Sweet Southern Bad Boy

by Michele Summers

  “That won’t be necessary. All I want in return is fifteen minutes of your undivided attention.” And the use of your house for the next eight months. She’d get to that later. Katie picked up his satchel and handed it to him, escorting him to the door, acting as if she owned the place. “Now, make that meeting, and don’t forget to come home,” she half teased but actually meant it.

  “Call me if you need anything. Donald knows where everything is. Oh, and Danny sometimes eats the dog food and drops the kitten in the toilet, so you might want to watch out for that.” Katie’s face must’ve registered shock. “Not to worry. No one has gotten sick, and the kitten hasn’t drowned…yet. Thanks again. You’re a lifesaver.” And before she could react, Pirate Man cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in for a quick, hard kiss. Katie’s knees almost buckled, and her mind went blank. This must be what it felt like to be kissed senseless before walking the plank.

  Chapter 2

  Snap! Katie just got swooped. As in swooped off her feet by a kissing pirate! She stood rooted to the spot in complete shock where Vance Kerner had laid a big, warm kiss on her. Her. Katie, the runt of the McKnights. Good-looking, albeit slightly scary men didn’t go around kissing the black sheep of the McKnight family superstars.

  She watched as he drove away in a weathered black pickup truck. Vigorously shaking her head, she wondered if she’d been dropped from the sky into the mystical world of Harry Potter. Nothing seemed real in this place. Wherever this was. Especially that lip-tingling kiss that had shocked her from the roots of her hair to the balls of her feet. Not because she’d never been kissed, but because she’d actually felt something. From a complete stranger. More than she’d ever felt from Tad, her boyfriend. Oops, slight mental lapse. Technically, she and Tad were on a break, going on four months now. He’d wanted the break, testing Katie’s ability to stick and make the most of her opportunity at McKnight Studios. He needed to know she could commit to something before he made the ultimate commitment to her. Clearly, her track record had been spotty at best, according to her parents and Tad. Squeezing her eyes closed, Katie had to agree.

  In her defense, the right job opportunity hadn’t come along. Over the past two years, Katie had worked with her dad’s studio as production runner, production assistant…even boom operator, but nothing seemed to be the right fit. And at the end of each job, she always found her way back to her parents’ formal living room, sitting on the uncomfortable straight-back chair with the scratchy mohair cushion, listening to the same lecture over and over again: She needed to get serious and make something of herself. Majoring in elementary education and teaching school had been a “whim,” according to her parents, and not a very smart one. No child of Walter McKnight would choose a career with a history of paying such a low salary. Teaching did not spell success. All McKnights thrived on monetary success. And Katie would be no exception.

  The weight of her handbag suddenly felt like too much, and her shoulders drooped. Katie dropped it onto the old, painted green chest next to the front door. Glancing at her face in the bark-framed mirror, she was shocked at her well-kissed lips. She touched the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip and then jumped a foot in the air. Loud screeching, as if the house was on fire, could be heard through the foyer, followed by splashing noises.

  “Snoop Dogg! Not on my watch.” Katie whirled around and ran toward the back of the house, expecting the worst but hoping for the best.

  * * *

  “You okay?” Mike Clancy asked, sitting in a navy business suit, his clear blue eyes clouded with concern.

  Vance nodded, but the inside of his head was screaming hell no. He hesitated, gripping the ceramic coffee mug. He sat in a small restaurant in downtown Raleigh across from Mike, his agent and friend, who appeared sympathetic and confused. Mike was beginning to doubt. The signs were all there. Mike kept checking in three and four times a day, asking if Vance needed anything. Doubting Vance’s ability…his talent. Why now? He had been on such a roll. Vance ground his back molars as the answers to his persistent questions eluded him.

  “What, man?” Mike asked in a low voice. “You look like you’re in pain.”

  Vance took a fortifying gulp of his strong black coffee, then looked Mike square in the eye and told the lie that kept repeating itself over and over in his mind.

  “I’m great. Perfect. Everything’s fine. Well, as fine as it can be with my brother’s kids underfoot.” And his deadline weighing on his shoulders like a Sherman tank.

  Mike raised his blond eyebrows. “I understand it’s hard taking care of kids and trying to write, but you are”—he mimed typing with his fingers—“writing, aren’t you? Deadline is in four weeks, and you’re meeting it. Right?” Mike dug into his chicken Caesar salad. It was Saturday around one, and Vance had been over an hour late to this meeting because of the kids and the no-show nanny. Vance glanced at his black Victory watch, a gift from his brother and sister-in-law for making the New York Times bestsellers list. He hadn’t heard from Katie McKnight since he’d bolted, and that had him worried. Yes, he had jumped at her offer because he had needed to make this meeting, and he had needed to get away from the kids. And yes, she had looked reasonable, capable, and…available. Not to mention, cute as hell and totally seductive. A groan of pain escaped his lips.

  “Taking care of Eric’s kids is stressful. Can’t you get some help?” Mike said around a mouthful of salad. “How long are they staying with you?”

  What had possessed him to hire a perfect stranger to watch Eric’s kids? If word got out—and it would, because he lived in Harmony, North Carolina…home of the gold-medal gossipers—he’d be committed to the loony bin. And to add a whole heap of crazy on top, he’d gone and kissed her. Christ. He’d kissed a complete stranger and then left her at the mercy of his brother’s wild, unruly rug rats. Shit. She was probably tied to a tree and being used for target practice at this very moment. No question…he was losing it.

  “How long?” Mike asked again, giving Vance a strange look.

  “Oh, um, another four weeks.” Vance needed to get out of here and save Kat. His phone buzzed with a text message, and he flipped it over to read.

  U might want to buy new TV remote. Drowned in toilet. Need more disinfectant wipes. Katie. ;-)

  Vance texted back: R u ok??

  Fine. U owe me a new pair of shoes.

  Damn. Vance didn’t want to contemplate what the kids had done this time.

  “Shit. That’s not good. Not good at all. You need to make this deadline,” Mike said, referring to Vance’s four more weeks in purgatory. Mike stopped stabbing at his salad. “Who’s watching the kids now? You manage to get another nanny?”

  Not exactly. “Temporarily. This gal happened to stop by and volunteered when she realized the predicament I was in. Apparently, she’s a location scout from California and wants to talk to me about using my house for some movie or show. I don’t know. I didn’t give her a chance to explain.” Vance shoved a French fry in his mouth but tasted only cardboard. “Now you know what a bad uncle I am.”

  Mike laughed. “I don’t think you’re a bad uncle. I think you’re a brave one. I wouldn’t take my sister’s kids if you offered me skybox seats at the Super Bowl. No way.”

  Vance grinned, remembering Mike’s niece and nephew he’d met on a few occasions. They definitely made his monsters look like angels.

  “How did Gloria break her legs?” Mike asked, referring to Vance’s sister-in-law, who was presently laid up in bed with two broken legs and three broken ribs.

  “Skiing with Eric. She hit a patch of ice and took a nasty fall. Broke her legs and ribs, sprained her wrist, and bruised some internal organs.”

  “Man, that has got to suck. I know she’s frustrated as hell. And your brother’s doing another tour in Afghanistan?”

  “Yeah. He’s in charge of training and advising Afghan partners. When he asked
if I’d take the kids, I had to say yes. Gloria can’t exactly chase after three monkeys with her legs in casts and her arm in a sling.” Too doped up on painkillers to put up any resistance, Gloria had agreed to the arrangement. But once her head cleared and the painful reality sank in, she realized it was for the best. She needed rest and therapy, and that wouldn’t happen with kids crawling all over her.

  Mike drained his glass of iced tea. “And who’s looking after Gloria?”

  “Her girlfriends are taking shifts helping her out. It’s too much for her parents. They’re getting on in years. Her mom’s hands are full with her dad. He has trouble getting around. I drive over on the weekends whenever I can and let Gloria visit with the children.” Gloria and Eric lived in a small, three-bedroom house in Greenville, South Carolina, four and a half hours from Harmony. Road trip from hell with three screaming kids, barking dog, and adopted kitten.

  Vance had convinced Gloria it’d be best if he took the kids to his much larger home so he’d have a place to sleep and work and the kids could roam and play without bothering her. He had temporarily enrolled them in second grade, kindergarten, and pre-K so they wouldn’t get behind in school.

  “So, how’d you get lucky with this babysitter?” Mike had finished his salad and waved the waitress over to refill his iced tea. He wasn’t from the South, but he’d acquired a taste for the South’s addicting elixir: sweet tea made with simple syrup.

  “She knocked on my door. I was expecting a nanny from the new agency. But I’m beginning to suspect that Larry, Curly, and Moe have scared away every nanny within a thirty-mile radius. I’m running out of options. This is the third agency I’ve tried. Anyway, this gal said she’d help out if I agreed to listen to her proposition.” Vance could think of only one proposition he’d like to hear from Kat’s watermelon-pink lips, and it didn’t have anything to do with making a movie set out of his mother’s one-hundred-year-old family home.

  “That’s pretty wild. You can make a shitload of money renting your house to production companies. A friend of mine rented his beach house for a movie and made forty thousand dollars in three days.”

  Whoa. That was a shitload. But Vance wasn’t exactly hurting for money. His books had done pretty well. And he still collected rent from neighboring tenant farmers who used his land for their crops. Besides, the idea of strangers roaming through his family home and all over the grounds bothered him. Even though he didn’t have much family left these days. Eric hadn’t lived in the house since enlisting in the Army right out of high school. And his dad…Vance knew, the way he knew the covers of his own books, his dad would go ape-shit ballistic at the intrusion. His dad didn’t own the farmhouse, but he did own some of the property. The farmhouse had belonged to Vance’s mom, and she’d left it to her sons. Eric and Gloria had chosen to live closer to Gloria’s parents since they had kids and Eric was often deployed. So, that left Vance. And his reclusive dad who remained holed up in his barnlike house on the edge of the property.

  “Did the babysitter tell you what studio she was from?” Mike asked, breaking into his musings.

  Vance shrugged. “Her name is Katie McKnight.” He fished for her business card in his back pocket. “Yeah. She’s with McKnight Studios,” he said, reading the bold print.

  “Let me see that.” Mike reached for the card. “Unbelievable. This must be Walter McKnight’s daughter.” A big smile spread across his face. “Do you know what this means?”

  “Not exactly, but I have a feeling you’re going to enlighten me.” Dollar signs spun around Mike’s blue eyes, and Vance sensed he’d be playing a role in whatever scheme his agent was hatching. Mike’s boyish good looks deceived a lot of people, coming in handy during negotiations and giving him the advantage. He could swim with the meanest pool of sharks and emerge victorious.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to get in front of Walter McKnight or anyone at the studios. I’m talking movie rights to your series. This could be huge.” Mike spoke faster and faster, his excitement escalating.

  That would be the series Vance couldn’t seem to finish. The one where he’d lost his desire to write and his inspiration to continue the story of the soldier who could. Honor Bound and Without Honor, his first two books in this series, had been bestsellers, but recently, he’d lost his mojo. He just wasn’t feeling it for the last one, titled Honor Is Dead. And it scared the living shit out of him. He thought of his contact for research, Adam Reynolds, sitting in the metal folding chair at Helping Comrades, his support group, struggling to overcome his flashbacks of incoming mortars during his deployment, admitting his weakness and how he self-medicated with alcohol to help numb the memories.

  Mike’s words brought him back to the present. “Look, this could be a huge break, putting you in the big leagues. Skyrocketing your exposure and career.” Mike leaned closer. “And the money ain’t so bad either.”

  Again, Vance didn’t have money woes, but he knew the exposure could go a long way toward boosting his career. Other authors would give their right arm to sign a movie deal. This opportunity didn’t come along every day.

  Mike had been talking projections and numbers when he finally said, “Listen, whatever you do, don’t let go of that girl. She could be our golden ticket.”

  “I don’t think Katie’s planning to hang around to babysit the Three Musketeers.” Not that he’d blame her. Those three devils could make a saint weep. “When she finds out I’m not interested in renting my house to a bunch of Hollywood weirdoes, I think she’ll pretty much hit the trail.”

  Mike pulled out his tablet and started tapping. Without looking up, he said, “I understand that you might not want to rent your house, but at least hear her out. You know, stall a little. Let her think you’re really interested. Whatever it takes. Use your bad boy charm. Girls love your badass tortured image. Is she attractive?” Mike waved his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t scare this gal away. Not before I’ve done some research and made a few calls.” He continued to tap notes onto his tablet as if the world’s safety depended on him.

  Vance pressed his back into the dark-green vinyl booth and crossed his hands behind his head. Bad boy…not lately. Tortured? Absolutely.

  “Okay, I’ll stall, but you better dig up whatever you’re looking for fast. I don’t want to lead her on any longer than necessary.” However, he wouldn’t mind leading her straight to his bedroom, but he didn’t think the offer of sleeping with her was on the table. And how pathetic that he’d consider sleeping with a stranger from Hollyweird. Cute stranger, but still. He needed to do something about his dateless, colorless life. He’d had plenty of opportunities but never took the time. No more. Vance smiled, remembering the dumbstruck faces of the kids when Katie had whistled. Her face had been flushed, and her pretty eyes had sparked to life. He had to hand it to her…Katie had spunk.

  * * *

  After his lunch meeting, Vance drove the twenty-minute ride back to Harmony from Raleigh. Deciding he needed to pick up food to feed the growing clan at his house, he hurried into BetterBites on Main Street. His good friend and old high school buddy, Brogan Reese, owned and operated the health food store. The fresh smell of baked bread hit him the minute he stepped onto the repurposed-wood floors. Customers bustled about, shoving fresh, organic foods into their baskets. Business had not always been booming. Brogan had gone through a rough patch, trying to get the small-minded residents of Harmony to accept his healthy way of eating. But he’d found a jewel in Lucy Doolan, who had helped him with marketing and made a success of this location. Brogan and Lucy had a strained history, but they’d overcome it and now shared a sweet baby girl who would one day be breaking hearts like pretzel sticks.

  “Hey, Vance. What brings you in?” Brogan asked, coming around the cashier counter and clapping Vance on the back.

  “Need some dinner for my ankle-biters. Have any of that homemade mac and cheese?”r />
  “Sure. How ’bout some fresh-baked rosemary chicken and our sautéed green beans?” Brogan suggested as Vance followed him to the cooler with the ready-made meals.

  “Sounds good. Add some sourdough bread, chocolate chip cookies, and a coconut cream pie.” Vance didn’t know anything about Katie McKnight, but he thought homemade desserts might go a long way. With a good bottle of wine.

  “Coming right up,” Brogan said as he placed the food packages in a green shopping basket.

  Vance wandered over to the wine section and selected a dry Chardonnay. “How’s that cute baby of yours?”

  “Charlotte is cutting teeth again, which means our precious angel has officially left the building.”

  “Sad to say, but I can relate, and I haven’t even fathered any yet,” Vance said in sympathy. “Why don’t you bring Charlotte over so the kids can play?”

  Brogan laughed. “Aren’t your hands full enough?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like one more kid is going to make a difference. Bring Parker along. He can ride herd.” Parker was Brogan’s seventeen-year-old nephew. He and Brogan had become very close over the last couple of years.

  “Sounds like a great idea. Parker needs community service hours for high school. Babysitting small-children-gone-wild has got to qualify.” Brogan chuckled, ringing up Vance’s food. Vance placed the wine bottle on the counter and reached for his wallet when the front door blew open.

  “There you are. Thought I saw your pickup truck in the lot.” Vance and Brogan both looked up at Dottie Duncan, standing by the entrance in Carolina blue cowboy boots, tight jeans, blue vest with pink ruffles, and a scowl on her face. “Did you know your kids are running around bare-assed nekkid, chasing some poor girl with the garden hose?”