“It isn’t much to offer, but you can certainly come to Tuscaloosa with us. Annelle too, of course,” Tolly said.
“Absolutely,” Missy said.
Lucy laughed. “No. I think Aunt Annelle is kind of excited about what she is calling a ‘quiet, elegant, little celebration.’ She’s printed some recipes off the Internet for smoked turkey and wild mushroom bread pudding and pumpkin crème brulee.”
Missy sat up. “You can’t eat that! Not on Thanksgiving. It’s not traditional.”
“If you can eat canned cranberry sauce and dry turkey in a restaurant, I can eat whatever I want.” Plus there would be excellent wine, classical music, and they would dress up for the meal. She was rather looking forward to it. “And let’s not forget that we will have fabulous traditional Missy Bragg Iron Bowl party food two days later.”
“That’s true.” Missy nodded. “And best of all? Brantley will be there this year.”
Oh, joy. He’d been there last year too; he’d come unannounced. And she’d gone out the back door as he came in the front. But she was done running from the runner. Probably.
Missy was about to say something else when her cell rang.
“Sorry,” she said, and answered. “Oh? Well, can’t you—Okay. Yes. I’ll be right there.”
She turned her phone off and got to her feet. “Lulu is pitching a fit. I think she’s cutting a tooth and apparently Harris, Luke, and Nathan have done everything they can think off.”
“I’m sure Nathan was a great help,” Tolly said. “What did he want to do? Toss her around like a football?”
“Harris sounded just frantic enough to try it.”
Lanie was also on her feet. “I’ll go too. I rode over with Missy.”
“You don’t have to,” Lucy said. “I can take you to Missy’s to get your car and your family later.”
“No.” Lanie was putting her shoes on. “I’ll get my gang out of there so Missy can deal with Lulu. I would bet in all that excitement, Emma and Beau are wound up. That never helps anything.”
While Tolly was seeing Missy and Lanie out, Lucy gathered up the dirty dishes and took them to the kitchen. Tolly had used her good china and crystal. It shouldn’t go in the dishwasher so Lucy filled the farmhouse sink with warm soapy water.
“Well, that was short lived.” Tolly entered the kitchen carrying trays with the leftovers. “Will you take some of this food home with you? Nathan is not impressed with what he calls ‘tea party food.’”
“No,” Lucy said. “It was good, but I cannot afford the calories. You know how hard I fight.”
Tolly smiled. “You’re beautiful.”
“Well, I don’t feel like it. Not long ago I was at the mall and I looked up and saw a woman. I thought, ‘if only I looked like her.’ Then I realized it was me, in a mirror. But I never think of myself as that woman in the mirror. In my head, I’ve got another forty pounds.”
“We all have our demons.” Tolly began moving the tomato tarts into storage containers. Then she laughed a little. “What did you do with that chocolate cake? I know you didn’t eat it.”
“You heard about that? I’m not surprised.”
“I talked to Sandy when I stopped in the Bake Shop to pick up these cookies.”
“Lord.” Lucy put a hand to her forehead and discovered too late that there were soapsuds on her fingers.
Tolly laughed and came toward her with a towel. She dabbed it away. “There.”
“Thanks,” Lucy said.
“Lucy.” Tolly laid a hand on her arm.
No. Not a serious talk. Anything but that.
But Tolly went on. “I know we always joke that the four of us are one big double date, with you and Missy as a couple, and Lanie and me as the other. But we’re all sisters. You know that, don’t you?”
Lucy’s eyes filled with tears and she covered Tolly’s hand with her own. “Better than sisters. You don’t pick your sisters. We are friends of the heart. I would have even worn an ugly bridesmaid dress for you. But thank goodness what you picked was gorgeous.”
Tolly smiled. “I know you and Missy tend to confide in each other, as do Lanie and I. But I get how it might be hard to talk to Missy about this thing with Brantley, given how close they are. I’m here; you can talk to me.”
Lucy went back to her dishwashing. “Tolly, there is no Brantley and me.”
“That’s fine, if that’s what you want.” Tolly picked up a clean towel and started to dry. “But he is pursuing you. Rather relentlessly, from what I hear. You can’t deny that.”
Lucy was quiet for a moment. “I guess not. But, Tolly, Brantley is a runner. And for him, it’s about the chase. He thinks he can’t have me, so he’s interested. The minute that changed, he’d be done. Probably run back to Rita May.”
Tolly dried two wine glasses before she spoke again. “When I listen to your voice and look into your eyes, I am not convinced there isn’t something there on your part.”
Lucy put her hand up. “Tolly—”
“Just let me say this, Lucy. A while back there was a knock on my door. Opening that door was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. But I did. And I don’t like to think where I would be if I hadn’t taken a chance. Sometimes you have to open the door.” She laughed a little, as though she wanted to lighten the mood and picked up two of the freshly washed wine glasses. “Come on. Let’s have another glass of wine. If I know Nathan, he’ll watch game film with Harris for hours yet. We won’t say another word about Brantley.”
“All right,” Lucy agreed. “But I’m not washing those glasses again.”
“Deal.”
Close to an hour later, Lucy walked out of Tolly’s front door, down the steps, to the driveway—straight into Brantley Kincaid’s arms.
Chapter Eleven
Lucy let out a little squeak—more from surprise than fear—and Brantley silenced her with his lips on hers. His mouth was warm and cold at the same time, fire and ice.
She put her hands on his shoulders to push him away, but somehow her arms ended up around his neck and she opened her mouth to get a better taste. He was better tasting than she remembered. Better than last week and better than Savannah.
The question was, what was she doing tasting him? She pulled away and stepped back. She would do well to remember that he had tricked her into taking care of his dog—again.
He was dressed in a white shirt, striped tie, navy slacks, and a camel wool topcoat. Still, he was shivering.
“Damn, Lucy Mead. You ordered up some cold weather while I was gone. I am freezing my ass off.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m waiting for you. I’ve been hiding in those bushes for over an hour.”
“And just who have you been hiding from?”
“Mostly Missy. I saw her leave. If she had spotted me, my life as I know it tonight would have ceased to exist. I would, no doubt, be admiring baby Lulu, playing Candy Land with Beau, and listening to the trials and tribulations of being Missy—instead of kissing Lucy. And not kissing Lucy would be the worst trial a man could face.”
And he kissed her again. She only let herself indulge for a few seconds. Forty-five tops.
“Why are you out here in the cold? Why didn’t you come in?” She hated that she was breathless against his mouth.
He licked her lower lip.
“I know the rules. No men at book club.” He ran his tongue in little circle at the corner of her mouth and let it trail down her jawline. “I had a special welcome planned and it did not include a bunch of women who pretend to read books, and especially not my oldest and dearest friend, who I love but who has no place in this particular scenario.”
By now he was speaking close to her ear and then he buried his face in her neck and found that spot—the one that shot an electric current straight to her nipples and between her thighs.