Sweet Southern Nights. Liz Talley

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СКАЧАТЬ this town, isn’t it?” Clint asked, his dark eyes searching his for some weakness, hoping Jake would finally crack. It was a game they played sometimes, a guilt-riddled, smoldering resentment of a game.

      “Nah. Why would it be the town?”

      “’Cause you’ve been here all your life and you’re sick of it. Hell, you’ve dated every woman within twenty miles and could drive the streets blindfolded. You’re done.”

      Clint wanted Jake to admit he hated Magnolia Bend. He wanted Jake to say he was only here because he felt guilty. That if Clint hadn’t been paralyzed ten years ago that Jake would be in LA or Chicago or even Baton Rouge. That he’d be anywhere but at a run-down bar, eating stale pretzels and babysitting a cripple.

      But Jake would never say that...even if sometimes it felt true.

      “I’m not sick of it. I could be the goddamn mayor if I wanted. Right here is a walking poster for tourism.” Jake thumped his chest, trying to summon lightness.

      “Hell, yeah, it is. I’d take a tour,” Vicky Barrett drawled, twirling a piece of hair over his ear before sinking down on the empty chair to Jake’s right. “What you boys got on tap tonight?”

      “Well, I’m thinking about doing a couple of shots, dancing the two-step with a sexy lady and then getting laid,” Clint said with a wry laugh before looking down at his withered legs. “No, wait. I forgot.”

      Vicky laughed and the sound grated on Jake’s nerves. “You’re such a hoot, Clint. And hell, you don’t need legs for two of those things.”

      Jake didn’t say anything because Clint’s being in a wheelchair—no matter whether he could joke about it or not—would never be funny to him.

      Never.

      Clint knew that, but his friend danced on the edge tonight. He wanted a fight with Jake, but Jake wasn’t picking up what Clint was laying down. Been there, done that, hated himself for it.

      The door to the bar opened, and Eva walked in accompanied by her friend Jenny, who worked for the sheriff’s department. He raised a hand, noting that Jenny looked pretty damn good in her tight jeans and halter top. He’d actually dated her back in the day. Maybe it was time to get reacquainted with the lithe Jenny, who if he remembered correctly made a good omelet and insisted on brushing her teeth before kissing him good morning.

      Eva had her hair up, with hoop earrings that brushed her long neck. She wore a T-shirt that stretched her broad shoulders, framing a nice rack. Her shorts were a bit too short. He didn’t like her showing off her long legs any more than he’d like his sister, Abigail, doing so. No need to advertise the goods. He waved an arm and Eva inclined her head, giving Jenny a little push in the right direction.

      Vicky noticed and frowned.

      “What’s up, ladies?” Jake said, scooting his chair back and grabbing an empty one from the table behind him. He smiled at Jenny and patted the chair. “Have a seat.”

      Eva rolled her eyes, snagged another chair from behind her and sank down next to Clint. “Hey, Clint. How’re things?”

      Clint shrugged but his eyes lit up at the sight of Eva. “Same ol’ same old. Nothing’s changed since I saw you three hours ago. Or from yesterday when you stopped by with those brownies for Dad. They were good, by the way.”

      “You know I didn’t bake them, right?”

      “Duh,” he said, flashing a smile that made Jake’s heart ache. He’d seen that smile a million times...just not from the man currently in the state-of-the-art wheelchair. That smile was like a whisper of the past sliding past him.

      “What’ll you have?” Jake asked Jenny as her leg brushed his, tearing his mind away from the maudlin. She smelled good—like wildflowers or some other crap women liked to slather themselves with. She wore a push-up bra that lifted her small breasts, creating a delicious valley for his perusal. He jerked his gaze away and lifted his eyes, meeting Eva’s. She mouthed “pervert” and he grinned. Hell, if Jenny wanted to show them off, he was obligated to look.

      “I’ll take a glass of white wine,” Jenny said, grabbing a napkin to spit her gum in.

      A tired waitress trudged toward them. “What’ll it be?”

      Jake took out two twenties. “White wine for Jenny, a Miller Lite each for Eva and Vicky and another round for me and Clint.”

      “You don’t have to pay for my drink, Jake. I got my own, Bonnie,” Eva said.

      “Ah, let him,” Bonnie growled before trudging back to the bar.

      The place was only half-filled because it was Thursday night and just barely eight thirty. Things would pick up closer to ten, but by that time Jake usually had Clint in the car heading back to Duck Blind Bayou and the custom-built, handicap-friendly lake house where his friend lived with his father. These nights with Clint were obligation nights. Not nights to pick up women or forget the clock. He could only lay the groundwork for something more with Jenny later.

      If he wanted to go in that direction.

      His personal life had felt desolate lately, as if he’d reached a plateau and didn’t know what direction to walk in. Up until early summer he’d dated a lethally sexy librarian. Kate had a smoking body beneath her pencil skirts, and she even wore those nerdy black-rimmed glasses and pinned her hair up. But the woman was flippin’ wild in the sack. She’d worn him slap out, but eventually it had been sex, sex and more sex, and contrary to what most men said, eventually you have to talk to each other.

      Kate tanked when it came to conversation. She couldn’t name a single National League team, thought NASCAR was stupid and ate weird food like goji berries and flaxseed. Eventually they stopped calling each other for hookups.

      But dating Jenny could get complicated. She and Eva had become good friends. He didn’t need the obstacle of having to watch everything he said to Eva or having her run to tell Jenny if he’d flirted with a woman at the grocery store. So maybe he’d forgo laying that groundwork.

      “You want to dance?” Jenny asked, leaning toward him, her blue eyes soliciting an invitation.

      “Sure,” he said, sliding his chair back. “Let’s work up a thirst.”

      Clint’s gaze moved over the two of them as they escaped to the dance floor. Jake usually didn’t dance when he was with Clint because it felt too shitty to do something his friend could not, but for some reason, he had to get away for a moment. To think.

      And to hold an armful of something sweet and warm.

      Jenny looped her arms around his neck. “You look good tonight, Jake. I like your shirt.”

      “This old thing?” He plucked at the fabric with his thumb and forefinger. It was a gingham plaid shirt from some preppy catalog his mother favored. The blue matched his eyes and set off the tan he’d picked up fishing with his brother all summer. His jeans were tight and his boots well-worn. He skipped wearing a cowboy hat, unlike most of the guys in the bar, because he didn’t actually ride bulls or drive tractors. “Thank you, darlin’,” he said.

      And then he proceeded to pull Jenny tight against him and whirl her around the dance floor to a Luke Bryan song СКАЧАТЬ