Sweet Talk Me (13 page)

The problem was that when True was stirring the penne for dinner, he’d caught a glimpse of her bra strap. He hadn’t been able to forget it all night long, throughout the meal (which was delicious) and afterward when they’d all taken a walk with the dogs and then come home to watch an episode of a reality show singing competition.

That bra strap had been lacy and French looking. True might buy her flatware at Target, but she didn’t skimp on her lingerie. He couldn’t help imagining her slipping off that dadgum bra along with the rest of her clothes before donning a nightie to get ready for bed. In fact, he paused the daydream at the naked part. Maybe she slept in the buff.

He knew the real True. And she knew he knew. It was enough to drive a man crazy to have to pretend that he didn’t, especially when he was told to use her private bathroom and stumbled upon a mysterious package in the drawer she told him to put his razor. The label said
NIPPLE PETALS
, and they looked like flower-shaped Band-Aids.

What the hell?

But they were kinda cute. He wouldn’t mind seeing them on her.

They were still on his mind when True decreed it was bedtime and went into mistress-of-the-house mode. She first settled Skeeter and Boo, who were desperate to stay with the Labs in the kitchen. Gage spent five minutes trying to convince her they really needed to be in his room on the old rag rug.

“They’re fine,” True told him firmly. “They’re on vacation. When you’re on vacation, you change things up, right?”

She had this way of instilling confidence in people while at the same time getting them to shut the hell up. It was quite a gift. Gage succumbed to her charm after a puny fight.

Everyone who wanted water by their bed got some. Then True laid out her schedule for the next day. She planned to be gone all morning, at least until she tied up some loose ends for the wedding. Weezie was in charge of the U-pick customers.

“Gage, what are your plans?” True asked nicely.

“Constructing a crossword, mainly. But I’m also running in the morning.”

“Good,” she said. “Can Weezie call you on your cell if she needs help?”

“Of course.”

“And you, Harrison?”

She was such a little general.

“I’ll be over at Sand Dollar Heaven meeting the crew.”

“I really wish you hadn’t done this,” Gage told him.

Chill
, Harrison told him with his expression.

“I was perfectly all right—”

“Gage,” True said, interrupting him equably, “a successful man like you shouldn’t live in a trailer that’s ready to be condemned. That goes beyond stubbornness. That’s outright lack of common sense. Do you want to be known as that weird dude who can’t see the forest for the trees? Would that make your mother proud?”

Gage just stood there for a minute. “No,” he said.

“Then stop complaining that your brother is kicking you right out of the rut you were in. Maybe show a little appreciation.”

Whoa
. Harrison was a little scared. And flattered. And turned on. He sensed that Gage was rattled. His brother didn’t say a word, but he was clearly pondering.

“She’s always like this,” Weezie said helpfully—or not—to Gage, and slid down the hallway in her socks to her room.

True went over to Gage and took his hand. Harrison knew his brother was uncomfortable with that, but to his credit he didn’t flinch.

“I’m only talking harshly to you because I care,” she said. “If I’d known you were living the way you were, I would have come over long ago to coax you out, too.” She smiled at Gage, and then the next second she was back at her bedroom door, all tension forgotten. “Good night, everyone!”

“G’night!” Weezie called from her room.

Harrison wanted to scoop True up and kiss her all over her face. And her body. But that wasn’t allowed. So he said his manly good nights, and then everyone shut their doors. Skeeter barked a couple of times, and one of True’s dogs answered. But other than that, the house was quiet.

Here he was, near midnight back in Biscuit Creek, among ghosts and very real people who still meant something to him, even though he hadn’t been here in ten years. The wind blew low over the fields from the marsh and creek beyond. The windows rattled softly, and the house beams creaked.

There was no place like home. He still couldn’t believe he was back. Sometime after two, Honey’s feather-tick mattress finally lulled him to sleep.

The next morning, Gage had to get up at six forty-five and follow his damned schedule to the letter, so Harrison gave up on trying to get more shut-eye and threw off the covers. After a short perusal of Honey’s hats on a shelf, accompanied by much yawning, he decided that the purple one with the polka-dotted band and the enormous flower was his favorite.

In the shower, he noticed that he was actually excited to wake up and start the day—for the first time in ages. He needed to get over to Sand Dollar Heaven. That was going to be fun. But the best thing was that he’d get to see True at breakfast.

He’d better hurry.

In the kitchen, True was stirring another pot while she read a book propped up on the counter on a funny portable shelf. She looked up, and his heart quickened its pace. She was damned beautiful, even in her straitlaced clothes. Today she wore a dress that looked like a pipe sleeve and totally disguised her figure. It went straight down and had a large blue, black, red, and white geometric pattern.

“I’ve seen that before,” he said, “in Austin Powers or something.”

She smiled. “It was one of Honey’s favorites. Luckily, this style’s back in now. I hope you like oatmeal.”

“Love it.” Hated it.

“If you’re lying, you’ll change your mind when you try it the way I make it.” Her eyes twinkled. She saw right through him.

“You run the roost around here, don’t you? And you’re mighty proud of it, too.”

“I do, and I am.” Except when she was around Dr. Penn Waring, according to Carmela. “Why don’t you get yourself some coffee? Weezie’s out back, feeding the chickens. And Gage is out on his run.”

Harrison gladly obeyed and poured himself a cup of the steaming black brew.

“Let’s go together,” he said while he watched her ladle out two bowls of oatmeal.

“Where?”

“On our errands.”

“I don’t think so.” She opened a jar of dark chocolate peanut butter—cool; was it like a Reese’s?—and scooped a spoonful into each bowl. “I have a lot to do. I’ll be in Charleston. You’re going to the construction site.”

“I won’t be long. Maybe an hour, tops. And then I’ll check back late this afternoon. I can drive you around. A bride-to-be needs to be pampered.” Why he was torturing himself by bringing
that
up, he didn’t know.

“I thought you were here on the down-low.” She picked up her own mug from the counter and took a healthy swallow. Nothing like a girl who could drink scalding coffee without flinching. Then she reached into the fridge and pulled out some fresh raspberries. She rinsed them under the sink in a little mesh colander, shook it, and then slung the berries into the oatmeal like an old pro.

“Sit,” she said, “and stir it up.”

Damned if he didn’t sit at her command and pick up his spoon. “Real men don’t like raspberries.”

“Yes, they do.”

“Just don’t tell
GQ
I ate some.” He stirred. “I’ll wait in the car, and if you’re very long, I’ll wear my big sunglasses and Indiana Jones hat and venture forth. I’ve got to stop somewhere anyway.”

He took a tentative bite.

She looked very concerned as he swallowed. “Are you a big sugar person?”

“No. I’m a rough, tough man who refuses to succumb to the siren call of sweet.” Unless it was her lips, of course. Or apple pie. He was a sucker for that, too.

Her face lit up. “Then you like the oatmeal?”

“Yeah. I do.” And he really did.

“I was going to say we could add some brown sugar to yours if you want…”

“Nope. It’s perfect just like this.” Like this moment. He wasn’t used to shooting the breeze and having a happy little breakfast with a friend he’d never been able to forget. Especially a sexy friend he’d like to kiss.

They ate for a minute in silence, but he could tell how much she was enjoying her breakfast. She made a little moany sound at one point and then caught herself.

“I love raspberries,” she explained.

Lord, if she was that passionate about breakfast …

“I always keep an overnight bag in the car,” he said, “so I’m good for today. But I’ll need to pick up a couple weeks’ worth of shower things and clothes.”

“What about borrowing Gage’s clothes?”

“Have you seen Gage lately? He wears a white buttondown and Levi’s
every day
. We’ll look like the Hardy boys without a mystery to solve. As for the toiletries, I need my super-fancy ones. I’m a spoiled country music star, so I’m heading to Ben Silver. They’ll have what I need. And I can count on their discretion.”

“You
are
spoiled. You can get your clothes there, too. Be the Charleston man-about-town.”

“Local boy makes good, and local boy is gonna live it up.” He scraped the bottom of his bowl with his spoon. “Although I still have a thing for Goodwill. That place got me through high school.”

True put her chin in her hand. “You
have
come a long way.”

“So have you.”

They looked at each other a beat too long.

“Yes, well—” She stood up and made a fuss over gathering the dishes.

“You need some help? You don’t want to mess up that dress.”

She went to the sink and dropped everything into already sudsy water. “I usually wear an apron.” She turned around. “But no way was I going to wear one around
you
.”

“Why?” He approached her, and she leaned back on the sink. He’d love to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. “Do you think I’d tease you? Modern woman wearing her grandmother’s apron, and all that kind of thing?”

She grinned. “I like Honey’s aprons. And I wear them a lot. They’re functional, you know?” She turned back to the sink and started wiping down a bowl. “But I also love them because she wore them first. I have so many good memories of her cooking in them, and—well, I know you’re in the big leagues now. I saw those girls with you in Atlanta. They wouldn’t be caught dead in an apron. It’s too homey. Too small-town.”

He watched her hands in the water, mesmerized by their grace. “I wouldn’t have laughed.” Her back looked so delicate. “Did you ever get to Chapel Hill?” He didn’t want to hurt her by asking. But he wanted to know.

“Yes.” She lifted a sudsy spoon out of the water and rinsed it under the tap. “I was there three semesters. And then I had to come home.”

Hell and damnation. He felt so bad for her. “I’m really sorry. I know how much it meant to you to go.”

She shook her head and smiled at him over her shoulder. “It’s okay. I survived. I never thought I would, but I did. I thought life would be incomplete without having the quote unquote college experience right after high school. Another Maybank truism that isn’t true.” Her sadness was coupled with a steely bravery. “Although I’d like to go back to school someday. I’m thinking about the College of Charleston.”

“Good,” he said, probably too fast. He didn’t want her to think he pitied her for her lack of diploma. Hell, he didn’t have one, either.

“How about you?” She pulled the plug in the sink and dried her hands off on a dish towel. “Was there a big bend in your road anytime during the last ten years? Apart from the abrupt fame? Your rise was pretty meteoric.”

“Wow, that sound good. Meteoric.” He grinned, but he was embarrassed. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe all the crazy things that had happened to him.

“It’s the truth.”

He had to look away for a second because it was the first time someone he’d truly cared about before he was famous said something so … supportive. And it felt good. Why had he stayed away so long? What had he been so afraid of?

“It was a case of be careful what you ask for,” he said. “Fame and fortune came at a steep price. I’d always heard they would. But I thought I’d be the one who didn’t have to pay it.”

“What kind of price?”

He didn’t want to tell her. And he didn’t even have to make something up because Weezie came flying through the back door with a basket of eggs.

“Phred almost got me this time.” She put the eggs on the table and took a couple of deep breaths.

“He’s our rooster,” True said. “
P-h-r-e-d
. And he’s as crazy as his name. He likes to chase us with his spurs out and send us on our way, preferably screaming.”

The dogs started barking, which meant that Gage was back from his run.

Sure enough, he showed up in the kitchen, a sheen of sweat on his face. “True, I didn’t see the paper outside.”

She winced. “I had to cancel our subscription a long time ago. We get our news on the Internet. Did you have a good run?”

“Yes.”

But Harrison could tell Gage was a little uncomfortable with the lack of paper. “Don’t you read
The Wall Street Journal
online anyway?”

“Yes, but I always read
The Post and Courier
first.”

“You get by without it when you come to see me, or when we meet in Cocoa Beach.”

“I read it online when I do that.”

“Well, read it online today,” Harrison said, getting mighty annoyed.

“When I know it’s available as a paper, I’d rather read it that way.” Gage’s face, still red from his run, was lined with tension.

“Geez, buddy—” Harrison couldn’t believe his ears.

“We’ll bring you one back when we go on our errands,” True said. “Problem solved.”

“But I don’t read the paper in the afternoon.” Gage made an attempt at a smile. “Don’t worry about it, True.”

“Damned right, we’re not going to worry about it,” Harrison snapped. “Ever heard of something called flexibility? You need it.”

“He’s trying!” Weezie cried out. “Don’t be so mean to him, Harrison. I read once that you got pepperoni pizza in the green room instead of sausage, and so you threw the pizza out the window like a Frisbee.”