“I didn’t spit in her eye.” She’d wanted to when she’d seen him talking to her through the window of his car at the school. She’d wanted to pull her hair out, knock her on the ground, steal her shoes. But she hadn’t because it was none of her beeswax who he talked to.
“You might as well have, according to all Plum Orchard reports.”
Em dropped her fork and threw her napkin on the plate. “You know, for someone who was a victim of all the cruel gossip this town dishes up, you certainly hear a lot of it, don’t you?”
Dixie gave her a wide-eyed innocent look. “I don’t do it on purpose. I do it so I can keep track of you, seein’ as you don’t want anyone to know what you’re doing. I have to look out for you somehow. Even if it’s through the gossip mill. Besides, who can ignore Louella Palmer and her Southern henchwomen? The woman has a voice like a bullfrog.”
Em laughed, loosening up a little. Her guilt for not sharing her “Em and Jax Exploits” with Dixie was making her tense and nervous. Dixie was her best friend. She’d probably know how to deal with all these feelings Jax was making her feel. Feelings she neither wanted nor had asked for.
But she knew what Dixie’s answer would be. Em wasn’t the fling type. She was the keeper type. She’d end up hurt.
With all of these new feelings cropping up for Jax, she was beginning to wonder if the speech she’d get from Dixie and the girls was accurate.
“So, did you spit in Louella’s eye?”
“I didn’t spit in Louella’s eye. Not literally. But you’d be so proud to know, I did kick up a heel when he escorted me off that curb.”
Dixie’s hands went to her chest. “Look at my little girl all grown-up. Now answer the question.”
“I just played along with Jax. He obviously doesn’t like Louella, though I don’t know why. He was trying to get away from her. I was his getaway car. Nothing more.”
“Because she did something horrible to you, and he saw it unfold before his very eyes. That’s why he doesn’t like her.”
“That’s silly. He hardly knows me. Why would he take up for me?” Mostly true. He knew her body. He knew how to make her come longer and louder than she ever had before. But he didn’t know her.
Dixie let her head fall to the Formica table in a dramatic drop. “How long do you suppose you’re going to keep skirtin’ the truth with half-truths, Em? Because I’m exhausted from the subterfuge,” she said, resting a cheek on the table.
Em stroked Dixie’s hair and totally ignored her question. “I have to go.”
Dixie’s head snapped up. “Where?”
“Home.”
“So soon?”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I’m sorry I’m ditching you so I can have amazing sex, but I don’t know how long that’s going to last. I can’t miss this boat.
“But it’s date night.”
“Dora’s sick. I have to go check on her, and Clifton Junior forgot his science project on the counter. I have to drop it off to him at Idalee’s.” And I have to hurry if I hope to shower and find something sexy to wear.
Dixie hauled her purse from the corner of the booth. “Then I’ll go with.”
“No!”
Dixie’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Look away from the light of Dixie, Em! Do it now or you’re sunk. She’ll wring your slutty right outta you. “Because...”
“Because why, Emmaline?”
“Because she’s sneakin’ off to see her boyfriend she doesn’t want anyone to know about, just like her mama did,” Louella Palmer said, loud enough to be heard by the entire diner.
Em stiffened. Like her mother did? “My mother?”
Louella winked. “So, what do the boys have to say about their replacement daddy?”
Em’s head whirled—as she tried to figure out how much Louella knew about Jax. Surely she couldn’t know the truth? It was all just speculation on Louella’s part after the school incident. Wasn’t it? Louella was just baiting her—testing to see if she’d crack and spill the torrid details. She was no good at the kinds of games Louella played. You never knew if she had something on you she was going to share in the most humiliating manner possible, or if she was just bluffing.
Em slid out of the booth, towering over petite Louella. “I guess sneakin’ off to see any kind of boyfriend is better than having none at all, isn’t it?” Then she smiled—pretty—innocent, just like Dixie had taught her.
Dixie shoved her way out of the booth and stepped in front of Em. “Go home to your spinster apartment and do spinster things, Louella. Don’t you have a shawl to knit? You’ll need it for all those pendin’ nights, rocking on a porch while all your cats snuggle at your feet.”
“I see I’ve hit a nerve.” Louella responded in kind with a smile.
“Hah! Silly Louella. You mistake me for one of your amateur prey. Lest you forget,” Dixie warned, “I’m the queen of this cat-and-mouse chase, and if you don’t take your insinuations and stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, that plastic surgeon you saw for your rhinoplasty won’t be the last surgeon on your dance card.”