Authors: Marina Adair
“What’s that, an official notice banning me from all future Harvest Fest events?”
That was what Charlotte and Etta Jayne had said she should do.
“No, it’s the official list of the finalists for Miss Peach.” Charlotte had tallied the scores and placed the winners inside the sealed envelope. Even Glory didn’t know who had won. “This pageant is what it is partly because of your generosity and dedication. And we would be honored if you would agree to resume your position as host for the Presenting Ceremony.”
“Well, pretty big britches you’ve got, speaking for the town as though God made you queen,” Ms. Kitty said, her eyes glued to the envelope.
“Well, Judge Holden made me co-commissioner, and he’s one step from God in this town, so I am allowed to speak on behalf of the council. And as my final act as co-commissioner of the Harvest Council, I am reinstating you as a council member and asking you to come to Cotillion.”
“Final act?”
“Yes, Peg Brass is back from her trip and will be taking over as harvest commissioner, but I asked her if I could make one last ruling. She said as long as you are prohibited from ever running for office and banned from the Sugar Pull, I had her full support.” Glory extended the envelope again.
Ms. Kitty took it and ran a shaky finger over its edge, then shook her head and offered it back. “Me going to that Cotillion would give everyone what they want, a chance to see how far the mighty have fallen.”
Glory didn’t think Kitty Duncan was all that mighty anymore. She didn’t even think that the woman was happy. Kitty buried herself in committees and boards the same way Glory buried herself in school and work, as a way to belong.
“Locking yourself in here is a better option?” Glory asked. “You’re the great Kitty Duncan. You only have to remind people of that.”
Ms. Kitty didn’t look like she had it left in her to do anything of the sort. “I think they know who I am and walking into the lion’s den won’t help any.”
“Sometimes we do things out of desperation, things that feel right in the moment but aren’t,” Glory said quietly. “But one bad decision”—or in Kitty’s case a decade plus—“doesn’t have to define you.”
And Glory truly believed that now.
“I hope you decide to come to Cotillion. If not, I’ll be here next year, knocking on your door, bugging you to come,” Glory teased.
“You won’t have any power next year. You’ll go back to being a big nobody,” Kitty said and then vanished—with the list of finalists, Glory noted with a smile.
T
he Falcon’s Nest normally formal dining room was wrapped in twinkling lights and shimmery stringed balloons that littered the ceiling. Cocktail tables lined the back of the round room and a giant arbor covered in peach leaves and roses advertised just what tonight’s event was, in case someone missed the giant Miss Peach banner hanging above the entry.
Cal checked his cell for the tenth time in five minutes, disappointed to see not a single missed call or text. Glory had texted about an hour ago explaining she had a last-minute errand to run and would meet him at the Country Club. He considered calling her but didn’t want to come off needy.
Grabbing the little white box off the cocktail table he’d made his temporary home, he checked the entry hall to the Falcon’s Nest one last time. He was supposed to be in the holding area, waiting to present Payton to society, but he needed to find his date first—make sure she was okay.
Make sure she didn’t change her mind and show up with someone else—like
Chuck
.
Instead he found Ms. Kitty, draped in diamonds and entitlement, striding through the front doors with purpose.
“What are you doing here?” Cal asked.
“Being late for the Presenting Ceremony because that lady friend of yours drives like a slug.”
“You’re doing the presenting?” This was news to Cal.
“Well, when the co-commissioner comes up banging on my door, all but dragging me from my home, saying that Cotillion couldn’t possibly go on without me, what am I supposed to say?” Kitty smoothed her hair down. “So for the good of the event, I decided to put my differences with the current council aside and be the bigger person. Now, if you’ll get out of my way, I have a queen to crown.”
Cal stepped aside moments before she would have whacked him with her purse. And speaking of his lady friend, Cal stood rooted in surprise as the front doors opened and in walked the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her hair hung in soft waves, tumbling down her back, while little wisps curled forward, framing her face.
At first glance, the dress was simple and elegant. A shimmery peach fabric that started at her collarbone, hugging her body and covering enough leg to be classy but leaving enough bare to make his mouth go dry. And her shoes—hot damn, her shoes.
No cowgirl boots for this girl.
Tonight she wore sleek and sophisticated mile-high heels with a tiny strap crossing her red-tipped toes and another wrapping around the curve of her ankle. But as he stepped closer, things got interesting. The fabric shimmered in the light, giving the illusion of being sheer while showing nothing and making him wonder about everything—like what she had on underneath.
“They match my toes,” she whispered, leaning in until he could feel her lips graze the outer edge of his ear. The music inside the ballroom stopped and Ms. Kitty’s voice boomed through the speaker, announcing the start of the Presenting Ceremony.
Glory peeked over his shoulder. “What are you doing out here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“But the ceremony is about to start. This is Payton’s big night. She can’t walk herself through the presenting arbor.”
“It’s also your big night. And you shouldn’t have to walk through the door alone. Now, if you will do me the honor.” He took a corsage out of the white box he’d been carrying around for most of the night.
“Cal,” she whispered, touching the petals but not taking it. “It’s beautiful.”
“Payton picked it out. She said that peonies are the flower of honor and that they stand for romance and happiness to come,” he said, as if that wasn’t the pussiest sentence in the history of mankind. If his crew ever heard about this, he’d never live it down.
Then Glory looked up at him and he stopped caring what his crew thought, because he was pretty sure that Glory was the most amazing person he’d ever met. And that he was one kiss away from falling completely. And he was surprisingly okay with that.
“Payton knows? About us?” She sounded horrified.
“I’m pretty sure the whole town knows about us. And those who don’t are about to figure it out.”
With that, he took Glory’s hand and pushed open the doors to the ballroom. Everyone turned to look as he slipped the corsage over her wrist. Offering his arm, he escorted her into the center of the packed room, and together they faced the crowd of curious onlookers.
Cal might not have kissed Glory in front of God and town, but everyone there knew that she was his. It was in every touch, every look, and when he eased her in his arms to slowly move her around the dance floor, their bodies brushing with each step, she finally allowed herself to believe that she was his. And that what was between them had the potential to go the distance.
“Payton looked so grown up tonight,” she said as Cal led her through a few turns, his hand never slipping past proper, but the small nuances in his hold and body language making a very wicked promise for what was to come. “And happy.”
“Happy, yes.” A deep scowl crossed his face. “But I don’t want to talk about the other part,” Cal grumbled.
“Do you also not want to talk about how your eyes went a little misty when she was presented?”
Making no comment, he swept her across the floor—and off her feet if she was being honest—spinning her until she was too breathless to speak. Too caught up in the moment to care about giving him a hard time.
“Jackson told me what you did for Kitty,” he said, absently trailing a finger over the zipper on the back of her dress. “Not many people would have done that.”
The exact reason Glory had gone over there in the first place. Kitty messed up, no question about that, but it didn’t detract from what she’d done for the Harvest Fest over the years. She had been hosting the Presenting Ceremony since before Glory was born and was as much a part of the evening as the crown.
She might not be the right person to run the pageant, but so what, she deserved to be there.
“I know what it feels like to have no one in your corner. It sucks.”
Cal’s serious eyes studied her. “So you went over there to tell the woman who has made your life hell that
you
were in
her
corner?”
When put that way, it sounded silly. But looking at Ms. Kitty arguing with Darleen Vander over the balloons deflating was proof that, although bringing her here had been the right move, Glory had been wrong on several accounts. Like for one, she didn’t need to fit in. She was happy standing out if it meant being herself. In fact, she didn’t need to find her place; she had created one on her own and she was proud of it.
Finally, and this was the most important part, Glory didn’t want what everyone else had. She wanted something special, something all her own. She wanted Cal.
And she was pretty sure he wanted her back.
Cal didn’t miss a step—not easy considering he felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. Because standing there on the dance floor with Glory in his arms, looking up at him with those big mossy eyes, he realized he didn’t want to be in her corner—he wanted to
be
her corner. Which shouldn’t make sense, yet it did.
Between his job, his family, and his daughter, Cal would be crazy to add one more person to his list of responsibilities. Although looking at Glory right then didn’t feel crazy; it felt right. The more he thought about it, spending time with Glory was what had kept him sane these past few weeks.
“Cal,” Glory said and he realized that the song had ended and he was about to kiss her. Which wouldn’t have been such a bad thing except that his daughter was standing right behind him—with the lawn boy.
“Sir,” Mason began, running a hand across his forehead. Cal liked that he made the kid sweat. “I wanted to say thank you for allowing me escort Payton tonight and I hope that I’ve shown her the kind of good time she deserves.”
“You’re welcome,” Cal said with a pleasant smile, but it took some serious effort. “And she’s still fourteen, so her good time ends at a few slow dances.”
Payton went to argue, but Mason gently touched her arm and she zipped it. “Yes, sir. Of course. And even if she were eighteen, I wouldn’t expect more than a few slow dances. Maybe some hand holding.” The kid leaned in and whispered, “Girls have soft hands.”
Cal rolled his eyes. “Why don’t we save the hand holding until next year?”
“You bet.” Mason smiled as though he’d just won the lottery. “I came to ask your permission to take Payton to have ice cream. I’ll still have her home by her curfew.”
Cal looked at his watch. “Which is in an hour and the deal was you drive her here, I drive her home.”
“You’re right. That was our deal,” Mason said, taking a step back, but Payton nudged him forward. “But since it’s tradition for the Miss Peach court to get ice cream in town after Cotillion and since Payton is part of the court, we were wondering if you’d consider renegotiating the deal.”
Payton hadn’t been crowned Miss Peach, but she been named third runner-up, which was a pretty big accomplishment for a sophomore. It not only made her an honorary Sugar Peach—Cal wasn’t sure how he felt about
that
—but also increased her college fund by a thousand dollars.
And he was proud of her. She’d worked hard, been herself, and come out on top, so he wanted to give Payton the freedom to enjoy her success with her friends, but letting a boy drive her was a big step for him.
Cal looked over at Payton, who was a foot away in her strapless blue dress, surrounded by the rest of the Peach Court and looking for all the world like this one moment would forever cement her future.
He looked at Glory, who was doing her best to stay neutral. “This is where I’m supposed to say yes, isn’t it?”
“Not if it doesn’t feel right,” she said and he gave her a look that he hoped conveyed that none of this felt right. “Right. Okay, what if Mason drove her to the Creamery and you picked her up at ten thirty and drove her to Kendra’s?”
Glory emphasized
you
since no one else needed to know that with Payton sleeping at Kendra’s, Cal would be sleeping at Glory’s.
“That’s fair.” Payton nodded vigorously, her blond up-do bobbing with every excited nod.
Cal looked at the ceiling and let out a big breath. This was it. One of those times Glory told him about where Payton could explore freedom in a safe, controlled environment.
“Actually, Mason.” Cal clapped him on the shoulder—a little too hard, but he was trying. “Why don’t you take Payton to Kendra’s after the Creamery?”
“Ohmigod! Thank you, Daddy.” Payton threw herself into his arms and sank into him. He took every second of appreciation she offered, then took one more when she tried to pull back, tightening his arms around her and reminding her of the rules.
“You made me proud tonight,” he whispered at the end and her arms tightened even more.
“I made me proud tonight,” she said so softly Cal felt his chest do one of those painful jabs that he’d become so familiar with as of late. Then with a final squeeze, he let go.
Damn, that was hard. His hands were sweating and stomach felt like he was riding shotgun in one of Jace’s race cars doing well over a hundred with no seat belt.
“Just call me the second you get in,” he added in case he hadn’t said that before. Payton’s face said that he had. Payton turned to leave and he grabbed her by the shoulder. “I mean it, Payton. If I don’t hear from you by ten thirty, I will drive over to Kendra’s myself and check on you.”
Glory cleared her throat. Right. He let go. “And have fun.”
“Promise.” She kissed him on the cheek and reached for Mason’s hand.
Mason froze, looked at Cal, and held his arm out. Payton glanced back at her dad, rolled her eyes, but took the proffered arm. And the two of them slowly made their way toward the exit. Cal watched in silence until he couldn’t see his daughter anymore.
“You did good, Mr. McGraw,” Glory assured him, placing her hand on his arm. “Mason is a respectful kid, and Payton doesn’t want to lose her newfound freedom.”
“I hope so.”
Glory smiled. “How much trouble can they get into in an hour?”
“You say that like I can’t come up with a dozen or more things we could do in an hour.” He looked at her dress, her shoes, and then to the deck where they’d had dinner a few weeks ago. It was a first date, really, and they both knew it. He had just been too stubborn to admit it. “I already have one. It involves you, your headboard, and my tie.”
“Would you like to come inside for a cold beverage?” Glory asked, standing by her front door, keys in hand, and looking up at Cal, who was a model of male perfection in his dark suit, missing tie, top two buttons already undone.
With a smile he closed the distance, his hands skimming down her dress as he walked her back a few inches. The door was at her back, and he was pressed impressively against her front. “You say the sexiest things.”
“Is that a yes?” she whispered, her hands doing some skimming of their own, up his glorious chest, around his broad shoulders, and into his hair.
“No to the cold beverage, but yes to the coming inside.” He flashed her a wicked smile that had her pulse skyrocketing, her mouth going dry, and everything else going wet. Just like that, a single look, and she was vibrating with want. “Yes, to coming period.”
Something that Glory could get on board with immediately. He leaned down and she knew he was going to kiss her. It would start soft and warm and take only a matter of seconds to explode into inferno and then she’d be plastered against the door, naked with her legs wrapped around him, and her dress would end up armadillo bedding. And she loved this dress.
Almost as much as she loved the feeling of him.
Inside her.
All she had to do was unlock the door. Glory fumbled with the keys, somehow managed to locate her house key while Cal’s hands were roaming everywhere all at once.
“I need to know,” he said against her throat as she found the key hole. “Thong, G-string, or those little cheeky ones that drive me fucking nuts?”
“I do love driving you fucking nuts,” she confessed.