Dakota Cassidy - Talking After Midnight

Walk away now, Marybell. “Does what I do for a living bother you?”

“Nope. I won’t tell you it’s not a little weird to know you—”

“Get guys off over the phone?” Maybe if she was crude, he’d go away. He had to go away.

Tag didn’t miss a beat. “Okay, if you want to put it that way. Then, yeah. But that’s not something that’d scare me off.”

What would scare him off? If her outlandish makeup and hair didn’t do it, surely her job was cause to rethink pursuing her.

Tag gripped her shoulders. “Is that what you want? To scare me off?”

That’s what she should want, but she wanted that far less than she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him again the way he’d kissed her last night. Taking a step back and out of his reach, she kept her tone indifferent. “I want to go back to work.”

Tag latched his fingers together and held them out, hitching his sharp jaw at her office window. “You want a lift?”

She laughed, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Marybell pointed to the path that led back around to the front of the guesthouse. “I’ll take the long way. Thanks for dinner. G’night, Tag.” She made her way along the cobbled path, passing the neatly manicured topiaries with twinkling lights on them, her chest heavy and tight.

It was time to find a new escape route to avoid Tag.

“G’night, Marybell,” he called after her, his deep voice swirling in her ears.

Goodbye, Tag.

Five

Em clinked her wineglass as they sat around the break room at Call Girls on Even Phone Sex Operators Have Pizza Night. “Attention, Marybell Lyman!”

Marybell froze, midslice of gooey pepperoni. She lifted her eyes to meet Em’s devilish ones.

“I hear someone’s been kissin’ a Hawthorne? Dish, MB!”

It really was true all the bad press small towns got for gossip. Nothing was sacred.

Dixie’s head popped up from her Brides magazine, her eyes zeroing in on Marybell. “Ohhh, juicy—share!”

LaDawn sputtered, setting down the wine bottle she chugged from because she always said using a glass was a waste of dish washing liquid. “You been kissin’ a Hawthorne? Dang. Which one?”

“Tag!” Em said on a laugh, swirling the red liquid in her tumbler. “She kissed Taggart.”

“And you know this how, Emmaline Amos?” Dixie asked, closing her magazine.

Em winked at Marybell. “Because he said as much. And he was smilin’ when he did.”

Marybell had to fight the urge to run and hide. This was what girlfriends did, Landon had once told her. They shared secrets. They braided each other’s hair, had sleepovers, shopped and stuck their noses in your beeswax.

Always done with love, but still done. You could say anything to your girlfriend, even if it was something unflattering, but God save the fool outsider if she took it upon herself to insult your BFF.

She didn’t always understand the mechanics of a close relationship, friendships or otherwise. She’d never had a relationship that lasted much longer than six months before she was moved to a new foster home. It was barely long enough for her to adjust to her new surroundings, let alone forge bonds.

But Landon had taught her bonds could be forged virtually overnight. He’d taught her that not everyone had one foot holding the door open for her exit, and not everyone betrayed you.

The girlfriend thing she was still feeling her way around in the dark about.

If you let just one person in, Marybell, it eases the burden of your own troubles some because then y’all share them. I hope someday, when you decide we’re not all bottom-feeders, you’ll do just that.

She’d held those words to her heart when she’d taken the leap and decided to move with LaDawn, Cat and the others to Landon’s small hometown instead of staying in Atlanta. He’d prepared them for the kind of snobbery they’d be up against, but he’d also promised them if they moved with the company, there’d always be more love than hate.

And for the most part, he’d been right. Still, the security and friends he’d given her far outweighed the problems they’d faced in Plum Orchard.

“Why so quiet, Miss MB?” Cat, so beautiful in her last month of pregnancy, asked. She rubbed her swollen belly and batted her eyelashes.

So, what to say? It was amazing. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since it happened. It can’t ever happen again because I’m allegedly responsible for the downward spiral his life has taken.

She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. How could she keep this girlfriendish enough to keep them happy, but not lead them to believe that kiss had been with her every waking moment? “It was no big deal.”

Em threw her paper plate away and crossed the room to wrap her arms around Marybell’s neck, giving it a squeeze. “No big deal? It most certainly is a big deal when the woman we know hardly ever even looks at a man. Now, out of the blue, she’s kissin’ one? That’s big where I come from.”

Marybell patted Em on the arm and gave it a squeeze before untangling herself. “Men don’t really look at me, so why should I look at them?”

Dixie grinned. “Well, you been doin’ just a little more than lookin’ at Tag, now, haven’t you? So, are you going to see him again?”

“I’m not really dating.” Brief and to the point.

“But you are kissin’?” LaDawn snickered.

“It was just a kiss. No big deal.”

“He made her bologna sandwiches,” Em offered. “In all the months I’ve known Tag, he hasn’t shown a lick of interest in a soul here in the PO, and now he’s makin’ bologna sandwiches for our Marybell like he’s creatin’ the Sistine Chapel with a knife and some mayonaise.”

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