Read Online Cold Tea on a Hot Day by Curtiss Ann Matlock - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Curtiss Ann Matlock
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faded snapshot of the boy and the mule was one of a lovely blond woman in the front yard of an old house, her arms around two boys.
“That’s my mother,” Tate told her, coming up behind her. “With me and my brother, Hollis. I’m the older, skinnier one.”
“And that’s you, plowing with a mule?”
“Yep. Farmin’ in East Texas in the fifties. My mother took that picture. Mama liked to take pictures.”
He had come to stand very close behind her. Close enough for his breath to tickle her hair.
“This is Mama in front of the house me and Hollis bought her.” His arm brushed her shoulder as he pointed at another photograph. “And this is how my daddy wound up.”
He tapped a photograph of a mangled black car stuck to the front end of a Santa Fe Railroad engine.
“I like to see where I’ve come from and how far I’ve journeyed and remind myself where I don’t want to go,” he said with practicality. Then, the next second, “You smell awfully good, Miss Marilee.”
That comment jerked her mind away from the horror of the mangled car. She turned, and her shoulder bumped his chest, because he didn’t move but stood there gazing at her with a light in his clear, twinkling blue eyes that just about took every faithful breath out of her lungs.
His gaze flickered downward, and hers followed to stop and linger on his lips.
The next instant she stepped quickly away from him and said as casually as possible, “And just what does that picture mean in your journey?” She gestured at the photograph of Marilyn Monroe.
“Well—” he sauntered to the desk and laid down the hammer “—I like the touch Marilyn gives the place.”
“What touch are you going for, exactly?”
“Oh…I think a photograph like that sets people off balance, for one thing.” He folded his arms, and his strong shoulders stretched his shirt. “And it is lively. I might come in here feelin’ a little too serious about myself and things in general, and I’ll look up there at that beautiful woman—” he looked up at the picture and grinned “—with a laugh like that and those legs goin’ to heaven, and it makes me remember the true secret of life.” He gave a little wink.
Marilee took that in and took hold of the solid walnut back of the visitor chair, feeling the need to have the chair between herself and Tate Holloway.
She looked at him, and he looked at her in the manner of a man who was intent on having what he wanted. It was both flattering and unsettling.
Breaking the gaze, she said, “I need to discuss my job here.”
His eyebrows went up, “Well, you go ahead, Miss Marilee…as long as you aren’t about to tell me you’re gonna quit.”
Marilee reacted to this with a mixture of gratification and annoyance. There was something very commanding in the way he spoke, as if he would not allow her to quit.
“Do you want a raise?” he asked before she could speak. “I can spare twenty more a week—okay…I’ll go to thirty.”
“I don’t want a raise…but I’ll take it.”
“I won’t force it on you, if you don’t want it.”
“I want it. I only meant that a raise wasn’t what I was going to discuss, but now that you’ve offered, I will take it.”
“Well, since it isn’t a question of a raise, there’s no sense in talkin’ about it.”
“But we are talking about it now, and I’ll take it. My workload has greatly increased since Harlan and Jewel left.”
“Okay, twenty dollars a week it is.”
“You said thirty.”
He cocked his head to the side and regarded her. “What was it you wanted to discuss about your job, Miss Marilee?”
Keeping her hands pressed to the chair back, she told him of her decision to remove her children from the final weeks of school and therefore her need to work from home. That she had been so bold as to take the raise before explaining this, and the glint in his eye that showed admiration, gave her courage.
She explained that until this year, when she
“That’s my mother,” Tate told her, coming up behind her. “With me and my brother, Hollis. I’m the older, skinnier one.”
“And that’s you, plowing with a mule?”
“Yep. Farmin’ in East Texas in the fifties. My mother took that picture. Mama liked to take pictures.”
He had come to stand very close behind her. Close enough for his breath to tickle her hair.
“This is Mama in front of the house me and Hollis bought her.” His arm brushed her shoulder as he pointed at another photograph. “And this is how my daddy wound up.”
He tapped a photograph of a mangled black car stuck to the front end of a Santa Fe Railroad engine.
“I like to see where I’ve come from and how far I’ve journeyed and remind myself where I don’t want to go,” he said with practicality. Then, the next second, “You smell awfully good, Miss Marilee.”
That comment jerked her mind away from the horror of the mangled car. She turned, and her shoulder bumped his chest, because he didn’t move but stood there gazing at her with a light in his clear, twinkling blue eyes that just about took every faithful breath out of her lungs.
His gaze flickered downward, and hers followed to stop and linger on his lips.
The next instant she stepped quickly away from him and said as casually as possible, “And just what does that picture mean in your journey?” She gestured at the photograph of Marilyn Monroe.
“Well—” he sauntered to the desk and laid down the hammer “—I like the touch Marilyn gives the place.”
“What touch are you going for, exactly?”
“Oh…I think a photograph like that sets people off balance, for one thing.” He folded his arms, and his strong shoulders stretched his shirt. “And it is lively. I might come in here feelin’ a little too serious about myself and things in general, and I’ll look up there at that beautiful woman—” he looked up at the picture and grinned “—with a laugh like that and those legs goin’ to heaven, and it makes me remember the true secret of life.” He gave a little wink.
Marilee took that in and took hold of the solid walnut back of the visitor chair, feeling the need to have the chair between herself and Tate Holloway.
She looked at him, and he looked at her in the manner of a man who was intent on having what he wanted. It was both flattering and unsettling.
Breaking the gaze, she said, “I need to discuss my job here.”
His eyebrows went up, “Well, you go ahead, Miss Marilee…as long as you aren’t about to tell me you’re gonna quit.”
Marilee reacted to this with a mixture of gratification and annoyance. There was something very commanding in the way he spoke, as if he would not allow her to quit.
“Do you want a raise?” he asked before she could speak. “I can spare twenty more a week—okay…I’ll go to thirty.”
“I don’t want a raise…but I’ll take it.”
“I won’t force it on you, if you don’t want it.”
“I want it. I only meant that a raise wasn’t what I was going to discuss, but now that you’ve offered, I will take it.”
“Well, since it isn’t a question of a raise, there’s no sense in talkin’ about it.”
“But we are talking about it now, and I’ll take it. My workload has greatly increased since Harlan and Jewel left.”
“Okay, twenty dollars a week it is.”
“You said thirty.”
He cocked his head to the side and regarded her. “What was it you wanted to discuss about your job, Miss Marilee?”
Keeping her hands pressed to the chair back, she told him of her decision to remove her children from the final weeks of school and therefore her need to work from home. That she had been so bold as to take the raise before explaining this, and the glint in his eye that showed admiration, gave her courage.
She explained that until this year, when she
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