Brantley laughed. “Big Mama certainly has that down. How do you think this method would play if you were trying to make a woman go soft on you?”
“Cannot fail.” Tiptoe nodded. “Especially if you make yourself dependent on her. Women love to be needed.”
“You’re a wise man, Tiptoe.” Brantley laughed it off, but he filed away what Tiptoe had said. There might be something to it.
At five o’clock that afternoon Lucy was still wearing what she had thrown on that morning. She was irked that Brantley had not come to get Eller, but not surprised. He might never come back. There was a small part of her that found it heady that, after all this time, he wanted to go out with her, but she wasn’t fooled. He only wanted it because she had refused to return his calls.
She considered putting Eller in the car and driving around until she found him. But she needed a shower and by the time she finished it would be six, or close to—the time he was supposed to pick her up for their “date.”
Not that she was going. Oh, no.
Or maybe she would. She could tell him that it wasn’t a date, but they could get some dinner. She would even pay for her own. That might be just the thing to do if they were going to have to work together—and it looked like they were.
Lucy showered and changed into brown corduroy pants and a lightweight cotton sweater the color of honey. Not date clothes, but a casual, nice looking, fall weekend outfit. She tamed her hair the best she could and applied the same amount of makeup she would wear to a football game or to the mall.
At a quarter to six, she walked Eller yet again, who, yet again, did not avail herself of the facility that was the great outdoors.
“You’ve got my number,” she said to the dog. “You know I can’t tell when you really need to go out or when you just want to see if you can make me take you.”
Then she went inside and sat down to wait. And wait. And wait. Hating herself, she checked to make sure she had not set her phone to silent.
Eller begged for food and Lucy fed her—again. She’d never had a dog, and had no idea how often a dog was supposed to eat. She checked the time and the clock screamed 6:30 at her. She was a fool. Why had she let herself think he really did want to see her? That he wanted it enough that he would show up on time? If it wasn’t for that dog, she would leave. That way she would be gone if he came and if he didn’t, she would never know. Either would be fine.
Apparently, he’d gotten a good look at her this morning and decided he’d been too hasty. She would give him until seven and then she was driving Eller straight to Charles Kincaid’s house. She’d take her to Missy, except she didn’t want to answer a bunch of questions about what she was doing with Eller in the first place. She began gathering up the leash and dog food. She would say that Brantley had asked her to watch the dog, but apparently had gotten tied up and she had to be somewhere. And if Brantley was there—well, she hadn’t considered that.
The doorbell rang. Ten till seven. There he stood with a takeout bag of barbecue, a whole pie, and a six pack of beer. Eller went into fits of rapture.
Brantley, however, was not rapturous—or even remotely happy. Oh, he had a smile of sorts pasted on his face, but there was gloom in his eyes and a thin layer of sweat on his upper lip. She was right. He didn’t want to take her out, but he’d had to do something, since he’d been so insistent, so he’d brought barbecue. Obviously, this was the last place he wanted to be.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “It was unavoidable.” He didn’t sound sorry. He retrieved a piece of meat from his bag and gave it to Eller.
It was then that she noticed he had a fresh haircut and was sunburned.
“I see you got a haircut when you were supposed to be coming to get your dog,” she said as meanly as she could.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Do you think it looks good? It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a real barber shop. Melba always makes my appointments at this place with soft music, where everybody has their own little private room. I can’t believe I let that foolishness go on. I am never going to another place that requires an appointment. I’m going to go right in and sit down and wait my turn like I did today.”
“Must have taken a while.”
He ignored her and, though she did not invite him in, he walked around her and took the food right back to the kitchen. And if that wasn’t nervy enough, he started rummaging around in the cabinet for plates.
Lucy was hot on his trail. “I’m sure you had a great time at the barber shop. You seem to always have a good time. Did you get in a little football watching?”
“I did not.” He started to unpack the bag. “But the Tide kicks off in a few minutes. Do you allow people to eat on your couch while they watch TV?”
“I am not eating with you.” He didn’t want to take her out, but thought he could buy her off with barbecue.
“I cannot imagine why not. I brought pork, chicken, and ribs since I didn’t know what you like.” He smiled that devastating smile. “I got beans, slaw, and potato salad too. And the pie. It’s lemon. Not as good as pumpkin, but it’ll do. They didn’t have pumpkin. We’ve only got four quarters and a half time to eat it all, but I think we can.”
Was he making fun of her because she used to be fat? She looked him up and down and could find no evidence of it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.
He leaned toward her and gave her a smoldering look and made her stomach flip. “Do you like lemon pie? I could go back and get chocolate if you like that better. I want to make you happy.”
“Then you need to take your dog and your barbecue and leave.” She folded her arms over her chest.
He sighed and the gloom in his eyes washed into his face. “Lucy, I am so tired. And hungry. Please just let me eat and watch football here with you. I have to be at the airport before God gets up in the morning.”
“I guess you should have thought about that before you spent all day on the golf course tiring yourself out and getting sunburned.”
“I have not been on the golf course,” he said with a sigh. “And I’m sorry I didn’t come get Eller. I was doing some repairs on my grandmother’s house. Time got away from me, and then I got a bad splinter in my hand. I am sorry for being late.”
He held out his palm to show her a ragged angry gash covered in orange Betadine. Hot shame settled over her and her heart cried out a little. It wasn’t gloom on his face. It was pain. That didn’t mean he wanted to be here, but maybe he did.
“Nothing would do Caroline Brantley and Charles Kincaid but that they haul me down to the ER where I had no cell phone coverage. To add insult to injury, I got a tetanus shot in my ass. But I should have called when I got out, before I got the barbecue.”
Softness crept over her. Her heart couldn’t afford softness, but it came anyway.
“Why didn’t you tell me all that as soon as you got here?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “There are two ways of doing things, easy and hard. And I am the grand champion of picking hard. Please, Lucy.” He settled his golden eyes into hers. “I just want to be here with you. That’s what I’ve wanted all day. I wanted to take you out to dinner and then watch the game together, but I was getting fussed over at Merritt General Hospital for no good reason.”
She believed him. He might not mean it tomorrow or in an hour but, right now, he meant it. She should make him go. It would be better for all concerned, but she couldn’t stop herself or the tenderness that was welling up inside her.
“Go turn on the game,” she said quietly. “I’ll fix you a plate.”
Later, after they had eaten, somewhere during the second quarter, he put an arm around her and pulled her to him, and she wasn’t able to stop herself from letting him. She had worked so hard to bury all those old feelings, just like she’d worked to lose those extra pounds. She’d always known fat was right around the corner and, evidently, so was being in love with Brantley again.
Weak. She was so weak. And she knew all about weakness. She felt it again when the game was over.
He gave her a lazy smile. “Roll Tide.” They’d won the game.
“Roll Tide,” she responded.
“Thank you for not throwing me in the street,” he said.
“It would have been a big mess. You and Eller there in the street with all that barbecue, coleslaw, and lemon pie all over you. I try not to make a mess if I can help it.” But wasn’t that exactly what she was doing now? Sitting here in the crook of his arm, feeling his body heat, and smelling his scent?
“There are worse things than rolling around in barbecue.” He lifted his injured hand and slid his thumb along her jaw line. “Though I’d rather have you for my rolling partner than Eller.”
“I don’t know.” Now, her chin was resting in the V between his thumb and index finger. He barely moved his hand against her cheeks as if he was enjoying the feel of her skin and had no desire to bring her face to his own, no desire to kiss her. No, that wasn’t quite right. The desire was there; she could see it in his eyes. He had just chosen to enjoy the moment rather than rush it. “I don’t see the charm of rolling around in barbecue, especially if there is potato salad involved.”
“No?” He bit his lower lip. “I see the charm in Lucy Mead. Does she see the charm in me? Even a little? Ever?”
“Sometimes,” she answered. “Though I shouldn’t. You cost too much.”
He laughed that low sweet laugh and shifted. It might have been an accident that his thigh pressed more firmly against hers.
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