Sugar's Twice as Sweet: Sugar, Georgia: Book 1 (21 page)

“Now drop your shoulders, relax into it…there you go. Now swing.”

He stood back and watched the boy whack the ball. Brett let out an appreciative whistle when it went a whopping ten yards farther than the last one, and most of that was on the roll.

“Did you see that?” Tribble said, his eyes wide with surprise.

“I sure did,” a sultry voice came from behind. “Maybe you’ll grow up to be a golf pro just like Mr. McGraw.”

“Really?” Tribble grinned to his ears.

Brett ruffled his hair. “Sure, practice hard enough and you can be anything you want. Now, go grab your stuff. You need to rest up for tomorrow. We’re working on distance.”

“I am so sorry I was late.” Darleen looked primped and relaxed, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. And that pissed Brett off. “But I can’t say I am disappointed that I get to see you.”

He waited until Tribble was out of ear range. “If you’re going to be late, you might want to give the front desk a call. That way Tribble won’t get scared. He thought maybe you got confused on whose day it was to pick him up.”

“Please forgive me if I put you out. I had a last-minute rush on an account at work and lost track of time. I did try your cell phone, several times, as a matter of fact, but it went to voicemail. However…” Darleen said as Tribble came back, placing her hand on her son’s shoulders, “to apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused, why don’t you come to our place for dinner. My friends say I make the best pot roast in three counties. But you already know that.”

“That would be awesome,” Tribble said.

Brett was at a loss. He always made sure Tribble was at his dad’s when he stayed with Darleen. Messing with kids, unless you were planning on committing, was not cool. And Darleen, up until today, had seemed to share his sentiments.

So why was she changing the rules? And why did she think this tactic would work?

Brett ran a hand through his hair, unsure how to get out of this with Tribble as a witness. Which was what, based on the calculated pout of her lips, Darleen was counting on.

He didn’t doubt that she loved her son, but her using Tribble’s relationship with Brett to get him back in her bed made Brett feel like exactly the kind of man the press accused him of being. And for the first time he was ashamed, because he had been raised better. His parents, his grandmother, and Cal made sure of that.

 “Sounds great, but I already have plans tonight, partner. Maybe tomorrow you and I can share morning snack time.”

“Yeah, all right.” Tribble looked disappointed about dinner, but the blow was softened with the idea of spending time with his coach tomorrow.

Brett remembered the first time Cletus had shared a meal with him, and he had worn the same look of wonder that Tribble did right then.

“Maybe another time, then,” Darleen said, invitation clear in her tone.

Brett tipped the bill of his cap respectfully. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be leaving soon.”

Darleen’s lips thinned, but she quickly recovered with a smile. “I noticed your truck’s been parked out front of the Fairchild place the past few weeks.”

“Just helping the new neighbor with some remodeling.” His tone was final, offering no further discussion on the topic. The last thing Joie needed was Darleen digging up gossip for the Peaches’ weekly newsletter.

Twenty minutes later, Brett pulled into Joie’s driveway. He wanted nothing more than to swing hammers side by side with his stubborn roommate. He also wanted to take her to bed, but sadly that would have to wait. They hadn’t locked lips since the other afternoon in the dining room, but she was caving on the no-date stance. He could see it in the way she watched him when she didn’t think he was looking, how she unconsciously touched him while talking, and how she hesitated before turning him down.

In fact, earlier that morning, over a full stack of her cracked-oat pancakes with ginger-apple glaze, he’d suggested that they end their week with a cool drink and a twirl around the Saddle Rack’s floor. She opened her mouth and startled the crap out of both of them when nothing came out. After another failed attempt, she cleared the table and hustled out of the kitchen, claiming she needed to shower.

He put the car in Park and smiled. It wasn’t a
Yes, Brett I’d love to go out with you.
But it was a lot closer than her usual
Not going to happen, Playboy.

A little extra swagger in his step, Brett slammed the truck door and did a double-take. Barreling out the front door was a frazzled Joie, wearing a conservative hair style, a sleek power suit, and—he noticed with a smile—a delicate chain snaked around her ankle with dangling silver fairies. Even when she tried to look tough, her whimsical side came through.

Before he could ask what she was doing all dressed up, she bounded down the stairs and launched herself into his arms. He buried his face in her hair, loving how she smelled. He also loved how she molded herself up against him, radiating so much excitement she was bouncing on her toes.

 “I’m so glad you made it home before I left. I had to tell you, but I didn’t want to call and interrupt if you were still with one of your students.”

Josephina pulled back to look at him. She was still in shock, so it took a minute to gather her thoughts. Telling Brett was almost as exciting as her news.

“Mr. Ryan called me today. And guess what? They decided that Sugar is in need of an inn. And since Fairchild House is listed as a historical property, they reevaluated their previous decision and I got the loan.”

Brett didn’t look surprised, he looked pleased, as if he had known all along that her idea was sound. He opened his mouth, but she was so excited she cut him off. “But the best part is, I did it all by myself. No Dad. No Wilson. Just me. Can you believe it?”

He didn’t speak, but kept smiling—really big.

“Did you hear me?”

“I never had any doubt.” He pulled her into his arms and whispered against her hair, “I’m proud of you, Joie.”

“I can’t stop thinking that this is a big step. There’s no going back. If I sign and something goes wrong—”

Brett stepped back and clasped her hands, which had been worrying the hem of his shirt. “Joie, this loan is a great thing. You would have made it regardless, but the money will make it a little easier.”

“Thank you.”

She waited for the panic to subside, for her heart to slow to a more normal pace, and when it did she froze.

Josephina had been waiting for his approval, for him to reassure her that she could do this. She had put off signing the papers on her dream, telling Mr. Ryan that she wanted to look them over. In reality, she wanted Brett to look them over, because his support would give her the courage to sign on the dotted line.

“Let’s go inside and talk about what this all means,” Brett said, tugging her toward the porch.

“I can’t.” She pulled him to a stop, because in that moment she realized she might just follow him anywhere. “I am supposed to meet Mr. Ryan to sign the papers in twenty minutes.”

Her appointment was for tomorrow, but suddenly she didn’t want to wait.

“Then dinner. You and me. Tonight. To celebrate.” He looked so hopeful, and she wasn’t surprised that she wanted to say yes. She’d been wanting to say yes since the day he’d shown up on her front porch, tool belt on, ready to get to work. But she couldn’t.

“I have plans with Spenser and Charlotte.” Plans that she’d agreed to that morning. Part of her wanted to cancel so she could spend the evening celebrating with Brett. The other part—the part that remembered how many times she’d done that for Wilson, had her saying, “I’m sorry.”

And she was. But she was also never going to be the kind of person who blew off friends, commitments, or her dreams for a man ever again.

“Don’t be sorry.” Brett cupped her cheek. “It’s your night to celebrate. Go. Have fun. Plus, Cal called earlier asking if I would come over. Apparently he’s imprisoned Payton for the duration of the summer for smiling at some punk at the market and he’s in desperate need of estrogen-free company.”

Her heart fluttered right up into her throat. He was going to cancel on his brother for her? Wilson would have never done that.

“But, Joie,” he looked her dead in the eye, “we will have our dinner.”

T
he Saddle Rack was already packed with locals, and a few fans who obviously followed Hattie’s tweets. Brett was used to the stares. It happened everywhere he went. What he wasn’t used to was the whole reason he’d agreed to come into town when Cal offered to buy him a drink.

Wearing a top that was barely legal, a cream skirt that had ridden up to show off those amazing legs, and that little charm around her ankle that made him hard, Joie sat three tables away. Feigning a deep interest in Spenser’s and Charlotte’s conversation, she was smiling prettily and doing everything to avoid looking his way.

“Are you going to do it or not? Either way I need an answer.” Jackson waved a hand in front of Brett’s face. “Jesus, you didn’t even hear a word I said.”

“He was too busy staring at Joie’s fuck-me pumps.” Cal slapped Brett on the back.

“Screw you.” He was looking at her ankle, wondering why he was crammed in a booth between Cal and Jackson instead of over at the table celebrating with Joie. Although crashing girls’ night would have looked even more pathetic than showing up here with his buddies. “And I heard what you said, JD. Count me in.”

“Ah, hell. Remind me to eat before I come.” Cal grimaced. “Last time you manned the grill my pancakes were about as appetizing as a short stack of skeets. And the bacon was overcooked.”

“People don’t care if the bacon is charred black, they come to see the famous Brett McGraw in a stupid-ass hat and apron.” Brett cringed at Jackson’s reminder. “Skeets or not, that year we doubled our ticket sales. And since this year’s money is going toward that new wing at the Medical Center, the Sheriff’s Department is hoping to quadruple the turnout.”

“And Brett’s ugly mug on the tickets is just the thing your team needs, right?” Cal said, amusement gone.

“I’m not going to lie, so yeah. When the guys asked if Brett would do it, I said I didn’t see why not, so they put him down as the cook.” Jackson looked at Brett. “Then my dad started advertising that you were the celebrity host for his golf tournament on the same day.”

Brett groaned. He’d only agreed to the mayor’s tournament because the money went to help the new wing at the Medical Center.

“I can’t believe that the pancake breakfast is the same day as your dad’s tournament.”

“Same as the Sugar Ladies Summer Concert, Payton’s cheerleader carwash, and some calendar signing for the Peaches,” Cal offered helpfully.

“Why didn’t he mention that when he brought up the tournament to begin with?”

Cal laughed. “Man, you really stepped in it, Brett. Everyone in town wants their name on that pediatric center and they figured whoever had you would bring in the most money.”

“Wait, the center will be named after a person?”

“Person. Organization. The biggest donor gets to decide.”

He’d been played. By every person in this damn town.

“You’re telling me this now?” Brett asked, wondering how, if at all, he was going to pull this off. He was hiding out from the press because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. His niece had grown boobs and twirled her hair when guys were around. And his grandma had blackmailed him into spying on the woman he was living—but not sleeping—with.

Now he had, by his own stupidity, somehow become the great white hope for Sugar’s new pediatric center, placing himself in the middle of a town feud where they’d set him up to choose, knowing he couldn’t turn a single person down.

Cal shrugged. “Figured you already knew.”

“How the hell would I know?”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t spend all your time eye-fucking Joie, you’d have noticed that a feud was brewing, pitting neighbors against neighbors. And you, brother, are at the center of it.”

“Hattie’s feud with Joie?”

Cal shook his head. “The superintendent has staked a claim on you for the same weekend as the golf tournament. Last I heard the local Boy Scouts troop and Future Farmers of America had joined the fight. There’s also a town pool going around on who’s going to win, by how much, and if Judge Holden will finally get his lynching, courtesy of the Peaches.”

“My money is on your grandma,” Jackson said, and both men starting laughing.

Brett took another long pull of beer, draining it and setting the empty glass on the table. Where was the pitcher? And the vacation in his vacation? He’d had exactly zero down time. Between his campers, helping out around town, and working at Joie’s, he was exhausted.

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. His time at Joie’s was as close to perfect as it got. Swinging hammers felt good. Watching her prance around in those cutoffs while ripping up subfloor was even better. Sitting at the kitchen table and sharing a meal with her made him wish for things he shouldn’t be wishing for.

“You need to get laid,” Jackson said.

“You’re the one who elected himself town poster boy for celibacy when Sadie walked out.”

Jackson scowled. “I’ve had women.”

“Ones on the Internet don’t count.”

“What crawled up your ass, McGraw?” Jackson snapped.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah? `Cuz how I look at it is if I wanted to be nagged about not dating I would have gone to my grandma’s for dinner.” Jackson blinked, then a slow as shit grin spread across his face. “Holy crap. You’ve been sweating it out over at Joie’s place and you haven’t sealed the deal.”

“Sweating it out?” Cal laughed. “Hell, the moron has moved in. Is renovating her place for free. And he has to sleep in the guest bed.”

Actually, it was worse than that. Not that he’d tell his brother, but he now slept on the couch, since the only finished room when he’d moved in had been downstairs, right below Joie’s. At night he could hear her moving around, pulling on her pajamas, clicking out the light, sliding into those sheets. It was enough to drive him nuts.

“We’re taking it slow.”

Jackson choked. “Four of the pussiest words in the English language. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Cal rested his elbows on the table and leaned in. “Admit it. You have a thing for Joie that goes beyond one night, and it scares the shit out of you.”

Brett released a hard breath. He studied Joie, who quickly averted her gaze, but not before color stained her cheeks. Brett opened his mouth just as Glory came over with a pitcher of cold beer, a strained look, and the perfect excuse to change the subject.

She set the beer on the table, followed by new frosty mugs and kept her gaze solidly on Brett, even when she was dividing up the pitcher and handing Jackson a refill on his soda. Not an uncommon reaction when she was around Jackson. Those two had a past that Brett had made clear he wanted no part of.

“So, does Joie know?” Glory whispered, balancing the tray of drinks on her shoulder.

A sick feeling sank to the bottom of his gut. “Know what?”

“That you’re sweet on her?” Cal interrupted and Jackson laughed.

“You know I hate gossip, but, well,” her eyes flew to Joie and then back to him, “it seems that Joie got that loan from the bank. But Darleen’s claiming it didn’t go through her department, which according to her means something is screwy.”

“Shit.” Brett pinched the bridge of his nose. He had every intention of telling Joie that he’d arranged the loan. After hearing her determination to complete the project, even after the bank denied her, he wanted to do something to help her, to show her that someone believed in her dream.

He’d set up what was supposed to be a private conversation with Mr. Ryan and used his account to secure a third-party loan through Sugar Savings and Loan. The loan was between the bank and Joie, but his funds were held as collateral.

 “Does she know?”

“Who? Joie?” Cal laughed. “Hell, Brett, the whole bar knows that she got that loan. Why do you think people have been sending her drinks all night?”

Brett glared at Jackson. “Is that who you bought a drink for?”

Jackson shrugged. “Bought the first round for the whole table. A group of lovely ladies, out for a night on the town.”

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that people are talking and to say you should tell her.” Glory looked at Joie and then back to him. “The sooner the better. The longer secrets go, the harder they are to admit. Until one day it’s just a wall between you and everyone else.”

“Although we are beyond words about you acquiring that loan, what we want to know is”—Charlotte looked in both directions and smoothed out her daffodil-colored skirt before leaning in to whisper—“are the rumors true?”

Josephina knew what, or rather whom, she was referring to. There was no point in lying. They would find out soon enough that, in typical Josephina fashion, she had managed to turn the One-Night-Romeo into a roommate who tinkered with her fuse box instead of her toy box.

She looked over her shoulder at Brett, who was sitting with his brother and the sheriff—where he’d been for the last two hours. He looked amazing in boots, a pair of button-fly jeans, and an ease that was anything but polished.

He looked up and their gazes collided and held, sending her entire body into hyperdrive. She tried to play it off, act unaffected, but when he sent her a wink whose exact translation was, “I’m getting to you,” she realized that she was in trouble.

She turned back to the girls and admitted, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Excuse me,” Charlotte asked, obviously dumbfounded by the news. “Come again? I don’t think I heard you right.”

When embarrassed, Josephina’s voice tended to shift toward shrill, one of the many things she had inherited from her mother and wished she could dispose of. Which was why when she spoke the words, “I. Said. I. Wouldn’t. Know,” every person in a ten-foot radius, including Brett, turned to look.

Lowering her voice she went on, “He wants to take things slow.”

“Honey, his truck is parked out front of your house from sunup to sundown. He isn’t dating anyone in town,” Charlotte said. “In the South that’s like taking out an ad in the
Penny Saver
: ‘Big-city girl and hometown hero living in sin.’”

And wasn’t that just great. Joie knew that in a town this size, it wouldn’t take long for people to notice Brett wasn’t hanging up his hat at home. She’d just been hoping people wouldn’t care.

“We’re not
living
together. He needed a place to hide out and I needed a contractor. And he said he wants to date first.”

Both women sat, mute. Blinking in unison.

 “Hold up,” Spenser said. “Are you saying that you threw yourself at the PGA Playboy and he refused to sleep with you?”

“Yes. And thank you for that lovely recap. Now can we all agree that I suck at romance and move on?”

“He asked you out on a date? This is great.” Charlotte tapped her fingers on the rim of her Baptist cocktail. “When is it ? Where is he taking you? Oh, and what are you going to wear? I have a fabulous little red dress that I bought when I lived in Atlanta and never wore. It would look great on you.”

“I told him no.” Which made her either incredibly smart or the biggest idiot on the planet. Because instead of fully enjoying her night out, she’d spent most of it stealing glances and wondering how much time had to pass before she could politely excuse herself. Now that the loan was official, and she had done it on her own, she found that she wanted to be celebrating with him.

 “Why on earth would you do that?” Charlotte gasped, hand over her heart. “What if you’re the one?”

“I’m not
the
one. I’m a challenge and he’s up for a chase. Playing with me serves as a good distraction.” But the minute the words came out of her mouth she knew they weren’t true.

Charlotte placed her hand on Josephina’s, her expression serious. “McGraw men don’t play. Not with women’s hearts. If he says he wants to take it slow, then honey, Brett McGraw, self-proclaimed bachelor, wants to do a whole lot more than date you,” Charlotte said, all dreamy and clutching a wadded cocktail napkin to her heart.

“He’s leaving.”

“He’s interested,” Spenser argued.

Something Josephina was well aware of. It didn’t fit into her new plan, which was all about control and professionalism. And it didn’t help that when she walked in tonight and saw Brett every cell in her body had screamed out for her to rush over to his table.

He’d greeted her with only a smile and a wink, so she told herself to order a drink and give the man some time to visit with his fans and friends, of which there were plenty. Then his table had looked so intense she hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Now she just felt silly because he’d hugged nearly every woman in the bar, except her, and she wished he would get up off that incredible butt and come over already, so she could be put out of her misery. Instead he sat, casual as ever, sipping a beer and watching her.

She grabbed her purse and stood. “I hope Brett finds his
one
. But it’s not me.” A small pang radiated through her chest because the reality was, if she allowed herself to, she could easily fall in love with him, only to have him leave. “And right now, the only thing I am interested in is a hot shower and a soft mattress.”

“Well, shoot, sugar.” His voice was so smooth, the words seemed to pour from his lips. “I already showered, and as you know my mattress is kind of lumpy, but I’m willing to take a dance in exchange.”

The thought of pressing their bodies together and swaying for even three minutes had her sweating. Although he hadn’t tried to kiss her since the other day in the dining room, every time they were within a foot of each other they somehow managed to touch. His arm accidentally grazing the side of her breast as they installed the new vanity and shower fixtures in the bathroom, his hands on her hips, steadying her as she climbed up to the sixth rung on the ladder to put up the shower curtain rod.

Josephina should have said no, told him it was impolite to eavesdrop, but all she could think about was his hand resting at the base of her neck. His skin was hot against hers as his fingers, rough and calloused from working on her house, made small patterns, reaching up under her hair.

Brett looked at her. “You okay? You’re a little pink.”

“Too much sun and too long a day. Which reminds me.” In an effort to put some distance between them, she stood right as the front door shot open with a bang.