Heart of Dixie (Moreover #1) Read online

  He grinned. “Were together?”

  A moment ago he seemed tense; now he was amused. The man made me dizzy. Or maybe it was the tequila. “Yes, I suppose. Do you think they . . . you know—”

  “Had sex?”

  My eyes slammed shut. “Oh, God.”

  “What?”

  I allowed my lids to peek open in time to catch his raised eyebrows. “She had sheets hanging on her clothesline. I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “People wash their sheets, Dixie.”

  “Well, of course they do.” Their sex sheets.

  His lips turned up in a teasing grin. “Even I wash my sheets, you know.”

  Oh, God. I was out of there. Gone, before I could ponder any more about Deke and his melted caramel-colored eyes, about the whiskers on his chin that were calling to me to reach out and discover if they actually were as soft and smooth as the southern honey in his voice.

  I rose with every intention of carrying my plate of denuded bones into the kitchen. The liquor in my system slapped me back into my chair.

  Deke chuckled. “Whoa, there.” He hopped up to grab my plate while I made a second attempt to stand. A gentle press to my shoulder was all it took for my butt to land back in the seat.

  “Not funny, Deke. I need to get home. Back. Whatever.” But I was talking to his back. Or rather, the memory of his back, which filled out that plaid shirt to perfection. Definitely time to go . . . wherever. Just a few deep breaths of fresh night air and I’d be fine. My heavy eyelids drifted shut.

  “Here you go.”

  My shoulders lurched and my eyes flew open as he snuck up behind me, the bastard. “Jesus, Deke. Are you trying to scare me to death?” He had a bottle of water in one hand and held out the other toward me, open-palmed. I squinted to see what he held. “What is it?”

  He chuckled. “Just water and aspirin. Drink it all. It will help keep your hangover under control.” I popped the tablets and waited while he twisted the plastic cap off the bottle. The shoulder that jumped a moment ago now held the weight of his hand. Warm and heavy and comforting. And causing tingles where it rubbed the tense muscles there. It had been a long day.

  “Drink it all.” With his free hand, he tipped the bottle back to my lips when I would have left half the water in the bottle. “I guess I wasn’t paying close attention; I didn’t realize you were such a lightweight.”

  The heat of his skin through the thin cotton of my dress felt good—too good. I shook his hand off. “I’m not a lightweight. I attend cocktail parties nearly every week without getting blitzed. I can take care of myself.” But the admonishment may have been diluted by the yawn I delivered it through. I found my feet again, marched through the house, and managed to make it to my purse before he caught up to me.

  “Oh no, princess. You don’t need this tonight.” He pulled my handbag off my shoulder and tossed it onto the kitchen counter.

  “Hey! That’s a six-hundred-dollar bag; you don’t throw it around like it came from Walmart.”

  I may as well have been yelling at a wall. A wall of muscle I wouldn’t mind licking up one side and down the other. He latched onto my shoulders and steered me toward the stairs.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Upstairs.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I got that, Deke. I’m tipsy, not dim-witted.”

  It was possible I was slurring my words just a tad because he chuckled again. “Okay, then. More specifically, my bedroom.”

  I grabbed hold of the banister with both hands and held on tight. “Not happening, Deke.” My libido may be on her knees and begging yes, please, but I wasn’t that drunk. I had a serious sit-down with myself before I arrived and promised myself—no sex. In hindsight, a regrettable decision, probably made in haste, but I was sticking to it. I twisted out of his arms and steamed back toward my purse.

  I got exactly one step before the broad wall of Deke blocked my path again. “Dixie, no way you’re driving tonight.” He stood with his long legs spread wide and his hands propped on the waistband of his shorts, hanging low on his hips and causing all sorts of gooey things to happen to my insides. Come on, Dixie! Maybe just a little sex? The slut inside me wasn’t looking at the big picture.

  He lifted his arm and motioned into the mostly empty room. “I’m not kidnapping you, for chrissake. You have options. You can take the sofa in the living room—”

  I followed his finger to the thick black cotton futon. College experience had proven those to be killers. “What’s my next choice?”

  “Cody’s room.”

  Little kids had little beds, right? I was only five-five; I ought to fit. “That’s fine, I can sleep in his—”

  “Sleeping bag.”

  I glared. “Are you kidding me?” The room was beginning to spin nearly as fast as my thoughts.

  “Nope.” The wall was grinning; he really was a bastard. “The kid likes to pretend he’s camping out when he spends the night here. We bust out the flashlights and eat hot dogs. I draw the line at an indoor campfire, though.”

  My sigh came from way down deep. About where my patience was hiding. “How many more options do I have?”

  “Just one, princess.”

  My finger shot into the air as inspiration struck. “Why don’t you drive me home? I can come back for my car tomorrow.” He seemed to think about it. What was there to think about? It was a sound plan.

  “Nope.”

  “What, nope?”

  He took my elbow and turned me around to face the stairway. “I don’t want to.”

  I could huff. I could stomp my foot like a child. I had a perfectly good cabin at the lodge waiting for me to snuggle in only a few miles away. Or I could march my butt up the stairs and climb in his bed—which was here, and hopefully super-duper large—and sleep. With all my clothes on. Another yawn escaped. I’d been awake for far too many hours. Sleep sounded really, really good.

  He pushed his hair off his face as he waited, the poster child for amused tolerance. Did he realize his hand had left my elbow and was even now rubbing up and down the bare skin of my upper arm? I lifted my chin until our eyes met and offered what I hoped he took as an angry glare to mask the dance party going on in my belly. He really was tall. And broad. And Jesus, where had all those delicious muscles come from? I huffed, simply because life was sometimes so unfair. “Which way?”

  He laced his fingers with mine and led me up. At the end of the hallway he stopped and pushed the door open, but pulled me close and trapped me in his arms. I caught a quick glimpse of a huge room with a wide—oh, thank God!—bed, but the rest was a blur with Deke’s massive body wrapped around me.

  The steady beat of his heart pressed against me was soothing. And tempting. But this was where I hopped off the Deke train. I’d ridden it once before and been tempted to stay on till the end of the line. But we both had bigger lives to lead than anything offered in Moreover, Tennessee.

  My thoughts must have telegraphed themselves. Two fingers lifted my chin and I made the mistake of meeting his gaze. The look I got was heated and searching and made me glad my days here were limited.

  “Dixie, I’ve seen you naked. My body has been inside your body. But I promise you, princess, nothing you don’t want to happen will happen tonight.”

  Now why’d he have to go and say that? My blood pounded through my veins, sending heat to neglected regions. My insides fluttered with longing—all reactions I did not want to happen while I was in this town. Those were the things that would get me thinking about staying, and that would not happen.

  He lowered his head until his lips met my ear. “I want to taste you.” The heat in his darkened eyes held a question, almost a dare.

  “I’m not dessert.” My voice was trapped in my throat, filled with indecision. Warning sirens were screaming Danger! Danger! But this was my chance to discover the answer to my earlier pondering. Were his lips still soft or had they turned firm? Was he hesitant and unsure, or had maturity made
him strong and decisive?

  “Sure you are. Tasty, sweet, and delectable. Something tempting to be savored. Sounds like the Dixie I remember. Sounds like the girl I was talking to tonight.” The delicate chuckle I intended erupted in something like a snort, and amused the hell out of Deke. His chuckle rumbled through his chest.

  “Let’s not get carried away.” Easy enough to say, but the vibrations from his laughter trembled through my chest and threatened to travel lower. I was quickly becoming carried away myself. My alarm surely showed in my features. His grin creased his entire face. He leaned closer until I was wrapped in him and we shared the same air.

  “What if we call it a goodnight kiss?” I studied his intense gaze. He hadn’t done anything all night to make me believe I couldn’t trust him. Who was I more concerned about? Him . . . or me?

  One goodnight kiss. Surely I had the self-control to withstand one little kiss. I lifted to my toes and settled my lips against his. Deke was as good as his word, his hands motionless against my lower back. But then his mouth urged mine to open and my traitorous lips parted; my tongue slipped in to taste his, to remember it.

  Big mistake.

  I was an idiot. I spent the better part of the past ten years in classrooms and research labs. I defended a doctoral dissertation. I helped design innovative automotive systems used to change the face of the industry, and created cutting edge technology to extend the range of battery powered cars. But I had forgotten the most important fact of all.

  Dixie Barnes was my Kryptonite.

  I loved her as a girl, championed her. And after all the hours we spent squirreled away in her treehouse hideaway making plans for a future together, she didn’t bother to tell me she was leaving.

  I played it right last night—low-key, lighthearted, mostly disinterested—and it took everything in me to keep the conversation centered on her work, her clients, minor happenings around town. To not bombard her with questions about her personal life in California was torture. After all, did I really want to know?

  The last time I called—at Christmastime—she was on her way out the door. To some charity event with one of her clients, she said. I wondered if he was really a lover and she lied to spare my feelings. I choked on that for days.

  My memories of her had paled over the years, but I caught glimpses of the bright, witty girl in the sedate, sophisticated woman I ran into at the Piggly Wiggly yesterday morning. Yet, judging by the number of times I refilled her glass, she felt the need for something other than my company to get her through the evening.

  I gave her the chance to stomp on my heart once before and she took it. I wasn’t offering again. Calm and cool was my only plan when Dixie was around.

  She lay snuggled up behind me on the bed, still asleep judging by the deep, even rhythm of her breath fanning the back of my neck. My face lay in the sprawled mass of her hair spread across the pillow. It was soft and sweet-smelling and I could imagine burying my hands in it as I fused my mouth to her parted lips and tangled my tongue with hers.

  With a moan that shot straight to my groin and made my morning wood hard as fucking oak, she tugged on her curls as she rolled over in her sleep, her delicate skin now pressed against my back. I threw the covers back and got out of bed before I turned to identify—and possibly fondle—that overwhelming temptation. All I needed was Dixie waking up and finding me sniffing at her. Or worse. I turned to toss the patchwork comforter back over the bed, and . . . Jesus!

  She’d kicked the covers to her feet while she slept and her dress had ridden up around her waist, exposing the rounded globes of ass that had just been pressed against me. The thin floss of her thong rode between them. One day I’d like to thank the man—because it could only be a man—who invented that little addition to male fantasies.

  I resisted the temptation to rub my palm over what was still smooth, undoubtedly soft skin, and headed for the bathroom. It would take one hell of a shower to deflate the tent I was packing.

  Long minutes later I stepped from the tiled enclosure and into the steam-filled bathroom, my concentration centered on adjusting the bath towel around my waist.

  “Thank you for last night.”

  My shoulders jerked as I started. “Jesus, Dixie!” My chin shot up and I found her blocking the doorway. It would be nice to imagine my words escaped in a low, growly exclamation, but that was wishful thinking. The grin on her face told the whole story. I held tight to the edges of my towel, which no longer overlapped quite so modestly. My dick had seen Dixie’s ass, too, and was ready to party.

  Thoughts, elsewhere, McAllister. Preferably off Dixie’s naked butt and on to something that didn’t lead to regrettable actions. Imagine Dixie puking. I assessed her lightly tanned skin and clear eyes. “You don’t look sick this morning. How do you feel?”

  “Better than I deserve.” She took a step closer until she stood just over the threshold. “You probably kept me from killing myself, or someone else.”

  “The sheriff’s office takes drunk driving seriously. They got a grant for an ad campaign last year when one of the high schoolers wrapped his car around a tree after a Friday night bonfire.” I sidestepped, put a little space between us.

  She took another step toward me. “Drive hammered, get nailed. I saw those signs yesterday, too.”

  I backed up until I hugged the wall. I built the room large enough for two people to share comfortably, but Dixie with her slept-in dress and heated eyes blocked my escape; I was penned in. Whatever was going on here felt dangerous. My eyes darted around the room, but there was nowhere to flee.

  What I longed for more than my first cup of coffee was something to cover my junk. My boxers were in the bedroom, but with her dark hair wild around her shoulders and memories of her naked body forefront in my mind, a condom was sounding good, too. “Dixie, you have to let me out of here.”

  Even I could sense the desperation in my voice.

  With the door open the steam was evaporating, clearing the air. My pulse ratcheted when she took another step closer and splayed her palm on my chest. I allowed a few wicked ideas to race through my mind as my heart thundered beneath her fingers. Maybe dinner hadn’t been such a great idea after all. But here we were.

  Calm and collected was a pipe dream. No doubt I’d get a lecture from Blake. And Shane would definitely kick my ass. But somehow, by running into each other yesterday morning, this all seemed predestined. I lowered my mouth to hers, took another taste. When I lifted my head she was smiling, all the way to her eyes. “We’ve got four days until you leave, Dixie. Spend them with me.”

  She leaned away to meet my gaze, but her hand stayed put. “I have plans with Beth this week.”

  “Beth’s at work. At least say you’ll share them with me.”

  She lifted her arms to lock them around my neck. “I can think about sharing them, but I’m not sure sex is a good idea.”

  I grinned. “Sex is probably a bad idea.” Didn’t mean I couldn’t hope.

  She seemed to give the idea some thought. “Remember, that’s all the time I have. I’m not extending, not coming back once I’m gone. I only have four days, Deke. You sure you want them?”

  Four days. So far I was impressed with the woman Dixie had become. I liked her. She was smart and entertaining, and not too full of herself. It would be fun to hang out, get to know her even better. It would undoubtedly be enjoyable between the sheets. I pretended to think it over, to weigh my options. But who was I kidding? I nodded. “Yeah, I want them.”

  My heart leapt, and so did my dick. I’d need to put a leash on both. I had one long weekend, only ninety-six hours before Dixie Barnes waltzed out of my life again—and this time I wouldn’t let her blow it to pieces.

  Dixie was parked in front of the vanity mirror, brushing her hair and manipulating it into some complicated braid. She had on last night’s dress and the same high-heeled sandals that buckled for several inches above her ankles. I dodged her elbows as I returned from my room wearing jea
ns. “Let’s fix breakfast; I’m starved.”

  She tied off the end of her hair with a rubber band and shook her head. “Can’t today. I need to get to the city.”

  “You didn’t mention anything last night.”

  Her attention stayed focused in the mirror as she tucked loose strands into the plait at the back of her head. “It’s nothing important. Just an errand.”

  “Fine. I’ll come along. What do you need to do?”

  “I have to buy . . .”

  She paused in fiddling with her hair and her arms sank to her sides. I waited for her to spit out whatever was so difficult to say.

  She turned to lean her hip against the counter, cast her eyes to the side. “I have to buy a box.”

  “We don’t have to go all the way to the city. Huntley sells packing boxes down at the hardware store. Or we can look at the market. They get shipments every day. I’m sure they—”

  She held up her hand to shut me up. “No, not that kind of box. Something bigger.” She lowered her head and paid way too much attention to the deep red polish on her thumb. “I need something for Cooter.”

  The fuck? “Dixie, do you mean a casket?”

  She drew up her shoulders. “Well, I don’t know if there’s a law, but it’s what they suggested at the mortuary. Insisted, actually.” She took a deep breath. “I have his measurements. You know, so he fits.” She met my gaze with glistening eyes. “Not that I should care about his comfort after all the times—” She spun around and was out the bathroom door.

  Bizarre. I followed her into the bedroom, where I yanked a shirt from the closet and pulled it on. “So, you need to pick out a casket. It’s no big deal.” Tears soaked her cheeks, so I plucked a tissue from the dresser and hauled her into my arms. “I don’t have classes today; would you like me to go with you?”

  Using the silliest dabbing motion, she sopped up her face and then nodded. I sat on the end of the bed and pulled her onto my lap. All in all, not a bad position to be in, now that we were both dressed. I could handle Dixie as long as she wasn’t naked.