Southern Hospitality

by Sally Falcon

  “Have I interrupted something interesting?” T.L. asked from the kitchen doorway, his voice echoing around the tension filled room. His twinkling eyes took in every detail of the close conjunction of the two occupants. “If I did, I’ll just go upstairs quietly, and you can pretend I was never here.”

  “No one could ever pretend you weren’t around, Daddy,” Tory stated in exasperation at the interested look on T.L.’s face. Her relief at her father’s return was mixed with dread at what he’d say next. Taking the coward’s way out, she quickly decided to leave before the situation turned embarrassing.

  “I’m glad to see you, but it’s been a long day,” she announced, walking quickly to the door. Giving T.L. a hasty kiss on the cheek, she waved vaguely in Logan’s direction. “Goodnight, gentlemen.”

  Before either of them could speak, she was out the door. As she ran across the lawn, she wondered if a thirty-year-old woman ever considered running away from home. That might be the only solution to her current problems. She’d leave Abby in charge of the shops, and find a place to hide until Logan went back to Boston. Once he was gone, she could pick up the remnants of her life and pretend that this interlude never happened.

  She knew the plan was ridiculous by the time she reached her cottage. A Planchet didn’t run away from their problems, no matter how attractive the solution might seem. But being separated from Logan might help. She needed some breathing space. Maybe she would come to her senses without Logan’s disturbing presence.

  T.L. was back, so she could concentrate on Bill of Fare. After a few days, she could test her resolve, determine if she was in love or simply infatuated. If it was the former, she’d just have to take the rest of Logan’s visit one day at a time and hope she survived.

  Chapter Nine

  The sound of a car door slamming reached Logan’s sensitive ears as he sat in the gazebo, but he didn’t look up. He kept his eyes fixed on the screen of the portable computer he’d purchased the previous day. Even if the new arrival was Tory, it didn’t matter. She’d been avoiding him for three days, leaving him at the mercy of her father, just as she had Saturday night in the kitchen.

  T.L. hadn’t said a word about the scene he interrupted, yet. Logan was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just another strange situation that Tory had managed for him. How many men his age were worried about getting lectured by his lover’s father? He grimaced at his wishful thinking. Did one night in her arms make them lovers?

  “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  His fingers skidded over the keyboard and left a trail of garbage on the screen. Tory was standing only a few feet away from him. Taking his time, he saved the file and turned off the computer before he looked at her. He knew it was childish, but she didn’t have to have the upper hand all the time. Besides, he was the one who’d played chess, and lost, to T.L. for the past three nights.

  “Hello.” The greeting was the best he could manage. For the past seventy-two hours he’d only seen her from a distance, and in his dreams. She always seemed to be leaving when he was arriving—whether it was a room, the house, or the property. He’d decided to wait, allowing her a little freedom, even if he was making himself miserable. Why was she seeking his company now?

  “Is that your new toy? Trevor said the two of you went to every computer store in town yesterday.”

  She looked wonderful, and he greedily drank in the sight of her. Her smile went straight to his heart, making him wonder what, or who, caused the excitement that seemed to radiate from her. Although she was leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed, she seemed to have a precarious hold on her nonchalant pose. Her cotton slacks and tailored blouse didn’t give a hint as to where she’d been.

  “Yes, that’s my new toy,” he admitted, his smile a little hesitant. He didn’t want to break the spell. Tory was here, she was talking to him, and maybe he could tempt his impatience with the situation for at least five minutes. “Preston called yesterday for a progress report on my articles. He wants the first one by next week, so I charged this little beauty to the company.”

  “How is he?”

  Logan knew by her softened tone that she knew about his uncle’s illness. He’d learned more about T.L. and Preston’s relationship over the past few days, so he wasn’t surprised. It was strange to talk to someone about Preston’s illness. No one at home discussed it by Preston’s order. “He’s getting by, one day at a time. Of course, I only have his word for it. I wrote a long letter to Babs earlier this week to get the facts.”

  Tory nodded and seemed to understand his reticence, her eyes telegraphing her sympathy for a man they both loved. “You mentioned Babs the other night. I have to confess I had an interesting discussion with Abby before the Ferguson party.”

  “How interesting?” he prompted. He was intrigued by the sudden flush on her cheeks. What could Abby have said to embarrass Tory?

  “It seems it isn’t Abby who became an idiot after marrying Gary, but the other way around.”

  “Pardon?” Somehow the conversation had taken a left turn without him realizing it. But with Tory he’d almost come to expect it. He looked forward to her unstructured thought patterns.

  “It seems Gary was feeling a little, er, possessive about his new wife, and wanted to make sure that she didn’t miss being single.” Tory shrugged, pulling a face that made Logan want to jump out of his chair and kiss her. He usually felt that way, and it always got him in trouble, so he stayed safely in his chair.

  “I can understand that. A new relationship is like skating on thin ice and every once in a while someone throws you an anvil to hold.” Logan decided icy water wouldn’t be a bad idea as Tory’s laughter sent a shaft of desire through him. Whatever was bothering her on Saturday had disappeared. Unfortunately, he seemed to have caught her melancholy mood. Why else would he sit around for three days, daydreaming about Tory, and still be acting like a love-sick fool when she was only a few feet away?

  “Was that what you came to tell me?” he shot out without trying to mask his impatience.

  “What? Uh, no.” Tory didn’t seem to be following the conversation any better than he was. “I was supposed to tell you about the organizer’s meeting tonight at Curtiss’s house. They’ll be going over the last minute arrangements for the rally on Saturday. We thought you might be interested, sort of a behind-the-scenes approach.”

  “Giving me more of the total rally experience again?” he asked dryly, unable to resist. The question had an intriguing result, Tory blushed again.

  Logan decided he needed a closer look at this phenomenon and stood up. Did he make her nervous? Why else would she look so startled? He forced himself to walk very slowly across the wooden flooring.

  “Now, Logan, the ride with Tod was harmless. You probably got some good material out of it, didn’t you?” She stood her ground, but looked as though she was ready to take flight any second.

  Remembering his determination to be more cautious, he stopped with only a foot of space between them. Casually, he leaned his hip against the railing and raised his hand to grasp the door frame, just inches from Tory’s shoulder. His eyes were level with her widened gaze, and she couldn’t seem to look away. “There’s a lot more material I’d like to explore on the subject. What do you have planned for me during the Arkansas Traveler?”

  Logan was forced to repress his smile of satisfaction as Tory took a deep swallow and blinked rapidly in answer. She was responding to the husky innuendo in his voice, not to his words. She could claim she was only interested in friendship, but he was sure she had a vivid memory of their night together. His Tory wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her passionate nature.

  “I don’t have anything planned for you this time. You’ll be going around the control crews with Trevor,” she managed a little breathlessly. “I’ll be handling the rest of the press and visitors.”

  “Giving up?” he challenged, letting his fingers accidently brush against her shoulder.
Something flashed in Tory’s magnificent eyes, just as he had hoped.

  “Certainly not,” she shot back immediately, then realized what she’d done. The look she gave him would have burned a lesser man to a crisp. “T.L. is back in town, and I have a business to get off the ground. The shop at Park Plaza is going to be ready to open on Monday.”

  “Need an extra waiter? I’m told that I’m rather good,” he continued. Her show of fire was exactly what he wanted. Maybe he’d been trying the wrong tactics all along. Give the lady just enough to worry about, wondering when, or if, he was going to pounce. He allowed himself a slight smile as he remembered his own words on the way back from Oklahoma. I’ll try to play the little gentleman, but don’t be surprised if I suddenly make a grab for you. It might lack finesse, but it seemed to worry his lady love.

  “Beginner’s luck, Logan. Bodine was the only one to give you a tip.”

  “He only gave me money. There are other, more pleasant ways to say thank you. And I still haven’t thanked you for my lessons in how to be southern.” He leaned forward with no more intent than to see Tory’s reaction. It was very satisfactory.

  She turned on her heels and started across the lawn, not quite running, but in full retreat. When she reached the driveway, she swung around with her hands on her hips. “You apparently need a better instructor. Maybe Trevor can give you a few pointers when he takes you to Curtiss’s. Be ready at six-thirty.”

  Tory marched across the yard and stomped up the steps, trying to drown out the sound of Logan’s laughter. Damn the man, she railed at herself, barely keeping from slamming the back door. She thought it would be safe to face him in broad daylight, but no.

  She’d arrived ready to share her news about the opening. In her euphoria, she’d forgotten that Logan was dangerous. After avoiding him for seventy-two hours, she thought she had everything in control again. A few minutes in his company had turned her into a blithering fool, as usual.

  Maybe she wasn’t in love with him after all. It was maybe just a case of temporary insanity. Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about her mental state much longer. After Saturday, she’d be finished with her rally duties and buried in the opening of her shop. During the day she’d be too busy to see Logan, and at night she’d be too exhausted to dream about him.

  So, why wasn’t she ecstatic about the plan?

  “You’re right, you shouldn’t wear hats.”

  Logan’s hand went to the cap on his head at Tory’s teasing words from behind him. This is just what I need, he grumbled to himself, wondering how she’d appeared out of thin air. I’m hot, dusty, and stranded in the middle of a forest all day. Then she decides to talk to me for the first time in two days. The road rally was spread out over acres of the national forest near Lake Winona, a wilderness only a half hour from Little Rock.

  He spread his arms out to give her a better view. Two people could play this war of nerves, but he was going to win eventually. “I was told that if I was going to work on a control crew that I had to wear an official cap and T-shirt. Tod Blaylock’s daredevil driving is beginning to look like heaven.”

  “How did you get drafted?” She was having a hard time hiding her smile. She stood with her thumbs looped in the waist band of her hiking shorts, rocking back and forth on the soles of her track shoes. The blue and red Arkansas Traveler T-shirt snugly fit her neat waist and breasts, causing Logan’s mouth to go dry.

  “Trevor came up short on personnel,” he started to explain, before a shout from down the dirt road stopped his study of her legs. As he turned in the direction of the finish line, he could hear the unmistakable sound of a car engine. A Corvette came into view at the top of the rise a half mile away, the last turn before the finish line of the stage. “Looks like we’re going back to work. Ready, Greg.”

  The teenager standing a few feet away held up his stop watch, but kept his eyes trained on the flag man standing at the finish line further down the track. Logan raised his clipboard as the Corvette neared the flag man. The flag went down, and Greg called out the time for Logan to record on a row of stickers in front of him. When the low-slung sports car skidded to a stop in front of him, he peeled off the sticker and handed it to the co-driver through the opening in the passenger window.

  “You handle this like a professional.”

  Logan only had time to give Tory a quick look before another shout went up from the flag man. A jeep and a Volkswagen were approaching the finish line. He didn’t want to admit that his pulse was racing at double time and his palms were sweating.

  Trevor had thrown him into this job with very little explanation. When they’d arrived at the timing control for this stage, only one of the scheduled crew had shown up and at least two people were needed. Logan had been drafted a half hour before they’d run the heat to give the cars their starting times. Now, they were running the second daylight stage with the cars running the same route in the opposite direction. If he’d understood correctly, they’d be doing another stage after dark.

  He heard Tory talking to someone behind him, but was occupied with the cars that seemed to be arriving in a pack. A succession of cars went by in a cloud of dust until only two of the twenty stickers remained on his clipboard. He called out the car numbers to Tom Dantry, the radio operator, sitting under the trees across the road. Subconsciously, he registered that Tory was talking to Tom’s wife, Alice. A few minutes later Tom relayed the message that one car was out of the rally, but nothing was reported on the other car yet.

  “Hey, Boston, you’re doing just fine,” Trevor called from behind him. The other man was walking up the incline from the main road, apparently parking further down the road to keep clear of the racers.

  Logan gave him a succinct evaluation of his duties as Trevor stopped beside him. “No wonder you have trouble getting people to do this. It’s a half hour of high tension, and hours of waiting around in between doing nothing.”

  “Why do you think I’m on the administrative team? I used to go nuts out here. It could be worse. I’ve done this in the rain and in twenty-degree weather,” the other man returned, his grin widening. He checked his watch and frowned. “The slow sweep should be through in about ten minutes, and hopefully, we’ll find out what’s happened to our missing car. Who is it?”

  Logan checked his clipboard. “Three.”

  “Uh-oh, that’s Walt and Midge. If they’re out of the race for good, we’re going to hear some colorful language. Midge has been in rare form today.”

  “I know,” Logan stated, curling his mouth to the side as he remembered the redhead from earlier in the day. “She was really laying into Greg when we were starting them. He wasn’t doing anything fast enough for her, and they almost started ahead of their time, except Billy had the flag on the front of the car to keep them the full two minutes.”

  “That’s our Midge, a real sweetie. She’ll do everything she can to shave a few seconds off their time.”

  The words were barely out of Trevor’s mouth before a shout went up from Billy at the finish line. Nesbitt’s gray Mazda was cresting the last rise of the course, and it was clear they were having trouble from the black smoke coming from the back of the car. They were closely followed by the pick-up truck driving slow sweep. Both vehicles were driving about twenty miles an hour.

  “Looks like they refused a tow from the slow sweep,” Tory commented as she joined the two men a few minutes later. “Since this is the last stage before the dinner break, they might have time to get their repairs done before the night stage.”

  No one had a chance to reply as the Mazda stopped next to Logan. He peeled off the sticker and handed it to Midge who was glaring at the trio. Tory handed her a plastic cup of water, but the other woman carelessly waved it away, spilling half the contents onto the dirt road. The redhead was still staring at Logan.

  “Now I remember you,” she snapped, her venomous glare singled out Logan as if she hadn’t spoken to him a number of times the previous night. “I’m goin
g to report your crew for holding us up earlier. Don’t think you’ll get off easy because you’re sleeping with the rally master’s sister either.”

  Walt put the car into gear and slowly pulled away, leaving a silent group behind. Logan’s glance immediately went to Tory, but she was busy digging a stone out of the dirt with the toe of her shoe. When he looked over at Trevor, the man’s eyes were narrowed in an assessing look that went from head to toe.

  “Well, I’ve got to round up some media folks for dinner, so I’ll see ya’ll later,” Tory announced, trotting over to her car before either man could speak.

  Reluctantly, Logan glanced at Trevor. The other man was watching him, his expression uncharacteristically malevolent.

  “It’s amazing what you learn during a rally weekend,” he began dryly. Logan let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding in his burning lungs, wishing he’d sink slowly into the ground. “I need to check in at the service stop, but I think I can be back here in an hour so we can have dinner.” He waited for an answer, then nodded when Logan remained mute. “Maybe you’d like to go for a little ride, so we can talk about this in private. You’ve got a couple hours to kill.”

  Logan couldn’t keep from wincing slightly at the emphasis on the last word. Although he’d been waiting the last five days for T.L. to lower the boom, he was totally unprepared to deal with Tory’s irate brother. Worst of all, he knew he was blushing for the first time in over a decade, or more. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t realize that Trevor was gone without another word.

  The next hour seemed endless. Logan paced the clearing where the crew had setup camp for the day. He made idle conversation with Tom and Alice while Billy and Greg played catch. He knew his minutes were numbered when Alice began unpacking a picnic basket from the back of the station wagon. Almost on cue the sound of an engine alerted him to a new arrival coming from the main road.