Simple Gone South

“Big Mama,” he said. “If you can wait until I finish my sandwich, I’ll go with you.”

Chapter Seventeen

It was three o’clock before the crowd thinned—just in time for Brantley and Miss Caroline to walk in the door.

Miss Caroline clapped her hands in front of her and looked from Annelle to Lucy. “Gorgeous! I had heard, but it’s even better than I imagined.” She picked up one of the small wicker shopping baskets. “I’m going to have to have some of this!”

Brantley smiled and sauntered toward Lucy. “She’s going to have to have some of this. Because, you know, she hasn’t got any stuff.”

“A woman can’t have too much stuff.” Lord, her feet hurt but seeing him soothed everything else.

“I am beginning to think Lucy Mead doesn’t have a cell phone anymore.”

She patted her pocket. “I must have left it in my office. Sorry. I guess you called?”

“A few times,” he said. “I brought back your basket, your leaf thing, and your orange pot. It’s in my car. I could just bring it over tonight.”

“Maybe,” she said. Truth was, even as tired as she was, as much as she needed to go to bed as soon as she got home, she wanted him to come over. It scared her how much she wanted that. “I had a late night and early morning. I will definitely need a nap. I can’t promise I won’t sleep straight through.”

“You could come do that at my house.” He leered at her just a little. “Will finished the cabinets and you could see them. Then—” he looked at the ceiling “—we could see what happens. Whatever.”

She couldn’t think about that bed right now. “Did you talk to Will about the Brantley Building?”

He nodded. “I did. He’s interested. We’ll meet with him at the building sometime in the next couple of weeks. He’s a good guy. I invited him to Missy’s Iron Bowl party.”

“Brantley! Why do you think you can invite people to other people’s parties?”

“Because clearly I can. I can do most anything I want. There’s only one thing that I can think of that’s not coming my way right now.” He licked his bottom lip just in case there was any question about what it was he wanted.

“Oh?” She widened her eyes. They were just dancing the dance of when not if now. They both knew it. “What is it that you could want? We have many things here.” She walked over to the candle display. “Could I interest you in one of these lovely candles? One hundred percent natural ingredients.” She turned around and reached into a basket. “How about some of this exquisite ribbon? Or some of this sweet baby’s breath? With some lights and a few pieces of crystal you could have a fabulous tablescape.”

“Would this tablecloth go with it?” He picked up one of the antique wedding veils from the chair.

Dismay washed over her as she saw him realize it was not a tablecloth.

“Oh.” Then he grinned like a devil had gotten hold of him. And before she could stop him, he whipped it around and put it on her head.

Heat washed over her face. “Brantley, no!” She reached to remove it, but he laughed, caught her hands, and kissed her. It was a playful kiss that she did not participate in, but it was enough. When she finally broke away from him and looked up, Aunt Annelle and Miss Caroline were beaming at them like they were passing out keys to all that could be good in the world.

She replaced the veil on the chair and said, “I’ve got to go call a fabric order in. I’ll text you after I have a nap—if I wake up.”

He was still smiling when she fled to her office.

Chapter Eighteen

Lucy dragged herself up the porch steps. If she had not been so tired, the wedding veil joke would not have gotten away with her as badly as it had. That’s what it was—a joke. And that was fine because, no matter how she felt, her relationship with Brantley was based on nothing more than fun, flirtation, and chemistry. Laughter and jokes were what held them together.

She locked the door behind her and caught sight of the sofa, with its soft pillows and the luxurious cashmere throw that Annelle had given her for her birthday. She wanted to be there more than anywhere in the world.

Except Brantley’s arms. No. Stop it. Don’t think like that. Enjoy the relationship but take it for what it is. Above all else, do not long for him. Longing for him is what got you Savannah.

She rubbed the place between her eyes. She was only having these thoughts because she was so tired. Hungry too. She hadn’t eaten since the apple and yogurt she’d had that morning while decorating a Christmas tree with dried orange blossoms and lacey linen handkerchiefs. Next year she was going to talk Aunt Annelle into hiring a couple of extra hands to decorate.

Of course, next year she would not have been up until all hours with Brantley Kincaid watching football, and then spent another hour on her sofa kissing and shedding just a few more clothes than the last time.

She looked longingly at that sofa. What she ought to do was have a snack and go upstairs and get in her bed.

But she could not take another step. And the bed wouldn’t smell like him like the sofa pillow would. Stupidly, she removed her shoes and settled in under the cashmere throw. Immediately, her nipples tightened and desire shot through her.

Hell and double hell. Apparently, she had taught her body to think that if she was on this sofa, she had a good time coming.

Coming. That was funny. She still hadn’t with Brantley, but only because she had willed it not to happen, would stop him just in time. She’d been so close, but she didn’t want it to happen like it did for teenagers in the back of a car. It seemed that they should save something for when they had real sex—and the time for that was fast approaching.

It was only the thought of Savannah that made her hesitate.

Savannah. She banished the particulars of that memory every time they threatened to creep up, but now she didn’t have the energy to fight. It was fatigue and a half dream state that took her back.

Fourteen years ago. Campus of the Savannah College of Art and Design. Mid April. Lucy had been nearing the end of her freshman year. It had been almost four years since her date with Brantley that wasn’t a date—and almost four years since she had seen him. Since then, she had spent every summer in Merritt working for Annelle, but Brantley didn’t come home summers. According to Missy, who remained in constant touch with both Lucy and Brantley, he went to summer school or interned with architectural firms. One summer, he had gone to Virginia and actually did manual labor on a property that was being restored. Missy had visited him there one weekend and she’d tried to get Lucy to make the trip with her, but that had been absolutely out of the question.

Missy still had no idea how Lucy felt. Correction. Had felt. That was in the past. But to say she never thought of him, surrounded by warm happiness, would have been a lie. After that night, Lucy had embarked on a plan to whip her body into shape and she thought of Brantley every time she reached for a piece of chocolate or was tempted to skip the gym. Since, she had learned how to balance an occasional treat and a lazy day, but not back then. In those days, she never deviated from her eating and exercise plan. After all, the scale and size labels in her clothes told her she had been successful, even if her heart and head did not believe it.

She had just come out of her mid-morning class—Form, Space, and Order—when she checked her phone and found she had a voicemail from a number she did not recognize.

Nothing could have prepared her for that message. His voice was still like warm caramel. “Lucy, this is