Page 17 of Heart of Dixie
Finally, she turned to face me. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”
I let my lips spread in a teasing grin. “Not everything.” I waited a beat while she gave me a squinty-eyed glare . . . and then chuckled. “I still don’t know what color panties you’re wearing.”
Her eyes widened to chocolate discs. “I can’t believe you! We’re discussing my father’s eternal rest and you’re worried about what’s under my clothes?”
I pulled into the lot and parked. Shrugged and slid another grin her way. “It’s only one of the things I’m worried about lately.”
I didn’t want to be the kid I was long ago. I didn’t wantherto be the kid she had been, either. We were both long past that. But there was no way around it; the possibilities I saw when I looked into her face scared me. The time we spent together in the past day, her in my arms again, and the simple moments together—all brought back memories I generally saved for moments of weakness. Too much Dixie and I’d start dreaming about babies and white picket fences. And she’d be thousands of miles away.
“What about seeing me again?” She turned playful and hit a nerve. “Aren’t you worried about that?”
Jesus. My eyes flew to the nearest cabin and then to her purse, and the image of taking Dixie inside and stripping her naked flooded my mind. The key to one of these rooms was concealed somewhere in that bag of hers. It needed to stay buried until I was long gone. Ninety-six hours—less than that now—was all the time we had left, and I wouldn’t mind spending it all naked and buried deep in her softness. But I had to let her go on Tuesday. I let my smile flatten out. “Worried? Yeah, princess, I am. With every fiber in my being.”
10
Dixie
It was hard to tell whether Deke was disappointed or relieved that I wouldn’t join him again for dinner. My guess was a little of both. There was chemistry between us, no doubt. But there hadn’t been a question of that since the first time we kissed.
It happened the night I fled to Deke’s with tears of devastation streaming down my face and a renewed determination to escape Kissing Creek as soon as I turned eighteen. It didn’t surprise me that I could count on my best friend the night my relationship with my daddy hit rock bottom. Deke let me in, wrapped his arms around me, and let me cry on his shoulder.
The jolt of lust that followed stunned us both.
The following months were both the happiest and scariest of my life. My relationship with Deke appeared no different to an outsider—we agreed we didn’t want to antagonize Cooter—but we snuck away to somewhere private whenever we could manage it. The only person we trusted with our secret was Beth.
I shaded my eyes with my hand as I followed Deke’s progress across the gravel lot and away from me as he headed back toward town. It was still early enough to meet up with Beth, maybe haul my stuff over to her house, but her call while we stopped for gas put our little slumber party on hold for yet another day. Seemed her co-worker was ill and she was called to fill in at work.
The thought of spending the remainder of the day alone in one small room held no appeal. Bypassing the tiny cottage, I climbed into my rental sedan and nosed toward town myself. A stroll along the pretty storefront covered blocks of Main Street seemed a good idea after riding in Deke’s truck for the past couple of hours. And perhaps I’d clear my mind of the images our conversation evoked.
I was remembering too much of our past, when we were just kids and free to wander and explore. His voice, his touch, were triggers that had my body responding with enthusiasm and hope. But hope for what?
The look of him was different now. Puberty offered gangly and awkward limbs, a mop of dark hair dropping over his forehead, and intense, light eyes that seemed to bore into my soul. As a teenager, the promise of cute lurked underneath the typical flares of acne.And what about now?He was freakin’hot. And so much more than just a pretty face and corded muscle. The man was passionate about the welfare of his fellow citizens. Which meant I was right to leave—to leavehim—so he could continue to live up to his potential.
That played hell on a girl’s intentions, though. And I still meant to leave Kissing Creek once my daddy was buried and I had a chance to dance on his grave.
The miniature scaleof this town was the characteristic that drew me to it most as a child, even if it was what drove me away as a teenager. For an adolescent balking at the reins of authority, I found it confining that everyone knew my name and remembered my birthday. What I appreciated most as a returning adult was the abundance of on-street parking. I found a space painted with diagonal lines two blocks down from the diner.
Moss-lined baskets of colorful blossoms hanging from old-fashioned streetlamps and a variety of window displays as I made my way along the wide sidewalk all helped to distract me—from the reason I was here, from the mistakes I was probably making, and from what I still needed to accomplish before I departed. And as I window shopped, from thoughts of my mama, as well.
I did a good job of avoiding Olivia Westerbrooke, having moved halfway across the country to escape mommy dearest and her wealthy husband. But she still managed to pop in my head from time to time. After my earlier discussion with Deke, she was firmly planted.
A multitude of power tools paraded across the wide expanse of smudged window glass at Huntley’s Hardware and caught my attention, solely because they were all so foreign to me. I stood in the welcome shade of the canvas awning to examine the colorful display. The light tinkle of a metallic chime interrupted my quiet inspection as the glass entry door opened at my right and an older gentleman exited empty-handed and hastened away.
“Hey, little miss.”
The deep male voice came from behind me and I whipped my head around. My gaze landed on the postman, trekking resolutely along the walk as if his shoulders didn’t sag beneath the weight of the bulging satchel slung over his dented shoulder. He halted, prepared to open the door beside me. Mitch Davishad been the mail carrier for as long as I could remember, but surely . . .
I lifted my sunglasses onto my head. “Do you remember me?” As much as I thought I’d keep a low profile while exploring my hometown, not draw attention, I couldn’t resist asking.
He reached into his pocket and drew out a roll of brightly colored Life Savers, offered me one. I pinched off the end candy, orange, with a reminiscent grin. “Thank you.” He nodded and took the next one, red, and popped it in his mouth.
“My job to remember names and addresses. And little girls who sneak through my yard in the middle of the night.” The roll went back in his pocket and he jerked a shoulder to give his bulky bag a shift. A smallish package slipped over the edge and fell to the ground.
His house had been situated on the unfenced property adjoining Deke’s. Chances were good he witnessed me lurking in the hedge that separated their yards more than once. I stooped to pick up the parcel and handed it to him as heat that I couldn’t blame on the afternoon sun rose to my cheeks.
“Ah, don’t you fret none, little girl. No harm done, I s’pose.” My eyes snapped up to meet his wide, friendly grin and the wink that accompanied it. “You’re home to see to your dad.”
He hadn’t phrased his words as a question, but I imagined he had his finger on the pulse of the community. I nodded. “His funeral is on Tuesday.”
