Dammit. It sounds like she really does care about her nana. Out of the corner of my eye, Sue Carpenter returns to the backyard barbecue. As I glance back over the railing and down at Emily, her head leans back, softly thudding against the side of the deck and her face tips toward the sky until I come into her vision.
“Eavesdropping much?” she snarks. Huh, sassy much?
“None of my business,” I state. I can’t seem to stop myself. “But I can’t understand how anyone could leave family behind.” It’s more of a personal statement than an attack on her, but she spins her fine body, bettering her angle to look up at me.
“I’m not leaving Nana behind,” she snaps. She exhales, and her breasts heave. From this angle, I can see the swell of cleavage inside her dress. All cleaned up, she’s just as breathtaking as when she’s got dirt on her cheek. Before I was thinking of rolling in the mud with her, but now I’m wondering about taking her against this deck.
“Oh, so you’re staying in town?” Still, I don’t know why I’m speaking, why I’m egging her on, other than her natural beauty flames to gorgeous as she gets worked up.
“Well, I didn’t say that,” she argues.
“Probably got a big city job with some rich boyfriend and a fancy condo back home. How’s an elderly woman going to fit there?”
Her mouth falls open, those sweet pink lips forming a perfect circle, and a part of me jumps to life. I’m certain I’ve hit the nail on the head, as we say in the fixing business.
“I’ll have you know I’m a journalist. I do not have a boyfriend, but I do have a very nice condo back in Chicago.” She stammers near the end, realizing she’s just fed me more than she wanted me to know. “And who are you, anyway? The family police? Who made you judge and jury of family relations?”
Ah, she hasn’t heard about me then. Well, that’s something. In a small town, people know your business before you do, which is a reason I shouldn’t be passing judgment on her. It’s not my concern what she does with her grandmother, other than I hate to see a sweet old lady left behind. As for the job, condo, and no boyfriend? Interesting.
“I might be small town, Emily Post of Chicago, but it seems you’re the one with a lot to learn.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, around here, we take care of our own, and no one’s going to let you just walk away and leave Elizabeth.”
“No one’s said anything about leaving Elizabeth . . . er, Nana.”
“So again, you’re staying?”
“Of course not. I have a life.” The words strike. She means a life away from here, away from a place that is backwoods and in-your-business. Only she doesn’t know I know all about that kind of life—and that’s why I’m back.
“Well, then I guess I won’t be seeing you around, Emily Post of Chicago.” I press off the railing, placing the beer bottle at my lips and chugging down the last of the refreshing liquid.
“Guess not,” she says, her voice dropping. For some reason, we both sound disappointed in that declaration.
+ + +
“And then . . .” I pause for emphasis as my family sits around me at the table. We’re at Town Tavern. Even though it’s a Thursday ritual, I needed a break this Saturday evening and called my elder brother, Tom, who brought his wife, Karyn, out with him. I like her, and as a couple, they are the link between the Carter and the Scott families. Tom and I are the same height and build, but he is opposite me in most everything else. He’s dark where I’m light. He’s also still the class clown while I’m more the serious type.
I used to know how to have fun, and laugh, and be a good time.
Thinking of a good time, Sami’s fingers stroke the back of my neck. It feels nice, but I’m not sure I’m going to end this night interested in what she’s offering.
I have an annoying blonde on my brain.
And as luck would have it, the focus of my thoughts walks into the bar on the arm of Gabe Carpenter at that very moment. Fucking Gabe Carpenter. I hate that guy for one main reason and a million small ones.
“Emily Post of Chicago,” my brother announces to the entire bar, which consists of a row of booths on one wall, the bar along the opposite wall, and a string of scattered tables in between.
What the . . .? My brother’s making a huge fuss of her and gripping her elbow, guiding her to take a seat at our table. I don’t want her at the table, and I definitely do not want AG at our table. Asshole Gabe.
“Seems appropriate Gabe found her,” I mutter to myself and Sami stops stroking my neck. Karyn meets my eyes, warning me to play nice, although she’s equally confused why my brother is making a big deal of the new girl. The temporary girl. He met her yesterday when she came into the shop with her grandmother’s old radio, and he fawned over her as though he hadn’t seen a pretty woman in years.
Damn flirt.
Good thing Karyn would kick his ass if he even thought of straying, which he would never do. While Debbie and I were high school sweethearts like Tom and Karyn, my brother and his wife are the real deal. Sweet. Committed. They have girls in high school and a son in middle school. Tom and I run the repair shop together, and Karyn is a nurse.
“Jess?” Sami prompts from beside me, and I forgot what I was even talking about. My eyes remain on my brother as he animatedly speaks to Emily and Gabe sitting next to her.
As Sue and Joe Carpenter’s late-in-life miracle child, he’s something special to them. But he didn’t have a whole lot of other people fooled, except for my ex-wife. Or maybe she’s the one who fooled him.
I don’t care. I hate them both.
Still, it’s fitting to see someone like Gabe with someone like Emily.
They’re made for each other.
“How’s it hanging, Gabe?” I toss to the end of the table. Real mature, Jess. But seriously—he can eat me.
“Very well, Jess. And you?”
“Seems you found yourself another catch,” I say, my meaning clear.
“Ignore these boys,” Karyn says, leaning over to Emily, hoping to defuse what she knows I won’t be able to contain. “They act like they haven’t seen a pretty thing in years, so let the pissing match begin.”
“No one’s pissing,” Tom jokes, thinking he’s funny, only I have another retort.
“He pissed on my parade.”
“What’s your problem?” Emily snaps from the other end of the table.
What does she mean? I said he, not she, but hellfire is blazing from her.
“Why don’t you go back to luring children into your backyard?” It’s a low blow, but I’m still not certain why Katie was drawn to Elizabeth’s garden or the fiery woman sitting opposite me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How’d you tempt my daughter into your yard?”
“Katie?” Karyn interjects, looking from me to Emily and back. My sister-in-law knows I’m extra protective of my daughter, and the reasons. “Katie went into her yard?”
“She’s Elizabeth Parrish’s granddaughter.” I tip my beer bottle in Emily’s direction, and Karyn swings her head back to Emily. Her dark head of curls flap like she’s watching a tennis match.