His Southern Temptation - By Robin Covington Page 0,53

going to beat the odds, you’ll see.”

“God, I hope so.”

Something in his chest shifted at the pang of doubt in her words. He’d do anything not to let her down, and as of today, it was his number one priority. Given time, she would believe as much as he did.

Out of the corner his eye, he spotted his mother peering out at the truck from the window of the Comfort. They had about one minute before she sent someone out for them. Time to set the game plan.

“So, we’ll tell everyone you’re staying, but nothing about us. Right?”

“Yeah. You want to talk to Teague first, and I think that’s the smart way to go,” she answered.

Lucky unlocked the doors, adjusting his dark suit jacket as he crossed the front of the truck to meet Taylor on the sidewalk. “I do, too. He’s been so weird lately about you, and I don’t want to piss him off any more. If I had to guess, he’s not going to like it.”

“I don’t see why not. You’re one of his best friends. He knows you.”

“And that’s the problem.” Lucky touched her back where her waist curved in to the swell of her sexy bottom, remembering the tattoo inked into her tan skin underneath her dress. She halted, looking up at him with a quizzical expression on her face, and it took all of his restraint to keep from placing a kiss on her soft mouth. “He knows everything about me, including how many women I’ve had in my life and that none of them stuck.”

“Oh.” Her voice was just above a whisper, but the hint of hurt was unmistakable.

“Until now.”

“Oh.” She was a little perkier, the blush on her cheeks betraying how pleased she was with the news.

“Stop fishing for compliments and get your sweet ass inside.” He laughed and guided her through the door with a quick tap on her bottom. Taylor swatted his hand away and they entered the door laughing at their own private joke.

The aroma of the Southern Comfort—fresh-brewed coffee, fried chicken, and Aunt Dolly’s famous peanut butter pie—wrapped around him and dragged him all the way inside. He went willingly, having spent a good portion of his feckless youth in this restaurant waiting tables, hanging out with the Boys, and chasing girls. This was home.

People waved from booths and tables, greeting him with smiles and curious looks for Taylor as they passed by. They headed to an area currently occupied by about half the zip code’s population, most of them related to him in some way or another. Southerners knew their people, and once you were claimed by either blood or marriage it was almost impossible to shake them.

The little lady of the hour, his five-year-old second cousin Maddie, was standing with her mom and her brand new baby brother, Oliver. This brunch was a command appearance from her grandparents, his Aunt Dolly and Uncle John Cantrell. While he wasn’t looking forward to an hour of little kids pounding out show tunes, the brunch hosted at the Comfort was worth the price of admission.

Taylor was quickly absorbed into the crowd by his mom, and from the squeals and hugs that accompanied their conversation, he guessed she’d spilled the beans about staying in Elliott. He watched her across the room as she kissed Oliver, fist-bumped with Maddie, and hugged Michaela and Jack.

He didn’t even try to hide the smile on his face, and he let his mind imagine the way this scene would be played out over and over again in the future. Taylor with him, marking life’s ups and downs and making their own memories with their own children and grandchildren. Always a risk-taker, he’d bet money on how this was going to turn out. They’d win the whole damn jackpot.

A few moments later, Jack and Beck sidled up next to him as he poured himself a cup of coffee and topped off their own steaming mugs. He took a sip of the perfect brew and sought out Taylor’s gaze across the room, remembering the night before. The farm, Taylor—it was all more than he deserved and everything he wanted.

“Holy crap. Look at that face.” Beck laughed as he lifted his mug to his lips. “I guess you and Taylor worked out your ‘sleep together/not sleep together’ dilemma.”

“Of course they did.” Jack broke in with his own chuckle. “After working on the farm all day, he isn’t rushing to Elliott House just to get all hot and sweaty