Sweet Talking Man. Liz Talley

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СКАЧАТЬ held up a fist. “Mad props to our boy John James Audubon. He’s one of a kind.”

      Birdie fist-bumped him. “Yeah, we have some originals. Two to be exact.”

      “You’re kidding. I’d love to see them.”

      “Come over anytime,” Birdie said.

      Abigail started to shake her head, then caught herself. To be stingy with the original John J. Audubon watercolors would not do. Abigail had always welcomed anyone who wanted to take a peek at the tufted crane and the brown pelican the famed woodsman had created almost two hundred years ago. Leif Lively was no exception just because something about him made her...

      Okay, fine. Abigail had a weird attraction to Leif that she’d never wanted to admit even to herself. When she dropped in at the school, she found her gaze hanging on him. And she hated herself for it. After all, she wasn’t one of those women who fluttered, starry-eyed over the handsome artist. She wasn’t like other room moms who cracked ribald jokes about Leif’s ass.

      Fawning wasn’t something she did. Ever.

      “I’d love to see the Audubon pieces,” Leif said with another smile at Birdie...and then at her. Christ, he smiled a lot. The Ryan Seacrest of Magnolia Bend.

      Abigail nodded. “Sure, drop by anytime and Birdie can show you.”

      “Anytime? I could come now. It’s about suppertime and I heard you’re a good cook.”

      “Are you hungry?” Abigail had been knitted together with a strong thread of Southern hospitality so guilt pecked at her for not welcoming Leif and the other Laurel Creek residents with banana bread or cookies. But she was not inviting him for supper. The thought made her feel too warm...too nervous.

      “I’m just joking, Abigail. You seem a little tense.” His gaze moved over her once again.

      Abigail tugged her cardigan closed and gave him the smile she usually reserved for her brothers. “I’m not tense. It just didn’t sound like a joke. I grew up with three brothers—I know jokes.”

      “Well, I’ll be more careful around you, then. Might end up popping open a can of snakes or sitting on a whoopee cushion.” Leif’s eyes danced, and even though she wanted to smile, she didn’t. She held on to prickliness like a cape protecting her from being silly. She’d tucked away being lighthearted. Hadn’t worked out for her. Besides the hot weirdo who strummed a ukulele at the local coffee shop and practiced tai chi in his yard wasn’t the kind of guy to let her guard down with. Too different from her.

      “Don’t worry. I’m an adult and no longer put crickets in my brothers’ trucks.”

      “Oh, that’s a shame.” He said it like he was truly sorry for her. Why? Because she didn’t do asinine things anymore? Because she didn’t crack jokes? Or wear flowers in her hair? She crossed her arms as he added, “I like your cardigan, by the way. Angora?”

      “Are you making fun of me?” Abigail asked, a dart of hurt nicking her.

      “No. Why would I?”

      “Because I’m wearing... Because I don’t frolic in my underwear.”

      Birdie closed her eyes. “Oh, God.”

      Leif’s eyes widened. “I don’t frolic in my underwear.”

      Abigail opened her mouth, then shut it. Silence as comfortable as a prostate exam descended. Not that she knew about prostate exams...but she could imagine.

      Just as she was about to prod Birdie again, the squeal of tires sounded. All three turned their heads to see a bright red Mustang hurtling down the street. Another squeal of tires and the vehicle swung into Leif’s driveway, halting with another screech.

      “What the—” Leif muttered as the tinted driver’s window rolled down to reveal a pretty brunette who looked...worried. Abigail tugged Birdie back, but her daughter pulled away, obviously engrossed in the frantic pantomiming of the driver.

      “Sorry about this, Leif,” the driver said as the passenger door opened and a ball of white fluffy tulle emerged. “Marcie made me do it. I was supposed to be her maid of honor. I guess it’s, like, an obligation.”

       Maid of honor?

      Abigail glanced at Leif; he looked gobsmacked, blinking his eyes a couple times before repeating, “Maid of honor?”

      And that’s when the fluffy ball flipped over her veil and sneered. “Yeah, maid of frickin’ honor. Today was supposed to be our wedding day, asshole.”

      * * *

      LEIF’S MIND WHIRRED, random numbers lining up like on a slot machine. December sixteenth. Today would have been his and Marcie’s wedding day.

      Oh, shit.

      Marcie’s veil was pinned to heavily sprayed blond tresses and one side had fallen down to wag against her sweaty face. Mascara ran beneath her eyes, reminding him of something he’d once seen in a horror movie.

      “Marcie—” He couldn’t even figure out how to ask why his ex-fiancée had put on a wedding dress and tracked him all the way to Magnolia Bend. They’d ended their engagement five months ago, and he hadn’t heard a peep from her until now...when his very proper neighbor stood on his front walk, no doubt looking on with disapproval.

      This might make the Magnolia Bend Herald...or, at the very least, the Facebook hall of fame.

      “Ohhh,” Marcie slurred, wriggling around the car in the tight mermaid gown she’d raved about for weeks last summer, nearly tumbling to the ground despite hiking up the dress. “You remember my name. Ain’t you sweet?”

      “What are you doing here?”

      “Didn’t think I’d find ya, did ya?” she asked, shoving a finger in his face. “My daddy knows a lot of people in this state. You can’t hide, you no-good bastard.”

      Leif inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to figure out how a dude handled something like this. He felt caught in some crazy docudrama or a Maury Povich special. “I wasn’t trying to hide from you.” Much.

      “Bullshith.” Marcie teetered as she tried to square her shoulders. “You were runnin’ like a damn...uh, something I can’t think of right now.”

      He glanced at Marcie’s best friend, Rachel, who still sat in the Mustang looking guilty as hell. “How much did she drink, Rach?”

      She held up a half-empty bottle of Crown Royal. “She started last night. I’m sorry. I couldn’t talk her out of it and I couldn’t let her drive herself. She’s loaded.”

      Good Lord. Marcie swayed, her blue eyes still locked on him. Abigail had edged onto the grass and he could only imagine the censure in the woman’s eyes. He’d seen her around St. George’s, hovering over the school like a blimp or like that character in Monsters, Inc. Always watching. Abigail Beauchamp Orgeron seemed to be the perfect mother, business owner and citizen—always going the extra mile. She was the kind of woman who made him twitchy.

      “Okay, look, Marcie, this isn’t СКАЧАТЬ