Simple Gone South

Lucy let out a little squeak—more from surprise than fear—and Brantley silenced her with his lips on hers. His mouth was warm and cold at the same time, fire and ice.

She put her hands on his shoulders to push him away, but somehow her arms ended up around his neck and she opened her mouth to get a better taste. He was better tasting than she remembered. Better than last week and better than Savannah.

The question was, what was she doing tasting him? She pulled away and stepped back. She would do well to remember that he had tricked her into taking care of his dog—again.

He was dressed in a white shirt, striped tie, navy slacks, and a camel wool topcoat. Still, he was shivering.

“Damn, Lucy Mead. You ordered up some cold weather while I was gone. I am freezing my ass off.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m waiting for you. I’ve been hiding in those bushes for over an hour.”

“And just who have you been hiding from?”

“Mostly Missy. I saw her leave. If she had spotted me, my life as I know it tonight would have ceased to exist. I would, no doubt, be admiring baby Lulu, playing Candy Land with Beau, and listening to the trials and tribulations of being Missy—instead of kissing Lucy. And not kissing Lucy would be the worst trial a man could face.”

And he kissed her again. She only let herself indulge for a few seconds. Forty-five tops.

“Why are you out here in the cold? Why didn’t you come in?” She hated that she was breathless against his mouth.

He licked her lower lip.

“I know the rules. No men at book club.” He ran his tongue in little circle at the corner of her mouth and let it trail down her jawline. “I had a special welcome planned and it did not include a bunch of women who pretend to read books, and especially not my oldest and dearest friend, who I love but who has no place in this particular scenario.”

By now he was speaking close to her ear and then he buried his face in her neck and found that spot—the one that shot an electric current straight to her nipples and between her thighs.

She should stop him. She had to stop him. But how could she? It was that spot.

“Lucy,” he whispered.

“Huh?”

“I’m cold. Real cold. Could we go?”

Suddenly, she was grounded again. Yes. Go. That’s what she had to do. Him too.

“Yes.” She pulled away. “I should go. Goodbye.” And she began to back away.

He followed. “I mean to go with you.”

“You can’t.”

“I have to. I walked here.”

She looked around. “You walked? From where?”

“Your house.” It wasn’t that far to her house. She might have walked here herself if it hadn’t been so cold and she hadn’t been running late. “I have to go there with you. Eller’s there, and I brought you some really great souvenirs. Plus, I have some other plans.”

He moved toward her again.

This time she kept her wits about her. Her good sense told her to make him walk, but that would have crossed the line to mean.

She clicked the locks on her car. “Get in. But you are only going to get your dog and your car.”

* * *

Brantley slid into the passenger side of Lucy’s Christmas ball blue SUV. He’d been bored in San Francisco and done a little research on this vehicle and he didn’t like what he’d found. Not only did it ride like a log wagon, it had an abysmal safety rating.

“This car is begging to roll over. Didn’t you see the safety rating on the Internet before you bought it?”

She frowned at him. “I did not consult the Internet. Or you.”

“Oh, Lucy, that is apparent. I would have advised against it. What you’ve got yourself here is a killing machine. It’s not safe. Nowhere close.”

“Really?” she said with no interest. “I think it’s perfect. It’s just big enough that I can deliver lamps and small pieces for furniture. And it was the right price and a snappy color.”

Brantley slapped his forehead. “Oh, that makes sense. It’s more important to have a snappy color than to live through a wreck.”

“Somehow I think I will be able to keep it between the lines of the wild streets of Merritt. If you are truly concerned for your safety, I can let you out.” She slowed down.

“Oh, no. No, ma’am. If you are going down in a fiery blaze, I am going with you. We’ll just leave Eller an orphan. They’ll probably put her down too since there won’t be anyone to take care of her. I don’t think Tiptoe holds with burying dogs in his cemetery, but maybe since this will be so tragic, they’ll bury us all together. Probably have to. Won’t be enough of you and me left to tell who’s who.”

Lucy gave him a sidelong look but didn’t say anything. Had he gone too far, joking about being killed in a wreck? He didn’t understand himself why he said such things, why he danced around a line that might make someone think he was in mental distress. He would never say such a thing to someone with his history.

“Poor us. Poor Eller.” On the way to her house, Lucy had to turn down the street where Big Mama lived— where he lived now, come to think of it. The moment had passed. Either she wasn’t going to call him on it, or she hadn’t made the connection, after all. Either way, he needed to stop it, needed to remember that he was, for the time being, around people who knew his history. “Speaking of Eller,” Lucy said. “I am really surprised that you are willing to have her live in that carriage house so close to your grandmother’s cat—you know, that monster. That animal is practically a lioness with a hurt paw and cubs, but more aggressive.”

Uh-oh. She’d met Princess. “Yeah. Well. See, Princess used to be that way. Big Mama had her on some kind of cat food that she was allergic to. Made her mean. She killed a whole pack of wild German shepherds last summer. But they got that food situation straightened out and she’s like a different cat. I didn’t know all that, of course.”

Lucy almost laughed. He could tell by the way she bit her lip and dropped her eyes. “Have you been home?” she asked. He’d dodged the Princess bullet, at least for now. “To the carriage house?”

“No, Lucy. I came straight to you. I didn’t even change out of my meet-and-greet clothes.”

“For the most part the carriage house is done. It would be completely, except Miss Caroline decided she wanted new cabinetry in the kitchen and bathroom. The bathroom is done, but the kitchen is not. It will be in a few days.”

“No problem. I do more bathing than cooking. In fact, I do no cooking, while I am totally committed to hygiene. I just need a place to keep my beer cold.”

“You’ve got a brand new Sub-Zero for that.”

“Pretty fancy.”

“Wait until you see the cabinets. Will Garrett is doing them.”

That name rang a bell. “Who is that? Do I know him?”

“You have not provided me with a spread sheet of who you do and do not know, Brantley. So I cannot answer that question.”

“Ah, my Lucy is feisty tonight.”

She ignored that. “If you don’t know Will, you should. He’s a master craftsman. Builds amazing furniture. I’ve used him a few times. I’d use him more but I don’t have that many clients who can—or are willing to—afford him.”

“Hey. I do know who that is. He’s younger than I am, but I remember him from school.” If he recalled correctly, Will had been a poor kid. Some said he was from the wrong side of the tracks, though Brantley had never figured out, or cared, just where those tracks were. Well, good on Will. “What’s he doing hanging around