Read Love You to Death Online

Authors: Melissa March

Tags: #runaway, #detective, #safety, #cowboy, #abuse, #stalker, #falling in love, #stalking, #new family, #bad relationship, #street kid, #inappropriate relationship, #arden, #living on the streets, #past coming back to haunt you, #kentucky cowboy, #life on the streets, #love you to death, #melissa march, #run from the past, #wants to feel safe

Love You to Death (15 page)

“Good Lord, you’re a dawdler,” the old lady
griped. “Get your fill and come on, slow poke.”

I hustled to the front door and trailed after
her into the house. She practically ran down the long hallway,
pushing open a swinging door that led to the kitchen. I barely had
a chance to glimpse at the beautifully decorated interior.

I saw a sitting room bathed in blues and
yellows, a library with shelves lined top to bottom with books and
a wall of monstrous windows dressed in rich burgundy drapes. Both
rooms had half opened pocket doors trimmed in dark ornate carved
wood. It was truly an antebellum home. My jaw was hanging open.

The old lady was muttering to herself as she
retrieved a delicate crystal pitcher from the refrigerator. She set
it on the marble counter top and plucked two glasses and a bottle
of liquor from the cupboard.

“Sit down,” she said without turning around.
I looked around the room, saw the breakfast nook and slid into a
chair. I watched as she poured the tea then followed it with a
dollop of the liquor.

“You aren’t one of those uptight Yankee
girls, are ya?” She stirred the concoction before bringing the
glasses over to the table, seating herself across from me. “Finest
Kentucky bourbon ever made.” She took a gulp, smacking her lips.
“Drink up, gal!” she ordered.

Tentatively, I brought the glass to my lips.
I wasn’t big on alcohol. Growing up with a drunk for a dad curbed
that curiosity. I took a small sip. To my surprise, it wasn’t bad.
I barely tasted the bourbon. I took another sip.

“Atta girl,” the old lady cackled, her face
wrinkling into a smile.

“I see you met Maw-Maw.” Gideon glided into
the kitchen. He bent over the old lady, placing a kiss on her
weathered cheek.

“I told you before I’m too darn young to be a
Maw-Maw,” she grouched, taking another gulp of tea. “I’m Sissy
Shepherd, pleased to meet you.” She held out her gnarled hand. I
took it. She had a strong grip.

“This is Cherry, Maw-Maw.” Gideon poured
himself a glass of tea. I noticed he didn’t add any bourbon.

“Cherry? What the heck kinda name is that?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You a hooker?”

“No, ma’am,” I licked my lips. This old lady
scared the crap out of me. She could easily be one of the original
steel magnolias. “It’s a nickname.”

Gideon leaned his hip against the counter,
watching us while he nursed his drink.

“Cherry, huh?” She leaned forward, bracing
her forearms on the table, her tea firmly grasped in her hands,
giving me a steady stare. “You look like you been rode hard and put
up wet.” I had no idea what she meant by that, but it sounded
bad.

She finished her tea, pushed her chair back,
and stood up. “You have nice eyes, sad though.”

Sissy handed her glass to Gideon and walked
briskly to the back door. “She can stay. Put her in the rose room.”
The screen door slammed shut behind her. My breath whooshed out in
a rush.

“Is she safe to be around?” I blurted out
before I realized what I was saying.

Gideon snorted tea through his nose. “Yeah,
she’s been approved by the surgeon general.” He grabbed a dishtowel
to wipe up the sneezed tea.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” I blushed
again. I can’t remember blushing this much since I first started
living on the streets. Back then I blushed every time someone
looked at me funny. That’s how I got the nickname Cherry. My face
was always red as a cherry, Buck Rogers had said, and it stuck.

“Nah, you’re alright. My grandmother’s just a
strange bird. Most Southern Belles from her era are.”

I nodded like I understood this. He swallowed
the last of his tea, placing both glasses in the dishwasher.

“You want the grand tour or the condensed
version?” he asked.

“I don’t need a tour, but thanks. I think we
need to get going before it gets dark.” I followed his lead by
putting my empty glass into the dishwasher. “Um... I need to call a
cab... Can you tell me the name of a good hotel to stay at?” I
needed a good long soak in a hot bath. I needed some alone time to
get my ducks in a row. Plan our next move.

“We don’t have cabs out here,” he said, his
liquid brown eyes settling on my face.

“Oh.” How was I getting into town? The very
thought of walking all that way exhausted me.

“No hotel either.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” I snapped. “I’d have
told you to drop us in that sorry excuse for a town twenty miles
back!” I moistened my lips and started pacing the room. I lapped
the island twice before Gideon spoke again.

“Sissy wants you to stay here.”

My eyes flew to his. “Are you serious?”

He gave a lazy shrug on his way to the back
door.

“Where are you going?” I called after him.
The screen door slapped shut behind him. He walked away from me! I
couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Gideon!” I hollered, stomping to the screen
door and pushing it open. He stood on the brick patio facing me,
wearing a serious expression.

“Sissy doesn’t usually like people—any
people—” he said solemnly. “It says a lot that she’d invite you to
stay.”

“Oh... um... well...” I stammered, suddenly
and overwhelmingly exhausted. Who was I kidding? We had nowhere
else to go. Besides, one night wouldn’t hurt. We had a great head
start as far as Cass was concerned. “Okay. We’ll stay tonight. We
can figure something out tomorrow.” Provided Annie Oakley didn’t
kill us with her trusty twelve gauge in the middle of the
night.

 

 

Chapter
Fifteen

 

I was never leaving.

The rose room turned out to be the most
luxurious room I’d ever been in. I had to use a step stool to get
up on the four-poster canopy bed. The entire room was decorated in
shades of rose. The thin cotton coverlet was embroidered with
hundreds of cabbage roses in different colors. It was very feminine
and very inviting.

I had my own bathroom. There were
rose-scented soaps and complimentary shampoo, just like in a hotel.
I’d never been a guest in a house this big. I wondered if all rich
people’s guest rooms were like this.

I poured bubble bath into the water streaming
from the spigot. The tub started filling up with sweet
floral-scented bubbles. I was dragging. I needed a nice hot
bath.

I never got around to taking a nap. Gideon’s
condensed tour turned out to be a circus event when Cort and Stewie
joined us.

I moaned as I stepped into the steamy water.
I laid my arm on a folded towel on top of the lip of the tub so I
wouldn’t get my shoulder wet. I felt the scrapes and bruises melt
away under the soapy hot water. I leaned back, resting my head on
another rolled up towel and shut my eyes.

I woke with a start. The water was cool, and
the bubbles all gone. The pads of my fingers were pruned. Someone
was knocking on my door. As quickly as I could I climbed out of the
tub.

“I’m coming,” I called out. There was a robe
hanging on the back of the door. I grabbed it, gingerly pushing it
over my wounded shoulder, and cinching it around my waist.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s me,” Stewie said.

I unlocked the door, ushered him inside, and
relocked the door. He’d had a bath too. Cort must’ve loaned him
some clothes because the khaki pants gathered around his ankles and
the shirt was a little too tight.

“Wow. Look at all the flowers,” he said,
gawking at the three vases of red, pink, and white roses placed
around the room.

“Where have you been?” I asked. I was a
little concerned, but only because I knew how attached he was to
Cort. I knew he’d be hard to convince when it came time to
leave.

“Oh Cherry!” He breathed excitedly. “You
should see the kitty cats!” I rolled my eyes. I was going to kill
Cort.

“Don’t get too excited.” I had to nip this in
the bud. “We don’t have a place to live, so we can’t take a kitten
yet.”

“I know.” He dropped his chin to his chest.
Great, here we go.

“When we get settled we can get a cat,” I
reassured him. I was such a sucker.

“Really?” He looked up at me from under his
lashes.

“You bet,” I promised.

“Great. I got a name all picked out. I like
Snowball if it’s white. If it’s orange then I was thinking of
Fireball.”

He rambled on and on. I went into the
bathroom to change back into my clothes, giving him a few
perfunctory ‘uh huh’ and ‘wow’ responses so I wouldn’t hurt his
feelings.

I found a hair dryer in one of the drawers. I
had too much hair to dry it all so I concentrated on the front and
sides. I felt like a new person when I was finished. Even though my
clothes, except for a borrowed T-shirt from Gideon, were the same
that’d I’d worn for the last two days, I still felt a million times
better being clean underneath them.

Someone else knocked on the door. Stewie
automatically got up to answer it. I stopped him with one look.

“Who is it?” I said.

“Cort.”

I crossed the room, squishing my toes into
the thick carpet.

“I came to collect ya’ll for dinner,” he said
when I opened the door. By the looks of him there was no way I was
going to fit in. He was dressed the same as Stewie, dress pants and
a button down shirt.

“I don’t think I’m dressed for dinner.” I
looked down at my dirty jeans.

“Stewie was supposed to bring you these.” He
held out a garment bag and a shoe box.

“Sorry, Cort. I forgot.” Stewie looked
horrified, as if he’d committed a sin of biblical proportion.

“Relax, man. It’s all good.” He patted
Stewie’s shoulder.

“Who—” I started to ask as he shoved the
items at me.

“They’re my cousin’s. She got married and
moved out west years ago. Maw-Maw thinks they’ll fit or at least be
pretty close.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“C’mon Stewie, let’s leave Cherry alone so
she can get changed. I don’t know about you, but I could eat a
cow.”

Stewie laughed, bouncing out the door without
a second glance.

I cautiously unzipped the bag. Inside on a
wooden hanger was a pretty light blue sundress with tiny white
daisies trimmed around the hem of the skirt. The straps tied at the
shoulders, which was a good thing because the cousin was much
bustier than I was and I had to tie the straps tighter. The shoes,
nice little white strappy flats, were a perfect fit.

I wanted to pull my hair up into a ponytail,
but that wasn’t going to happen with my bum shoulder.

I took a couple deep cleansing breathes and
headed downstairs. It took me a few extra minutes to locate the
dining room. It was hidden down a short hall behind another set of
pocket doors. I slid one of the doors open, and the cavernous
dining room yawned before me. A long, dark, gleaming table,
complete with elegantly carved padded chairs, stretched out in the
center of the room. A glowing chandelier hung from the ceiling
directly over the table. The glossy hardwood floors echoed my
footsteps until the Audubon rug hushed them.

“It’s a little ostentatious, isn’t it?”

I whirled around to find myself face to face
with Gideon. I was about to say how impressed I was with his big
word, but bit my tongue. He was dressed as handsomely as Cort. I
craned my neck to look up at him.

“It’s beautiful,” I said taking a step
back.

“It’s all hand me down,” he said, offering me
his arm. I felt like I was stepping back in time as I clasped my
hand to his elbow. “My great-great-great granddaddy, John Henry
Shepherd, came from Surrey, England and settled here in the early
1800’s. He rescued an Indian girl, Ahyoka, from being kidnapped by
some rogue band of outlaws. Of course, they fell in love. Her
father was a respected Cherokee medicine man. In a show of
gratitude, her father gave Ahyoka to John Henry. They got married
and this dining set was one of John Henry’s wedding gifts to
her.”

I didn’t know if he was telling me the truth
or not, but it was a romantic story either way.

“Quit blabbing old family tales and sit your
keester down so we can eat,” Sissy commanded from her perch at the
head of the table. Gone were the overalls, and in their place,
Sissy wore a chic linen summer dress. A triple strand of pearls
hung around her neck. Her hair was combed back off her face in a
graceful chignon. Where was the wild haired hillbilly I’d met
earlier?

Gideon pulled my chair out. I was startled
for a second, but recovered with an awkward thank you and sat down.
He sat to my left, between me and Sissy. Across from him was Cort,
with Stewie opposite me. And there were two new faces at the
table.

Next to Stewie was an older man with wild
hair clubbed back into a ponytail.

Gideon made the introductions.

“Cherry, this is our onsite vet, JD
Ross.”

JD gave me a quick smile and a friendly wink.
That familiar blush crept over my cheeks.

Next to him sat a young girl shooting daggers
at me. She was more than passing pretty. I guessed she was about my
age, maybe a little older. Her golden blond hair fell in heavy
waves over her bare, tanned shoulders.

“And the angry young lady beside him is his
daughter, Maggie.”

I offered her a friendly smile. She
secretively gave me the finger. Okay then...

I turned my gaze back to Sissy. She bowed her
head. So did everyone else. She said grace in a solemn voice. When
she finished, Cort and JD lifted the lids off two big soup tureens
that had been placed in the center of the table.

It smelled heavenly, whatever it was. My
stomach rumbled in anticipation. Gideon took the ladle and filled
my bowl. Cort passed a basket of biscuits around.

I blew on a spoonful before stuffing it in my
mouth. My taste buds revolted. I had to fight my gag reflexes from
spitting it all back out. I swallowed it down without chewing,
reaching for my glass of iced tea. I noticed everyone else was
slowly chewing with looks of distaste.

Other books

Winds of the Storm by Beverly Jenkins
Body and Bread by Nan Cuba
On the Steel Breeze by Reynolds, Alastair
Murder Talks Turkey by Deb Baker
The Wanderers by Richard Price
If a Tree Falls at Lunch Period by Gennifer Choldenko
Aesop's Fables by Aesop, Arthur Rackham, V. S. Vernon Jones, D. L. Ashliman
Skin on My Skin by John Burks


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024