on your couch while they watch TV?”
“I am not eating with you.” He didn’t want to take her out, but thought he could buy her off with barbecue.
“I cannot imagine why not. I brought pork, chicken,
Was he making fun of her because she used to be fat? She looked him up and down and could find no evidence of it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.
He leaned toward her and gave her a smoldering look and made her stomach flip. “Do you like lemon pie? I could go back and get chocolate if you like that better. I want to make you happy.”
“Then you need to take your dog and your barbecue and leave.” She folded her arms over her chest.
He sighed and the gloom in his eyes washed into his face. “Lucy, I am so tired. And hungry. Please just let me eat and watch football here with you. I have to be at the airport before God gets up in the morning.”
“I guess you should have thought about that before you spent all day on the golf course tiring yourself out and getting sunburned.”
“I have not been on the golf course,” he said with a sigh. “And I’m sorry I didn’t come get Eller. I was doing some repairs on my grandmother’s house. Time got away from me, and then I got a bad splinter in my hand. I am sorry for being late.”
He held out his palm to show her a ragged angry gash covered in orange Betadine. Hot shame settled over her and her heart cried out a little. It wasn’t gloom on his face. It was pain. That didn’t mean he wanted to be here, but maybe he did.
“Nothing would do Caroline Brantley and Charles Kincaid but that they haul me down to the ER where I had no cell phone coverage. To add insult to injury, I got a tetanus shot in my ass. But I should have called when I got out, before I got the barbecue.”
Softness crept over her. Her heart couldn’t afford softness, but it came anyway.
“Why didn’t you tell me all that as soon as you got here?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “There are two ways of doing things, easy and hard. And I am the grand champion of picking hard. Please, Lucy.” He settled his golden eyes into hers. “I just want to be here with you. That’s what I’ve wanted all day. I wanted to take you out to dinner and then watch the game together, but I was getting fussed over at Merritt General Hospital for no good reason.”
She believed him. He might not mean it tomorrow or in an hour but, right now, he meant it. She should make him go. It would be better for all concerned, but she couldn’t stop herself or the tenderness that was welling up inside her.
“Go turn on the game,” she said quietly. “I’ll fix you a plate.”
Later, after they had eaten, somewhere during the second quarter, he put an arm around her and pulled her to him, and she wasn’t able to stop herself from letting him. She had worked so hard to bury all those old feelings, just like she’d worked to lose those extra pounds. She’d always known fat was right around the corner and, evidently, so was being in love with Brantley again.
Weak. She was so weak. And she knew all about weakness. She felt it again when the game was over.
He gave her a lazy smile. “Roll Tide.” They’d won the game.
“Roll Tide,” she responded.
“Thank you for not throwing me in the street,” he said.
“It would have been a big mess. You and Eller there in the street with all that barbecue, coleslaw, and lemon pie all over you. I try not to make a mess if I can help it.” But wasn’t that exactly what she was doing now? Sitting here in the crook of his arm, feeling his body heat, and smelling his scent?
“There are worse things than rolling around in barbecue.” He lifted his injured hand and slid his thumb along her jaw line. “Though I’d rather have you for my rolling partner than Eller.”
“I don’t know.” Now, her chin was resting in the V between his thumb and index finger. He barely moved his hand against her cheeks as if he was enjoying the feel of her skin and had no desire to bring her face to his own, no desire to kiss her. No, that wasn’t quite right. The desire was there; she could see it in his eyes. He had just chosen to enjoy the moment rather than rush it. “I don’t see the charm of rolling around in barbecue, especially if there is potato salad involved.”
“No?” He bit his lower lip. “I see the charm in Lucy Mead. Does she see the charm in me? Even a little? Ever?”
“Sometimes,” she answered. “Though I shouldn’t. You cost too much.”
He laughed that low sweet laugh and shifted. It might have been an accident that his thigh pressed more firmly against hers.
“I am free for the taking,” he said.
She needed to stop this and get him out of here. She captured his wrist in her hand, pulled it away from her face, and looked at his palm “How is your hand? Does it hurt?”
“No,” he said. He was lying.
She rose. “Didn’t you say you had to catch a plane before God gets up? Hadn’t you better get some sleep?”
“I can sleep on the plane. I’m a good plane sleeper. Wheels up, I’m out.”
“But you have to get to the airport. And it’s an hour away.”
He sighed. “Okay.” He held out his uninjured hand. “Help me up. I’m injured, in pain.”
“You said your hand didn’t hurt.” But she took his hand.
“Sometimes I lie,” he said as she pulled him to his feet. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “And sometimes I don’t.”
And in that moment, he took charge of her world. When he took her in his arms, they snapped together like a magnetic fastener on a purse and his mouth on hers was like the temptation of the last bit of ice cream in the freezer. She’d never had any self-control where that was concerned either. Best not to allow ice cream in the house.
But his mouth was not ice cream—it was so much better. This was not the kiss of a fraternity boy who thought he knew everything. This was a man’s kiss, with a warm tongue and lips that knew how to take their time around a mouth. And—dear Lord—he slid his hand up her side and cupped her cheek. Finally, he urged her to her toes until their pelvises met. There was nothing coy about the way he pressed his erection against her. He was in charge and bent on making her remember this moment. Light spread through her—not just the hot searing heat of the sun, but the silvery soft glow of moonlight.
And that was a dangerous combination, one that could claim a heart, a body, and a life.
She did not need Brantley Kincaid warming her with his light, could not tolerate it. Yet, it was he who broke the kiss.
“Lucy Mead, that was sweet,” he said. “I’m going to pine for you while I’m gone.” And he left, leaving her one big bundle of confusion.
That confusion lasted until the next morning when she opened her door to go to church. On the porch sat a bag of dog food and a cardboard box with a dog bed, three leashes, and a plethora of dog toys—and Eller in a dog carrier.
The note on top said, “Lucy, I asked Eller who she wanted to stay with while I was gone and she picked you! Seriously, my dad’s allergic and there is the matter of the demon cat at Big Mama’s. It would eat her in one bite. I’ll call you. You might even answer.”
Every bit of confusion and softness she had felt mutated into anger. As she hauled Eller and all the Eller paraphernalia into the house, even the sympathy she’d had for him over his injury evaporated.
The dog carrier caught the front of her new blouse and the sound of ripping silk gave way to the ringing of
