We were dating, and it was so goddamn good. He continued to pay my wages, which didn’t set right at all. Constance usually made a crack about it, but I ignored her until she slunk off to a far corner, bellyaching about my
unconscionable
behavior.
Instead of morning wood, I woke to the sound of Reardon’s low murmurs, and that was damn good too. So I answered the phone as usual, “Mmm, hey baby, have any steamy dreams about me last night?”
The response I got was anything but the rough caress I anticipated. It was the shrill screech of a harpy, “Caroline Shay Greer!”
Shee-it.
I knew her tone. It was The Tone that Brooked No Disobedience. The very same she’d used in the old days, calling me in for dinner or bedtime or homework from halfway across the Old Village. It was the voice threatening a whuppin’ with a willow switch.
One I’d be forced to choose myself.
Fuck.
I’d intended to woman up. Six days ago. Until I’d chickened out. “Momma.”
“Don’t you Momma me. I expected to hear from you a lot sooner than this, girl. But here I am, the one callin’ you.”
“I figured we could talk after church on Sunday.”
I could hear her eyebrows ratchet another five notches. “I am not discussin’ your adultery on the Lord’s Day, Shay.”
I retaliated, because we were separated by about ten miles, and even she couldn’t reach through the telephone. “What? You wanna come berate me in my House of Floozies instead?”
“Girl, you best drop the attitude, y’here?”
Abashed, I whispered, “Yes’m.”
“I gotta read about you takin’ up with some South of Broad scoundrel–my ladies know all about it–you know how your behavior makes me feel?”
“No’m.”
He’s not from South of Broad, though a scoundrel he may be.
“Not as bad as Palmer does, I’d wager.”
“Momma!”
“It’s the truth. How can I defend you when I–”
I went through it myself with your Daddy
.
“You told me not to settle.”
“Then you said your vows.”
“I know.” I hung my head.
Her voice less strident, she relented. “I’m sorry, Sunshine.”
“Me too.”
“Couldn’t be fixed, could it?”
“Not anymore.”
“I was caught up in what happened between Zanny and me, how I felt when he…” She sighed. “When your daddy cheated on me. I know how betrayed Palmer is now. I feel for him.”
“Me too.”
“Y’all can’t blame me for caring about him after all these years.”
I shook my head.
There was a silence before she came back on. “You still there?”
“Yeah.”
“I want happiness for you, my girl. I knew somethin’ was making you feel better recently, and that’s nothing to shake a stick at.” She gave her blessing, after a fashion.
I snuffed and smiled. “Reardon’s somethin’ else, Momma. It’s not the same as it was with Palmer. It’s–”
“New.” The sour tone of her voice told me she had her lemon-sucking face back on.
“But that’s not all. It’s only been a few months, but it’s deeper. Remember when Palmer proposed? I was so excited, he brought me flowers, and he took me to–”
“The Trawler.”
“That’s right.” I sat back on the bed, pulling a pillow to my chest. “My first time there, out on Shem Creek. Afterward, he couldn’t wait. We were right outside the restaurant, people coming and going, stopping and congratulatin’ us when he bent to one knee. We were so hopeful.” I shut my eyes, reliving my dopey smile. “You know, he gave me his Warriors jacket before our first time. We were a steady item, it was the night of the Ladson Fair. “
“You always were a smart girl.”
The raw truth scraped my throat. “Not anymore.”
“People do change, baby girl.”
Releasing a breath, I dragged my knees to my chest. “Maybe we were too young. We didn’t know anything else, anyone else. I don’t think there’s any way we could’ve made it through Delilah’s death.”
“I imagine not.”
“Not like you and Daddy.”
“And you know how well that played out.”
“It was only the once,” I reassured her. “He wasn’t in love with anyone but you.”
It was her turn to be mollified. “That’s true.” She was appeased for less than a second. “What about this fancy fella then? You and him stand a better chance?”
“It won’t be easy. We’re too old for fairy tales, Momma. Besides.” My voice dropped. “His little boy died of cancer five years ago.”
“Oh no. Not another one!”
“I imagine the two of us gonna get through the hardships, you see? I know from the start we’re gonna try.”
After we cried it out, Momma asked, “Reardon, huh?”
“Momma.” I was stern, knowing where she was headed.
“Sounds very downtown.”
“He ain’t.”
“When can I meet him?”
“Can you give me a few weeks? We just started dating.”
“A bit backwards, ain’t it?”
“We like to call it unorthodox.”
“Speakin’ of unorthodox…”
Changing subjects like I changed my panties–on account of Reardon Boone getting me so hot–Momma went from serious chitchat to chin-wagging in the blink of an eye. “’Bout this broker buyin’ the Jussely house, they’re not tellin’ me much about him. But Charleston folk are like the Chinese, they eat lots of rice, worship their ancestors, and come home to die. I reckon he’s an old Village boy. Or one of them moneyed New Yorkers.”
I was scandalized. “Momma!”
“Hush up, girl. I gave you leave for your trespasses, so what if I make an off-color remark? Besides, Saint Joseph sure took his dandy time. Two weeks, I was told. Instead I had to leave that heathen statue in the ground for two months. Two months!” She kept on fussing, “Bet the man is Catholic. Just bet he is. I oughta dig up Saint Joseph and set him on the porch as a housewarming.”
“You got a spade?”
“Nah, but I bet I can borrow one off Sharon Hawke’s workmen, and get ’em to do it for free. You know she’s still on the board down there? One would think she was the grand poobah of the Old Village, but I believe she skunked the council so’s she could…”
By that time, I’d crumpled all my tissues and tossed them into the garbage. I tuned her out and turned on the shower.
I smiled because Momma’s chattering at me meant she might be able to forgive me.
* * * *
Slamming my front door and pressing me against it, Reardon looked at me like he had sex-ray vision.
I welcomed his lips, the hard thrust of his hips. “Hi.”
“Hmm.”
I peeked over his shoulder. “You’re drivin’ a mighty fine car for what I got in mind.”
Sealing his lips on my collarbone, he kissed me until my nipples stood to attention in a smart salute. “Where you taking me, darlin’?”
I wriggled out of his arms and skipped down the steps. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Shimmying my hips, I flicked my hair over my shoulder.
He helped me into the passenger side. “All I need to know is I’ll be with you.”
“Ooh, smooth talker.” I leered at his legs and taut rear end while he crossed in front of the bulbous black hood. I fisted the gearshift lasciviously when he sat inside. Dark blue and rangy, his eyes were drawn to my hands. “You bring the nets?” I asked.
“In the trunk.”
I teased the sleek silver pole. “Perfect.”
“Shay.” His breath was trapped in his chest.
“What, baby?”
“We haven’t been together for over a week.”
“I know.” I pouted and played my fingertips across his chest.
He watched warily, hungrily.
“A few more hours?”
“How few?”
“A couple?”
He reversed down the drive, awaiting my directions.
Under the cargo shorts, his thighs moved with every clutch, and his capable hands cupped the shift, molding it like he’d done my breasts so many times.
“Talked to my momma this mornin’.”
“Everything okay?”
“I don’t think okay’s in her vocabulary, but yeah, we’ll be fine.” Rearranging all the shit in my purse, I added, “She mistook you for an over-privileged pretty boy.”
He worried the corner of his mouth. “So did you.”
“Never said you were pretty at first, more like hot and handsome and hung.” I snorted. “Anyway, you intentionally misled me. All distant and–”
He gripped my fingers. “I was never cold to you, was I?”
“No. You’ve never been cold. Haughty, naughty...reticent…”
His lips brushed the back of my hand. “Not anymore though.”
“Reticent? No. Naughty?” Leaning over the armrests, I sampled the sweet taste of his throat, gloating when his neck stretched back. “Always.”
By the time we hit 526, he groaned, halting my nibbles on his earlobe, throat, and the sinewy indent where the big muscles of his shoulder began. “Which direction?”
“Take me to the bridge, baby.” I sat back, crossing my legs.
“Which one?” He tried damn hard not to stare at my bared thighs below the hem of my shorts.
He failed.
“Pitt Street Bridge.”
“Night shrimping?”
A big, harvest moon winked at us in hazy heated colors, half hiding behind the shadowy sentinels of southern pines. It hung so close to the horizon, I wondered if I could touch it. “That’d be right.”
“You understand, darlin’, if you don’t stop angling your legs towards me, we’re not even going to make it to the Old Village.” His voice was gritty, his knuckles white.
“You hard up?” My fingers strolled up the inside of his thigh, massaging the muscles, teasing under the bottom of his shorts.
“Jesus, Shay.” He punched the gas compulsively.
I wound my hand around the stiff length thickening inside his shorts.
His fingers clamped down on mine. “You gotta stop.”
Biting my bottom lip, I moved next to him, my breasts skimming his bicep. “Do I?”
“I’ll come in my–”
His cell rang.
My fingers leisurely stroked.
He glared, eyes crackling. “Not answering it.”
I laughed. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Guess I will, then.” Pressing everything at once, I managed to receive the call.
“Get back here and finish what you started, wench.”
“He just call you ‘wench’?”
I sniggered when I heard who was calling. “Yeah, he did.”
“That ain’t no way to treat a lady, Miss Shay
.
”
“I quite agree, Ransome.” I grinned at Reardon. He glowered out the windshield.
Settling into the plush seat, I toed off my sandals. “Though sometimes a lady likes to be taken in hand.”
Reardon snarled something indecent under his breath.
“Glad you answered. I didn’t really wanna talk to the son-of-a-gun anyway
.
”
“That a fact now? You don’t want to speak to your big brother?”
“He listenin’?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Y’all are bad, Miss Shay.”
“Yes, I am.” I slunk my toes along Reardon’s calf. “Very, very bad.”
“I know you’re in love and all, but you ever get an itch for somethin’ new, you know where I am. I’m stuck in this wheelchair, so I’m not goin’ anywhere. But don’t let that put you off, darlin’. I don’t need my legs to rock your–”