Lost in Tennessee (17 page)

Butch barked out a belly full of laughter, mounted the two steps to the porch, and wrapped his arms around her.

She leaned away from him, a stern look in her eyes. “Glad you find this so amusing. I was gone thirty minutes, just thirty minutes, and a plague of idiocy breaks out on my site.” With a long sigh, she leaned her weight against him. “Screw it. Tom and Waters can deal with it.”

Butch loved the feeling of her revved body going soft against his. There was so much strength in this little package, so much fire and passion. He would never tire of coming home to her adventures.

Kate drew circles on his back. “How did your thing go?”

“Don’t want to talk about it,” he said in her hair.

“That bad?”

“I just want that part of the day to be over. I want the good part to start.” He swayed gently. “You’re home early.”

“My head hurt. It was getting better until—” She stiffened. “What are you doing?”

Butch pulled her hair back, kissed her neck. “Dancing with you.”

Kate pushed against his chest. “Well stop. I don’t know how to dance.”

The order made him smile. He tightened his arms, in case she decided to make a break for it. “Sure you do. You danced with me at the Sly Dog.”

“No, I didn’t. I just stood there. You danced.” She pushed at his arms, but he didn’t let her retreat.

“All you have to do is relax, like you were.” Butch began singing in her ear. It was an old standard, one even she knew.

“Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go. You have made my life complete and I love you so.” He hummed a little, feeling those words resonating in his soul. He wanted to tell her but feared his feelings would scare her. Still, he wanted her to know what she meant to him, hoped she felt the same. He tightened his arms around her.

K
ate held on to him and followed his lead. The man had a way of taking her off her game like no other. Here she was, ready to take a broadsword to the idiots of the world, and he had her dancing on the porch. Then his words touched her. Like little threads of magic, the words he sang wound through her head and her heart and her soul, making her feel alive in a way she never had. She closed her eyes, holding those words to her heart. Words spoken by a man of her dreams. Could he ever really mean them for her? Did she want him to? A man like Butch would change her life. Did she want that?

He chased the last rational thought from her head when he bent down and kissed her. Instinct and need rose and Kate met his kiss with equaled passion. At that moment, the world fell away. Sensation painted her world in scarlet red. Against that back drop, she saw only Butch. Her body heated, consumed by the flames he fanned in her. Butch ended the kiss and looked into her eyes. She saw his worry there, reminding her of the day he’d had. Tonight, he wouldn’t worry about a thing. “Come inside. Let me take care of you. I’ll make some dinner, and we can spend the evening pretending the idiots of the world don’t exist.”

Butch kissed the tip of her nose. “Making dinner is not taking care of me. That’s adding insult to injury.”

Kate tickled him, and he jumped away. “I meant I would heat up leftovers, not actually cook. Jeez. Have a little faith.” She took his hand and led him into the house.

“Jeb said he was coming back with my folks and dinner.”

Kate stopped abruptly just inside the door. She had forgotten. Butch had kissed away her good sense. When Jeb came back, Butch would have a new mess to deal with.

“You’re not afraid of my mama, are you?” Butch asked, misunderstanding her reluctance.

“Hmm? No. I’m impressed she’s willing to come back after last night. I don’t think I’m ever going to be on her favorite list, but I’m not afraid of her. Why don’t you play piano until they get here? I could probably make a salad or something to go with whatever they bring.”

Kate steered Butch to his piano, and once she got him to sit, his hands moved of their own accord. She stood behind him and watched. His fingers swept strong and sure across the keys with remarkable speed. Quick, powerful music. The sharp movement of the white keys reminded her of watching a hail storm and ice hitting the ground with enough energy to bounce up and strike again.

Gradually, his head bowed as if weary. The tone changed, the rhythm slowed, the pitch raised, and he cried. Not from his eyes; that would have been easier to take. But from his heart, from his soul. He wept, and it broke her heart.

Kate brushed away her own real tears. “Enough.” She stomped her foot hard enough to make Butch jump. “We are not going to let them do this to you.” She climbed on the bench and straddled his lap while the piano bellowed in dissonance. “This is not who you are.” She said the words that came from her heart. “You are not going to let your ex and her lawyers make you feel you are anything less than extraordinary. Let them take their money and their pound of flesh, but don’t you dare let them touch your heart and soul. I’ve been around a lot of people, a lot of good people, and you’re one of the best. Look through my eyes, and see what I see.”

Kate pulled his head to hers and opened herself to him. She kissed him as she had never kissed another man. For keeps.

After a moment of surprise, Butch kissed her back. “Be with me. Make me feel alive.” He bent her over the piano keys and while the strings rang out, he loved her. His hands tugged her black shirt from her jeans and found the soft, hot skin beneath. While she clung to his shoulders, his hands raced up and down her ribs, feeling every line of her tucked-in waist and firm muscles. With each touch, her heart raced. Her breasts heaved against his chest, begging for his attention. Her back arched, inviting him to taste.

He worked his way from her mouth to her chin to her sensitive throat. His hands spanned her waist, his thumbs tracing the arch of her ribs. Her stomach fluttered beneath his hands. She rocked her hips against his. Closer. She wanted to be closer.

A muffled cough broke through the heat. “Clyde, I’ve heard of piano for four hands, but that’s an unusual style you two have.”

Kate jumped, her elbows crashing down on the piano. Running was her first instinct, but Butch held her in place. His forehead to hers. Their breath mutually ragged.

Butch’s fingers dug into her hips, holding her as he looked over his shoulder to his brother. “Clyde, can you just get lost for a few more minutes?”

Jeb stood in the doorway, the screen door closed tight against his back. “Clyde, I could, but I don’t think Mama’s gonna accommodate you, and I’m sure whatever you could do in a few minutes would not impress your lady.”

The screen door opened with a sharp
tsk
from Emily McCormick. “This chicken needs to go in the oven. John, did you bring the applesauce? Jebediah, why are you blocking the door?”

Kate jumped from Butch’s lap, trading grace for speed. Facing the wall, she tugged down her shirt and re-tucked it. Presentable, she turned and faced the parents of the man she had come to realize she was falling for. “Hi, Emily, John.”

“Hello, dear. Is that cousin of yours home? I made fried chicken. He’s not going to want to miss out on it.” Emily walked through to the kitchen, her voice trailing behind her.

Butch called after his mother. “You just made me fried chicken last weekend. Are you trying to make me fat? You know I pay a trainer a lot of money to keep me lean.”

Emily’s voice carried to the living room. “I don’t know why you pay them all that money. You look fine just the way you are.”

Jeb leaned against the doorway, looking between the kitchen and his brother, the devil in his eyes. “I keep telling him honest work would do more for his body and his soul than some high-priced trainer.”

Emily poked her head out of the kitchen. “When was the last time you went to church, Butch?”

“My soul’s just fine, Mama.” Butch narrowed his eyes at Jeb’s silent laughter. “Stop trying to get me in trouble.”

“You and I are going to have a talk,” Emily said to Butch, then she turned to Kate. “Is Tom on his way home?”

“Calling now.” Kate pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed. “Emily wants you to come home for dinner. I’m pretty sure no one’s eating until you’re here.”

Butch bent close to the phone. “Family rules, Tom. Get home now.”

Emily came into the living room, wiping her hands on a towel. She took the phone out of Kate’s hand. “Tom, it’s Emily. It’s well past time you were done working. Clean up, and get on home. I made my famous fried chicken.” She paused to listen. “Fifteen minutes is just fine.”

Emily patted Kate’s arm when she returned the phone. “Now, let’s get to work. Jeb, Butch, set the table. John, you have chairs. Katie, you’re with me.”

Kate grasped Butch’s hand. His mother was making a real effort to be friendly, and Kate wanted to avoid causing another scene. Butch took a step forward, but Kate stilled him with a tug on his hand. She needed to do this.

“Emily, I know we didn’t get off on the best foot last night, but I want us to be friends.”

Emily cocked her head in a kind, motherly manner. “Good. I want that, too.”

Kate’s hand squeezed Butch’s to the bone. “And friends are honest with each other, so I’m going to be honest with you. I can’t cook. I can’t make toast without burning it. Even boiling water puts up a fight.”

Butch stepped closed to Kate. “I can attest to that, Mama. Katie is a woman of many talents but none in the kitchen.”

A knowing smile grew on his mother’s kind face. “All new homemakers are like that. It just takes time, practice, and patience. Unpack my bags while I make gravy for the potatoes.”

Kate looked up at Butch. “Did your mother just imply…?”

Jeb’s heavy hand fell on Butch’s shoulder. “Yep. I could get used to you as a sister-in-law.”

The smell of home cooking filled the farmhouse. With so many hands, preparing for dinner was light work. Tom walked in, covered in dirt and smelling like a productive day. “Am I late?”

Butch set the last plate on the table. “You are officially on time, but go wash up, or Mama won’t let you near the table.

In minutes, everyone sat at the table in the same seats as the night before. Tom set the tone for the meal telling of the NASCAR idiot who nearly put his Camaro into the basement of an elevator shaft. Jeb topped that with a topless dancer who stopped a would-be robber using only her G-string. Then Butch jumped in with the woman in Dallas who tattooed his face on her breast.

Kate’s jaw fell open. “Are you so famous you have psycho, obsessed fans?”

Butch puckered his lips. “Psycho and obsessed might be a bit harsh. Enthusiastic. I have enthusiastic fans. That sounds much better.”

Jeb cleared his throat and played with his mashed potatoes. “Speaking of psycho and obsessed, I need to talk to you about something. We found Angie’s car and her cell phone.”

Emily pressed her hand to her heart. “Such a sweet thing. I still can’t believe what happened, and right here. It’s good news you found them, right, Jeb?”

Butch set his fork down. “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

Jeb let his own fork fall to his plate. “The last call to her was Monday morning at eight thirty-three from a phone in this house.”

Butch shook his head back and forth slowly. “No. There’s some mistake. I was asleep. I was here by eight and went back to bed. It was too damned early to be up.”

Jeb angled his chair to face Butch directly. “Did Angie call you Sunday night? A little before ten?”

“No. No one called after Katie and I came home from the Sly Dog. The phone never rang. I don’t think it rang all day.”

Jeb sat quietly, his jaw flexing as he ground his teeth, a sign he was thinking. “When was the last time you used the house phone?”

Butch dropped his elbows to the table and buried his hands in his hair. “I don’t know, Jeb. I usually use my cell phone. I’m not sure I’ve used it since I’ve been back.”

Jeb pulled out his phone, thumbed through his contacts, pressed a button, and waited.

Chapter Nine

T
he phone didn’t ring. Butch jumped up, his chair falling to the floor with a crash. He ran for the phone, intending to find out why, but Jeb leaped up, cutting him off.

Butch shoved at his brother. “What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t touch it, Butch. Don’t touch anything. I want to call some people in. Do I have your permission to search the house? Dad? You, too?”

Butch stalked away to stand in the picture window. “Goddamn it, Jeb, you sound like the law.”

“I am the law, and I’ve got to do this legally, or anything I find could be thrown out in court.”

Butch raised his chin. “And if you do it legally, and someone’s planted something on me, you could use it to hang me.”

Emily stepped between her sons. “John Michael McCormick, Jr., don’t speak to your brother that way.”

“It’s all right, Mama.” Jeb rested his hands on his mother’s shoulders. “He’s right. If I found evidence about Angie, it could be used against him.” Jeb looked into his brother’s eyes. “I’m asking you to trust me, Butch. I know I’m just a local sheriff now, but I’m good at this. Let me search the house. I ran through it before, unofficially, but let me do this right.”

Butch let his hands drop with a heavy slap. This couldn’t be real. But if it was, there was no one Butch wanted on his side more than his brother. He nodded his consent.

Jeb stood, phone in hand. “Finish your dinner. It’ll take the boys a little while to get here.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Go eat anyway. This is going to take a while.” Jeb crossed to Butch and stood shoulder to shoulder with him. “Who has access to the house?”

“Is that a serious question? This house hasn’t been locked since the day it was built, just like every other farmhouse in this county.” Butch sighed. That was the problem with good people living in a good place. People shared what they had and borrowed what they needed to get by. Deals were done on a handshake. A thing like murder could change all that.

Jeb herded Butch back to the table. “Have you noticed anything missing? Out of place?”

Butch sat, shook his head hard enough to send his long hair flying.