Sweet Southern Nights

Eva had kissed him.

And though at first he’d been shocked to the toes of his Brooks running shoes, he’d settled into it and enjoyed all one point seven seconds of the kiss.

But then Eva had stopped kissing him, wiping her mouth and looking horrified.

As though she’d walked into junior high naked.

Plain appalled.

He’d stepped back and arched an eyebrow and simply said, “Wow.”

She’d looked as if she might choke, her face flooding with color, her eyes bulging, hands fluttering at her side. She’d managed an “excuse me” before bolting through the door he’d shut, leaving him behind not knowing how to handle what had just happened.

“Hey, Jake,” his brother Matt called, waving from behind the tables set up with cash registers donated by Maggio’s Office Supply store, according to the sign that said as much. “I need more of this paper tape. Can you grab Ma and see where she put the supplies?”

Jake waved a hand in affirmation, scanning the crowded hall filled with racks of coats, tables of folded jeans and shelves holding knickknacks. He saw his sister and her fiancé, Leif, his niece Birdie, who was walking around selling raffle tickets for a quilt stitched by his aunt Opal, and his brother John’s wife, Shelby, who was hand-selling some strappy shoes to Merlene Dibbles, who had no business wearing anything strappy. His father swilled coffee at the refreshment table with several other men, shooting the breeze, no doubt discussing the likelihood of St. George’s football team making the playoffs again. But he didn’t see his mother.

And he didn’t see Eva.

Maybe she hadn’t come. She hadn’t answered any texts or phone calls he made from Ray-Ray’s last night. Which meant she was avoiding him. Which meant the ball was in his court. And he didn’t know how to handle this situation other than to get it out in the open and talk about it. Wasn’t going to go away. And since their shift started Monday at five o’clock in the evening, they couldn’t continue avoiding it.

He looked at Matt, who’d just finished checking out several ladies carrying totes provided by First Magnolia Bank. “Hey, where’s Mom?”

Matt didn’t look up. “Dunno. If I did, I wouldn’t need you to get me the paper.”

“Right.” Jake made his way down the housewares aisle, smiling at people he’d known forever plus a day, almost colliding with a cute three-year-old escapee who was making for the toy section with the harried mother following behind. He finally made it to his dad.

“And that’s why we’ll struggle on offense. Gary’s got to get that o-line beefed up. Feed those boys,” Dan Beauchamp said before slapping him on the back. “Right, son?”

“Uh, right. Hey, where’s Mom?”

His dad shrugged. “Saw her head to the kitchen with Eva.”

Dread pinged inside Jake. He knew what he had to do, but he liked talking about emotions just as much as every other man liked talking about emotions...which meant not at all.

Thing was he’d liked kissing Eva, and that was bad news. From the very beginning, when he’d found out that the chief had hired a woman in order to diversify the department, he’d vowed to leave her the hell alone. Every man knew you didn’t shit where you ate. Or whatever that saying was. So before he’d even met Eva, he’d vowed to not go there. When all the other guys hemmed and hawed about sharing a shift with her, he’d stepped up. Hell, he liked the idea of having someone different to shoot the shit with. Moon wore him out with talk of hunting everything that moved, and Martin wanted to play dominos nonstop. He figured having a woman around would be interesting. And Jake liked interesting.

But then Eva had walked into the station with her dark hair braided, face free of makeup, a confident smile in place, and he’d felt shell-shocked. This wasn’t the way a firefighter should look, so...so pretty. Wasn’t as if she was delicate or girly, either. Quite the contrary, Eva was athletic, fit, full of vitality. Her squared jaw gave her a sexiness he wasn’t supposed to notice, and she looked mighty fine in the uniform that had been tucked in at a trim waist with the baggy pants failing to hide the rounded hips and tight ass. He’d been hit with full-on attraction.

So he’d shaken her hand, excused himself while the chief gave her the tour of the main station, went to the bathroom, sat on the toilet and had a little talk with himself. When he’d finally come out, to Moon joking about the burrito he’d eaten the night before, Jake had determined he’d treat Eva just like he treated Abigail. Treat her like a sister. Respect her, protect her and bug the hell out of her. And never, ever see her as anything but a friend. No ifs, ands or buts. Eva Monroe was off-limits.

But yesterday had changed everything.

Last night he’d been haunted by the way she’d felt against him, breasts to chest, pelvis to pelvis, lips to lips. It had felt so damn good it had shaken him to his core...and that was probably why he dreaded seeing Eva today. If it had really been nothing, it would be one thing, but she’d knocked down that careful wall of friendship he’d built years ago, and he could no longer pretend the attraction didn’t exist. Like the flip of a light switch, he’d gotten turned on to what kissing Eva was like. And that was very dangerous. He felt off-kilter, as if he might do something crazy. Like kiss her again.

He pushed through the swinging door into the huge stainless-steel kitchen, where they prepared the monthly Feed Our Neighbors dinner. His mother and Eva were deep in conversation.

Fancy’s head jerked up. “Jake, glad you’re here. Take this receipt tape to Matt.”

Eva didn’t look at him. Instead, she fiddled with her fingernails, picking at her cuticles. Probably meant she was avoiding him or uncomfortable.

Duh.

“Sure. That’s actually what I came for,” he said, deftly catching the roll of paper his mother tossed to him. “Morning, Eva.”

“Morning,” she said, not lifting her gaze.

He stood there for a minute, and his mom gave him a puzzled look.

“Hey, E, when you have a sec, I wanted to talk to you,” he said. They couldn’t go on like this. They’d have to talk about it. Put it behind them so they could go back to the way they were before. Just f-r-i-e-n-d-s.

He had no clue why he’d spelled it out in his thoughts, but then again, he had no idea how he was going to see Eva as his sister ever again.

“Sure,” she said, still not meeting his gaze.

And that’s when Fancy caught on to the discomfort. She looked from him back to Eva and then back to him, lifting an eyebrow. Jake tried to warn her with his eyes, but she plunged in anyway. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” they both said in unison.

“Huh,” Fancy said, her eyes narrowing. “Well, none of my business anyway.”

Which was code for “I’ll rake you over the coals later, Jakey.” His mother didn’t like being out of the loop. Her job was to manage the lives of her children, leaning heavily at times, backing off at others. She danced the Mom dance rather well.

“That’s right,” Jake said, giving her the nod. The one that said, “Don’t bother. I won’t give up my secrets.”

Fancy just smiled. “I’ll see you later, Jakey.”

Jake sighed and melted out the door, back into the chaos of the rummage sale. The buzz of conversation had elevated to a dull roar in the acoustically challenged community hall. Jake ducked around a gaggle of women arguing over which purse would be the right size for the LSU home opener that weekend and ran right into his brother John.

“Here, hold her,” his brother said, shoving Jake’s five-month-old niece into his arms. Lindsay cooed and gave him a toothless, drooly grin. “I gotta pi...uh, go to the bathroom.”

“Wait—” Jake said, tucking the receipt tape under his arm and shifting the baby to his left arm.

Lindsay smacked him in the face with a wet hand, and John disappeared behind the women, heading toward the lobby and the restrooms located there. The baby hit him again.

“Hey, Linds. Don’t go abusing your ol’ uncle Jake,” he said, smiling at the baby who had blond wisps sticking out all over her head and blue-green eyes that crinkled when she laughed at him. “Oh, you think that’s funny?”

He tickled her little round belly, making her squeal.

“Well, if that don’t melt an old woman’s heart,” someone said to his right. He turned to find Carla Stanton standing there.

“Mrs. Stanton. How you doin’ this fine morning?” he asked, trying to avoid Lindsay’s fingers creeping into his mouth.

“Pretty good. Still getting over a headache. My blood pressure was out of whack,” she said, her eyes not on him but instead riveted to the baby he held. “That’s John’s baby, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake said, juggling the baby, who stared at Carla with wide eyes before squealing again as if she had something to say to the older woman.

Carla was John’s late wife’s mother, who had given John and Shelby a lot of grief when they’d first gotten together last fall. Bitter with pain over the death of her only child, she’d held on tight to the idea John couldn’t...wouldn’t be happy if her daughter couldn’t be happy. Hadn’t mattered that Rebecca was dead. But Shelby, Jake’s vivacious, generous new sister-in-law, had taken the high road, insisting they name their daughter in remembrance of the woman who John had loved and lost. Lindsay Rebecca Beauchamp was radiantly untouched by the pettiness of adults and turned all her adorableness on the older woman who’d nearly ruined her mother’s life.