Read Online Hotter than Texas (Pecan Creek) by Tina Leonard - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tina Leonard
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with the tenant/landlord thing. It works for me.”
She went back up the stairs, not allowing herself to glance back at Jake, even though she was dying to. She went to the table where her mother and sister sat chatting and fanning themselves.
Lucy looked at her closely. “What did Jake want that was so earth-shattering he had to drag you away from us?”
Sugar sipped her soda, glad for the coolness. She needed to cool down in the worst way. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jake head over to the grill to talk to one of the cooks. He disappeared a moment later, jaunty and self-assured, a confident man who’d probably never had a woman resist him.
She barely had.
“Nothing,” Sugar said. “Nothing at all.”
“He said it was important.” Lucy eyed her. “He didn’t want anyone to overhear.”
She looked over the patio rail, seeing him walking through the gravel parking lot to his truck. “He just wanted to make certain we weren’t still upset with him about the other night.”
“I’m not,” Maggie said. “I never was. This is not my first rodeo around catty women. Women, I get. Men perplex me a bit more, but I like them. Some of them.” She drank her soda with blissful joy.
Lucy eyed her sister. “I don’t think his intentions are entirely pure where you’re concerned.”
Maggie looked up at the moon blooming round and white over the outdoor patio. “Are any man’s intentions pure?”
Sugar thought about Jake’s kiss. There’d been heat and restrained passion in his kiss. Her divorce wasn’t far enough in the past for her to want hot kisses right now.
But if his intentions hadn’t been exactly pure, she had to admit she’d liked them that way.
Boredom, thy name is Pecan Creek. Lucy’d had enough of the Three Stooges ogling her. She excused herself from the table, leaving Maggie and Sugar discussing the fine points of the pecan recipes they’d tried today. The two of them could chat about spice this and ingredient that until Lucy wanted to keel over in a stupor.
She wasn’t going to survive here if she didn’t get some action going. Being the unlucky cheerleader for Larry, Curly and Moe’s football fantasy was not it.
Azalea Avenue wasn’t far from The Grease Pit, as she’d dubbed the burger joint. She strolled to Azalea, pulled the broomstick woman’s address from her phone’s address book, then stopped in front of 12 Azalea Avenue.
Small white house, freshly painted, roof in good shape. Front yard tidy, with pink crepe myrtles blooming despite the heat. Heavy draping of a live oak canopy protected the house from the blazing sun of the Texas afternoons. Calm and traditional, this was obviously not the action hot spot she was seeking. “Best head back to the Pit,” Lucy said with a sigh.
“Young lady!”
Lucy turned. The white-haired battle-ax stood on her porch, calling to her through cupped hands, as if that helped sound carry. “Yes?”
“Why are you standing in front of my house?”
“Why, indeed,” Lucy muttered. “I was thinking about slitting my wrists and was looking for a nice white porch to do it on,” she called.
“Goodness! What a silly notion.” She waved her over to the porch. Lucy went reluctantly, cursing the idleness that had sent her over here to assuage her curiosity.
“Come in and have some tea.”
“I don’t think so.” Lucy looked at the thin, athletic woman wrapped in a lemon-yellow dress accentuated with white tennis shoes, suitable for walking quickly, as she’d noticed Charlotte did. “You have an ulterior motive. I stay away from people with ulterior motives.”
“ You have ulterior motives too. Don’t judge.” Charlotte opened her screen door, ushering Lucy inside.
“Old lady, I can take you easily, so don’t even think about trying anything.”
Ignoring her comment, she indicated that Lucy should seat herself on a prim white divan in her parlor. “In case you don’t remember, my name is Charlotte Dawson.
She went back up the stairs, not allowing herself to glance back at Jake, even though she was dying to. She went to the table where her mother and sister sat chatting and fanning themselves.
Lucy looked at her closely. “What did Jake want that was so earth-shattering he had to drag you away from us?”
Sugar sipped her soda, glad for the coolness. She needed to cool down in the worst way. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jake head over to the grill to talk to one of the cooks. He disappeared a moment later, jaunty and self-assured, a confident man who’d probably never had a woman resist him.
She barely had.
“Nothing,” Sugar said. “Nothing at all.”
“He said it was important.” Lucy eyed her. “He didn’t want anyone to overhear.”
She looked over the patio rail, seeing him walking through the gravel parking lot to his truck. “He just wanted to make certain we weren’t still upset with him about the other night.”
“I’m not,” Maggie said. “I never was. This is not my first rodeo around catty women. Women, I get. Men perplex me a bit more, but I like them. Some of them.” She drank her soda with blissful joy.
Lucy eyed her sister. “I don’t think his intentions are entirely pure where you’re concerned.”
Maggie looked up at the moon blooming round and white over the outdoor patio. “Are any man’s intentions pure?”
Sugar thought about Jake’s kiss. There’d been heat and restrained passion in his kiss. Her divorce wasn’t far enough in the past for her to want hot kisses right now.
But if his intentions hadn’t been exactly pure, she had to admit she’d liked them that way.
Boredom, thy name is Pecan Creek. Lucy’d had enough of the Three Stooges ogling her. She excused herself from the table, leaving Maggie and Sugar discussing the fine points of the pecan recipes they’d tried today. The two of them could chat about spice this and ingredient that until Lucy wanted to keel over in a stupor.
She wasn’t going to survive here if she didn’t get some action going. Being the unlucky cheerleader for Larry, Curly and Moe’s football fantasy was not it.
Azalea Avenue wasn’t far from The Grease Pit, as she’d dubbed the burger joint. She strolled to Azalea, pulled the broomstick woman’s address from her phone’s address book, then stopped in front of 12 Azalea Avenue.
Small white house, freshly painted, roof in good shape. Front yard tidy, with pink crepe myrtles blooming despite the heat. Heavy draping of a live oak canopy protected the house from the blazing sun of the Texas afternoons. Calm and traditional, this was obviously not the action hot spot she was seeking. “Best head back to the Pit,” Lucy said with a sigh.
“Young lady!”
Lucy turned. The white-haired battle-ax stood on her porch, calling to her through cupped hands, as if that helped sound carry. “Yes?”
“Why are you standing in front of my house?”
“Why, indeed,” Lucy muttered. “I was thinking about slitting my wrists and was looking for a nice white porch to do it on,” she called.
“Goodness! What a silly notion.” She waved her over to the porch. Lucy went reluctantly, cursing the idleness that had sent her over here to assuage her curiosity.
“Come in and have some tea.”
“I don’t think so.” Lucy looked at the thin, athletic woman wrapped in a lemon-yellow dress accentuated with white tennis shoes, suitable for walking quickly, as she’d noticed Charlotte did. “You have an ulterior motive. I stay away from people with ulterior motives.”
“ You have ulterior motives too. Don’t judge.” Charlotte opened her screen door, ushering Lucy inside.
“Old lady, I can take you easily, so don’t even think about trying anything.”
Ignoring her comment, she indicated that Lucy should seat herself on a prim white divan in her parlor. “In case you don’t remember, my name is Charlotte Dawson.
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