Sugar on Top (Sugar, Georgia Book 2) Page 13

  “Yes, ma’am.” With a sheepish smile, Skeeter took off.

  “So why are you all here again?” Glory asked as plates filled and forks stabbed, wishing she could just disappear. Except she’d called Charlotte to get a better understanding of how the pageant side of the festival works, and to brainstorm ideas for how to make this year’s Cotillion something that the girls of Sugar would remember—all the girls of Sugar.

  “Because rumor has it you grew a pair,” Spencer said around bits of pulled pork and bun.

  “You said you wanted to light up Ms. Kitty.” Charlotte lowered her voice. “So I called in backup.”

  Glory felt everything inside her still. She had never had girl backup. Oh, she’d had Brett and the blue-haired brigade, but this felt different. This felt all warm and mushy and what having girlfriends was like. Maybe Jelly Lou had been right and all she had to do was open up—push down the fear of being rejected and reach out.

  She had, and it worked, and suddenly she wanted to cry. Not the kind of tears that burned through, but the ones that warmed from the inside out and reminded her that every day was a fresh start at finding happiness.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Glory admitted.

  “How about you start with how I get to help you stick it to a Duncan,” Spencer said, not a hint of humor lacing her words. “That’s why I came. And the ribs.”

  “I don’t want to stick it to the Duncans,” Glory said and then, because she wasn’t big on lying, added, “Much. I want to make this year’s pageant accessible for all the eligible girls, and the Sugar Pull fair.”

  “And I think the best place to start is to find a new location,” Charlotte said. “One that offers everything that the Duncan Plantation has, only better. Which is why”—she flashed her dazzling smile Joie’s way—“I was thinking the Fairchild House would be a perfect solution. It’s a historical building, has plenty of property for the Sugar Pull, and the stage Cal built for your grand opening last year would be perfect for the Presenting Ceremony.”

  “And there is the dance floor,” Spencer added.

  Last year, Joie had moved to Sugar to turn her great-aunt’s dilapidated boardinghouse into a five-star culinary retreat and rejuvenation destination, making Fairchild House one of the top-rated and most popular boutique hotels in the South. And not only did it have everything they needed to host and feed a few hundred people, but it didn’t belong to Ms. Kitty. Which made it perfect.

  “As long as the inn isn’t already booked that weekend, the place is yours,” Joie said while double fisting two ribs. “I’ll donate the location, tables, and chairs. And twinkle lights. I have lots of twinkle lights.”

  “Are you sure?” Glory asked, blown away with gratitude. “We can pay you.”

  Charlotte cleared her throat and made a slicing motion with her hand.

  Right, every dollar spent on a location was one less dollar toward some girl’s education. And what was the point of making the pageant accessible to girls who could really benefit if there were no benefits to be had? She didn’t want to plan a glorified prom.

  “I mean, not a lot, but surely something to offset your costs.”

  Joie waved a rib at the offer. “You can pay me back by helping me paint the nursery. Brett is set on a golf theme and Pixie here wants fairies.”

  Charlotte clasped her hands in delight. “You’re having a girl?”

  Joie stopped mid-bite, set her rib down, and leveled the whole table with a look. “Does it matter? Fairies are unisex these days, which is what you will tell Brett when you all show up to our painting party. In fairy wings.”

  “Told you,” Spencer said. “Mean.”

  “We will be there with wings on,” Charlotte, always the peacemaker, said. “I’ll look into party rental costs and see if the company the hospital uses for our Annual Gala can cut us a deal.”

  “I can call around about caterers,” Joie offered.

  All eyes went to Spencer, who was licking BBQ sauce off her fingers. “What?”

  “If we’re going to take on Kitty, we need to make sure we have all the bases covered,” Charlotte explained.

  “Fine, I’ll come and look intimidating,” Spencer offered. “As the official Sugar Pull mechanic, she won’t want to piss me off.”

  “Why? Because then you’ll tow her damn truck,” Jackson said, storming up to the table with two days’ worth of stubble, enough dust to cause acute asthma, and an expression that said he was short on humor and a ride home.

  “Afternoon, Sheriff,” Charlotte chimed in.

  Jackson gave a self-conscious nod, as though just realizing there were other people at the table. “Ladies, pardon the language…and the smell.” He went back to glaring at Spencer. “Where the hel—heck is my truck?”

  “Was that your truck, JD?” Spencer sat back and stuck a toothpick between her teeth. “The one that was parked at an expired meter for over twenty-four hours?”

  “You know damn…darn well it was. And I was out on department business, leading a search and rescue in the mountains behind Magnolia Falls. A couple of backwoods boys got drunk and started shooting at the fish, pissed off a bear who chased them halfway to Alabama, then pissed themselves when they realized they were halfway up a cliff. It took ten hours to get to them and another six for the rope team extract. They rode home in my car.”

  “Sounds like a rough night.” Spencer crinkled her nose. “Smells even worse.”

  “Which is why if you don’t tell me where my truck is in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to walk my smelly ass across the street and let myself into your apartment. Then I will sleep for the rest of the week in your bed so you can experience firsthand just how bad it was.”

  “If you’re looking for an invite to my bed, all you had to do was ask, Sheriff,” Spencer said, and Jackson’s ears went pink.

  “Where’s my truck, Lavender?”

  Spencer blinked and, no way, the tough, don’t-screw-with-me mechanic was blushing. At the sheriff. Which must have ticked Spencer off because she threw her napkin at him. “Impound yard, JD.”

  “Impound?” He laughed. “You’re slacking. I’ll have it out in ten minutes. Tops.” He looked at the table and nodded, “Ladies,” then grabbed Spencer’s sandwich right off her plate and headed out the door, a colony of dust bunnies stuck to his ass.

  “How long do you think it will take for him to figure out his truck is impounded in Magnolia Falls?” Charlotte asked.

  A loud shout came from outside, followed by a blue streak that had the restaurant going silent. Jessie James starting howling.

  “It’s been fun, ladies.” Spencer stood and dropped a twenty on the table. “See you at the next meeting?”

  Chapter 10

  Thursday night, Cal wanted nothing more than to throw back a few cold ones with his crew. The foundation had been poured, stripped, and they’d finally started damp proofing the sublevels. He was beat, needed a shower, and some time to unwind.

  What he didn’t need was a night at his sister-in-law’s. But Joie had called earlier to let him know they were back from the babymoon and that she wanted him to come over, without Hattie or Payton, supposedly for a nice dinner to catch up.

  He was pretty sure it was a setup.

  Lately, everything with Brett and Joie seemed to be a setup. At least the women Joie picked were nice, sweet, and easy to ignore.

  Cal had been betting on the fact that she’d be too busy being pregnant to meddle. Unfortunately, his sister-in-law had made it her life’s mission to see Cal happy, settled, and loved—three things that he did not need a wife to accomplish. He had a great family, great friends, and his company had doubled in size over the past year. So happiness level—check. His life was as settled as it could be for a single dad—uh, check and check. And his daughter owned his heart.

  What more could a guy want?

  Okay, he could think of one thing he wanted.

  Glory. Sparring with her had been exciting, challe
nging, a complete turn-on. Being with her, talking about his life, had felt like more than a connection. It had felt intimate, like intellectual foreplay that was as surprising as it was refreshing. And in spite of the overwhelming odds that he and Glory together would be a complete disaster, he still wanted her. Bad. Even though logic told him that nothing about them worked or even made sense.

  But Cal was a man, so sex always managed to overrule logic. And sex with Glory would be hot and intense and like free-falling through a freaking category five tornado. Too bad the aftermath would be much of the same, which was why he was pulling into his brother’s drive and not the Saddle Rack with his crew.

  He turned onto the gravel road leading to Brett and Joie’s new place when his phone chirped. He looked at the screen and swore before answering. “Hey, Tawny.”

  “You didn’t return my call.” Tawny’s voice filled the cab of his truck.

  Cal had promised himself that, for Payton’s sake, he’d be civil with his ex-wife—some days were harder than others. Between Tawny bailing on the Pep-Luck, Payton giving him the silent treatment, and him swinging hammers in triple digits all week, today was one of those days.

  “Didn’t know you called,” he drawled. Tawny hated his drawl, said it made him sound small town.

  “Four times. On the fifth try, your grandmother answered and I told her to have you call me.” Which explained why he never got it. Hattie was never a big fan of Tawny’s. After the way she screwed Cal over in the divorce, then failed to show up at nearly every milestone Payton had reached along the way, Hattie had thrown down redneck style and declared Tawny dead to her.

  To make sure that his ex got the message, as well as the rest of the town, Hattie placed an ad in the Sugar Gazette—the obituary section.

  “Did she tell you to try my cell?”

  “No, she didn’t speak but I could hear her judgment through the phone.” Tawny let out a few judgmental huffs of her own. “The woman is crazy and disrespectful and it kills me that Payton might pick up on her treatment of me. A girl should never see her mother being disrespected.”

  “I’ll talk to Hattie.” Although he knew it would accomplish jack shit.

  “Good, because how are we supposed to co-parent if I can’t even leave you a message?”

  “Call my cell,” he repeated, resisting the urge to point out that in order to co-parent, both parties had to show up. “What’s up?”

  “It’s about this weekend.”

  “You aren’t canceling again, are you? Payton is really looking forward to spending time with you.”

  “Of course I’m not,” she spat.

  Thank God, he thought as he drove his truck around the gravel circle and threw it into Park.

  “You act like I’m a bad parent, Cal.” He was so not going there. “Between work and Randal’s promotion, things are just busy around here.”

  Cal rolled his eyes. Tawny’s work consisted of looking good and hosting parties so Randy looked good. And Randy’s promotion meant that he got to make more guilty rich men look less guilty.

  “In fact, he just landed a new account with a big oil company based out of Houston and I have to get him to the airport, which is why I’m calling.”

  And here it came, the reason she was going to give for breaking her daughter’s heart. Cal leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling wondering what he’d been thinking the night they met.

  Tawny was gorgeous and sexy and exciting—and had a selfish stick shoved so far up her ass he had no idea why it took him so long to see it.

  “I was hoping you could bring Payton to Atlanta tomorrow.”

  “Payton has practice after school, which she can’t miss.” Missing school events, extracurricular or not, without both parents agreeing broke their custody agreement. Tawny knew that. “And I have three different crews coming out to the medical center site tomorrow.”

  “I was going to treat her to a girls retreat in Atlanta, spend the weekend getting manicures and shopping.”

  All things that Payton would love, and he felt shitty saying no, but he’d been here, done this song and dance with Tawny before, and it never worked out in his favor. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do if it meant Payton getting to spend time with her mom, but tomorrow was a big day for the project and he had to be on-site. Period.

  “There is no way I can get away. So you’ll need to come get her as planned and I will pick her up Sunday as planned.”

  “Well, I can’t come get her, Cal,” she said in that same tone that used to make him feel like the biggest disappointment in the history of mankind. Now it just pissed him off. “For God’s sake, it’s just a couple hours out of your day.”

  “Four. Four hours round trip. Which, like I said, I don’t have.”

  “Well, then you can tell Payton we’ll have to reschedule. I’m sure she’ll understand.” The phone went dead.

  “Always a pleasure,” he said to the silence, tired of seeing his baby girl get the short end of every Tawny-inspired situation. Tired of watching his ex manipulate the situation so he wound up looking like the bad guy. Cal was just damn tired.

  Releasing a breath, he turned off the truck and climbed out. Even though the sun was setting, and their place sat on the edge of Sugar Lake, the evening air was still heavy with heat and reminders of being home again.

  Of what it felt like to love hard and lose big.

  Cal made his way up the wide front steps, trying to keep his emotions at bay. Even though his parents had been gone a long time, and Brett’s new farmhouse with a kid-ready porch and clapboard siding had erased every physical reminder of the fire that had shattered their family, being there was still hard. Being there after his blowout with Tawny was suffocating.

  Up until recently, Cal would drive an hour around the lake if it meant avoiding his parents’ old property. Looking at the charred remains of his childhood had been a painful reminder of just how much he’d lost, how that one night had changed everything. He’d gone from a carefree college student with a bright future, loving parents, and a life of his own to head of the house with two brothers to raise and no chance of leaving Sugar, all in one summer storm.

  “Hey.” Cal tapped on the screen door before letting himself inside.

  “We’re around back,” Joie hollered.

  He walked through the front room, admiring the distressed pinewood floors and dramatically framed archways. His crew had done a top-notch job on the build, and Joie had designed the kind of house that his mom would have been at home in. The kind of house he’d dreamt of building for his own family.

  Following female laughter through the kitchen, which looked like Iron Chef tied the knot with Paula Dean, he opened the French doors and found the one woman he’d been set on avoiding.

  “Evening,” he said and four sets of female eyes looked up at him. Three of them were twinkling with welcome, and one looked as shocked to see him as he was to see her.

  Sundress Glory sat at the head of the table. Her hair hung in soft waves over her shoulders, her lips were lightly glossed, and her dress was a pale pink with tiny buttons and even tinier straps. She looked so beautiful and delicate, and out of nowhere, Cal felt a sharp tug in his chest that made breathing impossible.

  Convincing himself that there was nothing but heat between them while watching her sling beers was one thing. Convincing himself of that while she sat there all soft and sweet and down-home girl-next-door was another.

  “Cal.” Joie pushed off the chair and came around the table for a hug, her belly making contact before her arms fully wrapped around his middle. “You made it.”

  “You said six, right?” He looked at his watch. “It’s six.”

  “I figured you’d find some excuse to get out of coming.” She grabbed a pitcher of sweet tea and poured him a glass. “Have a seat, we’re just finishing up. You know all the girls, right?”

  He forced his eyes off Glory to acknowledge the rest of the table—a hard task when she was lookin
g every bit the sweet Georgia peach right then.

  At the opposite side of the table, sitting by Joie’s now empty chair, was a willowy blonde who looked familiar. She was a real mom type, short layered hair, big brown eyes, sweater set, cute enough, and blushing up at him like—

  Oh, hell no. There was no way his luck could be this bad. He looked at Joie and she was vibrating with excitement.

  “You already know Charlotte and Glory.” Joie ticked them off so fast he didn’t even have time to do anything but nod. “And this. This is Anna. She’s new in town, has a girl Payton’s age on the cheer team, and is my new event planner at the inn.”

  “Hey, Cal,” Anna said, standing and offering up her hand. “It’s good to see you again.” Cal must have worn a blank expression because she added, “I was working the juice booth at the Pep-Luck.”

  “Oh yeah,” he lied, taking her hand.

  “Joie has told me all about you.” He just bet she had. “It’s nice to meet another single parent with a teenager in town.”

  “Which is why I invited her tonight.” Joie winked—not sly at all.

  “So, what are you all doing here?” He asked the question to no one in particular but his eyes found themselves right back on Glory—who was too busy flipping through a stack of papers to acknowledge him.

  “You mean besides scaring off all the fish,” his brother drawled coming up the back porch with a fishing pole in one hand and an empty fish bucket in the other.

  “Again,” Joie said, looking at his empty bucket and giving him a little peck on the cheek. “You haven’t caught anything in weeks.”

  Brett shrugged like it was no big deal that he’d come home empty handed. “A bad season is all.”

  “Is that what you’re telling yourself?” Cal asked because it had been one of the best fishing seasons in over a decade.

  “Hey, bro,” Brett said, setting down the bucket to salute Cal, with his finger. “Good to see you, too.”

  Brett McGraw was imposing, worked out enough to intimidate most men, and one of the most competitive SOBs in the country. He was the only guy Cal knew who could lose it over a friendly game of Uno. And yet the guy grinned like an idiot when he leaned down to kiss his tiny wife while holding a white ball of fluff dressed in doggie-camo gear—and no fish. “Looks like we aren’t having fish for dinner.”