Take My Hand

by Missouri Vaun

  She slouched onto the sofa with the wine bottle, staring up at the ceiling fan. She might as well finish the last few sips. River hoisted the bottle to her lips. What a pretty picture this must be? In running shorts and a T-shirt, drinking wine right from the bottle. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. She expected to feel more of a buzz, but the almost kiss seemed to have chased the alcohol right out of her bloodstream. Thoughts circulated in her annoyingly clear head. She’d derailed the kiss because she knew deep down that she was interested in Clay. She was attracted to Clay.

  During her call with Amelia, she’d said she was going to linger in Pine Cone to convince Clay into letting her gallery represent Clay’s work. That wasn’t going to work now. River knew without a doubt that she had genuine feelings for Clay. After what she now knew about Veronica, there was no way she’d cross that line by sleeping with an artist she hoped to represent. That had always been her professional policy anyway, but now it seemed even more important to keep that boundary clear.

  There was no doubt in her mind that she wanted to kiss Clay Cahill. After spending a few hours with Clay, her body ached for much more than a kiss. She’d panicked in that moment of potential intimacy as they said good-bye, but the path seemed obvious to her now. Somewhere between smoked Gouda and pineapple casserole, River had made the clear decision that she wanted Clay in her bed, not on her gallery walls.

  She smiled as she launched herself up from the cozy sofa and shuffled, bottle in hand, to the room where Clay had slept. That was definitely where she was going to spend the night. Visualizing a certain dark-haired dream date riding a sleek black Italian motorcycle.

  Chapter Fourteen

  River gradually fought her way out of sleep. Her head was pounding. No, wait, there was actual pounding coming from somewhere outside. River squinted as she tugged the drapes aside. Natalie Payne was standing on the front lawn watching some burly guy hammer a For Sale sign into the ground. Natalie nodded and waved him off as he gathered posthole diggers and a large mallet and stowed them in his truck. Natalie turned toward the house as if she were about to head for the front door.

  River sat up too quickly. Okay, now her head was pounding too. She swiveled and let her toes touch the cool hardwood floor for a second while her swimming head settled. The empty wine bottle mocked her from the nightstand. By the time she reached the living room, still in her shorts and T-shirt from the night before, Natalie was knocking on the door.

  “Well, someone had fun last night.” Natalie’s mood was as intense as the early morning sun and just as unwelcome.

  “Hi, Natalie.”

  “Here, I brought these by. I’ll leave them in the box out front that’s mounted on the sign post, but I wanted you to have one.” She turned and waved toward the pristine white post holding the real estate company’s logo along with Natalie’s name and number. “I wanted to make sure you saw the sign. We’re in business.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I see you still have Clay’s truck. And I couldn’t help noticing that sexy bike of hers parked out front last night when Ted and I drove home from dinner out.” Natalie quirked one side of her mouth up as she teased River.

  “Yes, she stopped by to give me some information about my aunt’s car.”

  “I’ll bet she did.” Natalie patted her arm cheerfully. “Well, I’m off. You let me know if you need anything. And don’t forget about the downtown market tonight. You’ll want to check that out for sure. I’ll call you to set up viewing times once we start getting calls. You watch, we’ll sell this place in no time.” She waved at River as she started across the lawn toward her car. “Toodles!”

  Toodles? What sort of person said toodles? River scowled and shook her head as she closed the door, giving herself a respite from the blazing sun. She was not a morning person, even without alcohol consumption. As her brain began to wake up, so did her stomach. Her purchases from the previous night weren’t exactly breakfast fare. River decided to shower and then go in search of food. Surely she could get something either at the bakery she’d passed on her first drive through town or at the Dogwood Diner.

  * * *

  There was a bit of a line at Hot Buns Bakery. Chatter from an array of patrons created a low buzz inside the cozy breakfast spot. As might be expected, there were people eating and talking, and then there were others who looked as if they’d set up a small satellite office for the day, laptops and cell phones and random papers strewn about their tables.

  “What can I get for you, hon?” The most adorable gay guy with a thick Southern drawl rested his hands on the counter and smiled at River.

  This was the gayest small town she’d ever been in. She was distracted for an instant wondering, not for the first time, if something was in the water in Pine Cone. It must be great to feel part of a settled, rural community and still be able to be completely who you were.

  “Um, can I get a latte?”

  “Yes, you may. For here?”

  She nodded and he passed a cup to a barista at the espresso machine behind him. The barista was probably in her early twenties, with long dark hair pulled back into a very loose knot. Her arms were covered with full sleeves of tattoos. The pattern was mesmerizing.

  “Anything else?” His voice brought her attention back to the register.

  “Oh, sorry, yes, can I have one of those breakfast croissants?”

  “Egg and cheese?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Would you like me to warm it up for you?”

  “That would be great, thank you.”

  “Can I get a name for your order? I’ll bring it out to you when it’s ready.”

  “River.”

  “Hi, River, I’m Preston. Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand across the counter and she shook it.

  “Nice to meet you, Preston.” This was a lot of friendliness before coffee, but River was trying her best to keep up. It wasn’t that she was grouchy in the morning, it was simply that she wasn’t quite awake first thing. She never really felt awake until after her second cup of coffee and preferred to keep human interaction at a minimum until that second cup threshold had been reached.

  River found a small table near the window that had just been vacated and took a seat. She looked out the window and plotted her day. There were more things to go through at the gallery. She needed to decide whether to ship any of the pieces to New York. She’d forgotten to ask Clay about the three paintings. Would she want them back? Might she want River to sell them for her? She doubted it, but maybe she was wrong about that.

  River scrolled through messages on her phone, looking up briefly when her latte and croissant were delivered to her table by Preston.

  * * *

  Clay had overslept so she hadn’t had time to make coffee before getting to the shop to open up. She only managed to beat Eddie by a couple of minutes. Bo was late as usual. After one cup of her grandpa’s brand of gas station coffee, she decided to make a drink run to Hot Buns.

  “Do you want anything?” She jangled her keys.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  Eddie had lower standards for his morning brew than Clay. Urban coffee shops had ruined her. Luckily, her friend Preston had an espresso machine, and he was only minutes away. She debated taking the tow truck so she could get the coffee to go, but it was big and hard to park anywhere along Main Street. She’d just ride her bike and drink it there. Today seemed like a slow day at the garage anyway.

  The morning rush had died down and there was no one in line when she arrived, although the place was at capacity. A low-level hum of conversation and the hiss of steam from the frother greeted her as she approached the front counter to order.

  “Hi, Preston, can I get a latte?”

  “Hi, sweetie. For here or to go?”

  Preston Howard III made gay look good. He was tall and fit with killer good looks. He had light brown hair with perfect blond sun-bleached streaks and a perpetual tan. He was also a great wingman when her bestie, T
rip, wasn’t available, and Clay was in the mood to hit the clubs in Savannah. But that hadn’t happened in a long time. Not since before she moved to New York City and then moved back, under a cloud of failure.

  “I’m on the bike, so not exactly hands-free this morning.” She fished in her pocket for cash. “I’ll just drink it here.”

  Preston gave the barista her order, then leaned conspiratorially across the counter toward her. “Hottie, two o’clock.” He made the slightest motion of his head toward the front corner of the bakery.

  “What? Where?” She followed his gaze to see River, head down, taking a sip of her coffee in between bursts of typing on her phone.

  “Am I right or am I right?”

  “You’re not wrong.” Clay hadn’t seen River until Preston pointed her out, and River still hadn’t seen her. “She’s beautiful.” She spoke quietly enough that only Preston would have been able to hear it, and only if he’d been listening intently.

  “Then why are you still standing here?”

  “You’re making me a latte, remember?”

  “And then what?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  Preston shook his head and smiled. “No guts no glory,” he muttered under his breath.

  “That line only really works in war movies, you know.” She crossed her arms and waited for her coffee. Maybe Preston was right; it did take a certain amount of emotional fortitude to put yourself out there. She needed to man up. Or not.

  “Still driving that truck?” He tweaked an eyebrow as he passed a cup, along with her order, to the cute barista nearby.

  “It’s a living.”

  “I’m just waiting for the morning when you stroll up and tell me this is your last latte from Hot Buns because you’re moving back to New York to be a star.” He reached in the case and handed her a cookie on the house while she waited for her coffee. “I’m living vicariously through you, ya know.”

  Clay took a bite. “Ha.” A few powder-fine cookie crumbs escaped. “As if.”

  She tried to stay focused on Preston, but River kept infiltrating her peripheral vision.

  “I’m serious.” Preston made a big show of wiping the counter down with a cloth. “How am I going to find a hot boyfriend in the Big Apple if you’re not there to take me out on the town?”

  “You know you can visit New York even if I’m not living there?”

  “Not the same.”

  She considered taking the coffee to go. The brush-off she’d gotten from River the previous night still puzzled her. More than that, it agitated her. She’d finally given in to her attraction, and when she’d attempted to make the first move, River shot her down with a sisterly kiss on the cheek. What was that about?

  Should she take a hint and leave before River saw her?

  Too late.

  Just in that instant, River glanced up and casually scanned the café as she sipped her coffee. Her gaze froze on Clay, pinning her to the counter where she waited for her latte. She swallowed the last of the cookie and tried to act cool. Clay averted her eyes, but when she looked back, River was still watching her and gave a little wave as if she wasn’t sure Clay had seen her. Clay waved back.

  “I think that was an invitation.” Preston handed her a large steaming cup with a little heart shape in the frothed milk.

  “Nice touch.”

  Clay took her time getting to River’s table. She was taking a moment to try, through force of will, not to care, but it was impossible. She did care.

  River stood up as she approached.

  “Good morning, I’m so happy to run into you.”

  “Hi.”

  “Will you join me?”

  River clicked her phone off, flipped it face down, and then motioned to the empty chair across from hers.

  “I just have a few minutes, then I have to get back to the shop.”

  They both sat down.

  “That’s okay, I’m not staying long either. I have to get back to some work on my laptop. New York doesn’t shut down while I’m away.” River rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward a little. Her eyes were bright. She’d pulled her hair back and was wearing a snug fitting cotton blouse, jeans, and sandals. Somehow River managed to look casual and elegant at the same time.

  “My grandpa’s coffee is terrible. I decided I had to have a little shot of espresso to jump-start this day.”

  “Is it my fault?”

  Clay considered how best to answer that question. Replaying the good night kiss scene in an endless loop inside her head for hours had certainly kept Clay up late. So the short answer was yes, it was River’s fault, but she didn’t particularly feel like owning up to that.

  “Why would it be your fault?”

  “Oh, you know, because of the wine.” River tucked a loose wisp of hair behind her ear. “I managed to finish the bottle after you left. Possibly not the wisest choice.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, good, now you think I’m a lush.”

  The self-effacing comment helped Clay relax a little.

  “It was good wine.”

  “And I’m sure I impressed you with my culinary prowess.” River studied Clay over the rim of her coffee mug.

  Was River flirting? If she was, Clay wasn’t falling into it this time, like she had with Veronica. She was fairly certain, given the chaste kiss from the previous night, that River was simply flirtatious by nature and didn’t mean anything by it. Clay bit her lower lip and glanced out the window. Unfortunately, she wasn’t immune to River’s charms, whether she meant it or not. Butterflies had set up shop in her stomach. This was not the relaxed coffee break she’d imagined.

  “Listen, about last night—”

  “There you are.” Grace cut River off as she swept through the door.

  “Oh, hey.” Clay looked up, coffee in hand.

  “I need you out on Highway 58, near our cutoff to the river.” Grace was all business but seemed to finally register that River was seated at the table with Clay. “Sorry to interrupt your coffee date. Hi, River.”

  “It’s not a—”

  “It’s nice to see you, Grace.” River cut Clay off this time. She turned to Clay, a look of frustration on her face.

  Why was River frustrated? From Clay’s standpoint, she’d been holding all the cards so far, in whatever this was, which was certainly not a date.

  “I called the shop and Eddie told me you were here. I called your cell, but apparently you don’t have it on you.”

  Instinctively, Clay ran her hand over the pockets of her jeans. She must have set it down somewhere absently. She’d been more than a little distracted this morning.

  “I’ll drive back now, get the truck, and meet you there. What happened?” Clay took a big gulp of her latte.

  “Lynette blew a tire and went off the road. I’ve got a call in to the rescue squad. We need their help too, but we can’t even get to the car until we can winch it out. It’s wedged tightly between two trees…Lynette has her sister’s baby in the car with her. Jamie is on the scene already. She got the call first.”

  “I’m on my way.” Clay stood and downed the rest of her coffee. It was still early, but the inside of a car got hot quickly in South Georgia. Worry chased the butterflies away as she jumped into action.

  “Be careful.” River stood too. Grace was out the door already.

  “Thanks.” Clay was out the door quickly, cranked her bike and followed Grace’s squad car, lights flashing, siren blaring. If only she’d driven the truck in the first place she’d have been able to respond sooner.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Clay could see the rear bumper of Lynette’s car angled up at an unnatural slant just past the shoulder of the road. Two squad cars were parked along the lane where the car had crossed and gone off the highway and an ambulance was nearby. Two members of the rescue squad hovered beside the old Chevy talking to Lynette through a partially broken window. Flares warned any approaching traffic to slow and go around the site
. Jamie was on traffic duty, standing farthest away from the errant Chevy.

  “See how it’s wedged between those two trees?” Grace pointed as Clay walked up. The car was perfectly centered, jammed between two pine trees. “The doors are completely blocked on both sides. Rescue squad can’t get in there until we pull the car out.”

  “Got it. Let me just tell Lynette what’s happening.” She didn’t want Lynette to be scared when the car started to move. As she got near the broken window, she could hear the faint whimper of Lynette’s two-year-old niece, Ashley. “Hey, Lynette, I’m gonna pull the car back with the winch.”

  “Clay! Am I glad to see you.” Even in the dimly lit auto’s interior, Clay could see the uneasiness on Lynette’s face.

  “Hang on just a minute more, we’ll get you outta there.” Clay nodded to the two guys from the rescue squad and they stepped back to give her room.

  Once the chains were attached to the frame of the car’s undercarriage, Clay ran the winch until the chain was taut and she heard the sound of metal creaking and scraping. The winch wined loudly. She’d use the winch just to get the car past the trees enough for the guys to free Lynette and Ashley, then she’d use the full power of the tow truck to pull the car the rest of the way up and onto the pavement. The last part would get a bit rough so she wanted Lynette and Ashley out of harm’s way for that.

  “It’s clear!” one of the guys yelled. He was watching the progress from a vantage point closer to where the car was stuck.

  Clay halted the winch until she got the signal that Lynette and Ashley were free. Grace was standing at a halfway point between the driver’s side door and where Clay was. After what seemed like a long two minutes, she waved to Clay.

  “They’re all clear.” Grace made a circular motion with her hand to signal that Clay could continue.

  She got the car up to an almost level angle. Clay unhooked the winch line so that she could change the angle of the truck and load the car properly onto the tow gear. Huge gash marks streaked both sides of the car. It was something of a miracle that Lynette had managed to miss hitting one of the trees head-on and instead had gone right between them.