Surrender To Sultry (9 page)

Colt glanced at the cashier. “Close your eyes. You don’t need to see this.”

Instantly, the girl clenched her lids shut and rested her balled fists on the counter.

“See what?” Tommy asked in a shaky voice.

Colt warned, “I’m gonna hit you.”

And he did, with a powerful right hook to the kidney that knocked Tommy forward and
tore a sharp cry from his lips. Then Colt grabbed the counter for leverage, drew back,
and pummeled him again in the exact same spot.

“Do we have an understanding?” Colt asked, panting with rage. He flexed his fingers,
resisting the obvious urge to keep going.

Agony distorted Tommy’s features while he gripped the ledge and gasped for air. He
wiped a trail of spittle from his chin and whispered, “Please, Leah. I’m sorry.”

The suffering in his voice ripped through her in a stab of sympathy pain that reached
all the way to her toes. With shaky fingers, she found her wallet and pulled out a
five-dollar bill. She slapped it on the belt and ran out the front door.

She kept running until she reached the far end of the dark parking lot, then turned
in a clumsy circle to look for her car. With only a handful of vehicles on the lot,
you’d think she could identify the one that belonged to her, but she couldn’t. She
felt disoriented, like she’d just woken from a dream and wasn’t sure if her surroundings
were real. She pressed both palms over her eyes and took a deep breath to calm down.

Bruiser
, she said to herself. Her car had earned that nickname because it was ugly and purple.
All she had to do was find the only purple hatchback on the lot. She could do that.

“You okay?”

She gasped at the sound of Colt’s voice. “No, I’m not okay!”

From two parking spaces away, he held up both hands to placate her. “He’s not gonna
mess with you again.”

“Is that what you think?” she demanded, her pitch rising on the last note. “That I’m
upset because of Tommy’s idiot prank?”

Colt didn’t answer, but his expression said exactly that.

“It’s you!”

“Me?” he asked in disbelief, touching his own chest. “What’d I do?”

“Wha—” she began and cut off. Did he
really
not understand what he’d done wrong? That beating people was an unacceptable way
of dealing with life’s problems? She’d always hated violence, and he knew that! “You
just kicked the shit out of someone!” Quietly, she added, “Pardon my language.”

Colt shrugged. “He had it comin’. Maybe if I’d done that ten years ago, he wouldn’t—”

“No.” Leah marched toward her car. “That’s not how I live, Colt. That’s not how civilized
people deal with conflict.”

In a few long strides, he met her at the driver’s side door. “You don’t get it. Guys
like Tommy don’t respond to that
turn
the
other
cheek
bullshit. They’ve gotta be taught the old-fashioned way. The foot-up-the-ass way.”

She glared right into his aquamarine eyes. “That
bullshit
is the basis for everything I believe. So ex-
cuse
me for holding myself to a higher standard.”

His gaze iced over, jaw clenching as he backed up a pace and snapped, “My apologies.
We can’t all be saints like you.” Then he turned and stalked back into the Sack-n-Pay
without another glance in her direction.

Leah stood there, keys in hand, lips parted in disbelief. How dare he turn this around
and make her the villain? She was no saint, and she kept telling him so. Besides,
it didn’t take a martyr to realize that pounding on people was wrong. Colt was wrong.
End of story.

But as she climbed inside Bruiser and fastened her seatbelt, she couldn’t deny the
heavy ache that radiated along her breastbone. Darn if it didn’t feel a lot like guilt.
Leave it to Colt to break all the rules and somehow foist the emotional fallout on
her.

***

“Is your daddy’s heart still broken?”

Leah smiled at the empathy written all over Noah’s face.
This
was her son, not the cranky prima donna who’d hung up on her the last time they’d
chatted. If anything could improve a lousy day, it was her sweet boy. She brought
the iPad to the sofa, where Daddy sat working on Sunday’s sermon—his first since the
surgery.

“No,” she said. “The doctors fixed it. He’s right here. Say ‘hey.’” She turned the
screen toward Daddy and heard Noah chirp, “Hey, Mr. McMahon.”

Daddy waved. “Nice to meet you, Noah. You can call me Grandpop, if you want.”

There was a pause on Noah’s end. Leah checked to make sure the connection hadn’t frozen,
and found Noah’s black brows knitted together. “I already got a Grandpop. He’s my
mama’s daddy. He lives in Duh-looth.”

“Duluth?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s all right, Bud.” Leah stuffed down the all-too-familiar surge of envy she’d
never managed to tame over the years. She knew Diane was her son’s mother, but the
reminders stung. Maybe it was time to accept that they always would. “You can call
him Pastor Mac, just like everyone here does.”

“Pastor Mac,” Noah said, trying it on. He flashed that adorable gap-toothed grin and
declared, “It sounds cool, like mac-n-cheese.”

“Then it’s settled,” Leah said. “Now tell me what’s new since the last time we talked.”

His eyes brightened, lifting the corners of his mouth and warming the deepest recesses
of Leah’s soul. Nothing compared to the joy of seeing him happy. If scientists could
trap that feeling in a pill, they’d rule the world.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

“You bet I can.” She extended her little finger. “Pinky swear.”

He hooked his pinky toward hers and gave a solemn nod. “Me and Daddy are givin’ Mama
an extra-special surprise for Christmas.”

“Ooooh,” Leah crooned. “I love surprises. Is it homemade?”

He shook his head. “Even better!”

“Better than a homemade present? That’s every mama’s favorite kind.”

“She’s gonna love it. Daddy promised.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me what it is.”

“Okay.” He leaned closer, practically vibrating with anticipation. “We’re takin’ her
to Paris for Christmas!”

“Paris?” Leah asked.

“Yep. That’s in France. And we’re stayin’ for two whole weeks!”

Leah’s heart dropped into her lap. She couldn’t quite manage to catch her breath.
The whole family would be gone for the holidays, which meant she’d miss her cherished
Christmas Eve visit with Noah. She looked forward to that outing all year—it was their
only tradition, just the two of them. They’d spend the morning ice skating, then sip
hot chocolate aboard a real train modeled after the Polar Express. That day was a
gift, and now it’d been snatched away.

“That’s great,” she lied, fighting to keep the sadness from showing on her face. “I’ll
miss you, but I hope you have fun.”

“Yeah,” was all he said before Diane called him away for dinner. He offered a hasty
good-bye and disconnected. Then he was gone, just like that.

Leah stared at her iPad screen, seeing nothing.

She had no recourse. The adoption, while considered open, didn’t specify any visitation
rights. Legally speaking, Jim and Diane didn’t have to let her see Noah at all. They
could cut her off whenever they wanted, without so much as a photograph or a letter
to document his growth. She’d carried and delivered Noah, loved him like no one else,
but her time spent with him hinged on the whims of others.

It wasn’t fair.

She swallowed hard and tried not to cry. From beside her on the sofa, Daddy set his
Bible and notepad aside and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for
a hug. There was extra love in his embrace, a tight squeeze he reserved for her darkest
moments. He probably knew how she felt. She’d called him every Christmas Eve to relay
the details of her “date” with Noah. Sometimes she’d sent pictures too. She rested
her cheek against him, taking comfort in his warmth and the familiar scents of spearmint
mingled with Aqua Velva.

She expected Daddy to offer some uplifting words of encouragement, to remark that
this wasn’t the end of the world or remind her there’d be a dozen more holidays to
celebrate with Noah. Instead, he told her, “There’s an old saying that a man becomes
a father when he meets his baby for the first time, but a woman becomes a mother when
she finds out she’s pregnant.”

Leah nodded against his shoulder. She’d heard that one.

“But that wasn’t true for me,” he continued. “I loved you from the instant your mama
told me we were expecting.”

She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but she said, “Thanks, Daddy. Love you
too.”

He kissed the top of her head. “You did a brave thing, giving Noah to the Ackermans—the
most loving, selfless thing a person can do. I don’t think I could’ve done the same.
I’m not strong enough. But, Pumpkin, part of giving up is letting go.”

She sat upright and turned on the sofa to face him. “Let go? He’s my son.”

Daddy took her hand and gave it a gentle pat, the way people did when trying to soften
bad news. “But, he’s not, hon. And…”
He
never
will
be
. She knew how that sentence ended. Daddy didn’t have to say it aloud.

“He’s part of me. No piece of paper can change that.”

“I know.” His eyes found Mama’s portrait, and Leah couldn’t help thinking his advice
was a little hypocritical. He’d never let go of Mama, and she’d been gone for ages.
“You gave Noah a great life,” he said. “Maybe it’s time to make one for yourself.”
He released her hand, but held her gaze. “Here, at home, with the people who love
you.”

The word
What?
formed on her lips, but never materialized. Was he actually suggesting she move to
Texas and leave Noah behind? He couldn’t really think she’d do that.

Daddy seemed to read her thoughts. “Nearest airport’s only an hour away. You could
still keep your visits with Noah. Only difference is you’d be here in the meantime,
not there, waiting on the sidelines and wishing your life away.”

The only argument she could think of was, “All those plane tickets would add up.”

“Then I’ll help.”

The idea of leaving Minnesota chilled her to the core. She’d moved there at seventeen—it
was nearly all she knew. And even though she couldn’t see Noah more than once a month,
she liked being near him.

“Sultry Memorial’s always looking for nurses,” Daddy went on. “Wouldn’t take long
to get your license current.” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Just promise you’ll
think about it.”

She nodded. “I promise.” But she wouldn’t have to think very long.

“I just wanna see you happy, Pumpkin,” Daddy said. “It’s all any parent wants.”

She knew that. And how. Only moments ago, Noah’s happiness had filled and defined
her. Her little boy was safe, content, and loved, which was all a mother could want
for her child.

So why did she feel empty?

Leah propped a hip against the back of a wooden pew and admired the grouping of vibrant
orange potted mums decorating the podium. No silk flowers today. The hospitality committee
had upgraded to the real thing in honor of Daddy’s return to the pulpit. More than
that, a certain enthusiasm charged the air; she could hear it in the exuberant chatter
of voices and the eager bounce of dress shoes. It made Leah smile. Daddy’s flock had
missed him—he was well-loved here. In fact, half the congregation still refused to
meet her gaze as punishment for all the “suffering” she’d caused him.

The organist played “Praise Him, O Praise Him” in quarter-time while suited gentlemen
escorted their ladies into the sanctuary, some of them towing little girls in Mary
Janes. A young boy dragged his loafered-feet down the aisle, tugging at his shirt
collar. Leah couldn’t help but laugh under her breath. He reminded her of Noah, and
as she often did, she wondered what he might be doing right now.

He wasn’t in church—she knew that much. Longtime agnostics, the Ackermans had decided
to raise Noah without the influence of religion. It was their right, but she wished
they’d at least take him to services on Christmas and Easter. Just the bare minimum,
so he’d know the difference between Madonna, the blessed virgin, and Madonna, the
like
a virgin. Of course, that wasn’t her decision to make, so she shouldn’t judge. Remembering
Daddy’s advice on letting go, she tucked Noah’s image to the back of her mind and
tried to live in the moment.

She turned and spotted poor, puffy June filing inside ahead of Luke and Bobbi. Trey
loped in a second later with a Latino teen in khakis and a white button-down polo.
The boy wore his long, black hair in a low ponytail, reminding her of a young Colton.
But she didn’t want to think about
him
. Four days had passed since the Sack-n-Pay incident, and she hadn’t caught a single
glimpse of his russet face. It seemed he’d finally decided to leave her be, something
that made her feel unexpectedly irritated, though she refused to ask herself why.
Instead, she met June at the last row, closest to the rear entrance, where her group
had begun to settle.

Leah waved at Bobbi, but kept her distance. She didn’t like the way Bobbi studied
her in that critical, journalistic way. The woman smelled a story; Leah could tell.

Trey took a seat beside his wife and flashed a sunny, dimpled grin. He gestured to
the teen at his side. “This is Carlo, my apprentice.”

“Oh, cool,” Leah said, leaning over to shake the boy’s hand. “What trade?”

“Building and repair,” came the reply. He didn’t elaborate, but he offered a smile
every bit as infectious as his mentor’s.

Luke clapped the boy’s shoulder. “Best guy on our crew.”

Carlo shrugged away the compliment, his face beaming. “I’m glad your dad’s better,”
he told her.

“Yeah,” Trey added, “we’re not usually church-going folk, but we wanted to be here
for Pastor Mac’s big comeback.”

“I’m glad you came out.” Leah turned her attention to June. “Especially you. I’ll
bet you’d rather be on the couch with your feet up.”

She’d just bent to give June a hug when she noticed someone new step through the double
doors—a tall, broad-chested man with raven hair brushing his shoulders. It took a
few moments for her to recognize him as Colt, and even then, she didn’t believe her
eyes. In his black suit, starched white shirt, tie, and sunglasses, he looked like
one of the Blues Brothers, minus the fedora hat. She’d never seen him so dressed up
before. Or inside a house of worship. What the apple fudge was he doing here?

He slipped off his shades, dropped them inside his breast pocket, and fastened that
jade-blue gaze on her. Her tummy did two double flips. Lord help her—she was toast.

While she stood frozen in place, he strode over and placed an innocent kiss at her
jaw, then pressed something into her palm. She glanced down to find an opened pack
of Carnival Cotton Candy Bubblicious and twenty-six cents.

“You left this behind,” he said in a smooth, deep voice that washed over her and settled
low in her abdomen. “And you forgot your change.”

She pocketed the coins and held up her gum. “There’s a piece missing.”

He shook his head and told her, “Two,” before chewing a few times and blowing a wide,
pink bubble.

“Colt!” she chided, popping it with her index finger. “We’re in church.”

“I know, Angel.” With a wicked grin, he sucked the deflated bubble into his mouth
and asked, “Want me to testify?”

“This isn’t funny—”

Bobbi interrupted, “Is that Crazy Colt?”

Leah gritted her teeth. She was getting really tired of hearing that nickname.

“Well, lookie here,” Colt said, turning toward Bobbi, who stood and inched her way
along the pew to give him a hug. “It’s the Bodacious Gallagher.”

“It’s the Bodacious
Lewis
now,” Trey corrected from his seat.

Colt and Bobbi embraced, holding on a bit too long for Leah’s comfort. From the look
of Trey’s creased forehead, he wasn’t pleased either. When they parted, Bobbi took
Colt’s face in her hands and said, “You look great. How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” he replied, but Leah knew better. She’d noticed his careful footsteps and
the way he sometimes kneaded his lower back with the heel of his hand.

Bobbi sat back down, and Colt nodded at Carlo, extending one fist for a bump. “Little
Hammer,” he said, snickering in what was clearly an inside joke. Then Colt noticed
June for the first time, and his eyes went wide. “Whoa,” he said, pointing at her
mammoth belly. “Any day now, huh?”

June’s narrowed gaze said she wasn’t amused. “I’m not due till the end of January.”

“
What?
” Colt leaned to the side to study her more closely. “Is it twins?”

You could cut a tomato on the sharp edge of June’s voice. “No.”

“You sure?” Colt asked. “’Cause those ultrasounds don’t catch everything. I’ve heard
one baby can hide behind the other.”

Luke swept a protective hand over his wife’s tummy. “It’s not twins, dickhead.”

“Language!” June hissed with an elbow to Luke’s ribs.

Luke rolled his eyes and crossed himself, never mind that none of them were Catholic,
and Leah decided to break up the mini-reunion before anyone came to blows. She waved
good-bye and threaded one arm through Colt’s, tugging him away from the group.

“Okay,” she whispered, “you should go before the—”

Without letting her finish, he interlaced their fingers and led her down the aisle
to a middle row with two vacant seats on the inside. He half-ushered, half-shoved
her in, then followed and sat down, trapping her between his massive body and that
of his step-grandma, Prudence Foster-Bea, whose knees touched the pew in front of
her. If Leah wanted out, she’d have to climb over Colt’s lap, and the smug, smiling
jerk knew it.

Colt patted the oak beside him. “Looks like the service is gonna start soon. You’d
better settle in.”

“You’re really staying?” she asked.

“I didn’t get all spiffed up just to bring you a pack of gum, honey.” He rested his
ankle on the opposite knee and stretched an arm along the back of the pew, making
himself right at home. And leaving very little space for her. But if Colt thought
he’d manipulate her into an impromptu cuddle fest, he had another thing coming. She
lowered to the pew’s edge and sat straighter than a schoolmarm, managing not to make
contact with anyone.

That’s how she sang the opening hymn, and afterward, bowed her head for the invocation.
It’s how she made her offering when the collection plate came around, and clapped
her hands to congratulate the new baptisms. It’s how she listened as Daddy thanked
the fellowship for their prayers during his recovery, and detailed the upcoming Bible
Study social. But by the time Daddy began relaying the story of the Prodigal Son,
Leah’s unnaturally stiff posture had given her a backache. Her muscles trembled, her
thighs burned, and she was forced to admit that she couldn’t keep this up much longer.

Faking a yawn and a stretch, she snuck a glance at Colt, who never took his eyes off
the pulpit. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was actually paying attention.
As slowly as she could stand, Leah slid her tushie to the rear of the bench and rested
against the seatback, silently groaning with relief. She relaxed against Colton one
muscle group at a time—first her shoulder against his chest, then her leg pressed
to his thigh, and finally her neck molding to the strong arm wrapped around her from
behind.

Just as she’d feared, Colt was warm and solid and smelled of bold aftershave. He seemed
to relax into her, too, tipping his head a little nearer and stroking her hair with
his fingertips. Mercy, he felt so good. Even the brush of his trousers against her
bare calf made her all twitterpated.

She had to get it together if she stood any chance against Colt’s wiles. Leaning forward
a moment, she gathered her hair to one side so he couldn’t play with it. Not much,
but at least it was a start.

“…my own sweet Leah…”

She flinched at the echo of her name though the speaker system.

“…who returned to me a couple of weeks ago,” Daddy said. “And like the man in the
parable, I welcomed her home with wide-open arms and a joyful heart—because a father’s
love is eternal. I know that my Father will receive me into the Kingdom of Heaven
with that same spirit of forgiveness, because His love is eternal too.”

Leah stared at her folded hands, feeling the weight of a hundred gazes on her shoulders.

“But the elder son didn’t share his father’s enthusiasm,” Daddy went on. “He resented
his brother for leaving, and refused to pardon his sins. He let moral superiority
keep him from true happiness, and that’s a sin in its own right.” Daddy gripped the
lectern and fell silent for a few seconds. “Brothers and sisters, aren’t you glad
the Lord doesn’t hold grudges like that?”

Leah understood what her father was doing—sending a clear message for his sheep to
play nice and accept her back into the fold. She wondered if his desire to keep her
in town had something to do with this, but she quickly criticized herself. Daddy loved
her and wanted her to be happy. He didn’t have an ulterior motive.

“Whose actions will you emulate?” Daddy asked the congregation. “The older son, hardened
by bitterness and anger, or our Father, who’s willing to wipe the slate clean for
all of us?”

At those words, Pru reached over and gave Leah’s hand a hearty pat, a message of acceptance
that was likely the first of many to come. She expected Colt to do the same—to use
any excuse to touch her—but he pulled his arm free and leaned forward, resting both
elbows on his knees. His withdrawal left more than just the back of her neck cold.

He pulled a donation envelope and mini-pencil from the rack in front of him and sat
back to scrawl a message, keeping it covered so she couldn’t see. When he’d finished,
he tossed the envelope into her lap.

The preacher got me all inspired. Guess I’ll forgive you for the other night.

What? He’d forgive
her
? What an arrogant jackass! She snatched a pencil of her own and replied,
I don’t think so!!! I’ll forgive YOU for the other night!
She passed it back.

A moment later, he wrote,
Awesome. Now that we’re all made up, let’s have dinner.
When she stared at the paper without responding, he yanked it back and added,
Friends have dinner all the time. It’s no biggie.

She knew better. Dinner with Colt would send the wrong message, so she told him,
That’s a bad idea.

No, it’s not
, he argued.
Drunk, naked cow-tipping is a bad idea, especially when there’s a bull in the field.
(Not that I’d know, or anything.)

Her mouth twitched in a smile.
No.

Colt shrugged and folded his arms, then focused on the sermon. Or pretended to.

After the benediction, Daddy made his way down to greet them. He extended a hand to
Colt, who gave it a firm shake.

“Nice to see you here, Sheriff,” Daddy said. “I don’t think you’ve made it to one
of our services before.”

“No, sir,” Colt answered. “But I reckon I’ll come around next week too.”

Daddy rocked back on his heels, pleased at the prospect of a new convert. “How’d you
like to join us for supper?”

Leah’s brows shot up her forehead. “I’m sure Colton has plans.” She locked eyes with
him. “Isn’t that right?”

“Not at all.” A shit-eating grin curved Colt’s mouth, pardon her language. “I’d love
to come over, especially if Leah’s cooking.”

“She sure is,” Daddy told him. “Chicken and dumplings, with angel food cake for dessert.”

“Angel food?” Colt’s grin grew impossibly wider. “That’s my favorite kind.”

She had a feeling he was referring to more than cake.

“Great,” Daddy said, patting Colt’s arm. “See you at six.”

***

Colt could get used to this.

He finished his second bowlful of chicken and pastry, then pushed back from the table
to help Leah clear the dishes. She’d changed from her Sunday skirt and blouse into
a pair of loose cotton pants and the same oversized Vikings sweatshirt she’d worn
to the station last week. She looked so dag-blasted cute in her little socked feet
and her hair up in a ponytail. It made him want to snuggle with her on the sofa to
watch football. Or better yet, peel off her clothes and make love on the sofa with
the game playing in the background. Oh, yeah. That was perfection, right there.

In that moment, he glimpsed a snippet of their future together—a thousand lazy Sundays
just like this—and he liked what he saw. If he could only get her to share that vision…

Leah pulled a couple of tubs from the refrigerator and asked him, “You want strawberries
and whipped cream on your cake?”