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Sweet Southern Nights
Sweet Southern Nights
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Sweet Southern Nights

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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.

Carla watched the baby, a small smile on her lips. “She’s a pretty baby.”

“Yeah, she is. Takes after her uncle Jake, of course,” Jake said, making a face at Lindsay. “Don’t you?”

The baby smacked him again and laughed. Carla’s smile grew.

“Here, you want to hold her?” he asked, shoving Lindsay at the woman. Her hands came up to hold the little girl, likely out of self-preservation.

“Oh, no, I shouldn’t—” she started just as he withdrew his hands from around his niece.

The baby stared at Carla for a few seconds before babbling something.

“Oh, really?” the older woman said to the baby, smiling and nodding her head. “I didn’t know.”

Jake scanned the room and saw Shelby watching them. She caught his eye and smiled, a sort of secret knowing in her eyes.

“I’m gonna hand off this tape to Matt and I’ll be right back. You got her?” he asked.

“Of course I have Lindsay Rebecca. We’re already old friends, and I certainly know how to take care of a sweet baby girl,” Carla said, catching the hand the baby lifted to smack her and giving it a kiss.

So she knew the baby’s name? Huh.

Jake hustled over to his brother, who had started beckoning him frantically. A line had formed and he looked harried. Jake tossed him the roll of tape, which he deftly caught. Matt was the athlete of the family. Though both Jake and John had been fairly proficient, Matt had been the star, netting a scholarship to play at Tulane. He might have gone pro as a tight end if he hadn’t blown out one of his knees.

“Thanks,” Matt called.

“No problem,” Jake said, turning back so he could take his niece from Carla. But John had already arrived and stood in conversation with his former mother-in-law. So Jake turned, intending to hunt Eva down, but Fancy appeared at his side like a specter from long ago.

Woo woo woo woooo. Woo, woo, woo, woooo. The Twilight Zone theme song played in his mind.

“So what’s going on with you and Eva? That was weird back there,” his mother said.

“Jesus, Mom, you couldn’t wait until—” he glanced down at the watch that wasn’t on his arm, since he didn’t like to wear a watch like most guys “—seven minutes had passed? They should use you down at the police department. I’ll talk to Uncle Sam about putting you on the force.”

She pinched him under the arm, the way she used to years ago in the second pew to the right of the pulpit.

“Ow.” He twisted away.

“Don’t forget I’m your mother. And that when you call on Jesus it better be for something important and not in vain, Jacob Edward.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled with only 10 percent sarcasm. “But I’m pretty sure Jesus understands. He had a mother, too.”

That made Fancy smile. His mother could be awfully bloodthirsty for a preacher’s wife. “Even so, you know that your behavior—”

“Doesn’t reflect on you or Dad. I’m my own person,” he said, knowing he probably sounded like a petulant child. What was it about mothers that did that to a guy?

He knew what people around town said about him—that rascal Jake’s the family rebel. He drinks, whores and avoids church. Real degenerate. He didn’t mind that version of himself. No, because that version prevented people seeing through him to the pitiful coward beneath the bullshit.

He couldn’t pretend to be the tortured hero, because he hadn’t been a hero on that lonely stretch of highway, in the twisted wreckage beneath that huge harvest moon. He’d lain in his friends’ blood, crying like a baby. He hadn’t been able to help Clint...hadn’t been able to save Angela. In fact, his weak attempts to tug Clint from where he lay had done more damage than good.

Jake Beauchamp...coward.

So he covered it up with being a degenerate. He knew he was the perfect head case for a shrink, but he didn’t care enough to change. Because changing meant he’d have to remember, have to dig the knife beneath the skin to clear all the gunk. Change meant hurting again.

“I know who you are, honey, and neither your father nor I have tried to change you. Your behavior, however, is never off the table.”

He nodded because she was right. Neither of his parents rode his case like they could.

His mother patted him. “Just remember you’re in your father’s house.”

“God?”

“No, Dan’s. Well, you know what I mean. Now, what’s going on between you and Eva? Because I gotta tell you, Jake, I think she’s really going to need some support in these upcoming months.”

A thread of alarm cinched his heart. “Why? What’s wrong with Eva? Is she sick?”

“Of course not. She’s healthy as a horse, but that’s exactly my point—you don’t know what’s going on in her life, and that’s abnormal.”

“Wait, what’s going on in—” Jake left off the rest because the good town doctor, Jamison French, had stopped right in front of them.

“Morning, Jake. Mrs. Beauchamp,” Jamison said, giving them both his best bedside smile.

“What’s up, James?” Jake asked, extending a hand and giving the man a good firm Beauchamp handshake.

“Good morning, Jamison, and it’s just Fancy,” his mother said.

“Of course. Well, looks like a good turnout,” Jamison said, making polite conversation the way any decent human being would.

So it wasn’t that Jake didn’t like Jamison. He liked him fine. It was just that Jamison was the Cary Grant to Jake’s James Dean. They were both single, good-looking guys in their thirties with all their teeth. No baggage, from good families with a decent income. And the target on their backs in Magnolia Bend had been fixed. The thing that made him twitch was the fact that Jamison was the better of the two, with his perfectly combed blond hair and artsy-fartsy hipster glasses framing sparkling blue eyes brimming with wit and goodness. In contrast, Jake crushed beer cans, peed in the woods and wore old frat T-shirts.

“It is a good turnout.” Fancy nodded, a pleased smile curving her lips.

“By chance have either of you seen Eva?” Jamison asked.

“Eva? What the hell do you want with her?” Jake snarled, puffing up his chest, hands curling into fists. He spit at Jamison’s feet and bared his teeth.

Okay, so he didn’t actually do either of those things...but he thought about it. After all, Jamison Fancy Pants had no business asking after his Eva.

Correction. Just Eva.

“She was in the kitchen,” Fancy said, pointing over her shoulder, her eyes holding a question.

“Great. I’m picking her up for the Zydeco Festival over in Garden City. Buckskin Nash is performing at noon, so...” Jamison looked at his watch. He actually had one. Nice Swiss Army stainless steel, with all those gauges divers needed. Figured.

“Here I am, Jamison,” Eva said, from behind Jake. They all turned toward her, and Jake noticed for the first time how pretty Eva looked. She’d worn her hair in a ponytail and had put on makeup...or at least shiny lip gloss that made her lips kissable. She wore a strapless short romper thing, which looked too sexy to be wasted on Jamison. “You ready?”

“I thought you wanted to talk,” Jake said.

Eva finally met his gaze. Her eyes looked defiant, almost angry. “You were the one who wanted to talk. I have a date, so you’ll have to wait until later.”