Page 34 of Leave It to Us
A couple of hours later, as she sat on an old swing that hung from an even older tree, Yvonne was still turning over some of the things Ms.Janie had told them about their grandmother. Spanish moss drooped down from the branches like shingles in what had looked like a picturesque setting as she’d approached. In fact, she was certain she’d seen a replica of this grassy knoll beneath a tree on one of those postcards that had been at the airport.
Across the yard, the get-together was still in full swing, with what seemed like even more people coming into the backyard to get plates of food from the three tables that were heavy with trays, bowls, and pots. She’d had some of what Ms.Janie had called her famoustada saladand a nice pile of poppin’ fried shrimp while she and Lana had sat at one of the tables a little earlier. Tami had somehow wrangled Jeremiah from Cora’s clutches long enough to get him to walk her down to the creek. She’d told Yvonne and Lana she was going to try to get more information from him about Grandma Betty’s illness and when she’d prepared her will, because each of them had been thoroughly perplexed by some of the things Ms.Janie had said, along with the frigid treatment they were getting from Cora and Sallie.
Now, that one had really been a shock, because the way Robyn had talked about her when they’d met in her office, Yvonne had assumedthat Sallie was an ally. She’d been the one on the island to handle their grandmother’s arrangements, so Yvonne had figured she would be another source of help. But tonight had proved her wrong on that front. Sallie definitely had a chip on her shoulder, but Yvonne had no clue why. Tami’s general response to Sallie and Cora was, “Fuck ’em!” to which Lana had partially agreed. But Yvonne had shared her concerns with her sisters that something was going on, something she didn’t think they could just brush off with those simple two words.
“You’re lookin’ pretty as a picture out here tonight,” Deacon said in that deep drawl that sent a quick and succinct jolt of lust between her legs.
Crap! She’d been hoping her initial reaction to him was just that: a first-time—and hopefully, only-time—reaction to seeing a man this big and sexy up close in this particular setting. But no, she was feeling it again, and it was annoying her just as much as it had the first time.
“Good evening, Deacon,” she said, and then cleared her throat before adding, “Thank you.”
He tipped his head toward her, and she could almost imagine him wearing a big-brimmed cowboy hat, making that same gesture. She didn’t think she was a cowboy type of woman—but there was something about the way Deacon wore those jeans that weren’t too tight but weren’t baggy, either, and the button-front white shirt he’d changed into that put in her mind one of those sexy men she’d seen at the Black Cowboy Festival years ago.
“Why’re you out here alone?” He pushed his hands into his front pants pockets and stood with his legs partially spread just a few feet away from her. Like he knew that his every movement was tormenting her but was too smug to stop it.
“Just thinking.” And she’d wanted to say that she would like to keep doing that alone, but he took another step closer, and then another, until he was behind her.
She knew exactly what he was going to do, and it took every ounce of “save her pride” for her not to jump up and get the hell out of the way before he touched her.
The tips of his fingers grazed her upper back first, and he gave her a light push. She had to lift her feet from where she had them planted on the grass to keep herself still before the swing moved a small distance. He hadn’t given her a big push, but once she extended her legs in front of her, she picked up momentum.
“Thinking about the boyfriend you left in the city?” he asked after he gave her another push, harder this time.
She shook her head as the warm summer’s breeze fanned over her face. “If you wanted to know if I had a boyfriend, all you had to do was ask the question, Mr.Williams,” she said. “And if pushing me on this swing is your way of flirting, you can probably stop.”
He didn’t stop, but chuckled before pushing her again when she was close enough. “When I flirt with you, you’ll know it, Ms.Butler. And I thought that was asking if you had a boyfriend.”
Now she laughed—because why not? He was easy to be around, which was just another thing that gave her pause. Yvonne wasn’t an easily intimidated woman. She’d been taught to be sure of what she wanted and to go get it without any reservations. So being coy around guys had never really been her thing. When she’d wanted to lose her virginity, Troy Belham had been right there with his sexy Method Man glare, eager body, and a box of condoms he kept in the glove compartment of his car. That had been a good-enough time—so good she’d worked through most of that box with Troy the fall of their junior year in high school. After that, it had been SAT prep, tutors just to make sure she was as smart as she could possibly be, and then finally, the SATs and college applications. Between all the studying and keeping up with her extracurricular activities and the last summer visit to Grandma Betty’s, Yvonne had been too busy to return any of Troy’s calls or notice the attention of any other guy.
By the time she’d gotten settled in college, she’d also become well versed in taking care of her own pleasure, and thus, the need for an actual guy in her life had become almost moot. While every now and then, as an adult, she could admit to feeling like there was no substitute for the real thing, she was basically the epitome of “I can doallthings.” Because she could—she was a success in her field; she took care of her mother; she ran an entire household; and at least three times a month, she maintained a basically healthy libido with the assistance of her wide array of sex toys.
“The question should’ve been, ‘Hey, Yvonne, do you have a boyfriend?’ To which I would’ve then responded, ‘No, Deacon, I do not, but I’m also not looking for one.’” She spoke in a lighter version of her usual tone and hoped he didn’t get all offended by her shutting him down, because she was fairly certain his pushing her on this swing was flirting. Like, really, it was cute and romantic—didn’t that equal flirting?
“Okay,” he replied. “I guess I could’ve said that, but I like being my own man. Saying what I wanna say, the way I wanna say it.”
Why did that send a shiver down her spine? Not the creepy let-me-get-the-hell-away-from-this-dude type of shiver, but that sexually aware one that had her squirming just a little in the swing’s seat. Obviously, she had to be careful about the squirming or else she’d slip out of the swing and land flat on her face in the grass. Another embarrassing moment in front of this man was another thing not on her to-do list.
“Well, it’s been said now, Mr.Williams.”
“I like it better when you call me Deacon.”
Had she called him by his first name today? She couldn’t remember saying it out loud, at least. But she was certain the name had rolled through her mind more than a dozen times throughout the day, and sadly, it wasn’t just because she and her sisters had been talking about the renovations.
“Oh, we decided to move forward with the renovations,” she said, because it had just popped into her mind, and it would change theslightly uncomfortable conversation they’d been having. “We want to get started right away, and Tami suggested we help with some of the work so we don’t go too far over budget. Well, Lana plans to not let you take us over budget at all.”
“What’s your plan?” he asked.
“Huh? I just told you what the plan is.”
“No, you just told me that ‘we’ve’ decided to go through with the renovations, and Tami wants to help with the work, and Lana’s concerned about the budget. I’m asking aboutyou. What do you plan to do while you’re here this summer, Yvonne?”
Mmm, her name sounded kinda good in his voice. She cleared her throat. “I plan to keep my sisters from strangling each other, and to keep my hands to myself as well.” She gave a little laugh. That plan sounded much more optimistic than she felt.
“Y’all don’t get along? Really? I couldn’t tell. You seemed like a united front earlier today.”
“That’s because we are a united front when in the face of anyone else. But alone, we’re a little combustible, like I guess all siblings are.”
“Nope, not me and my sister. We get along fantastically.”
