Sweet Contradiction (3 page)

“I doubt it’s any of your damn business where I’ve been Beau Montgomery.” I crossed my arms over my chest and raised my chin “Looks like your muscles have gotten even bigger, but I wonder if that has played a direct role in your rapidly diminishing brain cells.” I tsked. Beau charged in my direction, his eyes glinting with more rage than I remembered. I backed up quickly until my back hit a grocery shelf behind me, scattering packs of crackers to the floor. I gulped and cursed my smart-aleck mouth. Clearly, I hadn’t learned anything in the four years I’d been gone after high school. Beau wasn’t even a foot away from me when a smooth, masculine, voice nearby cut off whatever Beau had been about to say or do.

“Well, hello, Beau. I didn’t realize you were here with your pa.” My eyes slipped away from Beau’s blood-shot, angry gaze and landed on a man I’d never seen before. A pair of beautiful honey colored eyes were riveted on the scene before him, his body poised slightly as if he meant to jump in and physically remove Beau if he had to. I flicked my eyes over his nice slacks and dress shirt and tie and wondered idly who he was. He noticed my gaze and nodded slightly in my direction, without taking his eyes off of Beau. “Ma’am” His southern accent was a surprise considering how he was dressed. “I think your Pa was looking for ya, Beau. You probably shouldn’t keep him waiting,” he said quietly with a hint of steel threaded in his words. He sounded like someone who commanded respect, and surprise, surprise, Beau backed away a few feet before acknowledging the stranger.

“You might not want to stand too close to her, Rev. I’m pretty sure the sins of a whore would even make someone like you run for the hills.” His words landed like a physical blow and I felt the blood drain from my face. His nasty laugh as he turned on his heel and left told me he also knew exactly how his words affected me.

“You okay, ma’am?” A soft voice filled with concern broke through my moment of self-pity and I slowly opened my eyes, unaware that I had even shut them. When I looked up, I found myself blown away by the kindness in the man’s gaze. I nodded my head and bent down to pick up the things I’d dropped. I hoped the guy didn’t notice the fine tremor that shook my hands. I was on the verge of tears when he bent down to help me pick up my things along with the cracker packs that were scattered everywhere. Here I was back in town for less than twenty minutes and I’d already let the local, small-town, bully make me feel like a piece of dirt all over again. I pushed back the tears that threatened and swallowed the curses that tingled my lips.

As I took my keys from the mystery man’s hand and met his gaze only inches away from mine, I felt a shiver race down my spine. Wow. Up close the guy was devastatingly handsome. His brown eyes, framed in thick lashes, were open and honest and his hair was just the right length and thickness. Images of running my hands through his sun-streaked locks bounced around my addled brain. As he stood, he grasped my arm gently, causing goose bumps to break out where his hand touched me. “Let me help you up.” He pulled me up with him and held out my slightly crushed flowers with a small, crooked smile. A sexy dimple appeared at the corner of his cheek and I found myself smiling in return.

“Thank you,” I said lamely.

“No problem. Are you new in town?” he asked as we made our way toward the cash register.

“More like back in town after being gone for a couple years. My best friend’s mom died and I came back to see her,” I answered.

“Ah, that would be Jennifer Collins. I’m sorry about her momma. She was a fine lady,” he said thoughtfully. I swallowed the tears that once again loomed.

“Yes she was,” I replied softly. The cashier began ringing up my flowers in between not-so-subtle glances at the guy standing close by.

“What about you?” I asked. “I know just about every single person in this town, and you are
definitely
not a local.” I paid the cashier and began walking toward the front doors. He held open a door for me and I caught a whiff of his cologne. Very manly but also very expensive smelling.
Delicious
could also be used to describe the scent, but I discarded that thought immediately … guys who lived in Salem were not my type. No matter how sexy and kind. And guys who wore suits had another strike against them.

“I moved back here about two years ago, but my family has been in the area for years. A town over anyway,” he said as we walked over to my truck. He raised a brow and patted the hood of my truck. “Somehow I get the impression this old truck suits you,” he said, his voice dipping a timber, raising goose bumps on my arms. Dear lord-a-mercy, I had to get outta there.

“Well, thank you … Rev? Is that short for Trevor or something?” I asked as I climbed in the cab of my truck. A low laugh came from “Rev” as he shut the door to my truck for me.

“Something like that,” he answered cryptically, a huge grin splitting his face. I shrugged and started my truck up.

“Okay, well, I’m off now. Hope you don’t have any more damsels in distress to save today.” I put the truck in reverse and he backed up a step.

“I don’t mind so much, especially if they all were guaranteed to look as pretty as you,” he said with a wink. My mouth popped open in surprise. Rev turned on his heel with a laugh and walked away. I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop from grinning like a fool at his cheesy line. Looks like some things
had
changed since I’d been gone.

My good mood instantly evaporated once I turned down an old dirt road and parked in front of a familiar, country blue farm house twenty minute later. I’d spent every moment of my childhood I possibly could in that house. A sharp pain shot through my chest as I sat there peering at the two story home through my windshield. Reluctantly, I pried my clammy hands from the steering wheel and walked up the pathway. A few people were leaving Jen’s house, still wearing their funeral garb. A couple of them began whispering as soon as I passed by, but I didn’t pay them any mind. My eyes were riveted on the door that still had a sign hanging on it that read; “Peace to all who enter, Welcome from our heart, Enjoy yourself within, God bless as you depart.” Tears filled my eyes as I lifted my hand to knock on the door. The door swung open just as my knuckles grazed the door
and I found myself standing face to face with the one and only person in the whole damn town that I’d truly missed every single day of the past four years.

en stood in the doorway, her light brown hair done in a perfect French braid and wearing a black, knee-length, pencil skirt and a black, silk blouse. She stood stock-still, staring at me with red-rimmed eyes and a hand over her mouth. When she didn’t say anything, I began to wonder if I’d hurt her by being so late, for not being there for her when she needed me the most. I searched her face quickly, looking for any sign that she didn’t want me there, that she wanted me to leave.

“I’m so sorry, Jen. I feel like an a—well, like a real donkey’s behind.” Tears began to pool in my eyes and I glanced down at my boots. They weren’t good enough. I should have stopped and bought new shoes. “I wish I had been here,” I whispered. “Maybe I should just go ….” I heard a strangled sound just before Jen launched herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck. I hugged her to me, letting her sobs drown out the flood of my own tears.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Beth,” she choked out. I closed my eyes and clung to the one and only friend I’d ever had growing up. She had been there for me through thick and thin and I was going to be there for her when she needed me most. When we were both able to pull ourselves apart, I followed Jen into her house, which was finally empty of people bringing food over after the funeral.

The house was almost exactly the same as I remembered it. The floors were original hardwood, there was a crocheted afghan thrown over the back of the country blue sofa, hand knit doilies rested on arms of the sofa and recliner, and an old fashioned piano sat in the far corner of the room. The house still smelled of my best childhood memories; fresh cut wildflowers and homemade banana bread. I could almost hear the sound of Mrs. Collins humming “How Great Thou Art” coming from the kitchen.

I swallowed and followed Jen into the kitchen where she sat down heavily at the table. Everything about this room reminded me of Jen’s mom. The kitchen was light and airy with its white cabinets, huge window over the sink, and little daisy printed curtains with tie backs. I used to love sitting at the little white table, with its yellow gingham seat cushions and watch as Mrs. Collins would knead a ball of dough out on a floured counter for fresh bread or cinnamon buns, humming hymns, and making sure we were doing our homework.

Jen’s table was laden down with every southern casserole dish imaginable, topped off with a few pies and some homemade peach cobbler. I wondered what people were thinking when they brought by so much food for one person. But one thing I knew to be true was that every southern born lady believed that some good, down-home cookin’ could cure just about any ailment or heartbreak. I started clearing off the table, unable to just sit and feel so utterly useless. Once everything was put away nice and tidy, I poured two tall glasses of sweet iced tea and served up two helpings of peach cobbler. I sat a glass and plate in front of Jen, who still hadn’t said a thing since we’d been in the kitchen. I took mine to the opposite end of the table.