Southern Hospitality (Hot Southern Nights)

by Amie Louellen

  Malcolm watched as she ran her hands over the pictures, her childhood tale come to life.

  “It’s amazing,” she whispered.

  “You’re amazing.”

  “I have something I want to give you, too.”

  Roxanne retrieved a small flat package from under the Christmas tree and held it out toward him. It was the perfect sized box to contain a tie. Most probably a tie from Bob’s Clothier on Main.

  “I picked this up in Gatlinburg and, well, I thought with everyone coming tomorrow that you should open it now.”

  Even better than a tie from Bob’s, a tie from Gatlinburg. Yip-ee.

  They had taken a weekend trip to Gatlinburg in October—their first “getaway” since the twins were born. But for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out when she could have bought him anything. They were so overjoyed at having a little time to themselves that they had hardly left the room all weekend. Those days so reminded him of their crazy weekend of lovemaking two Augusts ago.

  Her hands were shaking.

  Must be some tie.

  Malcolm accepted the box, traded Beau for it, and before he even opened it, tried to think of something nice to say about his wife’s gift. “It’s beautiful” or “lovely” probably wouldn’t work. With Roxanne’s sense of humor he could only hope the scrap of silk wasn’t too outrageous. No hula girls or catfish.

  He lifted the lid and stared down—not at the tie he had expected—but at a little plastic wand with two pink lines clearly visible in two little side by side windows.

  His hands started to shake. His mouth went dry. His knees buckled, then he realized Lulu had hit him from behind in one of her full body hugs.

  He turned around and in one motion scooped her back into his arms.

  “Does this mean what I think it means?”

  Roxanne nodded. “July, I think,” she said, her voice thick with tears.

  “Roxanne, I—”

  “I hope you like it, because I can’t take it back.”

  “I love it,” he said. “I love you.”

  “I love you,” she whispered in return as he lowered his head and captured her mouth with his own. And he gave up a silent prayer of thanks for all the miracles love brings.

  About Amie Louellen

  Amie Louellen believes there’s nothing better than a good romance. Except for nail polish … and homemade tacos …and her family—not necessarily in that order, of course. But she does love a good romance.

  Born and bred in Mississippi, Amie is a transplanted Southern belle who now lives in Oklahoma with her deputy husband and their genius teenage son. She’s guardian to two spoiled cats—one of which is a Hemingway—and one very lazy beagle. Not to mention the neighbor’s cat, who thinks he lives on her porch. Since he’s there every morning and every night, she supposes he does.

  Amie Louellen is the contemporary pen name for romance author Amy Lillard. You can reach her at amielouellen@gmail.com or visit her on the web:

  http://www.amywritesromance.com

  https://www.facebook.com/AmieLouellenAuthor?ref=hl

  https://twitter.com/AmieLouellen

  http://www.pinterest.com/amyl918/

  A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance

  (From Reforming Gabe by Alicia Hunter Pace)

  Being past prom age never stopped a Southern woman from putting glitter on her face—“sparkle when you can,” being the predominant philosophy. Generally, Neyland Reese MacKenzie embraced that idea, but lately the only Sparkle on her mind was her handcrafted jewelry shop—now defunct because she couldn’t pay the rent. Which was why she was working out of her friend Noel’s quilt shop, Piece by Piece.

  “Neyland!” Hannah, one of Noel’s salesgirls, hurried into the workroom. “There’s a guy out front and he wants to buy Annabelle!”

  Neyland’s hands stilled on the silver wire bracelet she was making.

  “Are you sure? He’s not just looking or trying to haggle?” Excitement rippled through Neyland, but she was afraid to hope too much. She hadn’t sold an important piece in almost a year. Inspired by an Edwardian watch fob, Annabelle was a heavy gold link necklace set with lapis lazuli and opals—and the most expensive piece in Neyland’s collection.

  “I’m sure! He has his credit card out and everything!”

  If only this had happened last week, Neyland would’ve been able to pay the rent on Sparkle. But it hadn’t, and she’d had to ask for her old space back in Noel’s shop—and though her friend had welcomed her back, it had been humiliating. Neyland rose, almost dizzy with delight. It had been a long time since she’d been able to afford gold, platinum, semi-precious gems, or any materials except the sterling silver that she used to make the simple pieces that were impulse purchases for the tourists who came through Beauford.

  Beauford, a small artisan boutique town located outside Nashville, boasted some of the finest craftsmen in the country. Despite her lack of financial success, Neyland stubbornly counted herself among them. But this could change things. The other artisans in town insisted that she just needed to sell that one piece that would get her noticed.

  “I’m so excited.” Hannah clapped her hands together. Neyland had to smile. She had promised the high school girls who worked part time for Noel a hundred dollars commission on any important piece they sold, which was less percentage wise than the ten per cent they earned on the little whimsical silver pieces, but, under the circumstances, it was the best Neyland could do. She still had to buy silver and pay the rent on her little apartment above Sparkle. “He wanted to know if we could ship it. I told him we could. Was that okay?”

  “Absolutely. I think we can afford a little shipping for what Annabelle will bring us.” Neyland slipped out of her Yellow Box flip-flops and put on the black Christian Louboutin pumps she never should have bought. She’d gone a little crazy last year after selling Catherine, the bracelet inspired by a diamond wheat tiara that had belonged to the Russian imperial family. She’d thought Catherine was the piece that would bring her success, so after buying precious metals, semiprecious stones, jade, onyx, and amber for new creations, Neyland had celebrated by buying the shoes, a Louis Vuitton bag, and a few really good, classic designer garments. Then she’d moved out of Piece by Piece, opened Sparkle, and worked night and day until she had five new pieces that that she was sure would sell quickly.

  But none of them had sold—until now. Maybe this would be the sale that would change everything, maybe even lead to a commissioned work that would allow her to finally work with emeralds and diamonds.

  Neyland hadn’t realized how wide her smile was until she stepped out of the workroom and that smile froze and melted.

  Gabe Beauford—back in Beauford for his brother’s wedding next week, the same wedding in which Neyland would serve as a bridesmaid for her friend Emory.

  How had Hannah not known who he was? Not only was Gabe the brother of country music superstar Jackson Beauford, he was a two-time, Super Bowl-winning San Antonio Wrangler. And it was no coincidence that his last name was the same as the town’s.

  Only a man with extraordinary self-confidence or one spoiling for a fight on the playground would have the nerve to wear those orange seersucker, go-to-hell shorts covered in football helmets—even if he did pair them with a luxurious, gently wrinkled, white linen shirt.

  Too much. That was Gabe Beauford all over—too tall, too ripped, too good-looking, too much blond hair. And too, too beloved by Neyland’s father, Conrad MacKenzie, revered football coach of the Beauford High Blue Devils.

  And here Gabe stood like a Viking warrior who’d recently finished looting a village, nonchalantly swinging Neyland’s precious Annabelle from his index finger like a pendulum high on speed and good times.

  The lapis stones perfectly matched his eyes.

  She’d have to speak to Hannah about leaving scoundrels alone with valuable, unguarded merchandise. Neyland reached out, caught the necklace, and pulled it from his finger. She knew what he intended to
do with Annabelle, and she was having no part of it.

  And, though it wasn’t entirely rational, Neyland wanted no part of Gabe Beauford either. Being the daughter of a successful and revered high school football coach had never been easy, but it had been down right intolerable when, at fifteen, Gabe Beauford had burst onto the scene, catching uncatchable passes, setting records, and—worst of all—taking up Conrad MacKenzie’s time—time that should have been Neyland’s. She had been ten at the time.

  Gabe’s deceased parents had been best friends with Neyland’s, so she had always known the Beaufords, but Football Player Gabe was a different story from the Gabe who was simply one of those older and not-very-interesting Beauford brothers. She had long been accustomed to the energy her father gave his team, but never before had she been confronted with a player who was allowed to come to the house whenever he wanted and stay as long as he liked. He was always there—at the dinner table, on family movie night, and locked up with her father in the den watching game film.

  Even Neyland’s mother, who was usually sympathetic to Neyland’s jealousy of Conrad’s time, had no tolerance for Neyland’s attitude. Once, when Neyland had burst out that the only reason Gabe got so much attention was because he was such a good wide receiver, Vanessa MacKenzie had told Neyland she should be ashamed of herself, that Gabe needed a father figure since his was dead. At the time, Neyland had thought her father might as well be dead, too, for all the attention he paid her. While that might not have been true, it was how she had felt—and evidently how she still felt.

  The day Gabe Beauford graduated from high school and left for the University of Tennessee was the happiest of Neyland’s life, but, still, hardly a day went by that her father did not bring up Gabe’s name. He didn’t even seem to have any opinion on Gabe’s legendary womanizing.

  Too bad she hadn’t been a football player.

  “Hey, Neyland.” Gabe’s slow, lazy tone matched his slow, lazy smile. “Bad storm last night. We lost some trees out at Beauford Bend.”

  “Nothing that will impact the wedding, I hope.” Emory deserved the perfect outdoor wedding she’d always wanted.

  “Nah. They were up nearer the road. I went down to your shop, but the sign said you’d temporarily moved back in here.”

  “Yes.” And she rattled off the story she and Noel had agreed on. “Noel and I used to share this shop before I opened Sparkle. Nickolai’s getting out of the hospital today, and Noel needs my help minding the shop so she can take care of him.” Noel’s boyfriend played hockey for the Nashville Sound and had gotten a nasty neck laceration in a game last week. “Also, once the Stanley Cup Playoffs start and Nickolai’s able to play again, Noel wants to be free to go to at least some of the road games.” Noel had insisted that part was true and refused to accept money for the space Neyland was using. Of course, Noel had more commissions than she could handle.

  “Glaz is tough. He won’t be out long.” Gabe pointed to Annabelle and extended his credit card. “Nice.”

  Did he really think she didn’t know what he was going to do with it?

  “Hannah said you wanted us to ship it. So I assume it’s not a wedding gift for Emory?”

  Gabe laughed, and the dimple in his left cheek flirted with her. “Don’t forget I’m the nephew of Amelia Beauford, founder of the Beauford Bend charm school, otherwise known as A Fortnight of Refinement and Training for Young Ladies. I don’t think she would have thought it appropriate for me to spend this kind of money on jewelry for another man’s fiancée. And I think Emory would agree, as Amelia’s faithful follower. I know my brother would.”

  “So, you’ve gotten engaged? It’s for your fiancée? Or are you going to wear it yourself?”

  “No.” He didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. “Fact is, I had a little something to settle before coming here, and I need to soothe some hurt feelings.”

  “So it’s one of your famous kiss-off gifts?”

  He laughed like he thought he was charming. “I don’t know so much about famous, but I’ve found that a little something pretty goes a long way in making things easier for everybody.”

  “I see.”

  He frowned. “I’m getting a hint of displeasure here, Neyland. What do you care? I fail to see why you need to approve this little doodad’s future home. Am I buying this thing or adopting it?”

  Little doodad! This thing? All of a sudden the world went red.

  “Neither.” She popped the necklace over her head. “It’s not for sale. I’m keeping it.”

  Gabe narrowed his eyes in puzzlement. Then he did something Neyland would not have believed had she not seen it herself. He dropped his eyes to the case and pointed to Daisy, the white gold filigree and camphor glass bracelet that she’d splurged and bought a few precious diamond chips for.

  “How about that one, then?” He didn’t care one bit what he bought. He was simply on an errand to soothe his guilt and get a woman off his back.

  “No, Gabe.” Neyland was proud of how strong she sounded. “You don’t understand. None of my jewelry is for sale to you.” And she meant it—not Daisy, Elizabeth, Victoria, Aphrodite, and especially not Annabelle.

  He closed his eyes and sighed.

  “You’ve always done this,” Neyland said. “You did it to my cousin, Hope, when y’all were in high school. Except it was some silver plated bracelet you bought at Belk. I remember.”

  “Is that what this is about? Hope and I were sixteen. You were what? Ten? Twelve? People break up all the time. What’s wrong with being nice about it?”

  “It’s not nice. It’s a bribe to keep from being badmouthed. You broke Hope’s heart.”

  “Did I? Well, if that’s true, she’s over it. We’re Facebook friends. The last time the team was in Charlotte handing the Panthers their ass, she came to the game. We had dinner.”

  “Please tell me this is not for her!”

  “It seems to me if you’re so concerned for Hope, you’d know she and I have not taken up together. She brought a date that day.”

  She had no defense. Truth was, Neyland hadn’t talked to her cousin since Hope had been in Beauford for Christmas. She had no idea who, if anybody, Hope was dating.

  “Look, you have merchandise,” Gabe said. “I need merchandise. I need it today. Just sell me a damned piece of jewelry!”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “No. Go to the mall at Cool Springs. Annabelle is not going to be on GabesKissoffJewels.com.”

  He showed no surprise. In fact, he looked a little proud. So he knew about the website some of his former women had put together.

  Then he started to laugh. “Annabelle? You name this stuff?”

  “Yeah? Well, if you’d name the passes you’re supposed to catch, maybe you would have caught that one in the last Super Bowl and your team could’ve been the first in history to win three straight.”

  That came out of her mouth before she could stop it. He turned white and she felt a little shame.

  Gabe pocketed his credit card. “Okay. Fine. Keep Annabelle and all her weird sisters. I’m going over to the school to see your dad.”

  And, of course, her dad would be there—even on a Saturday morning in April. Long live football, the Beauford Blue Devils, and the University of Tennessee Volunteers. Neyland understood that well; after all, she and the Vol stadium shared the common distinction of having been named for the greatest coach in the history of UT, General Robert Reese Neyland. Though they didn’t always understand each other, Neyland loved her father—adored him—but she would never forgive him for saddling her with that name.

  “Why are you going to see Daddy? Are you going to tattle on me?”

  “What are you? Five? No, I heard there was some damage to the football stadium from the storm last night. I’m going to see how bad and if there’s anything I can do to help Coach—something I doubt you’ve done.”

  So he got the last word after all.

  • • •

  Gabe got in hi
s Mercedes, put the top down, and headed toward Beauford High School.

  What in the ever-loving hell was that all about? Was Neyland MacKenzie completely off her rocker—naming inanimate objects and then refusing to sell them? Emory was always preaching about how important it was to support the artisans, and that’s what he’d been trying to do.

  That, and it was handier than driving into Nashville.

  But Gabe liked a woman who knew her way around some nice designer clothes and a makeup counter, as Neyland clearly did. Not that he would have explored that even if she hadn’t been crazy-acting. Dating Coach’s niece back in high school had been about as dangerous as he was willing to get—and that was saying a lot for a man who liked to jump out of planes and climb mountains. But damn, Neyland MacKenzie was a looker, and she had a fire about her that could consume a man if he let it. To Gabe’s surprise, apparently his penis hadn’t gotten the memo that Neyland was off limits, because it shouted at him, “Go back and get her!” and began to rise in preparation for the impending encounter.

  Not allowed. Best to think of the trouble she was causing him by refusing to sell him jewelry. It was going to take the better part of two hours, round trip, to go to the mall and have something sent to Courtney.

  Good. Thoughts of Courtney settled that lead pipe right down.

  This breakup hadn’t been as bad as some. Since he’d dropped that ball in the end zone in the last thirty seconds of the Super Bowl last January, she hadn’t been as keen on him. That was okay. Being with Courtney hadn’t been bad; it just hadn’t been good. When she’d starting making noise about wanting to come with him on this trip to Beauford, Gabe had put the relationship out of its misery. He suspected Courtney’s distress had been more about being denied the opportunity to rub elbows with the music folks who would be at Jackson’s wedding than anything else. That, and maybe she’d figured the more distraught she seemed, the bigger the kiss-off gift would be.

  That was fine; she’d earned it. He could be hard to handle, and he had the money. He really didn’t care if she let herself be photographed for that website wearing her kiss-off jewelry.