His Southern Temptation - By Robin Covington Page 0,58

own life. Then, when they leave, you’ll have something.”

Her mother gave out a shuddery breath that bordered on a sob, and Taylor decided it was time to take her upstairs and get her to lie down for a while. It had been a crazy day after an unsettled six months, and she needed some time to pull herself together.

With soft words of encouragement, Taylor urged her to stand and guided her mother down the lemon-polish-scented hallway, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom. The sheets were clean and cool, and after helping her mother shed her jacket and shoes she slid her into bed.

As she made her way down to her own room, the landing was dark and cool against the heat of the day. Bone-weary with exhaustion, she slowly unzipped her dress. Dropping it on the arm of a chair, she dove headfirst into her own bed, burrowing under the covers and shivering slightly at the sensation of fine cotton sliding against her skin.

In the semidarkness of the room, she couldn’t shake what her mother had said. The truth of it resonated deep in her, sparking the embers of doubt she thought were largely extinguished. Her mother’s story wasn’t unique—even today some of Taylor’s friends had to re-create themselves after divorce. It wasn’t uncommon for one half of these seemingly solid couples to express shock at the implosion of their lives, never seeing it coming.

Right now, she and Lucky were solid. But what about a year from now? Five? Ten? They’d never even spent more than a week in each other’s company until now, so how were they supposed to know if they could even stand each other long-term?

And now the plans for a business venture here in Elliott were in jeopardy and she had no idea how to make it happen without the money from the house. Her meager savings would not cover the down payment required by a regular bank.

Groaning into her pillow and tugging the covers even tighter around her head, Taylor tried to clear her mind.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“I hope you have your gun, Eddie.”

“Lucky, what’s with you and guns and killing?” Eddie Wilkes asked. He didn’t bother to get up from his desk chair, and Mr. Clean continued to lounge comfortably on the leather sofa. Clearly, he needed to up his intimidation game.

“Well, I’ve had a shitty day and I want to shoot something.” Lucky leaned against the desk, making sure his holster peeked out from under his jacket. “You called and I just figured it was fate.”

“Very funny guy. Still crying over your burned-up truck, I suppose?”

“That’s just one small part of my particular brand of shitty.”

And it was. His mom was mad at him for fighting at the diner. Teague wasn’t speaking to him, and his future mother-in-law was now living in the room right next Taylor’s. Ugh. And Taylor was acting funny. He’d tried to make her spill last night, but she distracted him with a blow job and that was the end of that conversation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie asked, motioning toward the sofa. “Bruce can move over…”

Jack interrupted the fun from where he stood in the doorway, his voice beyond exasperated. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Can you just tell us why you called so we can tell you we don’t give a shit and leave?”

“He’s in a bad mood too. I called when he was in bed with his wife.” Lucky smirked, his mood lifting just a little. “But he’s right. Why don’t we get this over with and leave.”

“Sounds good. I just wanted to offer again to hire you to find Sarah Morgan for me. I can sweeten the pot, say, fifty thousand dollars when you bring her to me and get my money back.”

“No. Hell no. We’re going.” Lucky turned, motioning for Jack to follow him out the door. This was a waste of time, no surprise, but it had to be done.

“I wonder if your Taylor could use the fifty grand?” Eddie’s voice was pleasant, mild, but the layer of threat stopped both Lucky and Jack in mid-step.

Lucky spun around. “What did you say?”

“Ms. Elliott needs money, and I’ve offered to loan it to her.” Eddie clutched his heart in a way—as if he had one. It wasn’t convincing. “Well, not me exactly. My bank. And we’re happy to help her out.”

Eddie hit a button on the remote on his desk and the curtains covering the ceiling-to-floor windows parted, revealing the bank floor below.