Hot Southern Nights

by Gen Griffin

  Hot Southern Nights

  a possum creek novel

  GEN GRIFFIN

  If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this stripped book.

  HOT SOUTHERN NIGHTS

  A POSSUM CREEK NOVEL

  Copyright © 2014 by Gen Griffin

  All rights reserved.

  ASIN: B00QWG6QPO

  ISBN13: 978-1505682267

  ISBN-10: 1505682266

  The uploading, scanning, and distribution of this book in any form or by any means — including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise — without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Permission is granted to copy or reprint portions for any noncommercial use except they may not be posted online without permission. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work, and do not participate or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Books by Gen Griffin

  Possum Creek Series

  Lord Have Mercy (Prequel Novella)

  Hot Southern Mess

  Hissy Fit

  Hot Southern Nights

  Pretty Is As Pretty Does

  Give Me Some Sugar (Coming Soon)

  After The Apocalypse Series

  The Scavengers

  Church of Chaos

  False Idols

  DEDICATION

  To my husband, because I love you.

  To my mother, who is probably rolling in her grave because of these books.

  To Karen, for helping me edit and putting up with my writing ramblings at all hours of the day and night.

  To Sabrina, also for putting up with my writing ramblings and obscure questions only another writer would understand.

  To Tracy, for rewriting a certain scene that desperately needed her expertise.

  Prologue

  Dark choppy waves slammed against the bow of the large speedboat as it headed back to the safety of the marina. The vicious roar of the twin outboards made conversation impossible as the boat repeatedly rose up on the crests of the waves and then slammed back down into the swell.

  Trish clung to the life-preserver with both hands. She kept her eyes closed tightly against the cold spray of the water. It was a constant struggle not to upchuck her seafood pasta all over the gleaming white deck of the vessel that was her husband's pride and joy. Curtis would be furious if she barfed shrimp and scallops all over his precious boat less than two days after he'd paid some kid at the marina $300 to scrub the craft to spotless perfection.

  “Open your eyes.” Curtis yelled to make himself heard over the approaching storm and the pounding waves.

  Trish shook her head no.

  “Stop being such a cry baby. If I'd known how whiny you were going to be today, I would have invited Becky to come with me and left you at home. Becky loves a good storm. She says the lightning makes her horny.” There was no mistaking the implied threat in Curtis's nasally voice. Be more fun, or be replaced by his new secretary.

  Trish opened her eyes, squinting behind the expensive sunglasses she was using to keep the salt water from doing horrible things to her contacts. “You know I don't like storms. You saw the weather report. You knew today wasn't a good day to take the boat out.”

  “You worry too much,” Curtis replied. He was standing behind the wheelhouse and grinning like a maniac as the big boat smashed through the waves. His thin, bright yellow fishing shirt was pasted to his slightly flabby chest. He looked like the losing entrant in a wet t-shirt contest. “We could be making love right here on the deck if you weren’t so busy worrying that we’re going to sink. You don’t trust me.”

  “You have to earn trust,” Trish mumbled under her breath. The dark waves might have looked enticing and exciting to Curtis, but the deep, choppy water intimidated the hell out of her. “I can barely doggie paddle well enough to keep my head above water. I'll drown if I fall overboard.”

  “You don't think I'd really let the woman I love drown, do you?” Curtis gestured broadly to the very front of the boat. “Stand up in the bow. Tell me the wind blowing through your hair isn't the best feeling you've ever had.”

  “No way.” Trish kept her attention focused on the marina in the distance.

  Curtis abruptly slowed the engines. He frowned at her as he propped both elbows on the steering wheel. “Stand in the bow, Trish.”

  “I don't want to,” she replied. “I'm fine right where I am.”

  “Why do you always shut me down cold when I try to be romantic?” Curtis crossed his arms over his wet shirt and radiated wounded disappointment.

  “You know I don't like boats.” She made no move to budge from her carefully chosen seat. “If you wanted romance then we should have gone to a concert like you promised. What happened to floor level seats at the coliseum?”

  “We've been to a dozen concerts, Trisha. I'm bored with concerts. I wanted to have a memorable night together. I have this fantasy I've been wanting to try out in real life. All you have to do is stand in the bow with your shirt off. Hold your arms out wide and let the waves crash over you.”

  “Curtis, please. Just get us back to the marina as quickly as possible.” Trish flinched as another big wave slammed into the side of the boat. She could see the line of rain approaching from out over the water. She did not want to get anywhere near the bow of the boat.

  “If you love me, you'll stand in the bow.”

  “You know I love you,” she said. “I don't want to ruin our day by arguing with you. We've barely seen one another since you were hired on full time with the law firm. Last night's fight was bad enough. If we're really going to stay together and work our problems out then I need to have a good time today. I need to remember why I married you.”

  “If you really want to prove that you love me then you'll indulge me here,” Curtis whined. “Stand in the bow for me. Be the beautiful goddess of the sea that I know you can be and then let me fuck your brains out here on the deck”

  “You can make love to me when we're back on dry land. All night, if you want,” Trish promised tiredly.

  “You're no fun, Trish. All I'm asking is for you to trust me. Live a little. We're not even a mile from the marina. I'll make you a deal,” Curtis offered.

  “What kind of deal?” Trish asked.

  “If you'll stand in the bow and ride all the way back to the marina, we can wait to have sex until we're back at the apartment. We don't have to have sex on the boat.”

  “I get to keep my shirt on, too.” Trish eyed the bow of the boat unhappily as a big wave crashed over the short metal railing.

  “Fine.” Curtis pouted at her. “But I'm starting to doubt how much you really love me.”

  “My being on this boat in a storm should be enough proof of my love for you.” Trish swallowed nervously as she forced herself to release her death grip on the seat cushion. She got unsteadily to her feet and walked very carefully across the deck.

  “That's my girl.” Curtis grinned at her as she reached the bow of the speedboat.

  “I'm scared.” Trish had to struggle to keep from falling as the deck rocked with the waves.

  “Don't be. You only live once.” Curtis hit the throttle and the big boat careened forward in the water. Trish grabbed the slick metal railing with both hands.

  “Slow down!” Trish forced herself to stay standing as icy cold water began pounding her face and skin. Her shirt, which had been slightly damp, was soaked instantly when the first large wave hit her squarely in the face.r />
  “Let go of the railing,” Curtis had to yell to make himself heard above the roar of the outboards. “Let yourself go, Trish. Be free. Have fun with this moment we're living in. You never know if it might be your last.”

  Trish twisted around slightly so that she could look over her shoulder. She intended to tell him that being terrified and wet in the front of a boat was not her idea of fun. As she turned to face the wheelhouse, Trish was startled to see that Curtis was no longer holding onto the steering wheel that controlled the boat.

  Had he been hit by a wave and fallen overboard?

  Trish forgot to hang onto the railing beside her as she spun around and came nose-to-nose with her smiling husband.

  Relief washed over Trish instantly. “Curtis! You scared me. You're supposed to be driving the boat!”

  “I know what I'm doing.” Curtis grinned at her as the boat smashed into another wave.

  Something heavy hit Trish in the shoulder. Already off balance, she staggered and fell overboard into the churning waves.

  Chapter 1

  “Dammit.” Addison Malone stood in the middle of the large wooden deck holding a net and wishing there weren't so many dining tables in his way.

  Nuisance alligators weren't the worst animals Addison had to deal with while performing his duties as Callahan County's one and only Game Warden. Alligators were almost fun to catch in front of a crowd. Especially the little ones that were mostly made up of tail but long enough to look fearsome. He already would have waded into the shallow pond to fish out the prehistoric monster if tonight's problem had been an alligator. Depending on the size, he either would have snagged it by the tail and pulled it out by hand or used a metal catch pole to drag the beast out of the water by its neck. It would have been so easy for him to drag the big bad alligator back to his truck and tape him up for relocation to somewhere with more water and less human appetizers.

  He'd have gladly traded his entire next week's paycheck to be dealing with an alligator right now instead of the family of skunks that had taken up residence underneath the porch of Callahan County's only bed and breakfast. He'd have given his next two paychecks not to have to try to remove the skunks during business hours. Unfortunately, the restaurant's manager had initially told him that there was only one skunk. He'd set a trap for a single skunk. Now he had an angry momma skunk trapped in a cage while five or six confused juveniles ran in circles on the back deck of the only decent restaurant for 30 miles.

  “I think I see one.” The manager was holding a plastic trash bin in both hands.

  “Can you catch it?” Addison asked. The manager had already managed to capture one of the babies by scooping it up in the trash can as it ran away from Addison. Addy had decided not to tell the man how ridiculous he looked swinging the kitchen trash bin to and fro in the night air while wearing a $300 suit.

  “I don't think so. It's under that table.” The manager pointed to a corner table at the far end of the deck.

  “Shit.” Addison glared at the skunk in question. It was hiding under the right bench. He could see the tip of its fuzzy little tail. He walked across the deck as quietly as possible. It wasn't easy to stay quiet when the boards creaked and groaned with every step he took. The skunk tried to make a run for it. It ran the wrong direction. Addison slammed the net down on top the little creature, making it squeak with surprise. And spray.

  Addison gagged as he twisted the net sideways, forcing the little animal off its feet and into the actual net.

  “That's two for two. We've caught two and they've both sprayed us.” The manager made a retching noise.

  “Yeah. I think we're going to wind up being six for six.” Addison was trying to breath only through his mouth. He could now taste the skunk spray as well as smell it. He walked over to the large plastic dog crate he'd set up on the side of the porch. A bus boy from the kitchen was standing next to the crate, which had been turned so that the door faced the sky. He opened the door as Addison dumped the second baby skunk into the container.

  “You've got one behind you,” the bus boy said to the manager. The manager started to step backwards, intending to turn and try to catch the skunk. Instead, he stepped on its tail. The little creature squealed angrily and sprayed him.

  “Don't move.” Addison hurried across the porch with his net.

  “Three for three,” the manager wheezed. The heel of his loafer was still securely planted on top of the unhappy baby skunk's tail.

  “Three to go,” Addison replied.

  Chapter 2

  “I know you're still mad about the strippers, but you need to come home.” Chewed bits and pieces of french fries escaped Curtis's lips and fell back onto his plate as he spoke.

  “I'm not coming home.” Trish put her chicken wrap back down on her plate without taking a single bite. Curtis's table manners had never exactly been kosher, but it had been over three months since the last time she'd shared a meal with him. The part of her brain that had spent the last four years desperately wanting to be happy and in love had glazed over the ugly truth of exactly how nauseating it was to watch Curtis chow down.

  “Trish, this is stupid,” he said. “We had a silly fight. You don't file for divorce because of one fight.”

  “I caught you performing oral sex on a stripper in your office. We both know it wasn't the first time you've cheated on me.” Trish took a deep breath and tried to find the silver lining of her current cloud. She supposed that the bright side of divorcing Curtis was that, after tonight, she was never going to have to watch him grind up a steak between his molars again. The realization was both disgusting and liberating as she watched watery ketchup run down the entire length of a fist full of french fries and ooze down his chin to coat the short blonde hairs of his goatee. Curtis reached for a second handful of greasy, dripping fries and crammed them unceremoniously down his maw as he continued to try to convince her to stay married to him.

  “Maybe keeping my vows has been a bigger challenge than I realized it would be,” Curtis admitted with obvious reluctance. “But Trish, I'm a changed man. I changed the minute you walked out the door.”

  “I'm sure your next wife will appreciate your new found loyalty,” Trish informed him. “But I do suggest you tell her you caught chlamydia from a hooker before you make another trip down that aisle.”

  “Trish-.”

  “No. Don't make any more excuses. I have had enough of your damn excuses. Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was when I went to get my yearly exam and the doctor told me I had an STD?” Trish asked him. “You better just thank god it was one of the curable ones or the terms of this divorce would be a whole lot nastier.”

  “Trish, you owe me-.”

  “No.” She held one hand up and shook her head at him. “I'm not negotiating. You kept our apartment. You got to keep your precious Lexus. I'm walking away from our marriage with my clothes, a 15 year old Honda that I brought into our relationship, a shit-ton of student debt and less than $100 in the bank. You got the last four years of my life. I don't owe you anything else.”

  “We can make our marriage work. Everyone knows the first year is the worst for new couples.” Curtis's jowls jiggled above the creased and wrinkled collar of his lavender button down shirt.

  “Maybe I'm just not meant to be married.” Trish picked up her drink with her left hand. Her ring finger was naked and unadorned. She had taken her wedding set off three months ago and never put it back on. “We went through counseling. You promised to change. I thought you had changed up until I caught you cheating on me with your secretary. We went through counseling again. You promised to become a different man and then you gave me an STD. I went to your office to confront you and I walked in on you performing cunnilingus on a stripper.”

  “I'm learning to be a better man. If you would come home, you would see that I'm making good on all the promises I made to you. I've stopped drinking. I haven't been to the Sexy Stocking in over a month.”

  “The Sexy
Stocking is where you caught chlamydia,” Trish reminded him. “Remember?”

  “You won't let me forget.” Curtis forgot he was supposed to be pretending to be sorry and snapped at her.

  “Why did you waste your time driving all the way down here?” Trish frowned down at her own untouched plate. “We've had this conversation too many times already. You are not going to change my mind. I want a divorce.”

  “I want you to give our marriage the fair chance it deserves.” Curtis sawed a huge chunk of very well-done meat off his 24 oz steak. He'd ordered the largest hunk of beef on the menu and then stuffed his plate to the brim with two full orders of french fries. “You always said that men can change. You've always believed in giving people second chances. Why won't you give me a second chance?”

  “You're not asking for a second chance. You're asking for an eighth chance.” Trish narrowed her eyes at Curtis and then sighed. “I'm tired of wondering where you are at night, Curtis. I'm tired of being terrified when I go to the gynecologist. I'm tired of being betrayed over and over and over again. I vowed to love you in sickness and in health until death do us part, but I'm tired of living the nightmare our marriage has become. You didn't honor our vows and I'm tired of being the only person playing by the rules. You've broken every promise you've ever made me. Its time for both of us to move on with our lives.”

  “Give me a chance to be a better husband.” Curtis hacked away at his steak. The knife made a shrill, grating squeal as it raked across the plate with unnecessary force.“I can be the husband you deserve.”