CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Aimee

“And that’s how I made sure we won the state championship against the Jayhawks back in 2009,” Brad said, swerving widely to avoid a tree on the way down the bumpy road to Miss Cecily’s.

I clutched the handle on the door harder and was glad the seatbelt held firm. What I wasn’t glad of was that my beat-up Chevy had died a painful death right when I’d tried to leave the reception to come home. I’d stayed behind a bit, packaging up what was left of the wedding cake, and most people had already taken off, headed for home. Most people, except for Brad.

I should have known he’d hang around until I was gone. I’d done my best all night to avoid him, but he’d put on a big public display of asking me to dance, saying how beautiful I looked in my formal red dress and with my hair up. I’d brushed off his compliments, but then noticed how Elmer looked like he was close to apoplectic every time I turned down Brad’s invitation to dance. So I’d danced with him, annoyed at how he’d let his hands drift to just above my ass, but giving Elmer a big fake grin over Brad’s shoulder at the same time. I had less than a month to go to make my down payment—I wasn’t about to mess up this chance at getting my own bake shop. After all, it was my future.

I was tired, cranky, and miserable as Brad whipped around the curves in the road, trying to show off, I assumed, but really just getting me pissed off. I glanced over at him, and could see how women would think he was handsome—heck, I’d thought he was a little cute back in high school—but knowing I’d never want to look at him day in and day out the way I did with Corbin.

I sighed. Love just wasn’t for me, I figured. I was destined to be an old lady with lots of cats.

Finally, thank you Jesus, finally, we made it to Miss Cecily’s. Brad pulled to a stop but didn’t unlock the car or make a move to get out. Southern politeness had me sitting there, too, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to get out.

“You know, darling, why didn’t we ever work out?”

“I was young and naïve and then I wasn’t.”

“You mean you think I’m a mistake?” he asked, his tone gruff. Then he reached out and stroked my hair. I stayed still, waiting for Brad’s common sense to come back. “I’m not. I think we could be great together.”

I pulled away and his hand fell on the console between us. “Brad, you know when I said it was over, I meant it. I don’t do second chances. And there’s nothing between us. Not on my end, at least.”

“We should talk about it, though. About us.”

I sighed. “There is no ‘us.’ And I don’t have to talk about this anymore. I want to get out so that I can get some rest. I’m appreciative of the ride home, and I know you were just doing me a polite favor. Don’t make the ride home more than it is.”

“You think you’re too good for me? Come on. Who’s the star quarterback and a deputy, and who’s the stuck-up bitch who doesn’t even know her daddy’s name?”

Anger twisted in my gut as he said that. Most people in Pontmaison were kind enough never to mention that or they never held what had happened against me. “That was mean. I don’t deserve that.”

Brad glared at me. “I told my father you weren’t good enough for me.”

“What does your father have to do with this conversation?”

“He wants us to get married.”

I blew out a harsh breath. “Brad, you’re an adult. You don’t have to do what your dad wants you to do. Just tell him what he already knows—we wouldn’t be good together.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

I put my hand on the door handle. Southern hospitality be damned. I was done with this conversation.

“He’ll take away that loan, you know. And he won’t give me my inheritance if I don’t get you to marry me.”

Whipping my head around, I stared at Brad aghast. “What? Why? Why would he hurt either of us that way? Why would he want us to be married? What’s in it for him?”

Then there were headlights glaring into Brad’s car.

That confused me. I knew that Miss Cecily was home, could see her old and slightly rusted Crown Victoria in the spot by the shed. No, this was different. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the cherry red muscle car, and I couldn’t believe it.

No, I have to be hallucinating.

Then Corbin was there, stalking toward Brad’s car, silent. In the bright light of the full moon I could make out the tension and anger in his face. I should have hated him for abandoning me, should have wanted to get out of the car and slap his face for taking off without a word, for leaving me alone to face the humiliation of the town knowing I’d been stood up. But all I could feel was a sense of elation.

He’d come back.

I got out of the car slowly, unsure of what was happening. Was he mad at me? Mad I was with Brad?

“Aimee.” Corbin’s voice was low and throaty. “You okay? Is Deputy Dickhead bothering you?”

Brad was having none of this. He shoved himself out of the car and leaned against it. Bastard even rolled up his undone shirt sleeves dramatically and spit onto the ground. “Well, look at what we have here. The pretty boy is back.”

“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Aimee.”

Brad stalked toward Corbin. “If you’re talking to Aimee, you’re talking to me.”

“Fuck you, dickhead,” was Corbin’s response.

Brad apparently took offense. He took a swing then and Corbin dodged it.

As the men circled each other I felt my heart in my throat and fear spiking in my gut, hoping Corbin wouldn’t get hurt. It dawned on me that the two men were moving farther from the car where I stood, and I realized this was deliberate, that Corbin feinted and dodged so that he could lure Brad away from me. But I’d seen Brad like this before—bullheaded and charging and completely out of control. He’d once beaten up a kid on the playground and had kept punching even after the kid was on the ground, covering his head with his arms and hands, begging Brad to stop. I had to stop this! I dug around in my purse and pulled out my cell phone, hoping to see bars so I could call 911.

Except that was foolish, wasn’t it?

Who would the deputies believe when they bothered to get out here from the wedding? Would they side with the out of town drifter, the guy who’d already flitted out of town—or the literal hometown hero?

Bringing a hand to my mouth, I gasped. “There’s no one to call.”

Soft hands were on my shoulders, and I turned around, relieved to see Miss Cecily beside me. She wrapped her arms around me harder and whispered in my ear, her voice becoming a series of hushed whispers that reminded me of how you calmed a skittish horse. But maybe that was me right now. My adrenaline was pumping in my veins and my tears still flowed freely. Tonight I’d almost…no I couldn’t think about that now.

“We have to help Corbin!” I exclaimed, then held the phone up. “But there’s no service.”

“Ain’t no one who’d come out here besides the sheriff’s office and they ain’t gonna do nothing when one of their own is duking it out, you know that,” Miss Cecily said, her voice carrying an air of authority. Of finality.

I frowned back at her, wondering if one of her powers included the ability to read my mind or maybe my desperate idea was just so plainly obvious. “We could call Remy. Or Uncle Daniel, maybe.”

She shook her head and pointed back to the brawl. Brad rushed for Corbin who shifted just in time to miss the charge and then grabbed him around the shoulders. Brad struggled in Corbin’s grasp even as the rocker punched hard into his stomach.

“You see,” Miss Cecily said, her voice echoing like soundproofing on a wall. “You’re going to be okay. I think Corbin can handle Brad and,” she said, pulling an old leather pouch from her housecoat pocket. “He’s not the only back-up you got, child.”

“I just…” I said, clinging hard to her as I watched the fight unfold.

Now Brad had worked himself out of the hold and was stumbling pretty bad. He wheezed too, and I could tell that Corbin’s gut shot had knocked the air out of him. He stepped forward and aimed an uppercut punch for Corbin’s face. I flinched when it collided with Corbin’s chin. He grunted and spit out some blood, then he gave back as good as he got, a punch that smashed Brad’s nose.

Suddenly Miss Cecily slipped from my side, and before I could grab her and hold her back, she was walking toward the two men fighting. The forest night—even the crickets—seeming to grow quiet at her approach. “Brad, you stop this foolishness, you hear or you’ll have something to worry about,” she said, her tone grave.

Brad glared at Corbin, even as blood spilled from his face. “Some random Yankee coming in from nowhere ain’t never gonna take Aimee away from here. Ain’t never gonna change the fact Aimee’s mine.”

I’d had it. “Excuse me!” I shouted, looking at both him and Corbin. “I don’t care what your daddy wants, I’m not marrying you. And more importantly, I belong to myself.”

Apparently my declaration of independence didn’t mean much to Brad, who grunted out, “I’mma gonna knock this Yankee off his ass.” With that, Brad charged Corbin, who feinted, landing Brad on the ground.

Miss Cecily’s composure never wavered. Instead, she surged forward. Her housecoat blew in the breeze and her greying braids flared out behind her in the wind. There was a regality in her posture, a sense of power that made me nervous.

“You don’t want Aimee, Brad,” Miss Cecily said calmly as Brad slowly got to his feet, wheezing and bleeding from the nose. “Not really. But a match between the two of you is what your father wants, and you don’t want to disappoint him, do you?”

“You know nothing, old lady,” he spat.

“I know that Elmer Lamell doesn’t like that you’ve been sniffin’ after Mireille Dubois. Now that she’s got her big company in New York, she’ll never be back in Pontmaison. He don’t like the thought of you marrying Miss Mireille and moving all the way to the Big Apple and becoming a Yankee. He wants you here, in his backyard, so he can keep his dynasty going. And Aimee’s who he chose for you.”

Brad’s mouth gaped open. “How…how did you know?” he asked, his voice oddly tremulous.

Miss Cecily didn’t answer—at least, not with words. Instead, she laughed, a deep, throaty cackle that seemed to echo endlessly in the dark night. Brad stumbled backward, and I tried to keep from laughing. He didn’t think she’d used voodoo to know that fact, did he? I mean, once it dawned on me, I could see how it all made sense.

“Time for you to go, Brad Lamell,” Miss Cecily said firmly.

All the fight seemed to crumble right out of him. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll go,” he said. He backed up all the way to the car, never letting his gaze leave Miss Cecily.

Meanwhile, my gaze was focused on Corbin. Part of me wanted to run to him. To tell him how happy I was he was back. But I hesitated and I was very conscious of the fact he didn’t move toward me. He didn’t try to tell me that I’d misunderstood, that he hadn’t really abandoned me, that he’d always meant to come back. He just stood there, frowning at me, and I did something I’d never done before. Did something I’d never thought I’d do to anyone.

I flipped him off.

Horrified, I looked at Miss Cecily, who actually looked like she was fighting back a smile. Then she said, “Corbin, come inside into the kitchen so we can patch you up. Aimee, come with us.”

“I don’t want…” I began, but Miss Cecily glared at me, and I swallowed my protest. With a sigh, I followed her into the kitchen, aware of Corbin’s silent presence behind me.

When Corbin sat down at the kitchen table, I handed him a dishrag wrapped around a dozen or so ice cubes.

“We don’t have any icepacks around here, so we have to improvise,” I said, my tone still tight. A part of me wanted to hate him forever for ditching me like he had, but another part of me so desperately wanted to know why he’d returned to Pontmaison. I wasn’t ready to ask, though. Not yet.

He winced. “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a lot of swelling by tomorrow.”

“True, although I think you made out better than Brad did.” I glanced over at Miss Cecily. “Why did he cower like a puppy when you came over to him? What were you holding in that pouch?”

Miss Cecily shook her head even as she began to make tea. “People believe what they want to believe.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what is it Brad believed was happening out there?”

“My family and the Lamells go back so many generations, we was all here in the beginning. Legends were made, beliefs formed. About seventy-five years ago, I used those old beliefs and played a prank on Brad’s granddaddy. Made him think I could read his mind.” She chuckled. “I couldn’t—but he was a believer, and he made his son Elmer into a believer, who passed that on to his children. There were nothin’ in that bag tonight except some lavender, but that’s not what Brad thought.”

I blinked at her, but before I could respond, Corbin spoke.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice a bit muffled as he held the bag to his jaw. “You didn’t look like you were enjoying that conversation the two of you were having in the car. Because if he did bother you, a little dust-up out front is the last thing he is going to have to worry about.”

“No he didn’t, not really,” I said. “I’m glad you showed up, though.” I turned to Miss Cecily. “And I was grateful for you too. I think Brad’s going to have a lot to think about.”

“Good, because if he’d hurt you…” Corbin started.

“Then what?” I asked, my voice thick with emotion even as my eyes started to well with tears again. “Brad was a jerk, taking advantage of the fact I needed a ride home from the wedding, but you’re the one who left me.”

Corbin’s eyes shimmered. “Hold on. You mean to say you weren’t on a date with him?”

I sputtered. “On a date with Brad? You knew I had no interest in him. You knew who I was interested in, and yet you just rushed out! You abandoned me!” My shout echoed around the kitchen, startling us all.

Miss Cecily stood and nodded at both of us. “You stand up for yourself, child, but do remember there are two sides to every yarn. That said, Corbin, if you did go and hurt our Aimee on purpose, you’ll answer to me, you hear?”

He nodded soberly, looking her straight in the face. “Miss Cecily, I promise I never meant to hurt Aimee. In fact, I did everything I possibly could to make sure that didn’t happen.”

“Good, that’s all I’m saying,” she said. “Now I don’t need your reasons, but Aimee does. I’ll leave you to it.” She eased out of the kitchen and headed off down the hall to her quarters.

“I still don’t know why you took off like that,” I said, my voice shaking. “I trusted you so much, and then you left me. I felt used, just like my mother must feel used after each musician she falls for and who dumps her. I’ve tried to avoid feeling this way my whole life. I’d spent that whole morning on pins and needles, so excited to be with you, but then you were just gone. No one had any idea where.”

“I’m sorry. I was rushing to help a friend in a tough spot in Chicago. I was only going to be gone a couple of days. But I couldn’t find or call you so I left a note for you at Evangeline’s, explaining everything.”

“You did?” I blanched.

“Yeah, and I think Deputy Dickhead stole the note, he must have. He was there when I left it, after Beth gave me a pen and paper. And I tried calling you at Evangeline’s. Even got through to Remy but he wouldn’t let me talk to you.”

Was that really true? But why would he lie, when he knew I could just talk to Beth and Remy about what he’d said.

He wouldn’t, I realized. Staring into his eyes, I knew he spoke the truth.

He leaned forward and took my hands in his, his ice pack seemingly forgotten. “Please believe me. I told Cindy all of this too. I’ll give you Jason’s number in Chicago and he can verify it. Please, Aimee, believe me. I would never have left you like that,” he said, stroking back my hair from my face.

Tears came, just enough to wet my lashes, but Corbin saw and cupped my face in his hands. “I was so dumb,” I choked out. “I didn’t trust you. I didn’t treat you right.”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” he said, stroking my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “You were hurt. And you had a lifetime of watching your mother make bad mistakes in love. You didn’t want to make the same mistakes. You protected yourself the best you could.”

“You forgive me?”

He grinned, a cocky, half-grin that set my body on fire. “Baby, there’s nothing to forgive. All we have to do is go forward. Together, if you’re still willing. We still have all summer.”

I felt the smile spread across my face, even as my heart twisted at his reminder that, while he hadn’t abandoned me, while he’d come back, we had no future beyond the summer. “So you still want to spend your two-month hiatus in Pontmaison?”

“I still want to spend it with you.” A shadow crossed his face. “But Aimee, there’s something else I should tell you. About me being a musician, see—”

“Shh…” I whispered, and placed a finger over his lips. “I know I said I wouldn’t date you if you were a musician, but that was stupid. However you earn your money is none of my business. I should have realized that my mom’s issues were about her being needy, not about the men being musicians.”

He frowned. “You mean you really don’t care if I play bass professionally?”

I tipped a shoulder up. “I’ve tried to protect myself from what’s always hurt my mother. But that was her life, and it’s not mine.” I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Whatever way Corbin paid his bills shouldn’t matter to me. What mattered was that a sexy, heroic, and kind man who could give me multiple orgasms wanted me for the summer. “What I want most, Corbin, is for you to be happy. And if I can make you happy during the next two months, then that brings me joy.”

I could give him a second chance. I could give him happiness for as long as he was in Pontmaison. What I could never give him—what I couldn’t forget—was that once again Corbin had laid it all out. We were together for the summer. That was all, and I had to remember that.

I could give him my body. I could give him my time. I could give him a lot of myself.

But the one thing I had to hold on to, the one thing I had to protect, was my heart.