The Dixie Belle's Guide to Love (5 page)

He leaned on the counter with both elbows, his gaze fixed on her. “Not like I was when I played football for the Hellon Hurricanes.”

“Why would you want to be like that? So you’re a little thicker in the middle, a little broader in the chest.” She held her hands apart.

“Those aren’t the only places I’ve grown since adolescence.” With one leg braced straight and the other on the footrail of the lunch counter, he gave the sense of someone relaxed yet ready to manage anything thrown at him. “If you’re measuring.”

He spoke of personal growth, personality, depth of character, of course. Still she found herself struggling against the powerful urge to glance at his jeans.

He put the chicken leg down and began lazily to lick his fingertips. “But then not many of us look the way we did at seventeen.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. She wondered if she suddenly sucked her tummy, would he catch her at it and tease her? Instead of risking it, she went on. “You were a scrawny, snot-nosed kid then. Who wants that? Now you’re a man, a real man with a real man’s needs and appetites.”

“True enough, Rita.” His dark eyes glittered,
and his smile—if you could call that slow, smirky tilt of his lips an authentic smile—never faltered. “True enough.”

She felt a perfect fool. All her blustering the past few days, all the speeches she had made to herself about how she would stay in control and not let him rattle her, and she had not lasted through their first lunch before blurting out something dumb. “All right, you win. Clean your plate. Take your notes. We’ll go over them tomorrow, then you can be on your way.”

“With the satisfaction of having done my good deed for the decade and not having had to spend more than a single night in Hellon.” He said it in an undertone, like a commentator filling in what Rita had kindly left unspoken.

“I didn’t say—”

“But that’s what you thought, and we both know it. Despite my efforts on your behalf, Rita, you don’t really think any more highly of me than you did six years ago when you told me off.”

“Eat the last biscuit, too. No sense in its going to waste.”

He took the biscuit in one hand and turned it over once, then again. “You’re the one who insisted you wanted things uncomplicated. Well, this is about as simple as it gets. I make my recommendations and a list of people who will give you a break on costs. If you choose to follow through, you follow through. If you don’t…”

You’re a damned fool
. It always came down to that with her and Wild Billy, didn’t it? He was
cool and sexually smoldering. He said and did all the right things. She was cautious and a little too lumpy to have inspired lust even in her own husband.

“If I don’t follow through on your suggestions, you’ll never know the difference.” She smiled at him. “So why make an issue of it now? Do what you came to do, then tomorrow we will go over your ideas, I’ll thank you as sincerely as I can, we’ll shake hands, and say—”

“I hope you’re happy!” The front door banged open and Jillie stood in the threshold, her hands on her hips. “Because now the shit has really hit the fan!”

“First rule of life in a small town.” Jillie pointed her finger at his face and walked into the Palace, a diva taking center stage. “When you are up to something you don’t want absolutely everybody to know about, you should never, never,
never
park your car in a place where just anyone can come along and clap their eyes on it.”

“I’d have thought you of all people would know that.” Rita went up on tiptoe to peer out the front window, then lowered her lashes to nail him with a glance over her shoulder.

Will wasn’t looking at her eyes or her shoulders. “I’ve never been one to hide my light under a bushel. I thought the two of
you
would know that.”

Jillie snorted.

Rita didn’t say a word, though her lips parted
in a way Will found absolutely riveting. Or was it tempting? His gaze wandered downward over her body again.

A sudden flush spread over her cheeks. She sucked in her lower lip.

Tempting. Definitely tempting.

She turned away, glanced behind her, then took a step to place a chair between them, hiding her lower body from his eyes.

Will frowned at the predictable reaction. He wanted to tell her to knock it off. He wanted to challenge her the way she had challenged him in the past. He wanted to rant at her for buying into the belief that if a woman’s body didn’t fit into that ever-narrowing mold, that she should feel ashamed of it.

Rita didn’t fit any mold, and that made her all the more remarkable. She was round and ripe and…full. That’s what he wished he could make her see. Her breasts were full, her hips, too, but more to the point her heart and mind were full and rich with the things that really mattered in life. If he could convince her of that, he’d have given her a gift greater than any business expertise he had to offer.

“Listen, Rita—” He stepped toward her.

“No, you listen.” She did not say it rudely, but more like someone sharing an idea. She pointed toward the ceiling, and her expression was no-nonsense. “Maybe you’ve forgotten the Palace is also my home for the time being. Having your car parked outside is bound to stir up some talk.”

“Talk? Why?” He laughed. “Nothing illegal or immoral is going on here. I’ll drive back to Memphis before dark and make a big show of coming back in broad daylight. Tool straight through the center of town with the top down and the radio blasting just like the old days if that’s what it takes.”

“Mercy, don’t do that! Only an untrained hound sinks his teeth in a decoy.” Rita slashed both hands through the air. “And there are no untrained busybodies in Hellon. The harder you try to fool people into thinking you’re on the high road, the more down and dirty the gossip is going to get.”

“Either way, my car won’t stay there overnight. If a few people with nothing better to do think they can spin that into some kind of scandal, let them try.”

“This is Hellon, Billygoat. They
will
try.” Jillie walked over to Rita, then turned to face him. They both folded their arms forming a would-be wall of feminine solidarity.

He hit his share of walls in his life, one more didn’t faze him. “Let them. What do I care about a bunch of idle gossip?”

“I care. I wish to God I didn’t.” Rita rubbed her forehead and sighed. “But after all I’ve gone through these last few years, can you blame me if I shy away from offering up one more juicy tidbit to circle town at my expense?”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Why would you?” It was a question devoid of
bitterness, and yet it and her expression conveyed every ounce of her disappointment in him, or in something about him that touched the deepest hurt in her. “You’ll be out of here in a day or so, with all this left behind and forgotten.”

“Don’t count on that.” He met her gaze and held it, hoping he could convey even an inkling of the esteem he held her in.

She looked away first.

“I don’t understand why this is such a problem.” He hadn’t expected to hear the ring of hardness in his own voice. Still, he pressed on. “I’m here on business, plain and simple.”

“Yeah, but it’s
my
business.” She put her hand above her breasts and shut her eyes. “Your consultation not withstanding, Will, I haven’t decided exactly what I want to do with the Palace. I hope to spare myself a few dozen heaping helpings of ‘constructive’ input mucking up the process while I’m making up my mind.”

“Then don’t put up with it.”

“I have to. Don’t you understand that? I live here. Maybe you don’t recall what that’s like anymore.”

“Of course I recall it. Why do you think I live in Memphis?”

“You can take this lightly. It all rolls off you like water off a duck’s back. But I’m the one who has to stay and deal with the aftermath.” She walked to the counter and began to clean up the dishes from lunch. “Move your car, Will, please, before someone besides Jillie sees it, and—”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here.” Jillie took a seat on the other side of the lunch counter. She put her hand on Rita’s. “Word’s out. Pernel is on his way over right now.”

Rita’s lips silently formed a swear word that he suspected wouldn’t faze a Sunday school teacher. “He’s the very last person I want to know about my plans for this place. And him hearing I brought another man in to make over his old business? This won’t be pretty.”

“Of course it won’t be pretty.” Jillie crinkled up her nose. “We’re talking about Pernel here.”

Will laughed.

“It’s not funny. Pernel will resist my trying to do anything new to his precious palace.”

Will felt a double edge to Rita’s words. “The place is yours now. What you do with it, or yourself, is none of his concern.”

She didn’t even look Will’s way. “Pernel will take my making changes without consulting him as a personal affront—or worse.”

“Worse?” Will scowled.

“He could insist on lending a hand, getting involved with the renovations himself. That’s one headache I want to avoid, thank you.” Rita scraped the last bit of potato salad off the serving fork.

“Then just tell him to butt out.”

“You don’t know how he can
get
.”

“Let him
get
his panties in a wad. That’s not your lookout.” Will rounded the lunch counter, took the dishes from Rita, and started for the
kitchen. “You don’t have to tell him a damn thing, you know. You don’t owe him anything anymore.”

“I can’t just turn a blind eye to the feelings of a friend or family member. I’m not like…some people,” she called after him.

I’m not like you.
She did not have to say it aloud to drive her point home. He stood just inside the kitchen door, his hands full and his spirit drained. He and Rita had always been worlds apart, and, at least to her thinking, they always would be.

“Jillie, are you
sure
he’s on his way over?” Even from the kitchen he could hear weariness and worry butting heads for control in Rita’s tone.

“I’m sure,” Jillie said.

“
How
do you know?”

His sister paused. He could just imagine her drawing this out just to hang on to the attention even a few seconds longer. “Right place, right time.”

He flipped the faucet on to let the water run into the deep steel sink as he set the dishes aside.

“Is he coming
alone
?” Rita asked softly.

Again an unwarranted lag in the conversation followed.

It was all he could do not to go back in there and grab his sister by her scrawny neck and make her give Rita the kind of outright answer she deserved.

“I don’t think he’d dare bring his new girlfriend around,” Jillie finally replied with a sooth
ing tenderness he had forgotten she possessed. “Not here. Not yet.”

“I want to meet her at some point. I want him to bring her by sometime soon but under…better circumstances. You know?”

“Well, I don’t think it’d hurt to have him wonder what’s gone on here between you and
Wild Billy
.” She all but shouted the hated nickname right at the open kitchen door. “But you’re right. You ought to get yourself a little more fixed up before you meet the ‘other woman,’ so to speak. Or in this case is this the other other woman?”

“Mind your manners, Jillie.”

“Ignore her bitterness, Rita. That’s just the voice of experience talking.” He’d never have sunk so low if his sister hadn’t started the low blows with that “get yourself a little more fixed up” crack to Rita. He shut the water off. “I don’t think you have a place telling anyone how to act, baby sister, or who they should meet with when, or how they should look when they do it.”

“Fine. Then I won’t bother to tell you to pull your swelled head out of your behind before Mama gets over here.”

“Mama?”

“She’s on her way, too.”

The plates crashing into the suds covered the worst of his low-from-the-gut cussing. He strode to the doorway between the dining area and kitchen and hit Jillie with a glare, his lips stiff. “How the hell did she find out I was here?”

His sister toyed with the empty napkin holder. “One of her ladies saw your car.”

“Round here we call them Miss Peggy’s Secret Service.” Rita put a hand to her hip. Her dark eyes lit up.

He suspected she felt some sort of affection or some such nonsense for his mother and the Retired Junior League gossip brigade. “They know all the secrets and consider it a service to let your mother in on them.”

He cursed again.

Rita laughed.

He gave her a look that made hardened workmen shut their mouths and drop their gazes from his.

“Smile, Will, company’s coming!” Her dimples betrayed how much she enjoyed seeing him in the same fix as her.

He clenched his jaw.

“I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes now.” Jillie cocked her head and aimed her gaze at his feet. “Or ever, for that matter.”

“Putting yourself in someone else’s shoes has never been your forte, little sister. Putting your scrawny ass in another woman’s marriage bed seems to be more your style now.”

“Bastard,” Jillie hissed.

“Got that right.” He braced himself for the slap he so deserved and felt all the more the big jerk when it did not come. “At least I can stand to hear the truth about myself. Can’t you?”

“You wouldn’t know the truth if…”

“Y’all stop it, right now!” Rita stepped between them.

Jillie turned her glaring gaze on her.

Will smiled, just a touch of his practiced wiseass smile.

“We are standing at ground zero of a couple of converging you’ve-plunged-a-knife-into-my-heart-for-not-telling-me-what-you-were-up-to, walleyed, claws-out hissy fits.” A commanding calm came over Rita. A new kind of power seemed to vibrate around her. “We have to decide how to handle this with a minimum of hurt feelings or hair-pulling and without any significant information exchanges, right?”

“Right.” Will focused on his sister, his tone threatening her to keep on arguing.

“Yeah, right.” Jillie brushed at her collar.

“So, any suggestions on how we go about accomplishing that?”

“Is gunplay absolutely out of the question?” Will narrowed his eyes and grinned.

“Will!”

“Just a couple of warning shots over their heads.” He tried to pull off looking innocent but had no illusions that it worked.

“Too bad you don’t have tea and cake to serve them.” Jillie’s wistful gaze made him wonder if she actually meant that ridiculous suggestion or if she had finally gone mad from years of starving herself to stay thin.

But Rita’s eyes twinkled like Christmas. “Who says I don’t have tea and cake?”

Jillie turned her head so fast her red curls trembled. “You do?”

“How long have you known me?”

“You do!” Jillie grinned. “I don’t dare hope that it’s…?”

“Yes, indeedy.”

“Mother and Pernel are bearing down on this place like two bad-weather fronts about to clash and y’all have started talking in shorthand or code or something.” Will leaned his shoulder against the doorframe but kept one eye on the front window.

“I made a Perfect Princess cake.” Rita held her hands together and raised her gaze heavenward, all childlike and waiting for a reward of high praise for her actions.

Jillie clapped. “Yes!”

“I was going to serve it to your brother later.”

“Oh, Rita, that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You and Billy sitting here waiting for them all cool and collected like a pair of spiders poised on a web—and with Princess cake to offer no less!”

“I don’t…” Damn he hated to say this aloud. He cleared his throat and folded his arms. “I don’t believe I understand.”

“Follow me.” Rita snagged his sleeve as she hurried past into the kitchen.

“I’ll pull a table and four chairs into the middle of the floor.”

“What is going on here, Rita?”

“You know that old song ‘If I Knew You Were Coming I’d Have Baked a Cake’?”

“Song?” He tagged along with her to the mammoth steel-doored refrigerator.

“Well, I knew you were coming, so I did bake a cake. My specialty.”

“Princess cake?”

“Three layer, red velvet cake with a seven-minute boiled frosting and a crown on top made of drizzled white chocolate and strawberries.” She brought out a large plastic container of tea. “Pour that into the nicest pitcher you can find, why don’t you? I’ll get the cake.”

He scanned the shelves until he found the one pitcher that was neither cracked nor stained nor ugly enough to send his mother into a fainting spell. He filled it with ice from the machine. “You were going to serve me something called Princess cake?”

“And you were going to ask for seconds, probably thirds, and a piece to take home for a midnight snack.”

Having tasted her cooking already, he did not doubt that. He poured the tea into the new container. “But
Princess
cake?”

“Don’t start with me, Will.” Both of her arms and most of her upper body disappeared inside the fridge. “I cannot deal with your mother, my ex, and your sexual-ambiguity-in-regard-to-snack-food identity crisis all at the same time.”

He didn’t even know where to start to address that. “Sexual ambiguity? Snack-food crisis?
Me?
I am not the one here with identity and self-esteem cri…Damn.”