Fireflies and Magnolias (31 page)

“I gave you more beard burn last night. Are you sure you don’t want me to shave?”

“No. Clayton…I…have something else to ask you since we’re talking about me being so direct,” she said, forcing away her nerves.

Those gray eyes flickered, as if he sensed something in her tone. “What is it, princess?”

“Will you come with me to dinner on Sunday with my family now that we’ve told each other…well, that we love each other?”

He was thoughtful for a moment, and she held her breath as she awaited his answer.

“I’ll be there if Rye’s okay with it,” he finally said and raised his hands to her.

“Clayton—”

“I need to do it my own way with him, Amelia. Please.”

“All right,” she said with a nod. He was right—she needed to let him be who he was, do things his way, just like he was learning to do with her. She linked her fingers with his, and she knew it was more than a touch. It was a symbol of them linking their lives together.

“Now, come to me, princess, and let me love you,” he said softly.

Taking him inside her warmth, she lowered herself onto his body until their mouths could meet in a long, drugging kiss. Her passion for him eclipsed any soreness she experienced, and soon she lost herself to the pleasure of watching his eyes on her, feeling his strong hands touch her, hearing him whisper how much he loved her as her body surrendered to a force more powerful than she’d ever known.

The moment was so beautiful it might have been a dream.

Playing hooky was not usually in Clayton’s wheelhouse, but the morning he’d spent with Amelia Ann had been just about the happiest damn hours of his life. Of course, being with her always seemed to make him happy…if not a little raw on the inside.

He was still a little dazed by everything that had happened between them. But while being vulnerable to her scared him, he had to admit, he trusted her.

She wasn’t Amanda. No, Amelia Ann had a heart of gold. She’d been willing to blow off a couple of classes to spend time with him, but nothing would motivate her to break her promise to Jasinda and her family. It was admirable.

Together they would navigate any problems with her family, although she’d told him that her daddy and Tammy were happy for them, so it all came down to Rye. Well, he hoped that would play out well. For all of their sakes.

But all the happiness in his heart shriveled a bit when he pushed open the door to their office suite. He immediately knew something was wrong by the look on June’s face.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Rye’s waiting for you in your office,” she said in a quiet voice. “I didn’t know you had a meeting this morning. I checked your calendar. I told Rye to call you, but he said he would wait.”

Great. So he’d been busted after all. “Where’s Mama?”

“She’s out meeting with Concert Revolutions about the lighting for the concert.”

Right, she’d told him about that. His brain had turned to mud after all that lovemaking. He needed a strong cup of coffee to get his head on straight. Especially if he was about to confront Rye.

“June, honey, why don’t you take yourself out for a long lunch?”

He pulled out his wallet and fished out a hundred. She didn’t need to sit here fretting while he and Rye had words. And if Rye had waited for him for any length of time, he was probably pretty well pissed by now.

“You don’t have to do that,” she told him, but she took the money when he didn’t move his hand.

“On your way now,” he said.

Her eyes shot to his office door, but she picked up her purse and left.

After pouring himself a strong cup of coffee in the break room, he walked into his office and closed the door behind him. Rye was sitting on the couch, thumbing through old copies of
Nashville Lifestyles
and tapping his cowboy boot on the floor.

Clayton settled his rear end on the edge of his desk and put his coffee cup on the Grand Ole Opry coaster. If his friend was going to punch him, he didn’t want to be holding anything that could burn either one of them.

When Rye finally looked at him, he raked his gaze over him from head to toe, his mouth pressed into a grim line. “I know you were with her this morning. It’s all over you. Dammit, I can even smell her magnolia perfume.”

He fought the desire to curse a blue streak. Then he remembered his mama’s advice about telling Rye how he felt, and he kicked his leg out, steeling himself for the embarrassing task.

“I know you want to beat me senseless, and part of me doesn’t blame you. The thing is, I love your sister, Rye.”

The words didn’t catch in his throat, he was surprised to realize. In fact, his voice had the power of truth behind it.

“I love her, and yes, I was with her. And I’m going to keep being with her because she’s…the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me woman-wise.”

Rye shot to his feet and crossed the distance between them. “Of course, she is. She’s an angel!”

His tone suggested he was spoiling for a fight. Clayton wasn’t going to give it to him.

“I couldn’t agree with you more. I know she’s too good for me, but I love her and she loves me. You and I are going to have to find a way to be okay about this because…dammit, I don’t want to lose you as a friend. You mean too much to me.”

Grabbing the desk with both hands, Rye leaned over. Clayton knew he’d chosen to put his hands there rather than around his neck. It was a start. He stood up and lowered his hand to rest on his friend’s shoulder. It coiled away from his touch.

“I’m in all the way with her, Rye,” he told him softly. “This feels
right
. I tried to stay away from her, but my heart wouldn’t let me. I promise you I’ll do right by her. Always.”

The sound Rye made was like a punctured tire leaking air, and Clayton knew the fight had gone out of him. His friend straightened and met his gaze dead on.

“I believe you.”

Clayton lowered his hand from Rye’s shoulder and picked up his coffee, taking a long sip as his friend walked over to the couch and collapsed onto it.

“I had some pretty dark thoughts while I was waiting for you,” Rye told him, kicking his feet onto the coffee table.

“In your shoes, I would have as well.”

“But then I figured if she was willing to miss her morning law classes for you, you must be really important to her.” Rye lifted a shoulder. “Don’t tell her I said this, but when I first heard about you two, I wondered if it was first love for her. I don’t think there’s been anyone else.”

He wasn’t going to correct his friend’s assumption.

Rye laughed, though without his usual humor. “You know, I don’t think she’s ever missed a class before.”

“She hasn’t,” Clayton told him. “Until today. I told her I loved her last night.”

Rye nodded. “I see.”

Walking over to sit beside his friend, he rested his coffee on his knee. “I know how passionate she is about the law, not to mention the volunteer work she does at the legal clinic. You don’t need to worry about me standing in the way of that. It’s one of the reasons I love her.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that after the bubbleheads you’ve dated,” Rye said, rubbing his forehead.

Bubbleheads. Guilty as charged. Now he was with a woman who was likely smarter than he was, and he loved that—her mind was as beautiful as her heart.

“She wanted me to take most of the day off with her, but drew the line at shirking her promise to help one of her clients this afternoon.”

“That sounds like the Amelia Ann I know,” Rye mused, the corner of his mouth rising now. “She has a big heart. When my family disowned me, she was the only one to refuse my mama’s edict. I’ve never told her this, but it was brave of her.”

“Yes. Are we okay then?”

Rye glanced over. “For the moment…but I can’t say I won’t get all weird when I see y’all together. Especially if you lay one on her in front of me.”

Like he was going to engage in PDA with Amelia Ann in front of her family. “I can live with that. I’m sure I won’t be comfortable myself the first time I come to a family gathering with her. She asked me to come this Sunday, but I told her I wanted to talk to you first. By coming here you saved me a visit out to your place.”

Rye’s chuckle reminded him of all the trouble they’d gotten into together over the years. “I came to the office because I didn’t want Tory to interfere again. I love that woman, but she won’t give me an inch on some matters.”

“Nobody’s ever called you on your shit quite like her.”

“Except you and Georgia Belle.”

That sweet nickname for his mama had been his daddy’s doing. His mama’s middle name was Belle, and sometimes Daddy had called her that alone. The thought of his daddy made him think of those fireflies again. Not that he was about to say a word of it to Rye. He’d already said enough.

“Clayton, what are we going to do when your mama leaves us?” Rye asked. “I have to admit…I get a funny feeling in my chest every time I think of it.”

He did too. “She told me part of the reason she was leaving was because she wants to give me space to become my own man—all the way.”

They lapsed into silence for a while, Clayton drinking his coffee while Rye put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

“I always thought of Georgia as the mama I would have chosen if I’d had a choice,” his friend admitted.

He’d known it all along, although Rye had never spoken the words aloud. “You should tell her that, Rye. It might make her cry.”

“Shee-it,
bubba, it takes a lot to make your mama cry.”

He noted his friend’s ears turning red. “She’d cry at that. She thinks of you as a son, you know.”

“It never bothered you?” Rye asked.

“Nah. Why would it?”

Rye kicked at the coffee table. “Makes me feel small, hearing you say that.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, if you can share your mama, it would be small of me not to share my sister.” He stood and strode to the window. “Shit, you know what I mean.”

His own ears were turning red now. “I do.”

In a whirl, Rye turned and flung out his hands. “Okay. Are we done with this whole talking thing?”

His mouth quirked. “Yep. For at least three lifetimes.”

“Thank God. Now tell me you have something we can discuss business-wise.” There was a plea in his friend’s voice.

“I do actually. It involves Megan and the leak. I have some ideas on how we might make one final effort to draw Gunner out.”

He outlined his recent conversation with Megan and his thoughts about it. By the end of it, Rye was staring out the window again.

“Tammy hasn’t said anything more about the concert,” his friend told him. “I don’t think she wants to put any more of her personal information out in the open.”

Clayton wondered if that would change after her emotional talk with Amelia Ann. Whatever they’d talked about had bled them both out, sure as shooting. He hoped Amelia Ann would share it with him at some point.

“I won’t do anything about it if Tammy isn’t willing to be involved,” Clayton said.

“I know you won’t. I just…dammit, I want this whole leak business behind me and my family. It would have been so much easier if Mama would just confess.”

Clayton agreed. “You still think it’s her?”

“I can’t think of anyone else who would have done it, and given her reconciliation with Tammy and Daddy, she has a lot to lose by admitting it now. Even Rory and Annabelle have been warming to her, although it’s more like cold water turning tepid. Rory still remembers how she used to be. Annabelle less so.”

So, Mama Hollins was gaining ground. It was going to hurt a lot of people if she was unmasked.

“I’ll talk to J.P.,” Rye said. “See if he knows which way Tammy’s blowing about this right now. If she hasn’t told the preacher kid yet, she’s still stewing on it. We might have to wait her out, which impacts your plans.” His eyes—so like Amelia Ann’s, Clayton realized with a start—were hard when they met his. “She’s been hurt enough. I don’t want anything we do to make her feel worse.”

He thought again about how emotional Tammy and Amelia Ann had been the night before. Yes, Rye’s family had been through their fair share of pain.

“Let’s let things play out then,” he said, not seeing another way forward until they knew Tammy’s mind.

“Maybe we should call Megan off,” Rye said in a defeated tone. “Let it go. Tory has been pushing me about this for some time. If she can’t find hard evidence, why are we still keeping her on the payroll?”

Clayton fought his knee-jerk reaction to spew words about punishment and revenge. Somehow he couldn’t muster it today. “It’s up to you, Rye.”

“The longer it goes on, the more I wonder what we’re doing. Are we sinking to Gunner’s level? It’s pretty dirty business.”

“Exposing your family like that in the media redefined dirty.”

Rye shook his head. “Yes, it did, and it hurt a lot of people. Okay, let’s see what Tammy decides. And I’ll think on it more. If Tammy does agree to tell her story and we use her in the media to poke at Gunner, we’re opening a huge can of worms.”

Maggots, more like. “Yes.”

Clayton continued to sip his coffee as Rye stared out the window, his hands gripping the sill. His friend wanted to punch something, he could tell, and he felt the same way. They were over a barrel and both of them knew it.

“How about we grab a bite?” he told his friend. “It’s been some time since we’ve done that.”

Rye walked over and shoved his shoulder with one hand. Clayton had to dance out of the way as coffee spilled on the floor.

“Dammit, Rye.”

“Oh, it’s just a little coffee,” he said. “Did you up and turn into a wimp when I wasn’t looking?”

If there hadn’t been a teasing glint in his friend’s eyes, Clayton might have shoved him back. Instead he just grabbed some napkins from one of his desk’s drawers and mopped up the spill. He’d expected to get punched or strangled when he walked through that door—getting shoved was hardly something to create a fuss about. They’d made great strides today as friends.

“Come on, bubba,” Rye said, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leading him to the door. “Lunch is on me.”