Read Online Buried In Buttercream by G. A. McKevett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: G. A. McKevett
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and was already rushing back into the living room.
Savannah watched her sadly, then realized that Waycross was watching her watch Tammy.
“She feels guilty,” he said softly. “She’s trying to make it up to you. And she never will.”
“She has nothing to feel guilty about,” Savannah said, trying to control the sadness that felt like a squeezing tightness in her chest and her throat. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But you’ll never convince her of that.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. And it breaks my heart.”
Waycross finished his beer and set it on the table. His fingers were tight around the bottle. “Sometimes I wish I could kill that guy all over again.”
Savannah closed her eyes, trying to blot out the image of her attacker’s face. “Yes,” she said. “I hear you. It’s a good thing for all of us that we can’t.”
Chapter 5
M ost brides don’t hang out in their garages on their wedding days. Savannah was pretty sure of that. But then, most brides didn’t have a house bursting with Georgia relatives to contend with either on that glorious, most important day of their lives.
“No, really,” Dirk was saying as she cradled the cell phone between her ear and shoulder and applied mascara at the same time, “where are you?”
“I told you,” she replied, “I’m sitting in my Mustang, putting on my makeup.”
She squinted into the mirror clamped to her sun visor as she tried to de-clump her lashes.
The bright red, ’65 Mustang was her baby, her home away from home, considering the many hours she had spent inside it while on stakeouts. And today, it was her refuge.
“You want me to come over there and throw them all out of the bathroom, so that you can get ready like a proper bride?”
“Naw. One of the first things you learn as a youngun with eight siblings is, ‘Don’t hog the toilet.’”
“How’s about I come get you and bring you over here to my place? You can have the bathroom and bedroom all to yourself.”
“Believe me, that’s tempting. But there’s the ‘bad luck to see the bride on the wedding day’ business. I figure, with the luck we’ve had, we’d better not tempt fate.”
“True. So true.”
She tried to screw the mascara wand back onto the tube with one hand and dropped it into her lap.
Looking down at the Midnight Black smear on the front of her tan linen skirt, she fought back the urge to cry. “Don’t bawl, gal,” she whispered to herself. “You’ll have to redo your eyeliner, and you don’t have time for that.”
“What?” he asked. “Why are you about to cry? Are you having second thoughts about marrying an old coot like me?”
She laughed. “You aren’t old.”
There was a long pause on the other end. Then he said, “Well ... I’m waiting for you to tell me I’m not a coot either.”
“I prefer to think of you as a curmudgeon.”
“Is that better?”
“In my mind, coots and curmudgeons are both cantankerous, but curmudgeons are better-looking.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks, I guess.”
She pulled out her blush and began to add some “peaches” to her peaches and cream complexion. Lately, she hadn’t gotten enough sleep to manage natural peaches on her own.
“How does your tux fit?” she asked.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
She stopped in mid-blush. “Does that mean you haven’t tried it on yet?”
Silence on the other end.
“Did you even open the bag to make sure they didn’t give you the wrong one? For all you know, you could have a red and green checkered jacket with purple pants in there. And I have to tell you, I have my standards. I’m not marrying a guy in a plaid coat.”
She could hear him frantically rushing around, then a rustling of plastic and zipper noise.
Then a sigh of relief.
“It’s the one you told me to get. Black with a white shirt.”
She smiled, gave the phone a smack. “You’re so good.”
“Just wait till tonight.”
Savannah nearly ran headfirst into Madeline
Savannah watched her sadly, then realized that Waycross was watching her watch Tammy.
“She feels guilty,” he said softly. “She’s trying to make it up to you. And she never will.”
“She has nothing to feel guilty about,” Savannah said, trying to control the sadness that felt like a squeezing tightness in her chest and her throat. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But you’ll never convince her of that.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. And it breaks my heart.”
Waycross finished his beer and set it on the table. His fingers were tight around the bottle. “Sometimes I wish I could kill that guy all over again.”
Savannah closed her eyes, trying to blot out the image of her attacker’s face. “Yes,” she said. “I hear you. It’s a good thing for all of us that we can’t.”
Chapter 5
M ost brides don’t hang out in their garages on their wedding days. Savannah was pretty sure of that. But then, most brides didn’t have a house bursting with Georgia relatives to contend with either on that glorious, most important day of their lives.
“No, really,” Dirk was saying as she cradled the cell phone between her ear and shoulder and applied mascara at the same time, “where are you?”
“I told you,” she replied, “I’m sitting in my Mustang, putting on my makeup.”
She squinted into the mirror clamped to her sun visor as she tried to de-clump her lashes.
The bright red, ’65 Mustang was her baby, her home away from home, considering the many hours she had spent inside it while on stakeouts. And today, it was her refuge.
“You want me to come over there and throw them all out of the bathroom, so that you can get ready like a proper bride?”
“Naw. One of the first things you learn as a youngun with eight siblings is, ‘Don’t hog the toilet.’”
“How’s about I come get you and bring you over here to my place? You can have the bathroom and bedroom all to yourself.”
“Believe me, that’s tempting. But there’s the ‘bad luck to see the bride on the wedding day’ business. I figure, with the luck we’ve had, we’d better not tempt fate.”
“True. So true.”
She tried to screw the mascara wand back onto the tube with one hand and dropped it into her lap.
Looking down at the Midnight Black smear on the front of her tan linen skirt, she fought back the urge to cry. “Don’t bawl, gal,” she whispered to herself. “You’ll have to redo your eyeliner, and you don’t have time for that.”
“What?” he asked. “Why are you about to cry? Are you having second thoughts about marrying an old coot like me?”
She laughed. “You aren’t old.”
There was a long pause on the other end. Then he said, “Well ... I’m waiting for you to tell me I’m not a coot either.”
“I prefer to think of you as a curmudgeon.”
“Is that better?”
“In my mind, coots and curmudgeons are both cantankerous, but curmudgeons are better-looking.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks, I guess.”
She pulled out her blush and began to add some “peaches” to her peaches and cream complexion. Lately, she hadn’t gotten enough sleep to manage natural peaches on her own.
“How does your tux fit?” she asked.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
She stopped in mid-blush. “Does that mean you haven’t tried it on yet?”
Silence on the other end.
“Did you even open the bag to make sure they didn’t give you the wrong one? For all you know, you could have a red and green checkered jacket with purple pants in there. And I have to tell you, I have my standards. I’m not marrying a guy in a plaid coat.”
She could hear him frantically rushing around, then a rustling of plastic and zipper noise.
Then a sigh of relief.
“It’s the one you told me to get. Black with a white shirt.”
She smiled, gave the phone a smack. “You’re so good.”
“Just wait till tonight.”
Savannah nearly ran headfirst into Madeline
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