In Emmylou's Hands

Audrey gave him a huge hug. The first time a good-looking woman had hugged him with happiness instead of sympathy in eight years.

It felt damn good.

* * *

“MATCH? AS IN give dollar-for-dollar everything you make?” Emmy grabbed the can of hair spray from her workstation at the salon and added the final touches to Audrey’s newly straightened locks. “Girl, you’ve got the most gorgeous natural color I’ve ever seen. You need to let me go wild with the teasing someday. And then you could put on a crop top and short shorts and look just like one of those models in the Guess ads. Mark would get an erection so hard he’d pole vault over the bed.”

Her friend’s face turned as red as her hair, and she did a quick glance around to see if anybody else heard. The quietest of her friends, Audrey was easy to shock, so of course Emmy tried every chance she got. “You’ve got weird thought processes, Emmy,” Audrey observed. “We were discussing Sol’s raffle contribution. How you went from that to Mark’s erection—” she whispered the last two words “—is beyond me.”

“You want me to explain?” Emmy made eye contact with Audrey in the mirror. “It just occurred to me that Sol’s doing this nice thing, which seems totally out of character for someone who goes around with a sneer on his face ninety-nine percent of the time.” Audrey opened her mouth, probably to take up for him, but Emmy wouldn’t hear it. “Don’t give me all that but he’s crippled crap. Everybody’s got stuff they have to deal with, and yeah, he took a bullet or something and I hate that for him, but he doesn’t have to act like the whole world’s his enemy.” She used the end of the comb to lift the hair at Audrey’s crown to form a perfect bump. “Soooo, I was thinking that he’s got a hard-on for the world, but it’s totally different from the hard-on Mark would have for you if you dressed up like one of those models in the Guess ads.”

Audrey dropped her head back and winked. “God, you are such a freak. But I love you anyway.”

“What’s not to love?” Emmy propped her hands on her hips and thrust her chest out, eyeing herself in the mirror. She worked hard at staying fit and doing everything humanly possible to fight the years. But it was Saturday, and while Audrey was going home to a husband who loved her, EmmyLou Creighton would be spending the night alone.

With a show of the innate closeness the two of them had developed, her dog Bentley came to her then and nudged her hand with his nose. He’d gotten too big to pick up, but she squatted and gave him a tight hug as Audrey stood up and stretched.

“It’s hard to believe Bentley and Bandit came from the same litter.” Audrey scratched Bentley behind the ears.

“What’s hard to believe is that anybody would’ve dropped off a precious mama dog like Cher and her puppies. Some people are just too ornery for words.” Emmy kissed Bentley several times around the eyes. “I think Cher showed herself to you on purpose, knowing you’d take her in and find good homes for her babies. Probably even knew you’d keep one, they were so stinking cute. I know I was a goner for Bentley as soon as I saw him and those big puppy eyes. That’s why he’s so big. Nobody can resist him, so everybody feeds him.” He licked her nose, which made her laugh. She wasn’t going home alone tonight after all. She’d be in the company of Bentley, who adored her. “Sol Beecher’s one of those people who are too ornery for words, too. The man needs a dog to get his mind off himself.”

Audrey laughed and shook her head as she laid her payment on Emmy’s workstation. “And the conversation has come full circle back to Sol.”

“So he’s gonna match the funds, huh?” He was doing a good deed, but it made her peevish just the same. Everything about the man made her feel that way.

“That’s what he said.” Audrey nodded. “I even called him later in the week to see if he wanted to change his mind. I mean, this could turn out to be pretty expensive for him. But he insisted that he wants to match dollar-for-dollar.”

An idea popped into Emmy’s mind, no doubt borne on peevish wings—a way she could raise more money for the school and aggravate the hell out of Sol Beecher in the process.

“Give me a stack of those raffle tickets, Audrey.” She smiled innocently at her friend. “I’ll bet I can sell jillions of them here at the salon.”

* * *

EVERY SEAT WAS filled in Taylor’s Grove Elementary’s gymnasium/cafeteria on raffle drawing night. The cacophony rivaled that of a basketball game, and the crowd of bodies had heated the temperature at least fifteen degrees since Sol had arrived—reluctant, but here nevertheless.

Audrey’s plan to thank him publicly for his donation made him as uncomfortable as wearing a wool suit in July. In fact, he’d initially refused to attend when she first brought it up. But then they’d sent in the big guns in the form of little Tess, whose pleading gray eyes had been his undoing. So here he was, having given up his seat to Miss Beulah May Johnson, with his leg aching so badly he had to smile through clenched teeth, speaking to people and pretending to be enjoying himself when all he wanted to do was get the hell out of there and go home where he could gnash his teeth in private.

His checkbook was hollering louder than his stump, though. This event was about to set him back twenty-three hundred twenty dollars. When he’d told Audrey he’d match whatever they made, he’d expected the usual thousand or so, maybe less since they were charging ten dollars a ticket. He’d never have guessed Taylor’s Grove residents would give up tens so readily. Apparently a week at the beach was a hotter commodity than he’d realized. The kids had even set up tables around the squares in nearby towns and sold the hell out of tickets in places where Taylor’s Grove Elementary was considered a rival.

The donation was for a worthy cause—as many new computers as the money would buy—so it was hard for him to be too disturbed about the high amount.

What did disturb him, though, was the wicked grin EmmyLou Creighton shot his way just now as she entered. It was as though her eyes had sought him out of the crowd when she walked into the gym even though she wasn’t usually prone to smile at him at all. Her high heels announced her approach to Audrey, who looked surprised but thrilled to see her. Actually, every man in the place looked thrilled to see her in the tight lime-green skirt that pulled the eye straight to her ass no matter how hard you tried to look away.

The temperature in the gym rose another twenty degrees...

An astonished look swept over Audrey’s face when Emmy handed her an envelope, and then both women glanced his way. Audrey’s look was wide-eyed and apologetic, while EmmyLou’s smile oozed with smug.

Oh shit. The price has just gone up.

A trickle of sweat found the crease along the center of his spine, which he straightened as Audrey headed his way. His gaze locked with Emmy’s and stayed there. “I don’t care how much it is,” he whispered when Audrey got close. “I’ll match it.”

“But, Sol, it’s—”

“Dollar-for-dollar, Audrey. I gave my word.” He broke eye contact with Emmy and caught Audrey’s smile. The gleam in her eye elevated him to hero status—a place he hadn’t been in a long time. It sent a flicker of warmth through him. Of course, he didn’t dare look Emmy’s way again. The brunette had bested him and she knew it—and looking at her was what she expected every man to do.

But for the first time in a long time, desire flushed through him. Not a desire to get laid. A desire to get even.

The sassy siren needed to be taught that she couldn’t get her way about everything.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Emmy clicking her way toward him, hips swaying with more action than a tow sack full of cats in heat. His chest tightened with a breath that caught on an inhale. Thankfully she was merely taking the seat that Arlo James had offered.

It was at the end of the row where Sol stood, close enough that he caught the scent of her perfume once his breathing resumed. It was nice...light. Not at all the scent he would’ve imagined a woman like EmmyLou Creighton wearing. He would’ve pegged her as the kind whose perfume invaded your nose before she invaded your space and then hung around long after she was gone. And—

Why in the hell was he dwelling on the woman’s damn perfume? Wouldn’t she have loved that?

He swiveled to lean his back against the wall, shifting his weight to his artificial leg.

Emmy cast a sidelong look his direction that started at his knee and moved up slowly to his face. “You want to sit?”

“Naw.” The scowl he gave her came naturally, stemming from part pain, part anger and part embarrassment that a woman was offering him her damn seat. “I’m good.” He crossed his arms over his chest and pushed away from the wall. “But you keep traipsing around in those heels and someday you’ll limp worse than I do.”

She arched one cool eyebrow. “I’ll only limp worse than you do if one of them breaks off.”

Sol could swear he felt a vacuum as the people within earshot sucked in a simultaneous breath.

Nobody spoke to him like that. Nobody ever mentioned his leg. They treated it like the crazy cousin confined to the attic in years past. Everybody knew it was there, but no one was willing to bring it up. People kept their eyes averted, but he could feel the looks.

This woman had balls, although how she could hide them under that tight skirt was beyond him. He snorted a half laugh at the thought...just as Audrey approached the microphone.

Thank God this would all be over soon.

* * *

EMMY HAD NEVER been to one of these raffle nights and hadn’t realized it would go on for...forever, if the numbness of her butt was any indication.

She really needed to get up, and stubborn-ass Sol Beecher standing next to her obviously needed to sit. She heard his painful grunts every time his weight shifted. But she’d offered once, and he’d come back with one of his smart-ass answers uttered through that ever-present scowl. She wouldn’t offer again.

The man had major attitude problems. What had she ever seen in him? Besides the sculpted chest and broad shoulders that filled out those T-shirts he was so fond of wearing. And he did have gorgeous brown eyes that caught you by surprise because his hair was a golden, sun-streaked blond.

But that hair! She shivered in disgust. What used to be cute, sexy, surfer dude shaggy was now just flat-out unkempt and screamed I don’t give a rat’s ass. Oh, it was clean—she’d give him that. But just once she’d like to go at it with a pair of her shears.

The thought of running her fingers through his fresh, just-cut hair brought on the familiar sensation that curled low in her belly.

Seriously...sad sack Sol? Oh, please... She rolled her eyes at her overactive imagination.

But her butt tingled to life as the eighth graders started their skit.

Whatever it takes to get through this, she decided.