chapter Four
“Sweet Jesus! Jake, you gotta come quick!” Kel practically fell into the Bait and Burgers basement the next morning while Jake was taking inventory of food stock, liquor and, most especially, paper napkins. Folks tended to hate eating burgers without sufficient napkins to sop up the juiciness of what Jake considered the best burgers in Texas. Unhappy customers meant bad word of mouth.
Kind of like Sugar last night—all kinds of bad word of mouth. He couldn’t blame her for being pissed. The problem was, he hadn’t yet figured out how to fix it. “I can’t leave, Kel. What’s going on?”
“You’re never going to believe this.” Kel glanced around, his eyes wild, his hair standing straight up. “They’re lying out with no tops on, bare as the day they came into this world. And I was right. Lucy’s tits are the stuff of legend.”
Jake held back a groan. “Who is they?”
“All three of those ladies from Flo-rid-ah.” Kel looked like he was about to pop a coronary. “You never saw such a beautiful thing in your whole life, I swear it. It’s even better than Playmate of the Month in triplicate. Holy shit, I think I’m gonna fall out.”
Jake shoved Kel into a chair. “How the hell could you have seen them without their tops on? Aren’t the Cassavechias in the backyard?”
The backyard was private, protected by board-on-board fence. He’d installed it himself. There wasn’t room for an ant to shinny through.
“I was— Don’t be mad, but you’d said the roof needed shingles, so I went over to see if I could put some up.” Kel waved at the air with a big paw. “And when I looked down, there they were, just like God intended his angels to be.”
Jake closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Look. You had no business being up there without telling them.” For a moment, he wondered what Sugar’s breasts looked like glistening in the sun, then shoved the unworthy thought away. “You have to tell them when you’re going over to do a repair.”
“They’re renters,” Kel said, as if renters didn’t deserve courtesy, “and I was trying to help. Actually, I was trying to make some money, but that was worth it.” Kel looked like he’d died and gone to heaven.
Jake shoved a twenty in Kel’s hand. “Thanks for trying. Now this is what you’re going to do. Go arrange for a babysitter, and I want you to take Debbie out for a nice dinner. A long one, just the two of you.” He fished a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and crammed that in Kel’s meaty fist too. “And a hotel room. You need to spend time alone with your wife.”
“Even the old lady’s got a great set of knockers,” Kel said, his voice hushed and reverent. “After all the shit we saw in Iraq, that almost made up for it, Jake. Almost.” He closed his eyes, overcome.
Jake shook his head. After a moment, he realized Kel had completely blown himself out. All the excitement had totally short-circuited his big, hammy brain. “Damn,” Jake muttered, sitting down to ponder the situation.
The Cassavechias weren’t hurting anything. It was their backyard. No one else was likely to get on top of the roof. After a moment, Jake went back to counting inventory. It had to be a Florida thing, lying around without tops on. Ladies in Pecan Creek would rather be caught picking their noses in church than topless. He was pretty certain that was no exaggeration. Once you were blackballed in Pecan Creek, you were done for. It was almost impossible to get back into the good graces if one was given the not-so-ladylike finger.
Pecan Creek’s social register was tighter than a nun’s ass crack.
But he could understand Kel’s coronary. Sugar’s long legs in those short white shorts she’d worn last night to the courthouse had given him erotic dreams the likes of which he hadn’t had in years. Underscore hot dreams with the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in a year, and it was time to call out the fire department.
He wondered if he should call the ladies up and warn them that they’d been seen. After last night, he figured Sugar didn’t want any more help from him. He was still trying to figure out the best way to go about an apology.
“This is the hottest August I believe we’ve ever had,” Kel said, still in the grip of Lucy-incited emotion. “You remember when we were on patrol in Iraq, and you picked up that spent mortar because you were worried it was a live one and you didn’t want it going off on our unit? You said that mortar was so hot you nearly shat your pants. You said that if there was a hell, it was probably hot as that,” Kel said, his voice dreamy as he remembered. “That’s how I felt today. Like I’d seen something so goddamn hot I’d probably shat my pants.”
Jake shook his head, feeling sorry for his buddy. Numbnuts.
“Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“Sugar’s breasts—”
Jake’s jaw clenched.
“I only scanned the other women’s tits, you know, because I was caught on Lucy’s, although I did peek at Ma ’cause I’d never seen old lady boob before. And they’re not bad, let me tell you, for old lady boob—”
Jake closed his eyes.
“But Sugar, just for the record, she could be Miss August, dude.”
Jake swallowed hard, opened his eyes, shut the cabinet door. There was no point in calling the Cassavechias. No one else would be on their roof. Unless Kel blabbed to their friends. Jake had a hard time seeing Big Bobby or Evert climbing his roof just for a glimpse of something in which they weren’t necessarily interested.
He refused the mental image of Sugar’s white and pink and maybe oiled breasts gleaming in the August sun, and grabbed a cold one from the fridge. His chances of ever seeing Sugar in the buff were nil and none.
Everything would be fine.
“Twenty more minutes is all you get, Maggie.” Sugar took a long drink of iced tea and flopped over on her stomach. The tubing lawn chaises she’d bought at the Five-and-Dime in town had been worth every penny. “And please put on more sunblock.”
“You shouldn’t be sunning your breasts anyway,” Lucy chimed in. “Just because you’re in remission—”
“What the hell am I saving them for?” Maggie demanded, turning over on her stomach beside Sugar. She resituated her floppy straw hat with a practiced hand. “The cancer was inside me, not out, and I need the vitamin D. Furthermore, I’m a beach babe, born and bred. If this is my new beach, I’m going to enjoy it. Thanks for the chaise, Sugar. It’s a great idea.” Her tanned hand idly stroked Paris, who cared more about Maggie’s fingers running through her shampoo-softened fur than the heat.
“I’ll get a wading pool next time. I saw some plastic ones for ten bucks.” Sugar was more concerned with Maggie’s smoking than her sunning. She didn’t smoke as much when she was busy outdoors with sunbathing or gardening, so Sugar tried to keep her busy.
They all looked up when they heard the doorbell ring.
“That is one loud-ass doorbell.” Lucy rose. “I’ll go. I won’t miss Pecan Creek Beach.” She took her bikini top and towel with her.
“She likes it here, Sugar. It’ll grow on her. Don’t worry.”
Her mother’s words didn’t entirely comfort her. Sugar told herself they were all suffering moving pains. Still, she was worried about Lucy, she was worried about Maggie, and sometimes, she worried about herself.
She’d had a lot of worries in Florida too, but surely here in Texas, a fresh start meant everything.
Lucy stared at the tall, broomstick-handle of a woman on the front porch holding a pie in her hands. “I remember you. You were one of the frigid old bats who was rude to my mother last night.”
Her visitor smiled. “I apologize for that, dear. We were totally caught off guard. We don’t do surprise well in Pecan Creek.”
“Surprise, surprise,” Lucy said, not feeling much pity for the lame excuse. “What do you want?”
“This is a welcome-to-Pecan Creek gift.” She extended the pie, but Lucy didn’t take it from her. “My name is Charlotte Dawson.”
“I’m not feeling it, Ms. Dawson, if you don’t mind.” Lucy started to close the door.
“Actually, I came to talk to you specifically, young lady, if I could have just a moment of your time.”
Lucy held the door open about a foot. She saw the elderly lady take in her askew bikini top, the polka-dotted bottoms, which fit like a glove and her bellybutton ring. Charlotte smiled at her. Lucy remembered that this woman was the only one of the group who’d bothered to stick up for Maggie, even if it had been a token effort. “Talk fast.”
“I wonder if you’d be interested in a job.”
“What kind of job?”
“A job helping me.”
Lucy began to edge the door shut. “I’m not up for being a companion or sitter. Thanks. And, not to be entirely rude, but I don’t think I’d be your type, if you’re looking for anything else.”
“I need help with my business,” Charlotte said, and Lucy looked into Charlotte’s bright eyes.
“What kind of business?”
“Come over to my house on Azalea Avenue sometime. You can see if you’d like to help me out. And if you don’t mind, please keep our discussion private,” Charlotte said. “My business is top secret.”
Great. The old woman probably had dead people in her basement like the dingbats in Arsenic and Old Lace, and wanted Lucy to have tea with them or something. Or help her make arsenic-laced wine. Lucy shuddered. “Sure. I’ll do that.” She grabbed the pie so Charlotte would go. “Mm. Smells good,” she said, surprised, and Charlotte beamed.
“Nobody’s apple pie beats mine, not even Vivian’s. I’m real proud of that. Come on by when you can. And remember, I’d appreciate your discretion. I’ll deny it if anyone asks me if I offered you a job. And no one would believe you.” She waved a hand at Lucy and strode off in her walking shoes, heading purposefully toward town.
“Well, la-di-dah, you rigid old bitch.” Lucy closed the door and peeled off a piece of flaky crust. “My God, that’s good.” The crust melted like butter in her mouth. She took the pie outside with paper plates and plastic forks. “Look what the wicked witch of the southwest brought us.”
Sugar sat up. “A pie? Is it poisoned?”
Maggie looked over. “Was it one of the women I met last night? I told you those were nice ladies!”
Sure, Lucy thought. And I’m going to start believing in unicorns. Like people wouldn’t kill you with kindness, if it suited them.
“This is delish,” Sugar said, and Maggie moaned with happiness as she snacked on the pie. Lucy pulled her top back off and stared at the white puffy clouds floating across a cerulean sky, not caring at all.
Thirty minutes later, Sugar had broken out a chardonnay, refreshed Paris’s water bowl and turned the sprinkler on nearby so they could get some cooler air when the breeze blew, which wasn’t often. Occasionally, water droplets landed on them, and Sugar thought this was about the most relaxed any of them had been since coming to Pecan Creek.
The doorbell chimed again, echoing through the open doors to the garden. Sugar put on her green bikini top. “I’ll get it this time,” she said, and Maggie said, “Hope they brought cheese straws this time. I’m in the mood.”
Lucy didn’t say anything, because she was sound asleep. Sugar went to the door, arranging a smile on her face, which slipped off the moment she saw J.T. Bentley hulking on her porch.
The rat. She tugged her top, making certain it covered everything she didn’t want his dark eyes viewing. “Yes?”
“Hi, Sugar.”
She raised a brow. He looked at the hat in his hands for just a moment, divining inspiration, then turned his chocolate eyes back on her. To his credit, he never glanced at her bikini top nor her bared belly, nor the towel she’d wrapped around her waist like a sarong.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said, and Sugar thought, Well, at least he’s the type to know when he’s been an ass. That’s a good start.
“I don’t understand what you were trying to do.”
He gestured with his hat. “Like I said last night, it was a mistake.”
“You’re right it was a mistake.” Sugar couldn’t help feeling bitter about the whole incident. “Maggie was hurt, Jake, deeply hurt.”
His whole demeanor was crestfallen. “Can I apologize to Maggie?”
“She’s asleep.”
A whoop and a squeal from the backyard as Maggie scored a direct hit with the hose on her sleeping daughter belied Sugar’s words. Jake looked at her, and Sugar shrugged.
“Another time, maybe.”
“Maybe,” she said, putting lots of when hell freezes over into her tone.
“Will you ask Maggie if she’d still consider being our mayor?”
Sugar blinked. “I believe your mother, and that coven of witches she rules, wasn’t in favor of Maggie being anything but thrown out with the town trash.”
He shook his head. “I have the last word on this one. And I want Maggie to be the mayor. She’s just what we’re looking for. Trust me on this.”
Sugar wanted to trust him. Past experience had taught her that trusting dark-haired, bedroom-eyed, god-bodied hunks was treacherous, a path for the giddy who’d never been burned. She’d been burned, it had hurt like shit, and she was only six months past a shitty divorce. “I don’t feel like trusting you. Sorry.”
He nodded, but the no one can resist J.T. Bentley cockiness she’d noted before was missing. He seemed sincere. “I understand, Sugar. I know trust has to be earned. I know trust isn’t something that’s talked about; it’s hard won.”
She shrugged. “It’s really Maggie’s call. But if you let those biddies hurt my mother again, I’ll come after you with a baseball bat, Jake. And my aim is pretty damn good.”
“I believe it.” He grinned. “Give my love to Maggie.”
She narrowed her gaze.
“I’m serious.” He put his hat on his head. “She’s just what we need here in Pecan Creek.”
“Better ask your mother if she agrees,” Sugar said, not caring how snarky she sounded. The wound was too fresh for instant forgiveness.
“I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.” Jake went whistling across the lawn to his truck. He had a great backside, a great frontside, a deep bedroom voice, and Sugar wished she wasn’t so attracted to wolves. Bad boys. The badder the better.
She was pretty certain J.T. Bentley rated up there with badder. “Thankfully, I recognize my worst nightmare this time,” she said and went to ask her family if they wanted to get dressed and head into town for burgers and maybe a shake. A nervous tickle haunted her stomach—it had started when Jake Bentley showed up on her porch—but a good hot burger and some fries would chase the uneasy feeling off.
For a worst nightmare, though, he sure was packing a great butt.