Read Online Buried In Buttercream by G. A. McKevett - Free Book Online Page A

taken from her ... along with peaceful, nightmare-free nights.
    “Can I get you something?” Tammy asked, far too eager to please. “Do you want me to make you a sandwich or get you a drink or—”
    “No, honey, I just came in here to get a broom. We had a little accident in the living room. My African violet.”
    “Oh, no.”
    “Yep, he’s toes up, I’m afraid. In my comfy chair.”
    Tammy ran to the pantry and snagged the whisk broom and dustpan before Savannah. “Let me do it. I’ve got it covered. You just sit down and rest.”
    With that, she hurried from the room.
    Savannah sighed as she walked to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of lemonade.
    It seemed that since the shooting, everybody scurried around, doing things to please or help her. People were always rushing here and there to do things they thought she could no longer do for herself. And while it was endearing that they cared so much for her, it made her most uncomfortable.
    She firmly believed that scrambling to do everything as quickly as possible was a waste of energy most of the time. And it was a downright sin when it was done to pacify impatient, controlling people.
    She didn’t want anyone to ever lump her into the category of someone who needed others to scurry around on their behalf. And certainly not someone as precious to her as her longtime friend and assistant, Tammy Hart.
    Taking her lemonade to the table, she sat across from Waycross. He had a bowl of pretzels in front of him and was sipping from an ice-frosted bottle of beer.
    “Don’t let Granny catch you with that,” she said. “You’ll wind up wearing it instead of drinking it.”
    He chuckled. “Believe you me, I checked to make sure she was taking her nap before I popped the top. I wouldn’t put it past her to take a switch to me.”
    “Demon rum.”
    “The only thing worse than rolling dice, playing cards—”
    “Or chewin’ tobaccy.”
    “Yep. Gran’s death in drinking, gambling, and tobacco products. And fornication. Don’t forget that one.”
    “Like I could forget it? She’s been putting the evil eye on me every time I step out the door to go see Dirk now. She’s just sure that he and I are already dancing the Grizzly Bear Hump.”
    Waycross’s pale blue eyes probed hers with Reid intensity. “Well,” he said, “are you?”
    “How very ungentlemanly of you to ask.”
    “Sorry.”
    “No.”
    “No, what?”
    “Not that it’s any of your business. But, no, we aren’t. We haven’t. Figured if we’ve waited this long, might as well hold out and make the honeymoon night special.”
    He snickered into his beer. “I’d be afraid to roll the dice like that. Aren’t you worried that maybe you’ll wait and find out you don’t like him? You know ... what he does ... and stuff.”
    Unbidden, Savannah’s mind replayed some of Dirk’s kisses, a few stolen caresses. No, she wasn’t worried at all.
    “What I’m worried about is having this conversation with my little brother. Change the subject and get that beer drunk before Granny comes downstairs.”
    Tammy reentered, carrying the broom and the dustpan filled with dirt. “Change what subject?” she asked. “Whatever you don’t want Gran to hear ... that’s what I want to hear.”
    “We’re talking about Savannah’s and Dirk’s sex life,” Waycross said.
    “Savannah and Dirko have a sex life? E wwww !”
    “We do not!” Savannah reached across the table and slapped his arm so hard that he nearly dropped his beer. “And you better stop spreading those nasty rumors, boy, or I’ll be the one taking a switch to you.”
    Tammy emptied the dustpan in the garbage can, then put it and the broom away.
    She hurried to the sink and began searching in the cupboard beneath it.
    “What are you looking for?” Savannah asked her.
    “That fabric stain removal spray you have. I got most of the dirt off your chair, but there’s one little spot that I couldn’t ...”
    She’d found the can