Liz Talley - Under the Autumn Sky

Surely there was no harm in that.

CHAPTER TWO

LOU PEERED OVER the shoulder of Sid Lattier, which was easy to do since he barely came to her nose thanks to the four-inch heels she balanced in. She needed to be rescued and didn’t see the one person who could move these men out of her way. Mary Belle had disappeared into the thick of the crowd after seeing her man ogling Lou’s breasts.

Mary was pissed. Oh, she wasn’t mad at Lou, but Bear might as well stretch out his palms because his ass was about to be handed to him. Mary Belle didn’t shoot marbles.

“Excuse me, guys,” Lou said, stepping past a man she vaguely recalled spraying her house for bugs once. Or was he the guy who cleaned their ancient chimney? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t plan to find out. “Hey, Brit, find a table?”

“You can sit with us,” Lloyd Day said, jabbing a thick finger at a tiny table where two guys with huge beer bellies ate peanuts out of a bowl. “Plenty of room.”

“No, thank you, Mr. Day. I’m here with my girlfriends.”

Brenda waved her toward a table in the back where Brit had dropped her purse. Lou tried to shuffle through the men, but they didn’t want to move. She truly felt like she was in some crazy movie. She knew these guys. She’d worked with half of them and they’d never treated her this way before. Her grandmother’s words came back to her. A little powder, a little paint, will make you what you ain’t.

“You look mighty good tonight, Lou,” Bear drawled, his pretty hazel eyes moving over her body.

“Thanks, Bear. That means a lot coming from Mary Belle’s boyfriend.” Lou frowned at him as he tried to give her a seductive smile. Lord, help him. It wasn’t going to work. Was he dumb as a brick? Wait, she shouldn’t answer that. She’d gone to high school with him and knew the answer.

“Boyfriend? I don’t know if I’d go as far to—”

“Here he is!” Mary Belle interrupted, dragging a man behind her. As if Lou needed another one. “He was waiting at the bar just like I told him to.”

Eight pairs of eyes turned toward the man standing behind Mary Belle.

He was easily six foot two or three with light brown hair cut military short. His eyes were a bemused soft green and his jaw was nice and lean. He moved with a loose-limbed elegance, like her brother. Like an athlete. His white oxford shirt was open at the throat and rolled up at the sleeves, giving him a sort of Abercrombie-ish look. Breezy and totally gorgeous.

“Who was where?” Bear asked, stiffening like an old dog guarding a bone.

“My cousin Abram. He’s Louise’s date tonight, so all you fellas can just back it on up now. She’s taken for the evening.”

“Date?” Lou chirped, looking around for Brenda as if the older woman could save her. She couldn’t have been party to setting Lou up on a blind date, could she? That would be, well, plain mean.

“What cousin is this?” Bear demanded, crossing his arms across his broad chest and once-overing the guy Mary Belle clutched.

“From Baton Rouge. On her daddy’s side,” the stranger said, nodding at Mary Belle. “She sometimes forgets about us over there.”

Mary Belle punched his arm. “Oh, you know we love you guys. See? Here’s Louise. Didn’t I tell you she’s the prettiest thing this side of the Mississippi?” She gestured to Lou as if she were a prized heifer.

Lou felt her hackles rise. What in the hell was Mary Belle thinking? “I don’t need—”

“Of course, you do.” The man answered for her, sliding his hand to her elbow and pulling her to his side. He leaned down, dropping his voice into her ear. She felt a bit shivery when the warmth of his breath caressed her neck. “I’ve driven all this way to meet you, Cinderella. Mary Belle said you’d be perfect for me and we should never argue with Mary Belle. At least let me buy you a drink.”

His touch was firm. And hot on her skin. She watched as he lifted a hand, Moses-style, and parted the men standing between them and the bar on the far side of the room. They stacked up to either side of them like obedient soldiers. If they had saluted, Lou wouldn’t have been surprised.

Like an idiot, she let him escort her around the perimeter of the dance floor toward the bar.

He pulled out a stool and gestured. She folded her arms and stood. “I’m not prepared for a date. I don’t know what Mary told you but this is not—”

“—a date,” he finished, a twinkle in his eyes. “I know. Though I must say when I saw you come in I thought the idea had merit, but I can see now you’re a stubborn sort of girl.”

Lou narrowed her eyes. “Stubborn?”

He smiled and sank onto another stool. “I’m guessing, but I’m pretty good at reading people. And it’s not an insult. Stubborn people are some of my favorite people.”

She uncrossed her arms. “Who are you? Mary Belle doesn’t have people in Baton Rouge.”

“That you know of.”

She tilted her head. “That I know of, but she talks about everyone in her family. Great-Aunt Velma who’s still canning tomatoes at age ninety-three. Her niece Kaley who won a twirling competition in Lafayette last week. And she’s never mentioned a hot cousin in Baton Rouge.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“For what?”

“The ‘hot’ compliment.”

Lou hadn’t realized she’d even loaned an adjective to him. Damn the mojitos. They’d made her fuzzy. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

He smirked in a pleasant way. “No take-backs.”

Lou shrugged, uncrossed her arms and used her foot to pull the empty stool to her. She sat down. “Seriously, who are you?”

He glanced at the bartender and lifted a finger. The man immediately appeared in front of him. “I need a drink for the lady.” He turned to her with a lifted eyebrow.

She shouldn’t have anything else. The clock over the bar read 10:15 p.m. She had maybe thirty more minutes before she could talk Brit into taking her back to Bonnet Creek and the patched-up ranch-style house on Turtle Bay Road. “Um, a rum and Coke.”

The bartender nodded and grabbed a highball and a bottle of Captain Morgan.

“My name truly is Abram and I actually live in Baton Rouge. However, I met Mary Belle about ten minutes ago. She slipped me a twenty to be your date.”

“She paid you?”

He laughed and something plinked in her tummy. He had a good laugh. Deep, rich and filling like a good piece of chocolate cake. “No. She twisted my arm a little, but I could see very plainly you needed rescuing.”

“I don’t need rescuing.” She nodded at the bartender and lifted the glass he’d set in front of her to her lips. He’d been generous with the spicy rum and it burned a hot trail down her throat. “I’ve been seeing after myself for quite a while. I certainly don’t need a man doing it for me.”

“Oh, you’re one of those women.” His eyes laughed at her and she saw he liked to tease.

“What women? Just because I don’t need a man—”

“I didn’t realize you were a feminist, but I’ll buy your drink anyway.”

She laughed. “I’m not a feminist. Much. And you’re a tease.”

At this he smiled again. She felt his smile. Like really felt his smile. “I’m not a tease. I like to deliver the goods, lady.”

She sobered. “I’m not taking deliveries.”

But even as she uttered the words, an idea formed in her mind. What if. What if.

He lifted his eyebrows. “Okay, no deliveries, but will you dance?”

She looked out at the dance floor, at the couples joining hands, wrapping arms around waists, swaying to the slower rhythm of a misty-eyed country song and a long-buried urge slammed her. “Sure.”

Lou downed the last of her drink, telling herself she needed liquid courage. She hadn’t been held in a man’s arms on the dance floor since her senior prom, and Ben Braud hadn’t qualified as a man at seventeen. She set the empty glass down and took Abram’s hand.