His Southern Temptation (11 page)

He had to stand up or go crazy. Lately, everything he wanted was something he couldn’t have—the farm, Taylor—it was so frustrating. Moving was the only thing that was going to keep him from yelling.

“If I were Tim you wouldn’t hesitate.”

His father didn’t react to the low blow except for a slight shift in his shoulders. The deep impact of the words etched in the tightness in his expression. If he was here to try to build bridges, this was not the way to do it. They’d never been close—not like his dad had been with his brother, Tim—and the strain after his death had pushed them further apart. This wasn’t helping, but damn he was sick of feeling like the runner-up son.

“You’re right. Your brother wanted to farm this land since the day he was born, but you didn’t. I wouldn’t be much of a father if I let you take on this farm because you feel like you need to bail your old man out.”

He was right. He’d never wanted this when he was little. But his first thought when he’d dropped his resignation papers on his commanding officer’s desk was to come home and never leave this place. Well, the second thought, anyway. His first one had been of hazel eyes and a woman he wanted more than his next breath.

“David.” He was surprised to see his dad so close and using his given name. He’d moved across the room when Lucky had been lost in thought and now he reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, the grip strong and the warmth seeping through his T-shirt. “I’m not saying no, but I want you to think about it. Make sure it’s what you need to have peace. I’ve got some time before I have to get back to the Summerfield people.”

His father started to leave, but paused, looking straight into Lucky’s eyes with his parting words. “You know, this life wouldn’t have been anything without your mama to share it with. Maybe what you’re looking for isn’t a place but a person.”

Lucky listened to his sure footsteps retreat across the floor, the whoosh of the front door and the clang of the screen prompting him to act. He wasn’t sure what just happened, but he thought it might have been the first real conversation he’d had with his father in fifteen years. It left him unsettled, a little pissed off, and raw. His dad said he needed to find his peace. He knew it was here and he understood his father’s hesitation. He just wasn’t sure how he could convince him.

Taylor
. The person he wanted to talk to most wasn’t speaking to him because he’d been a jackass and treated her like a child. She’d found a new path, thrown off everything she thought she knew, and took off on faith. She was so sure of her future. Maybe she could help him find his own.

Chapter Twelve

If the Southern Comfort Diner was the heart of the town, then Sissy’s Southern Style was the mouth.

The bell jangled over the door of the beauty salon as Taylor entered with Dr. Michaela Cantrell. The chatter died down for the briefest moment, but then surged again, the ladies resuming their conversations without missing a beat. Familiar scents of coffee, perm solution, and the uniquely southern hairstyling staple of Aqua Net hairspray enticed them inside the bustling shop. The place was full of women in various stages of getting beautified, while some were just here for the news. Growing up, Taylor’s mother had said that Elliott didn’t need a post office when you had Sissy’s.

“Well, I’d say you’re definitely in the top five of newsworthy topics today,” Michaela said as they slid into the side-by-side mani-pedi chairs. Her smooth and twang-free voice was perfectly suited for the tall, cool blonde.

“What? They barely looked at me.”

“
Exactly
. Talking about you is one thing, but staring is rude.” Michaela laughed.

Her feet slid into the warm, swirling water and Taylor sighed as the tension left her body. Sleep had eluded her last night, but she’d had her anger for company.

Replaying the scene from the jail in her head for the millionth time, Taylor still couldn’t believe how it had all gone down. Teague’s attitude wasn’t a big surprise—he’d written the manual for overbearing brothers with a stick up their ass. But Lucky was a different story. It hurt to have him treat her like a kid and not like the woman he knew intimately.

She really couldn’t wait to get the hell out of this town.

“Michaela. Why’d you pick Elliott?” She was mystified as to how the governor’s daughter could possibly have chosen to live here.

“The official version is that a pediatric practice was for sale and I liked the location.” Michaela smiled, glancing down at the lovely young woman adding bath salts to the swirling water. “The real story is that I fell in love with Dolly’s peanut butter pie at the Comfort.”

“Ah. So
that’s
why you married my crazy nephew,” Sissy Landon laughed.

Looking up, Taylor watched Sissy lead a woman over to one of the two empty chairs near them, place the cape around her, and towel off her hair.

Michaela put a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Jackson. I don’t think his ego could handle it.”

“His ego isn’t what I’m worried about.” Sissy shook her head, laughter spilling out so effortlessly, looking so much like Lucky that Taylor’s breath caught at the ache blooming in her chest. “That boy is so gone over you, he’d die on the spot if he lost you.”

Michaela blushed, the pink starting in her cheeks and creeping down her neck into the top of her blouse. But the most remarkable thing was the way her eyes lit up at just the mention of her new husband’s name.

Uneasy with the thought of staying anywhere because of one person, Taylor turned her attention back to her feet and the water bubbling and swishing around in the tub. She was off-kilter, her emotions in turmoil like the water, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Mary-Taylor, it’s good to see you again.” Sissy’s smile was genuine and Taylor couldn’t help but respond in kind, her mood lightening. “You staying in town long, sweetie?”

“No, ma’am. For a couple more weeks.”

“Well”—Sissy patted her client’s shoulder before handing her over to a stylist for service—“maybe we can convince you to stay.”

“You sound like Lucky,” Taylor said.

“Maybe you’ll believe one of us and come back home.” Lucky’s voice caught her off guard, and she turned to find him leaning against the wall.

Taylor’s heart did a little flip. He was staring at her, his expression focused but open, softened by the hint of a tender smile on his lips. He silently mouthed “I’m sorry,” his hand sliding out of a jeans pocket and extending toward her, palm open, in a plea for her to accept his apology. She wanted to stay mad, really she did, but Lucky was one of the few men she knew who put the toilet seat down and apologized first when you had a fight. It was her duty to encourage his behavior by accepting his peace offering. She nodded and his grin split his face. The corresponding warmth in her chest had her smiling back like a loon.

Sissy whirled around, her smile widening at the sight of her son. Lucky looked down on her, undisguised affection in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss the top her head. She grabbed his hair with both hands, lightly tugging him toward the empty chair until he collapsed in a long-legged lazy slouch.

“Sit. You need a haircut,” Sissy ordered.

“All right, Mom. No need to manhandle me.” Taylor watched as his mother spun him to face the mirror. Lucky caught her eye in the reflection and it occurred to her that he’d come looking for her.

“You look like a mongrel with this scraggly hair. At least Uncle Sam kept you trimmed up.” Sissy pursed her lips in disapproval as she spritzed his hair with water and started to snip off the ends with precision and confidence of a woman who’d been doing it for most of her life. She flicked a glance up at Taylor in the mirror as she worked. “So, my boy is trying to get you to come home as well?”

“Yes. He’s quite the convert since he returned to Elliott.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry for that.” Sissy gazed fondly at her son in the mirror, and Taylor saw the ghost of years of motherly worry in her eyes. “It’s good to have him around. Sometimes it just takes a few years away to make you realize how great home really is.”

Silence descended on the little group as two ladies began giving both her and Michaela their pedicures. Usually the one delivering the service, Taylor leaned backed into the massage chair, allowing it to lull her into a place where she was only on the receiving end of pleasurable attention.

“So, Mary-Taylor, Lucky tells me you are going to buy a massage therapy place in Hawaii,” Sissy said.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m trained in massage therapy, aromatherapy, acupressure, and aesthetician services.” She noticed Lucky’s confused look in the mirror and quickly added, “Facials, skin care—those kinds of things. It isn’t exactly the physical therapy background I studied at school, but I love helping people.”

“I’ve wanted to expand the salon to offer those kinds of services and give the spas in Roanoke a run for their money. You could open your business here.”

Taylor sat upright in the chair, jostling the poor girl working on her toes and sloshing water on the floor.

“Oh, darlin’, I’m sorry.” Sissy dropped her scissors and comb on the table, rushing over to help clean up the mess. A towel taking care of the damage, she laid a warm hand on Taylor’s, her blue eyes direct. “That was out of the blue, huh? Don’t worry, sugar, it’s just an old woman thinking out loud.”

“You just surprised me. I never…”

“I’ll show you the plans to expand into the empty space next door. I’d like to get your thoughts anyway.”

“
Mom
.” Lucky filled the one word with a desperate warning.

“Shush. I was just throwing ideas out there.”

“Taylor, Jack never told me the story. Why did you leave Elliott?” Michaela asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

Chatter around dropped to a low roar, a clear reminder that they weren’t alone in Elliott’s gossip central. Since she’d left straight from the ceremony seven years ago, no one had heard her side of the story. By her calculation, she’d just risen to number one on the gossip list for today.

“Oh my God.” A nearby stylist dropped her hand, foil wrappers drifting to the floor unnoticed. “
You’re
the Mary-Taylor who punched out her groom at the altar and then left town in a stolen car!”

“That would be
my
car,” Lucky said.

“Oh Taylor, that’s awful!” Michaela said, horrified. Apparently violence against your betrothed while dressed in Vera Wang wasn’t commonplace in the governor’s mansion.

“No, awful would’ve been finding out that Bobby was sleeping with the wedding planner
after
the ceremony was finished,” she said.

“You’re right. What did your family say?”

“Teague was great. My parents…” Aware of her audience, she tried to think of the best way to describe the total letdown her parents had served up along with the sit-down dinner for three hundred and fifty guests.

“Your mama sure was mad at Lucky,” Sissy said. Taylor looked at Lucky to decipher her meaning. His gaze was steady, his mouth a straight line of displeasure at this turn in the conversation. They’d talked about her defunct wedding day a few times over the years, but he’d never mentioned any trouble with her mother.

“Mom, we don’t need to get into that now. It was a long time ago,” Lucky said.

“No, Mrs. Landon.” Taylor leaned forward in her chair, jostling the poor girl who was probably ready to staple her ass to the pedicure chair. “Spill. I never heard this part before.”

“Call me Sissy. Well, I wasn’t invited, so I didn’t see it firsthand, but your mama smacked Lucky right across the face in front of the preacher and everything.”

“She did what?” Taylor hopped down from the chair and walked on her heels, toes splayed with those little foam thingies, to stand in front of his chair. Sissy stepped back as Taylor wedged in between his legs, hands planted on the strong muscles of his thighs, forcing him to look at her and answer her question.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” He swallowed, his breathing a little heavier now. Taylor shivered when his hands encircled her wrists, tugging her a little closer so no one else could hear them. “Your mother followed you out of the church and she saw everything.” He let the impact of his words sink in, tightening his hold on her as understanding crept into her brain. “She saw us.”

“She blamed you,” Taylor said.

“Yes.”

“She thought you were the reason I didn’t marry Bobby.”

“One of the reasons.”

“Did you try to tell her the truth?” She freed a hand from his grasp, tracing the stubble on his jaw with fingers tingling from the emotions coursing through her body.

“I think I wanted it to be true. There was a reason I wasn’t inside the church.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Taylor stroked his lip with her fingertip, his breath warming her skin where it was wet from the touch of his tongue. She inhaled sharply, her lungs burning from the fire catching in her marrow. It was too much, too intimate for this place. The town tongues would be wagging but she really didn’t care.

She leaned in closer, making sure no one heard except Lucky.

“Don’t sleep at Beck’s tonight.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Please tell me I’m not hallucinating.”

Lucky paused in the doorway to Taylor’s room, his breathing already accelerated from taking the stairs two at a time. The sight before him made his knees weaker than his first day in the field as a newbie Marine recruit. He grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling at her feet.“

It depends. What do you see?” Taylor looked over her shoulder, looking suspiciously innocent.

“It looks like you’re wearing your high school cheerleading uniform.” Lucky lingered where he stood, savoring the view. It was déjà vu, taking him right back to that day on Main Street when his dick had decided to clue the rest of him in on what had been in front of his face all the time. “Did you put that on for me?”

She laughed, bending over to pick up her pom-poms off the floor. Sweet Jesus, she was actually wearing panties, and the soft folds of the skirt and the silky material of the underwear framed her ass perfectly. When Taylor stood up, her eyes dancing with mischief and an extra swoosh in her step, he knew she was deliberately taunting him.