Sweet Southern Bad Boy

by Michele Summers

  “Seriously?” Vance asked, not quite believing Dottie, since she tended to spread a little gossip along with a whole heap of trouble.

  Dottie stomped forward, glaring at him as if he were the perfect imbecile. “Vance Kerner, you’ve got your head so stuck in your books, you don’t know what’s going on around you,” she accused. “I’m tellin’ you those wild young’uns of yours were chasing some pretty girl, screaming at the top of their lungs. What’s going on over there? Is that your new babysitter?”

  A few shoppers stopped to hear what Dottie had to say…not that she ever said anything in a quiet voice. Vance gripped the edge of the cashier counter to keep from clapping his hand over Dottie’s big mouth.

  Brogan finished bagging his groceries and started to chuckle. “What is going on over there, Kerner? New babysitter or new girlfriend?” he asked, being a smart-ass.

  “Did you say girlfriend?” Dottie boomed loud enough for the entire county to hear.

  And that was all it took; the Harmony crazies started babbling out both sides of their mouths.

  “Vance, you got yourself a girlfriend?”

  “’Bout time…Candy Lou and I wondered if you might be light in the loafers.”

  “What’s wrong with his loafers? They look fine to me.”

  Vance scowled at Brogan and grabbed two bags of homemade granola and shoved them in the bag. “On the house. Thanks for being a fucker,” he said under his breath, and Brogan howled with laughter.

  “Girlfriend or not, you need someone to take care of things.” Dottie Duncan, the scariest broad in town, shook a long, light-blue nail at his face. She owned the Toot-N-Tell, a drive-up convenience store with sixteen locations across the state, which made her one of the richest women in the state and also one of the nosiest.

  “How you feeding those kids? And keeping up with the laundry? That house of yours probably looks like Grant took Richmond.” Dottie cocked her platinum-blond head and narrowed her overly made-up blue eyes at him. “Your mama is probably turning over in her grave. God rest her soul.”

  At the mention of his mom, Vance’s heart constricted into a painful knot. She’d died when he was in high school, and things had never been the same. Eric had taken off and joined the Army, and Vance’s relationship with his dad had gone from barely tolerable to who could remain silent the longest. But Dottie couldn’t be more wrong about his mom. She would’ve loved Eric’s kids running around underfoot and making messes. Then cuddling up next to her at night for homemade sugar cookies and the reading of Goodnight Moon for the millionth time.

  Vance wrapped his arm around Dottie’s plump shoulders and squeezed. “Listen, little mama, if my living conditions distress you, then come on down and lend a hand.” He winked, flashing his sexiest grin. Dottie grew flustered, and her monstrous chest heaved.

  She swatted at his midsection as a blush crept up her neck and inflamed her rouged cheeks. “You don’t need another mama. What you need is a wife.”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth,” Brogan added with a shit-eating grin. Vance discreetly flipped him off with the hand behind Dottie’s back. The last thing he needed was all the matchmaking mamas hustling up girls and hauling them out to his place. Until he’d staked his claim on Lucy, Brogan had had his fair share sniffing around his store when he first moved back. And Keith Morgan, the ex-professional tennis player married to Bertie Anderson, had had hordes of them showing up at his house when he first moved to town. It was like a damn singles parade down Main Street. Vance planned to avoid that unwanted attention at all costs.

  Which was why he then said the stupidest thing imaginable. “That girl is from Hollywood. She wants to use my house to make a movie. And I need to get home to turn her down—”

  Dottie’s eyebrows rose, and Brogan’s jaw unhinged and hit the countertop.

  “A Hollywood movie?”

  “With Brad Pitt and George Clooney?”

  “I could be the leading lady!”

  Putting up his hands, Vance scanned the screwy, yapping shoppers. “No. Look, everyone…there’s no movie. You’ve misunderstood. I’m—”

  “Vance Kerner, you think we’re buying this baloney you’re selling about a movie? Why don’t you save those wild stories for your books? I think you’re shacking up with some out-of-town filly.” Dottie gave him the don’t-mess-with-me look. “I’m gonna be watching you,” she warned, fists planted on her generous hips.

  He was a bonehead. Dottie wouldn’t be the only one watching. In about five minutes, half of Harmony would be gossiping, tweeting, texting, Facebooking, and emailing about his new filly, and he wouldn’t hear the end of it until he’d reserved the Methodist church for the ceremony and booked the community center for the reception. And the other half of Harmony would be spreading rumors about George Clooney coming to town. Vance shuddered, thinking of the lengths this town would go to to catch sight of a movie star.

  Dottie picked up one of Brogan’s specialty bags of granola and flipped it over. “Humph. Still a rip-off,” she said, indicating the $7.95 price tag. She dropped the bag back in the display basket and huffed her way out of the store.

  “Damn, Kerner, now you’ve got her all riled up again. She’s gonna run around bashing my granola to anyone with ears,” Brogan complained.

  Vance scrubbed the back of his neck. Dottie Duncan and her partner in crime, Miss Sue Percy, Harmony’s most notorious gossip, would be talking about more than expensive granola. Like movie stars, flowers, and wedding cakes…not necessarily in that order. He needed to warn Kat. Then he needed to stall until he’d heard back from Mike.

  “What is wrong with this town and its obsession with marrying everyone off? It’s like the worst Bachelor show on meth,” Vance said, shaking his head.

  Brogan nodded. “Shee-it. Don’t I know it!”

  Chapter 3

  “K-k-k-atie…I’m home,” Vance called out as he pushed open the front door, carrying his purchases from BetterBites. He hoped Kat hadn’t flown the coop, or worse…called the authorities. It had been over four hours since he’d left. She hadn’t texted to complain, but still, Vance deserved whatever crap she chucked at him. Just inside the door, he stopped to listen.

  Something was off.

  Blissful silence filled the air. Vance sniffed, detecting the scent of Pine-Sol. He moved easily through the foyer. No navigating toys or clutter on the clean wood floors. “Donald? Dover? Where is everyone?”

  As he approached the kitchen, Danny scampered out. “Uncle Pance. You bring me kitty?”

  Vance bent down and scooped up Danny. “No, baby. No kitty.” And that was when he noticed the pink shirt, flowered jeans, and baby-blue tennis shoes. “Who dressed you?” he asked, entering the kitchen, where he came to a complete halt, almost dropping the toddler. “What the fuh…funny bone?” The countertops were clear of all food and piles of junk. The old farm table had been wiped clean, and he could actually see the scarred surface. Froot Loops and potato chips no longer littered his tile floor, and his feet didn’t stick to its surface when he walked. But even more surprising than a spotless kitchen were the kids. Donald wore yellow rubber gloves up to his elbows, with his hands submerged in soapy water at the sink, and Dover held a Swiffer as he dusted the shelves of the robin’s-egg-blue hutch that housed his mother’s collection of antique creamware. The more valuable pieces had been moved to the top shelves for safekeeping, but Dover uncharacteristically dusted in slow motion, careful not to break anything.

  “Hey, what’s going on? What did you do with my nephews?” he asked half-jokingly and half not. Danny squirmed in his arms, and Vance put the toddler down.

  “Kay-tee gave Pixie baf,” Danny said.

  “Really? Donald, where’s Katie?” Vance asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  Donald looked over his shoulder, still soaping up a large pot. “She went to change her
clothes.”

  Vance cringed, remembering Dottie Duncan’s tale of naked kids chasing Katie with a garden hose. “Uh, did she happen to get wet today?”

  “Soaked.”

  Vance whirled around. Katie stood in the kitchen doorway. Damp hair slicked back in a smooth braid accentuated her widow’s peak. She’d changed into threadbare jeans and an oversized, gray UC Berkeley Golden Bears sweatshirt. Her face shone squeaky clean, with the barest hint of pink gloss across her lips. Lips he remembered tasting with perfect clarity.

  Vance swallowed…hard. She’d been pretty before in her skirt and top with designer shoes and handbag, but now…now she looked fresh and bright and lovely. He cleared his throat. “I see you survived, and by the looks of things”—he gave the kitchen another once-over—“you’ve performed a miracle. Do you walk on water too?”

  “No, but I run through garden hoses.” She bent down and clapped. “Come here, sweet pea.” Danny skipped toward Katie with outstretched hands. “By the way, are you aware Danny is a girl?” she asked, scooping his niece up in her arms and resting Danny on her hip. “I mean, it took me awhile, but after the third and final accident, I gave her a bath, and imagine my surprise at the discovery.” Katie gave Vance a droll smile.

  “Girl? No way.” Confusion colored Katie’s pretty brown eyes. Vance bit back a laugh. “Danny? Are you a silly girl?” He chucked his niece under the chin.

  “No! Girls are dum-dums,” Danny yelled, making Katie stare at them both in shock.

  “See? She says she’s not a girl.”

  “You’ve got to be kid—”

  “Where’s Pop? I want my kitty, Kay-tee,” Danny interrupted.

  Katie arched an eyebrow. “Lollipop is sleeping. We need to let her rest. She’s had a traumatic day.” She examined Danny’s face as if looking for signs of mental damage. “Danny, sweetie, I’m a girl, and I don’t think girls are dum-dums,” Katie said in a soft voice.

  Danny shook her head so hard her wispy blond curls flew around her head. “I no girl. I gonna be foo-ball player like Donald and Dovey.” Vance grinned, and Katie rolled her eyes.

  “Katie, we’ve finished cleaning. Can we go watch TV now?” Donald asked, removing his rubber gloves.

  She redirected her attention to his nephews. “Only after you both take baths.”

  “Then can we have dinner and go to bed?” Dover asked with way too much excitement for a kid who hated anything to do with bedtime.

  Gobsmacked. Vance shook his fuzzy head. If Michael Jordan, the greatest basketball player to walk this green earth, appeared in his kitchen and asked him to shoot hoops, he wouldn’t be more surprised. “Seriously, what have you done with my nephews? These two look like my nephews, but they aren’t behaving like them.” Vance began to wonder if she held mystical powers and had bewitched the entire household. He was starting to feel funny himself. Like hot under the collar—and a few other places.

  “It’s called the reward and incentive program,” Katie said, padding across the clean floor in tan flats. “Working with a lot of entitled actors, you tend to understand this program quite well.” She wiped down the water near the sink with a clean kitchen towel. “The kids and I had an eventful day, and now they will reap their reward, right?” Both Donald and Dover nodded, wearing big smiles. “Okay. You know what to do. Shoo fly. And don’t be all day about it.”

  Before the boys bolted from the kitchen, Vance held out his hand. “Whoa, hold up there. What’s this great reward you’re getting that you’ve cleaned house, and now you’re willing to clean your bodies without the usual whining and bellyaching?” he asked the aliens inhabiting his nephews’ bodies.

  “It’s a surprise,” Dover announced.

  “We don’t want you to know yet. And don’t come upstairs.” Donald pulled on Katie’s hand. “Make him stay here, okay?”

  “I don’t know, guys…don’t you think she’s too small to take me? Besides, she’s only a girl.” He winked at Katie’s flushed face.

  “She’s tough, Uncle Vance. She wasn’t even afraid of Mr. Cornwaddle’s mean dog. She shooed him away with a big stick,” Dover said, pride coloring his voice.

  A smile started to curl Vance’s lips. He wished he’d been here to see Katie take on old man Cornwaddle’s half-blind, crippled, toothless golden retriever. Colonel hadn’t retrieved anything in years, much less frightened any humans.

  “Well, good thing Katie was here to protect you. Okay, I won’t peek, but hurry, because I’ve brought home a good dinner.” Both boys bolted from the kitchen, making loud boy noises as they bounded up the stairs. Vance reached for Danny, who was squirming in Katie’s arms. “Miss Dana Sue, you have a surprise to show me too?” He kissed her soft hair and breathed in her baby-girl scent. “It’s amazing how much better they smell when they’re clean.” He smiled at Katie, and she started to pull groceries from the green shoppers. “You want to watch a movie?” he asked Danny.

  “Can we watch Fwozen?” Vance tried to keep his smile in place at the mention of his most hated movie, only because he’d seen it four hundred times in the last two weeks.

  “You can watch Frozen. Uncle Vance needs to help Katie.” Or get blasted by Katie, who appeared to have been holding her tongue. Very patient woman, this Katie. Vance admired her calm demeanor.

  After settling Danny in the playroom to watch her movie, Vance returned to the kitchen. The table had been set with mismatched blue and white transferware, all left over from when his mom was alive, and Katie was preheating the oven for the chicken, mac and cheese, and green beans.

  Vance hesitated, watching Katie hijack his kitchen. “Sorry I was late and you got dumped on today. I know they’re more than a handful.”

  “Well, I’d be lying if I said those kids weren’t a challenge, but once I established who was boss, we were fine, all things considered.” She handed him Danny’s sippy cup filled with milk, and Vance placed it on the table.

  Not sure what to do next, he watched Katie puttering around the kitchen like she’d lived here for years. Unsettled didn’t begin to describe the feeling crawling inside him. “Well, I’d like to pay you for today and whatever a new pair of shoes cost.” Vance went to the desk drawer where he kept his checkbook.

  “That won’t be necessary. But you did promise to listen to my proposal. I’d like to talk to you after the kids have eaten.”

  He looked up with checkbook in hand. Katie averted her gaze and bent down to put the food in the oven. He’d promised he would listen to her nutty idea about using his house, but he had no intentions of agreeing. He had a book to finish. Four hundred eighty-five pages weren’t going to write themselves. And at this rate, he’d never get it done. Babysitting three kids and two animals, school drop-offs, pick-ups, cooking, cleaning—well, he’d been slack in that department—and helping with homework sucked all his time. Single parenting had to be the hardest job on earth. His appreciation for what Gloria did without any help from Eric grew each minute. With a deadline looming, he didn’t have the time or the patience to monitor a movie crew running roughshod all over his house and grounds. He couldn’t get a moment’s peace as it was.

  Mike didn’t understand. He assumed Vance was almost finished and would be turning this book in on time. What Vance had failed to tell Mike was he was suffering from a paralyzing case of writer’s block and he really, really didn’t want to write this book. The subject matter brought back too many bad memories, and Vance didn’t have the stomach for it anymore. Adam Reynolds’s strained face and tired, blank eyes flashed through his mind. A bead of sweat trickled down his back.

  The thought of turning the first two books of this series into movies held serious appeal, but not if it meant losing control over content. Historically, books had been much better than their movie counterparts, and Vance would hate to see Hollyweird turn his into some sappy, tug-at-your-heartstrings, banal war story with no vi
sion, originality, or grace. On the other hand, if he could control and oversee the screenplay, then he could be sure the movie portrayed his intent. And maybe his dad would watch the movie, because he sure as hell never bothered reading Vance’s books.

  And maybe…maybe he’d finally accept Vance’s apology.

  He gave his head a vicious shake. Back to Katie. He’d listen to her pitch, and then he’d shoot her down nice and easy without scaring her off until he’d heard back from Mike. Katie had stepped outside the kitchen door and returned with a fistful of white daisies she arranged in an old blue mason jar. Vance remembered his mom doing the same thing for their dinner table, and his heart squeezed into a tight ball.

  “Don’t you think you’re getting a little carried away?” His voice was harsh.

  She gave him a startled look. “Hmm? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we don’t need flowers on the table or cloth napkins or any other decorative crap. It’s just dinner with three runny-nosed brats.” Katie flinched as if she’d been stung. Vance immediately felt like an ass, but dammit, his home was turning into a 1950s television show, complete with Ma in her pearls and Pa with his pipe. He couldn’t play house in Leave it to Beaver’s world and write about death and gore and war at the same time. He should be locked in the barn with a bottle of scotch, his coveted Cuban cigars, and some beef jerky, watching videos of war footage, writing his next thriller. And Katie needed a little shove out his front door and back into her old Mercedes parked in his driveway.

  He fished for his chiming phone in his jeans pocket and read the text from Mike. Publisher loves idea. Don’t lose that girl. She’s our ticket. Do whatever it takes… Vance suppressed a groan. Well, that certainly settled things. Time to convince Katie she wanted to stick around Harmony for its unique small-town charm, because no way in hell was he letting her movie crew anywhere near his house.

  Katie started to gather her handbag as if she meant to leave. “Whoa, where you going?” He moved to her side; she smelled of orange blossoms. Drawn to her unique scent, he leaned toward Katie as if sniffing flowers from the tree…light and sweet. Vance gritted his back molars. He was losing his man card, and it had to stop.