath.” She walked to the counter and began to clean up the dishes from lunch. “Move your car, Will, please, before someone besides Jillie sees it, and—”

  “Actually, that’s why I’m here.” Jillie took a seat on the other side of the lunch counter. She put her hand on Rita’s. “Word’s out. Pernel is on his way over right now.”

  Rita’s lips silently formed a swear word that he suspected wouldn’t faze a Sunday school teacher. “He’s the very last person I want to know about my plans for this place. And him hearing I brought another man in to make over his old business? This won’t be pretty.”

  “Of course it won’t be pretty.” Jillie crinkled up her nose. “We’re talking about Pernel here.”

  Will laughed.

  “It’s not funny. Pernel will resist my trying to do anything new to his precious palace.”

  Will felt a double edge to Rita’s words. “The place is yours now. What you do with it, or yourself, is none of his concern.”

  She didn’t even look Will’s way. “Pernel will take my making changes without consulting him as a personal affront—or worse.”

  “Worse?” Will scowled.

  “He could insist on lending a hand, getting involved with the renovations himself. That’s one headache I want to avoid, thank you.” Rita scraped the last bit of potato salad off the serving fork.

  “Then just
tell him to butt out.”

  “You don’t know how he can get.”

  “Let him get his panties in a wad. That’s not your lookout.” Will rounded the lunch counter, took the dishes from Rita, and started for the kitchen. “You don’t have to tell him a damn thing, you know. You don’t owe him anything anymore.”

  “I can’t just turn a blind eye to the feelings of a friend or family member. I’m not like…some people,” she called after him.

  I’m not like you. She did not have to say it aloud to drive her point home. He stood just inside the kitchen door, his hands full and his spirit drained. He and Rita had always been worlds apart, and, at least to her thinking, they always would be.

  “Jillie, are you sure he’s on his way over?” Even from the kitchen he could hear weariness and worry butting heads for control in Rita’s tone.

  “I’m sure,” Jillie said.

  “How do you know?”

  His sister paused. He could just imagine her drawing this out just to hang on to the attention even a few seconds longer. “Right place, right time.”

  He flipped the faucet on to let the water run into the deep steel sink as he set the dishes aside.

  “Is he coming alone?” Rita asked softly.

  Again an unwarranted lag in the conversation followed.

  It was all he could do not to go back in there and grab his sister by her scrawny neck and make her give Rita the kind of outright answer she deserved.

  “I don’t think he’d dare bring his new girlfriend around,” Jillie finally replied with a soothing tenderness he had forgotten she possessed. “Not here. Not yet.”

  “I want to meet her at some point. I want him to bring her by sometime soon but under…better circumstances. You know?”

  “Well, I don’t think it’d hurt to have him wonder what’s gone on here between you and Wild Billy.” She all but shouted the hated nickname right at the open kitchen door. “But you’re right. You ought to get yourself a little more fixed up before you meet the ‘other woman,’ so to speak. Or in this case is this the other other woman?”