She turned on the radio to the classic country music station and curled up in the old overstuffed rocking chair in the corner, slinging her legs over the arm. Granny had rocked her to sleep in this same chair when she was a little girl and it always brought her comfort to sit in it, but not that night. She went to the window, pulled back the curtain, and looked outside and then picked up a book from her nightstand. It didn’t interest her so she put it back.
The DJ announced that the next hour would be a tribute to Alan Jackson and if anyone had requests to call in. Then he started playing, “Small Town Southern Man.”
She couldn’t listen to the song because it was too sad in light of how badly she wanted Blake Dawson to be that small-town Southern man who’d be content with a wife and small-town living. She turned the radio off and hit the POWER button on the television remote.
“Well, shit!” she mumbled as Alan Jackson’s video for the same song showed up on CMT. “Evidently, I’m supposed to listen to this.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched the video from beginning to end. She wanted what those two people had in the video portraying their lives from the time they danced together the first time until the day that death came calling for the small-town Southern man.
She wondered if Blake Dawson could ever be tamed into a man who’d only love one woman. And if he could, would she ever trust him? It seemed as if everywhere she looked these days, someone was cheating on the person they’d vowed to love forever.
The next video was Blake Shelton’s “Goodbye Time.” Every single word scared the crap out of her. She had to see Blake tomorrow, to explain that the sex they’d had could never happen again because she couldn’t bear to spend years with him only to wake up one day and have him tell her that the feeling was gone.
Someday when she was an old woman with gray hair, sitting on the porch and watching the seasons come and go, she would remember this beautiful day when a man made her experience that wonderful thing called afterglow. She’d smile and hold it close to her heart and be grateful that it was untarnished and beautiful.
She fell asleep in the chair as Miranda Lambert sang, “The House That Built Me.” Her last thought as her eyes drooped was that Audrey’s Place had built her and it was where she belonged…forever.
Chapter Nineteen
Blake awoke to the sounds of giggling women in the living room on Saturday morning. Two weeks ago he hadn’t even known Allie Logan and he’d been dreaming of her when the sound of women awoke him. He reached for her in that drowsy moment before sweet dreams become cold reality. All he got was a handful of pillow.
The laughing turned into conversation and he heard his brother’s name and then Deke’s mentioned. Surely they hadn’t brought those two sisters both back to the Lucky Penny.
He sat up so quickly that the room did a couple of spins before it came to a stop. “Dammit! I didn’t drink that much.” He reached for his jeans and tugged them up over his naked body.
Two women were in the living room giggling about how much fun they’d had the night before. Toby was singing in the bathroom—an old tune called “I Always Get Lucky with You” at the top of his lungs—off key and out of tune but with the gusto of a drunken cowboy. He raised his hand to knock on the door and Toby slung it open. Wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and a smile, he winked at Blake, stood to one side, and motioned him inside.
“You missed a damn good time,” he whispered.
“It sounds like it.” Blake took a long time washing his hands and combing back his dark hair, hoping the whole time that the women would be gone when he finally went to the living room.
No such luck.
The aroma of coffee, frying bacon, and sausage floated down the hallway and with it came feminine voices. Toby was making his famous morning-after breakfast for the ladies. Blake stopped by his room long enough to pull an oatmeal-colored thermal shirt over his head and put on a pair of thick socks. He was hungry and Toby made a mean skillet of sausage gravy, and his biscuits were every bit as light as his granny’s.
“Where’s Deke?” he asked as he headed for the coffeepot.
Laney pressed her body against his side. “Too weak to crawl out of bed. We could take our breakfast to your bedroom.”
“I’m sorry I forgot y’all’s name.” Blake yawned.
Laney laid a hand over her heart and then wiped at an imaginary tear. “Well, if that ain’t a slap right in the face.”
The other one patted him on the shoulder. “I’m Lisa, darlin’, and this one who brought Deke to his knees last night is my sister, Laney. But now that Deke’s out of commission for a while…” She raised an eyebrow suggestively.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m only here for the morning-after food,” he answered.
“I told you.” Toby grinned. “He’s got bit by the love bug.”
“I betcha a little lust bug could knock that shit out of your head, darlin’.” Laney ran a hand down his back and squeezed his butt cheek firmly. “Well, I do believe this cowboy is going commando this morning. I don’t feel anything but jeans and good tight ass.”
Blake stepped away from her, filled a cup with steaming hot coffee, and sat down at the end of the table. “Like I said, no thanks, Miz Laney.”
“Well, I know when I’m defeated but if you ever change your mind, my number is on that old calendar over there.”