Gone From Me: Hearts of the South, Book 10 Page 4

  “Um, yeah.” She was short-circuiting his brain. With her nearness buzzing through him, he led her toward his truck and helped her into the passenger seat.

  Somehow he managed not to sound like a complete moron during the drive out to Zeke and Britt’s place. Montgomery graced his truck as if she’d been with him forever, leaning forward to fiddle with the radio, twirling his shark-shaped air freshener, letting her hand drift over his shoulder.

  He swallowed, her touch and Allison Krauss washing over him. Evening sunlight dappled the road and blinded him every so often while the familiar back-road scenery flashed by. He caught a glimpse of Uncle Tick’s house on the left, his uncle tossing a baseball with Blake’s cousin on the front lawn.

  Montgomery’s hand rested on his shoulder, her fingertips toying with the edges of his hair. He swallowed again, the gulp hurting his throat. Shoot, he didn’t know what to say to her, now that she was here, this close and seeming to want to be with him. He had to say something.

  He scrubbed his palm over the top of the steering wheel. “I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

  “Me too.” She rested her fingers along his nape. “Relax, Blake. You act like you’ve never been out with a girl before.”

  “They didn’t mean what you do.” The words spilled before he had even thought through them. The truck swerved. Frick. Yeah, he was smooth.

  She trailed a touch along his jaw. “I’m glad.”

  “Really?” He darted a glance at her as he slowed to turn onto the long blacktop road leading to Zeke and Britt’s place.

  A slow smile curved the mouth he was dying to feel under his own. “Oh, yes, really.”

  She slipped her hand down his arm, finally curving her palm over his thigh. With her free hand, she lowered the window, warm air colored with the aroma of rain and pesticides filling the cab, ruffling her hair and kissing his skin. Her hand tightened on his thigh, and she closed her eyes on a deep breath. “That smell is the best. Atlanta never smells like that.”

  He smiled. She was right. Relaxing on a deep inhale of his own, he gave himself over to the pleasure of the moment and finally being with her.

  He only hoped whatever happened tonight at Zeke and Britt’s didn’t ruin everything.

  Chapter Three

  Some things never changed.

  Blake grinned as he helped Montgomery down from the truck. Under the scrub oak at the end of Zeke’s singlewide, Zeke and Mike lounged in folding chairs. A half-empty beer dangled from Mike’s hand; smoke trailed lazily up from the rusty gas grill to their left. The bug light hanging from the tree limb above them sizzled and fizzed each time a suicidal insect flew into the bluish glow. Music flowed from the cheap radio propped on the plastic table between the chairs.

  “Yo, Blake.” Zeke lifted a hand in welcome, a familiar gesture, and Blake’s grin widened.

  Yeah, some things never changed. He could depend on Zeke and Mike to be good ol’ Zeke and Mike, and even with Britt’s craziness and the fight that was almost sure to start tonight, sometimes it was damn good to be home and be with his buddies.

  “Hey, Zeke.” He dared to let his palm rest at the small of Montgomery’s back and ushered her toward his friends.

  Mike shuffled to his feet and held out his arms. “Looky, looky…the prodigal has returned home from the big city of Hot-lanta.”

  “Prodigal, my ass.” Blake took Mike’s proffered hand and let himself be dragged into a sloppy, back-pounding male hug. “Good to see you, Mikey.”

  “How you doing, boy?” Zeke half-rose, and they shook hands before he slumped back into his chair. Oh, yeah. He was well on his way to being lit.

  “I’m all right.” He drew Montgomery forward, the warmth of her bare shoulder against his palm an unreal thrill. “Montgomery, these are my friends Zeke and Mike. Guys, this is Montgomery Farr, a, um, friend of mine from Atlanta.”

  “Nice t’meet ya.” Zeke pushed the bill of his battered Braves hat up with one finger. “Wanna beer? Or we got Jack and Coke, or just Coke if you want it. Know Blake here don’t drink.”

  Montgomery smiled, shining hair shifting across Blake’s hand as she turned that soft, oh-so-damn-sexy curve of her lips on him. “Coke’s fine.”

  He could look at her all night, and as much as he was glad to see the old group here, he really wished he’d broken his promise to show up for dinner tonight and taken off alone somewhere with the gorgeous girl, well, woman seducing him with her smiling eyes and glossy lips.

  Man, he had it bad.

  “I’ll, um, get you that Coke.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, at the cooler sitting by the trailer’s metal steps. His neck burned. If he was any damn smoother, he’d be forty-grit sandpaper.

  “Sounds great.” She tossed that dark hair over one shoulder and winked at him. Oh yeah, she knew exactly what she did to him.

  Plunging his hands into the icy water to fish for two canned Cokes helped cool him off. Droplets dripped from his wrists, splattering his jeans. He nudged the lid down with his knee.

  The trailer door slammed open and banged against the metal railing. A baby’s fussing drifted out. “Zeke, didn’t I tell you ten minutes ago I needed some help, and you’re still sitting out here on your lazy ass… Blake!”

  Britt’s annoyed screech morphed to an excited squeal. Her heels, ridiculous for the dirt yard under the trees, clattered on the steps, and she lurched into him, one arm gripping his neck in a stranglehold while the other balanced a platter of chops. A chilly slime of marinade dripped down his arm, and Britt pulled back.

  “Oh fuck, I’m sorry.” She swiped the pungent liquid from his skin and plopped a wet kiss somewhere between his cheek and his mouth. The smell and taste of cheap wine gagged him. The baby grew louder and she shoved the platter at him. “Here, take this since Zeke is too damn sorry to help. I gotta get her.”

  The platter knocked one Coke from his hold; the can bounced once and the top exploded, icy fizz spraying across his Reefs and bare toes. He flinched and shook his head. Pure Brittany, that was for sure.

  A blonde appeared at the open door. She held Britt and Zeke’s crying daughter the way Blake’s sister took out the trash—with wrinkled nose and at arm’s length. “Hey, Britt, I think she needs a diaper.”

  “Aw, what’s the matter, sweet girl?” Britt took the toddler and cradled her close, lips buried in the sandy curls. The little girl stopped wailing, sniffled once, and tucked her head under Brittany’s chin. Britt laughed and patted her back. “Come on, Emma, let’s get you all cleaned up and we’ll show Blake how big you are now.”

  “Hey, man, let me get that.” Zeke pushed up from his chair and ambled over to take the platter. “Don’t know why she made so damn much. Told her the ribs were enough.”

  Blake leaned down to pick up the now-empty Coke can. He tossed it in the trash-burning barrel at the end of the trailer and fished out a second drink. His Reefs squished as he crossed to Montgomery. She took it, glanced down at his feet, then bit her lip and lifted eyes gleaming with silent laughter to his. At that moment, he wanted to kiss her so bad his teeth hurt.

  “Later,” she mouthed. Anticipation tightened every muscle in his gut.

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  The back door slapped open again, and Britt clomped down the steps, baby on her hip. The blonde, phone in hand and intent on texting, followed. “Blake, you remember Tanya, right?”

  Actually, he didn’t, but he smiled a greeting at her anyway. The baby squealed gleefully and reached for Zeke. His face softened with affection, he took her from Britt and rubbed his nose against her tiny one. Giggling, she patted his face and rested against his chest.

  Britt flipped the grill open and shifted the ribs to one side. She gestured at Montgomery with the tongs. “Did you forget your manners, Blake?”

  “Sorry.” He slipped his fingers through Montgomery’s. “Britt, Tanya, this is Montgomery. Ladies, Montgomery.”

  Tanya lifted a hand in a bored w
ave but didn’t look up from her phone. She rested her butt on Mike’s knee.

  Montgomery turned her brilliant smile on Britt. “Have we met before?”

  “Yeah, once.” Britt tossed the chops on the grate. “At the wedding.”

  A frown drew Montgomery’s brows together. “Wedding?”

  Britt rolled her eyes. “Your brother is married to my aunt? Ring a bell?”

  “Oh.” Montgomery made a show of smacking her forehead. “I’m really bad when it comes to names and faces.”

  “Yeah.” Britt scowled at Zeke, who had his daughter balanced on one arm and was letting her fall backward while he held her T-shirt with the other hand. The little girl giggled wildly with each rock forward and back. “You’re gonna drop her.”

  “No, I ain’t.” He bussed Emma’s nose. “Am I, baby girl? Your daddy knows what he’s doing.”

  Shaking her head, Britt gave up on henpecking Zeke for the moment. She waved her tongs between Montgomery and Blake. “You two an item now?”

  Blake sipped at his Coke. “First date.”

  “Oh, that’s cute.” Britt’s expression indicated it was anything but. She danced the tongs in a wide arc, encompassing Zeke and the baby, the trailer and the neat yard. “Look what all I got out of dating Zeke.”

  Mike took a slug from his beer and grinned at her, a hint of malevolence in the expression. “Shoulda used a condom.”

  “Kiss my ass, Mike.” Britt punctuated each word with a jab of the tongs to his shoulder.

  Thankfully, the conversation shifted, and once the baby was in bed, they gathered around the plastic picnic table, spread with ribs and chops as well as tater tots, baked beans and store-bought rolls. Blake popped a half-raw tot in his mouth and took a surreptitious glance at his cell. A little before nine. Once they’d eaten, maybe he and Montgomery could cut out. The image of her pretty mouth shaping the word “later” beat in his brain. He liked his buddies, yeah, but he wasn’t willing to give them too much of his “later” with Montgomery.

  His plan would have worked too, if it weren’t for Mike’s big mouth.

  Blake sifted his fingers through Montgomery’s hair, enjoying the caress of the smooth strands against his skin. With dinner over, the couples gathered on the swept yard patch around the grill. Tanya sprawled in Mike’s lap, alternating between texting and leaving love bites on his neck. Zeke slumped in a folding chair, beer in hand, and Britt perched with unhappy tenseness on the edge of a plastic yard chair. Blake had appropriated the shaded swing for Montgomery and himself; he’d spent the last fifteen minutes or so trying to act like he wasn’t in an all-fired hurry to get as far away as possible. The desperation left him feeling guilty because it wasn’t completely about wanting to be with Montgomery.

  He’d outgrown this, the drama and the drinking, the public make-out and the pubescent masks.

  As much as he wanted, really, to hang on to the good times he remembered with Zeke and Mike—and hell, even Britt before she’d gone all bitter on them, not that he blamed her—he didn’t need this anymore. The realization saddened him and deluged him with relief at the same time.

  The baby monitor clutched in Britt’s hand flickered, and she lifted it to her ear, frowning. Montgomery shifted beside him, her leg a warm pressure along his. Blake rubbed his palms down his thighs, ready to slap his knees and announce they were going.

  Mike scowled in Britt’s direction. “Quit playacting, would you? It’s not like you’re gonna check on the kid.”

  Britt’s eyes narrowed. “You are so full of it, Mike. I’m a good mama and you damn well know it.”

  “Here we go,” Zeke muttered. He lifted his nearly empty beer and squinted at the bug light through the bottle.

  “What?” Britt turned her glare on her husband. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Zeke proffered both hands in a gesture of surrender that only seemed to irritate Britt further. Her face flushed, and her knuckles whitened along the edge of the baby monitor.

  Definitely time to get going.

  “It means,” Mike drawled, “you should spend a little more time being a good mama and wife instead of going around telling everyone you are.”

  “What do you know about it, Mike Smithwick? God, you make me sick.” Britt glanced between him and Zeke. “Both of you. Lazy asses.”

  Blake reached for Montgomery’s hand and linked his fingers with hers. “You know, we’re gonna—”

  “Oh, hang around, Blake.” Mike’s chuckle held an ugly taunt. Blake’s skin prickled. “Show’s just getting started.”

  Britt came to her feet. “Go your ass home, Mike. I’ve had enough of you.”

  “I ain’t going nowhere.” Mike’s elaborate stretch almost toppled Tanya to the ground. He folded his arms behind his head.

  “You damn well are, too.” Britt spun, hair fanning out in a moon-spun tangle of light. She stalked toward the steps.

  Blake pushed to his feet and drew Montgomery with him. “We’re heading out. Britt, Zeke, enjoyed it, appreciate dinner.”

  “Britt, don’t start now.” Weary resignation laced Zeke’s words. “You know he didn’t mean nothing.”

  “Tell it to someone who’ll believe it.” Britt jerked the back door open and disappeared inside. Footsteps creaked across the thin trailer floor.

  Zeke glanced at Mike’s shit-eating grin and sighed. “You can’t leave well enough alone, can you, man?”

  Mike popped Tanya’s butt and tipped her off his lap. He rose and crossed to dig in the cooler for two fresh beers. “Hell, someone has to say something. You’d sit there and take her shit, like you always do.”

  “Let’s get out of here.” Blake murmured the words for Montgomery’s ears only, then lifted his voice for the others. “I’ll catch up to y’all before I head back to ATL.”

  Zeke accepted a dripping bottle from Mike and waved it in farewell. “Later, man.”

  Footfalls stomped inside the trailer and the back door exploded into the metal railing. Louisville Slugger in the easy grip that had made her hell on the softball field back in high school, Britt cleared the ceramic flowerpots off the rickety deck railing in one swing. “You wanna tell me again you ain’t going nowhere, Mikey?”

  “Shit.” The curse slipped from Blake’s lips. His stomach jerked, a little jangle of nerves moving through him, and he tightened his fingers on Montgomery’s waist. She tensed under his touch.

  Tanya backed up against the scrub oak, fear tingeing her tight expression. Mike sprawled in his chair, his disdainful scowl painting him as the picture of unconcern. Britt stalked down the steps and tapped the scratched metal bat against her palm. “Well, big man?”

  A groan of disgust rumbled from Zeke’s throat. “Put the fucking bat up, Brittany.”

  Blake nudged Montgomery toward his Ford. “Get in the truck.”

  She wrapped a hand around his biceps. “We can’t just leave.”

  “Trust me and get in the truck.” He shrugged free of her easy hold. “Britt, give me the bat.”

  “Stay out of it, Blake.” Britt’s eyes sparkled in a narrow-eyed glare. “This is between me and Mikey here.”

  “Give me the bat, okay? Let me have it.” Behind him, the truck door snicked shut.

  “No.” Visible tremors rattled her fingers and traveled up her forearms. She darted a look at him, then turned her glower back on Mike. “You don’t get it. I’m stopping it once and for all tonight.”

  “You’re right, I don’t get it.” Blake pitched his voice low and easy. “Tell you what, let me hold that and you can explain it to me, all right?”

  “Don’t patronize me.” Anger coated her growly huff. “I’m not stupid, okay?”

  “Never said you were.” He took one step forward and held out his hand. “But this isn’t the way to fix anything—”

  “Shit, Blake, shut the fuck up, would you?” Mike shoved up from the chair. “Give me the damn bat, bitch.”

  “You want it?” Britt pulled it back in the
classic slugger’s pose. Her eyes narrowed further. “Come and get it.”

  “You think I won’t?” Mike leaned forward, arms spread. Unease trickled down Blake’s spine. Was he stupid, or what? “Think I’m scared?”

  “Mike.” Blake caught his shuttered gaze and held it. “Back off, man.”

  “Fuck you, Calvert—”

  “No, fuck you, Mike Smithwick!” Britt swung the bat.

  Ah, heck. Blake grabbed the top of the weapon, the impact jarring up his arm. Dull pain shot through his shoulder, but he managed to stop the aluminum’s forward momentum. In her heels, Britt stumbled and fell in an awkward sprawl. A shattered sob shook her frame.

  Mike snorted a laugh and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Shut up.” Blake shoved Mike’s shoulder and bent to slip his free hand under her elbow. “You all right, Britt?”

  More sobs answered him, and he hunkered down beside her. She sat back on her butt, hard, and scrubbed a scratched, dirty palm over the end of her nose. Her shaky intake of breath exited on a low, shuddery wail.

  Blake sighed, a hard knot of sympathy wedged under his ribs. She was fighting a battle she simply couldn’t win, and now she had humiliation sitting atop that ugly little truth. He hooked her ruffled hair behind her ear and touched the tip of one finger to a raw patch on her chin. “Are you hurt?”

  Tears slipped over her lashes and she shook her head. Elbows propped on her knees, she buried her face in her hands. Above them, Mike laughed again, and the ugly sound seared Blake’s nerves, blasted the sympathy knot into something angry and molten. Yeah, Britt had started it, but Mike didn’t have to be an ass about it.

  He pushed to his feet. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

  “Dude, don’t get all pissed at me.” Mike nudged Britt’s foot with his own, a disparaging gesture. “This is her show, remember?”

  “Yeah, but you’re making it worse.” Blake shot a glare over Mike’s shoulder at Zeke, who still lounged in his chair. Hell, Zeke should be the one defending his wife, not Blake. “You should leave her alone.”