Plus None 2

Plus None

by

EMILY HEMMER

Copyright © 2013 by Emily Hemmer

Cover design by damonza.com

ISBN: 978-0-9894639-3-5

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

For my parents, because they taught me how to be a good person.

For my sisters, because they put those lessons to the test.

And for my husband, because he loves me even when I forget them.

Read All About Alex & Charlie’s One Night Stand in:

Just One
:
a prequel novelette to Plus None

Available for purchase through Amazon Kindle & EmilyHemmer.com for just $.99!

Charlie would like nothing more than to trade her high heels for a pair of old cowboy boots, but her high society sister has got other plans. Lucky for Charlie, a thorny bush broke her fall when she went tail over top in the hydrangea, and Alex Ramirez showed up to lend a helping hand. What’s a country girl to do when her knight in shining armor turns out to be a rich boy with a mysterious agenda, and two panty dropping dimples? Two star-crossed lovers, one hotel room, and a really naughty leather belt.

Maybe Charlie should get out of Harlow County more often.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

STALK EMILY

Chapter One

57 Days Until Daddy Hides the Clicker In His Tuxedo

“You’re lookin’ good, Charlie!”

Not again. “Barry, how many times do we have to go over this? I am your cousin. Stop whistling at me.”

Barry smiles widely from the open door of his double-wide. A missing lateral incisor makes him a natural at two things: wolf whistling, and being a redneck.

“We only half cousins,” he argues, wiping a dirty hand across a worn wife-beater.

I drop the bag of groceries at my feet and pull open my dad’s screen door. “How do you figure that?”

“Our mom’s was sisters, but our daddy’s ain’t related. That makes us half cousins.”

I stare blankly, open-mouthed. How did I spring from this gene pool? “Good Lord but you are a stupid one. Get yourself inside and out of this heat before your remaining brain cells liquefy!”

Barry grins and nods, turning back inside the darkened trailer. If it weren’t for his piercing blue eyes, a family trait, I’d never believe we were kin. Mama used to say that God in his mercy gave her Paige and me as a way to restore faith to her family. Before us came seven male cousins, each one uglier and dumber than the last.

The inside of Daddy’s trailer is pleasantly cool, thanks to the new window unit Luke installed last week. I suspect this kindness was a ploy to get closer to me, something Luke’s worked on since the twelfth grade. Maybe I should have a wardrobe malfunction next time he’s around, see if I can’t get him to set up the DVD player.

“Charlie?” My dad shuffles into the kitchen, his old leather house shoes making their familiar swishing noise.

“Hi Daddy. Just thought I’d pop by and make you something to eat.” I remove the groceries from the bag, setting the ingredients for his favorite noodle dish on the counter. “How was work? You tell them you’re retiring yet?”

He swishes and skids his way across the yellow linoleum until the soft, shag carpet masks the sound and he relaxes into his recliner. “Not yet. Heard they may’ve uncovered a new deposit down south. I figured I should wait and see what happens. If all those young bucks at the field leave for richer pastures, I may be able to pull some light duty this fall.”

“Daddy, you promised you’d retire after I left, and that was nearly six months ago.”

“What am I gonna do? Huh? Sit around here all day? I’d be bored to death. Besides, I’ve only got enough to live on until I turn eighty. After that, you’re gonna have to take me out back and shoot me.”

I’m glad he’s focused on the TV and doesn’t see me roll my eyes. His doctor told him the arthritis in his hands will continue to get worse the longer he stays out in the oil fields. The work is demanding and not meant for the old timers. Most are forced into retirement in their mid-fifties, but they’ve never been able to get rid of my old man. He’s as stubborn as they come.

 “You could get that new fishing reel you’ve been going on about, spend your days in peace and quiet,” I suggest, dicing up the vegetables.

He grunts. “Maybe.”

The pan in front of me simmers loudly and I toss the ingredients around with a practiced hand. I’ve always enjoyed cooking but not as much as baking. The smell of melted chocolate, the texture of coconut shavings… It’s a miracle I don’t weight five hundred pounds.

As if he’s read my thoughts, he asks, “How’s the shop going?”

The City Bakery, my own little sweet shop, opened four months ago. I can’t say the money’s rolling in, and I eat ramen noodles more often than I’d like, but just the mention of it sets my stomach aflutter. “It’s good, yeah. I’ve got a couple of birthday cakes for this weekend and I’m doing two hundred cupcakes for the VFW next week. It’s going to look like a giant American flag when they’re all put together.”

Dad turns in his seat, the clicker clutched tightly in his tough old hand. He never lets go of the clicker. “That’s good. That’s real good, Charlie. Your mama would be proud.”

I swallow forcefully and tears spring to my eyes. “Thanks, daddy.” He nods once then returns his attention to the sports highlights.

Steam rolls above me as I lean over the pan. The smells of ground beef, onions, and green peppers swirl beneath my nose. Adding the egg noodles to the pot of boiling water, I’m struck with a vivid memory.

Mama, her white-blonde hair pulled back in a long braid, instructing me on how to stir to get an even cook on the beef.
“I’m declaring you a natural chef, Charlie. Pretty soon, you won’t even need me at all!”

She was wrong. I did need her. I still do. I force my sadness down and busy myself opening the cans of cream of chicken and cream of mushroom soup.

Hot, dusty air invades the calm of the trailer. Paige, my baby sister, bounces inside on pointed pink heels. “You’re a disgusting pig, Barry!” she yells over her shoulder before slamming the door. “Thank God you and Mama had the good sense to send Charlie and me to the fancy schools on the other side of town. If we’d been forced to spend all our time with those half-wits next door, the family line would no doubt be in danger of extinction.” She smiles brightly at Daddy and me. “Hi y’all! Is that noodle dish I smell?”

“Well, what a nice surprise.” Daddy uses the recliner’s arms to pull himself forward and out of the chair. He embraces Paige in a bear hug, the remote still clutched securely in his hand. “How you doin’, sugar-pea?”

“Hi Daddy.” She returns the hug with more power than you’d expect from such a petite person. “I just haven’t seen you in a while so I thought I’d better come and check up on you.”

I stir the pot and roll my eyes again. At this rate, they’ll be stuck in the back of my head before dinner is on the table.

“Hey big sister! You got enough for one more?” As Dad reclaims his seat, Paige moves into the kitchen. She inhales deeply. “My Lord, I forgot how good it smells.”

I use my hip to push her out of my way and grab the pot of noodles, running them through the plastic yellow strainer in the sink. “I thought you were on a raw food diet?”

“It’s awful, Charlie. I feel like a damn rabbit. All I do all day is drink grass and poop.”

I laugh.  “Then why’re you doing it?”

“Oh I don’t know. Cadence wanted to try it before the wedding, see if she could lose a few more pounds.”

“If Cadence lost a few more pounds, she’d disappear.”

Paige takes the wooden spoon from the counter and stirs the drained noodles into the pan, mixing the ingredients together. “Be nice. You know she had an eating disorder. I’m just trying to encourage her to be healthy.”

“Fine, I’ll be nice… She ever get that botched boob job fixed?”

“Charlie…”

“The boys still calling her nipples hither and thither?”

“Charlie!” She doubles over in laughter.

We fall against one another, racked with silent but powerful giggles, the kind that work out your abs and bring a pain to your side.

“That’s not funny,” she says, shoving me in the shoulder, desperately trying to stop smiling.

I grin and shove her out of my way, grabbing plates from the cabinet. “So why’re you really here?”

She lowers her voice. “My birth certificate. I’ve got to take it with me when Ken and I apply for the marriage license.”

“I knew there was an ulterior motive. Why do you two have to get married so quick anyway? I thought weddings took years to plan and you’ve only given us a couple month’s notice.” I eye her flat stomach. “You’re not…” I cock an eyebrow in the direction of her abdomen.

“No, of course not,” she whispers, looking over her shoulder at Daddy.

“Then why?” I stir the simmering food one last time.

Paige shrugs, a goofy smile on her face. “When he gave me the promise ring a couple of years ago, I knew it was only a matter of time before we made things official. Now that he’s asked me I just don’t want to wait any longer. I want to be his wife and he wants to be my husband, simple as that.”

My stomach falls a little at her words. I wish the knot of loneliness tightening there was the only thing chasing away my hunger. But the memory of Paige’s twenty-third birthday party, and the night Ken gave her that promise ring, brings long buried feelings bubbling to the surface. Regret, disappointment, lust… Paige and Ken weren’t the only ones making promises that night. I made one as well, and her impending wedding may well cause me to break it.

“Here, let me.” Paige spoons a heaping pile of noodle dish onto a flowered plate. It lands silently and slimy on the porcelain. Just the way we like it. “I know you don’t like the gooey romance stuff, Charlie. But he just makes me so happy.”

I smile at her, handing over another plate. “He better. I worked in the oil fields, remember? I’m pretty sure I can kick his rich-boy ass if he ever hurts my baby sister.”

 “You don’t need to worry about that. I can handle him all on my own. Anyway, I’ve got something to ask you.”

My stomach drops further. I know what she’s going to ask. She wants me to be her Maid of Honor. She and Kenneth Chamberlain the Third are getting hitched in just under two months. In a break from tradition, Ken’s parents are paying for everything. Daddy would’ve gladly paid for the nuptials, but Paige wants a high-society wedding and all Daddy can afford is a barbeque buffet at the Masonic lodge. Every mention of taffeta, bouquets, and bachelorette parties over the past week has set my teeth on edge. With the bakery just opened, and my own limited funds to think of, being Paige’s Maid of Honor will surely drain every last dime in my checking account.