Surrender To Sultry (14 page)

Darla huffed and folded her arms beneath her gargantuan breasts. “What does that make
me? I’ve been dodging your f-bombs for years.”

Colt tossed his hat back on his head and gave Darla a teasing grin. “Aw, c’mon. You
know you’ve got the dirtiest mouth in here.”

Leah’s stomach tightened. Just how familiar was Colt with that dirty mouth? Maybe
it was time to quit pretending and admit the truth: Colt had plucked Darla more times
than a West Virginia banjo. Leah squeezed her water bottle and tried not to picture
them together—that was the old Colt. He’d apologized for his wild days, even though
it was none of her business. He’d changed. She needed to remember that and leave the
past where it belonged.

The offending deputy apologized to Leah while stretching high to place the tree topper—a
Kermit the Frog hand puppet—on the highest branch.

“That’s your topper?” Leah asked them, looking to the faces around her for some insight
into the joke. Nobody was laughing.

Colt scratched the back of his neck and studied his boots.

“We used to put an angel up there,” Darla said. “A long time ago. She was real pretty,
with a white gown and hair down to her waist. But Colt made us pack it up when he
got elected.”

Colt’s warm hand appeared at Leah’s lower back. He muttered something about the separation
of church and state while steering her toward his office. Once he’d maneuvered her
well out of earshot, he admitted, “It made me think of you.”

She wanted to tell Colt she’d had a living, breathing reminder of him for the past
nine years, but she couldn’t do it. Not until she was certain he’d leave Noah in peace.
She shook those thoughts out of her head and said, “Well, at least buy a star. I like
the Muppets and all, but Kermit looks ridiculous with a tree branch up his butt.”

Colt ushered her inside his office and cleared a pile of paperwork from the chair
opposite his desk. The masculine scent of his aftershave lingered in the tiny room,
at once familiar and comforting. She’d missed that smell, especially when it came
directly off his heated skin.

“I think I’ll unpack the angel.” He brushed his fingers casually down the back of
her hair as she sat down. “No star could outshine her.”

Her cheeks heated. “Want half my sandwich?”

“Sure.”

She noticed him lower to his rolling chair without grimacing or bracing his hands
on the desktop. He’d made pretty good progress. “You’ve been doing your stretches,”
she said, tipping her water at him.

“Every night, just like I promised. Been getting massages too. And you’ll be happy
to know I have an appointment with the chiropractor, even though I still don’t believe
in that mess.” He pulled a handful of napkins from his side drawer, reminding Leah
of her long-lost driver’s license. But before she had a chance to ask him about it,
he slid half the turkey club across the desk and stunned her with a hungry gaze that
had nothing to do with lunch. “I won’t be out at the springs tonight,” he said, keeping
their eyes locked. “Just in case you’d finally decided to meet me.”

This time, more than just her cheeks heated. She broke the static contact and took
a bite of her sandwich, not tasting a thing. Once she swallowed, she peeked at him
again. “I did come out. Last night.”

“You did?”

“Mmm-hmm. But you were already gone.”

He sat back, seemingly pleased to hear it. “Sorry I missed you.”

“It wasn’t by much.” Which made her remember the real reason for this visit. “Thanks,
by the way. For taking care of Rachel. I know she’s never been your biggest fan, and
if she was drunk, she probably didn’t go easy on you.”

Colt finished his half of the sandwich in two massive bites, then gave a dismissive
shrug much like Rachel had done. “Wasn’t so bad.”

Leah laughed dryly. “Did you two rehearse lines? That’s exactly what she said about
you.”

“She doing okay?”

“Pretty much. She and her mama are headed out of town for Thanksgiving. I think it’ll
be good for them. You know, get out of Dodge for a while, away from the reminders.”
When he nodded in agreement, she asked, “How about you? Are you going to Oklahoma
for the weekend?”

“Nah.” He removed his hat and set it on the desk, then refastened his ponytail. “Avery
and Emma are riding up with Granddaddy and Pru. I’m scheduled for patrol.”

That surprised her. Wasn’t the biggest perk of being the boss the freedom to take
off whenever you wanted? “You mean the sheriff has to work on Thanksgiving?”

He laughed and gestured toward the county jail at the rear of the building. “Wouldn’t
you know it, the criminals don’t observe federal holidays. But I don’t mind. Gives
the other guys a chance to be with their families.”

If her heart hadn’t already melted, that would’ve done it. “That’s sweet of you.”

“Besides, I’m only working a half day.”

She imagined Colt all alone in his kitchen, cooking up the steak and baked potato
she’d seen in his Sack-n-Pay basket a couple weeks ago. “You know,” she said, “it’s
just me and Daddy this year, so I’m only cooking a breast instead of a whole turkey.
But there’ll be plenty to go around if you want to join us.”

A flicker of happiness flashed behind his aquamarine eyes. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then it’s a date.”

The word “date” made her feel equal parts cautious and giddy. She didn’t know how
to label what was going on between the two of them, but
dating
wasn’t it. In an effort to make the invitation more casual, she told him, “You can
bring the mashed potatoes. Dinner rolls too. And don’t expect anything fancy. I’m
too nervous to use Mama’s china, so we’ll eat off the Corelle.”

“Hell, I’ll bring paper plates if you want,” he said. “But do we get to eat at the
table?”

“Of course.” Where else would they eat Thanksgiving supper?

“Good.” A sinful grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “’Cause I do love eatin’ at
that table. Everything tastes so damn good on there.”

Leah stared into her lap and bit her lip to hide a smile, feeling bashful but not
the least bit ashamed for what they’d done. She wasn’t sure if inviting Colt back
into her kitchen was a wise idea, but she knew this: she didn’t regret it. For once
in her life, she’d given Colt more than she should, and she wasn’t sorry.

“Let me take you to lunch,” he said. “We can hit the diner, or I can fix something
at my place. I’m not half-bad in the kitchen.”

No doubt. But she was pretty sure lunch at Colt’s house wouldn’t involve food. And
judging by the wolfish set of his grin, he wouldn’t stop at third base this time.
Was she ready for that?

He
made
you
sorry
before
, a small voice warned.
And
you
never
saw
it
coming
.

She ignored the words and reminded herself to let go of the past. She’d made mistakes
too—far worse than playing kiss-and-tell in the boys’ locker room. One day, she’d
have to confess the truth about Noah, and how could she expect forgiveness from Colt
if she wasn’t prepared to offer it in return?

But despite her bold resolve, she declined his lunch offer. For whatever reason, she
wasn’t hungry anymore.

Once the butter melted and danced in the skillet, Leah tossed in a cup of diced onions,
instantly filling the kitchen with a loud sizzle and a savory aroma. She added the
garlic and celery, then left them to sauté while she fished inside the refrigerator
for the spicy ground sausage that would make this recipe pop. Was it heart-healthy?
No. But her mouth watered at the mingling of bold flavors, and a few bites wouldn’t
hurt anyone.

“Smells good,” Daddy hollered from the living room. “What’cha making?”

“Mama’s stuffing.” Which she hadn’t planned on serving until a couple of days ago.
The same was true for the pecan pie in the freezer. She tried telling herself these
last-minute additions to the menu had nothing to do with her desire to impress Colt,
but a smile ghosted her lips when she imagined how he’d go back for seconds and thirds,
then whisper that not even his step-granny’s cooking held a candle to Leah’s. The
way he savored each bite—eyes closed, leaning back in his chair with one hand over
his heart—made her feel special. And who didn’t like feeling special? In fact, maybe
she should whip up some sweet pumpkin butter for the rolls.

From the living room, Daddy turned on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade loud enough
for her to overhear that the Snoopy balloon had sprung a leak and was headed for a
full-body collision with Spider-Man. The reporter’s enthusiasm for each float was
infectious, quickening Leah’s pulse and filling her mind with images of Christmastime.
When the festivities segued into a JCPenney Black Friday jingle, Daddy joined her
in the kitchen.

“Anything I can do?” he asked, leaning casually against the fridge.

Leah slid him a glance. Something was up. Daddy had always considered himself allergic
to cooking, hence the drive-through diet that’d landed him in the hospital. If his
congregation hadn’t stepped up after Mama died, Leah would’ve grown up on Hamburger
Helper and Spam sandwiches. She pointed to the stove and said, “Sure. You can brown
the sausage while I marinate the turkey,” but she didn’t expect him to stick around
long.

He cut off one end of the sausage tube, then squeezed it into the skillet while Leah
gathered the seasonings she needed from the pantry. For several minutes, he focused
on his task, silently pushing a wooden spatula back and forth across the pan. He cleared
his throat a couple of times as if to speak, but hesitated and went back to work.

Something was definitely wrong.

“You okay?” she asked.

He licked his lips and stared at the sausage. “I’ve been thinkin’…”

“I
thought
I smelled something burning,” she teased.

Her attempt to loosen him up didn’t work. It took him two more tries before he finally
said in a rush, “I think it’s time Colton knew the truth about Noah.”

Leah’s stomach tried to escape her body by way of her throat. She tried to stay calm
while fetching the turkey breast from the fridge, but she plunked it onto the counter
loud enough to rattle the porcelain cookie jar beside the sink.

“Absolutely not. It’s too soon.”

“Just hear me out,” Daddy said over the sizzle and crackle of sausage fat. “That’s
all I’m asking.”

“Won’t make any difference. I know what’s best for my son.”

Daddy shrugged. “If your mind’s already made up, then there’s no harm in hearing me
out, is there?”

“Suit yourself.” She busied her hands unwrapping the turkey, unable to look Daddy
in the eyes any longer.

“Look,” Daddy said, “we both know Colt acted the fool. I watched him do it. Every
time he fell down drunk or got in a fight, I told myself we’d done the right thing.
He even streaked the mayor’s inauguration—buck-naked, wearing a wrestler’s mask—but
everyone knew it was him because he’s got angel wings tattooed on his backside. What
kind of father sets an example like that?”

Leah glanced at him, wondering where Daddy was going with this. His story only proved
that neither she nor Colt were ready for parenthood back then.

“I kept on following the talk about Colt,” Daddy went on, “even though I preach against
gossip. I couldn’t get enough.” He pointed the wooden spatula at her. “You know why
I did that?”

She shook her head.

“Neither did I, till recently.” He broke their gaze as if ashamed. “I think I knew—deep
down in my soul—that keeping your secret wasn’t right, and I needed to justify what
I’d done. All those dirty stories about Colt’s drinking and hell-raising and running
around made me feel like I’d committed the lesser of two evils.” He turned his attention
back to the skillet. “But two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“No, they don’t,” Leah agreed. “But it’s not that simple. The right thing for Noah
wasn’t the right thing for me and Colt.”

“But he changed,” Daddy said. “Years ago. The gossip dried up, and all my excuses
died with it. I tried ignoring Colt, but I couldn’t ignore my conscience. Because
I didn’t just wrong that boy, Pumpkin.” With rounded shoulders and a face full of
contrition, he added, “I wronged you too.”

Leah’s fingers froze around the cellophane. Wronged her? Daddy had never been anything
less than loving and supportive. “What do you mean?”

“When you came to me all those years ago,” he said, staring at the stovetop, “and
asked for help running off to Minnesota, I should’ve told you no. You were young and
scared—you didn’t understand the gravity of giving away that baby. I was the adult.
It was my job to make the right choice.”

“I knew what I was doing,” Leah insisted. “And it
was
the right choice—for Noah.”

Daddy shook his head. “You were only seventeen. And my reasons for letting you go
weren’t as pure as I led both of us to believe.”

She didn’t understand. “Then why’d you do it?”

“I was worried about my reputation,” he admitted. “What would the congregation think
if they found out my teenage daughter was pregnant by the town degenerate? Would the
elders believe I was fit to run the church if I couldn’t even run my own family?”
He hung his bald head. “I made my decision out of pride, not what was best for you
or that baby. And certainly not what was best for Colt.”

Leah stared at her daddy for several long beats.

His pride?
That
was why he’d agreed to send her away? A spark of anger flushed her cheeks when she
imagined what might have been. If Daddy had insisted on keeping her home, she never
would’ve placed Noah with another family. She’d have her boy in her arms right now.
Everything would be different.

Including
Noah
, her conscience reminded her.
He’d be different too.
You
and
Colt
weren’t ready. What would your immaturity have done to him?

Just like that, her anger died. It might be easier to blame her heartache on Daddy,
but everything had happened for the best. She had to believe that.

“Noah’s better off for it.” That’s what mattered most.

“Maybe,” Daddy said. “Maybe not. But it wasn’t our choice to make. Colt should’ve
had a say.”

Leah rinsed her hands in the sink, then dried them and gave Daddy’s shoulder a gentle
pat. “We both did the best we could. We can’t go back.”

“I know.” He turned off the burner and shifted the skillet away from the heat. “But
we can set things right. Colt’s a good man. I think it’s time to tell him the truth
and face whatever consequences come from it.”

Leah understood his burden—for almost a decade, she’d felt the cold weight of guilt
like a layer of ice around her heart. But she’d gladly bear the pain for the rest
of her life if the truth put Noah at risk. She returned to the sink and absently gazed
out the window to the carport. “Colt’s got legal connections. What if he tries to
take Noah away?”

Daddy countered at once, as if he’d anticipated her argument. “No judge in his right
mind is gonna remove a nine-year-old boy from the only family he’s ever known.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“I quit lying to myself, hon.” Daddy gripped her upper arms and turned her to face
him. “Now it’s your turn.”

Leah tugged her brows down low. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you really scared that Colt’s gonna rip Noah away from his parents?” Daddy demanded
softly. “Or are you more afraid that Colt won’t forgive you for what you’ve done?”

Her jaw dropped. How could he possibly think her motivations were that selfish?

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Daddy said. “Ask yourself if all this talk about
keeping Noah safe with the Ackermans isn’t your way of avoiding the real issue—you
don’t want to lose Colt.”

“That’s not it!” she insisted.

“You sure about that?” The question was rhetorical. She knew he wouldn’t listen, no
matter how she answered. “Just give it some thought. Really search your feelings.”

Great, now he was channeling Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“If you and Colt are meant to be,” Daddy said, “then he’ll find a way to move past
it.”

I
wouldn’t forgive me
, she started to say, but changed her mind because she didn’t want Daddy thinking
all she cared about was Colt’s forgiveness.

“Eventually, you’ve got to tell him.” Daddy lifted her chin and gave her a sad smile.
“The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be for both of you.”

But what about the Ackermans? She’d lied to them, too, when she’d claimed not to know
who fathered her baby. If Colt hired a lawyer and raised Cain, would they retaliate
by cutting her off from Noah? They could do it—she didn’t have any legal rights to
see her own son.

Neither
does
Colt
, she chided herself.
You’ve never cared about his rights
.
Maybe
this
is
what
you
deserve.

No
. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn’t believe that. Her motivations
had always been pure—Colt and the Ackermans wouldn’t punish her so hurtfully for wanting
to give Noah the best life possible.

At least she didn’t think they would. She had no way of knowing for sure.

Daddy left her with a kiss on the temple and returned to the living room, where boisterous,
cheery parade noises rang out in contrast to her now-dark mood. In a daze, Leah measured
spices and oil, mixing a sloppy marinade, as her mind reeled with impossible questions.

Was Daddy right—should she tell Colt now and rip off the Band-Aid? Daddy had a point
when he said it would only get harder with time, and in all honesty, a judge probably
wouldn’t remove Noah from his home, not at his age. But a persistent burning inside
her chest warned her to reconsider. Something about the hypothetical confession felt
wrong, and not just because she feared losing Colt’s friendship. Her thoughts traveled
in circles, and by the time she slid the turkey in the oven, she was more confused
than ever.

So much for her perfect holiday.

***

“Thanks, Colt.” Avery fisted the lapels of her ratty pink bathrobe and slumped against
the doorjamb. She coughed and then immediately winced, pressing a hand against her
lower belly. After a long groan, she murmured, “I hope you didn’t have big plans.”

Big plans? Nah. Just winning over the love of his life before she got bored and returned
to her rich ex-fiancé in Minnesota, that’s all.

At his hesitation, Avery nodded at Emma and said, “Just take her with you.”

From beside him on the front stoop, Emma tugged his jacket hem, bouncing to the rhythm
of her shouts. “Tur-key day! Tur-key day!” She beamed up at him. “It’s turkey day,
Uncle Colt! Can we have chicken nuggets? I want a Happy Meal, but not with a boy prize.
I want the girl prize, the My Little Pony with the pink tail.”

“Uh-huh,” Colt said absently. “Whatever you want, hon.” He raised his hand to indicate
his sister’s waxen, dewy forehead. “You sure this isn’t contagious? The preacher’s
still recovering, and I don’t wanna risk his ticker by giving him a virus.”

“Trust me, there’s no way he can get this,” Avery promised. She leaned in and whispered,
“I got a raging bladder infection from this banana-flavored lube Mike used last weeken—”

“Holy shit!” Colt covered his ears and shut his eyes, desperately trying not to picture
his sister fooling around with her boyfriend’s banana, or any of his other parts for
that matter. Why couldn’t she save those details for her friends? “For the millionth
time, that skeeves me out!”

“Ho-ly shit!” Emma chanted with balled fists. “Ho-ly shit!” She stomped her feet,
triggering the lights inside her sneaker soles.

Avery narrowed her eyes and shot him the death glare. Great, so he couldn’t swear
around the kid, but mentioning sex toys was hunky-dory? Talk about screwed-up logic.

“I need to go to the bathroom again,” Avery said, then bent to give Emma a kiss. When
Avery stood, she reminded him, “No caffeine and go easy on the sugar, okay? I don’t
have the energy for a bedtime battle tonight.”

“Got it.” Colt gave Emma’s brown ponytail a gentle tug. “Ready to roll, monkey face?”

“Are we goin’ to McDonald’s?” The front door clicked shut, and Emma wrapped her sticky
fingers around his hand, skipping down the steps toward his cruiser. “The one with
the ball pit?”

“Nope, someplace even better.”

“Better than McDonald’s?” she asked, as if such a thing weren’t possible. “But they
have sundaes.” She scrunched up her brow and added, “And a slide that makes my hair
stick up when I come down it.”

Ah, yes, The Shocker. Colt remembered that godforsaken instrument of torture from
the few times he’d taken Emma out for lunch. “Remember my friend Miss McMahon?”

“The one with the pretty princess hair?”

“Yep.” Angel hair, but whatever. “We’re going to her house for dinner. Doesn’t that
sound like fun?”