Hotter than Texas (Pecan Creek) - By Tina Leonard Page 0,29
said. “She said it was important. She also said she’s thinking about going out with Kennedy Carson, because she’s getting tired of waiting on you to pull your head out of your butt. I’m not supposed to tell you that,” Evert continued with some pride, “so please don’t mention it. I kind of like being the guy the ladies tell their troubles to, but trust is imperative.”
“You don’t say.” Jake stood. “I don’t want sex with Averie, and I don’t want a piece of her mind.”
“Those Cassavechias really know how to take a man apart, don’t they?” Kel sighed dramatically.
“Just buy Debbie some sexy lingerie and fix your marriage, Kel,” Jake said, heading up the secret stairs to get away from all the angst in the pit.
He was in as bad a spot as Kel.
Vivian looked at Jake when he appeared in the kitchen of her small, two-bedroom home located at the opposite end of Azalea Street, not too far from Charlotte Dawson’s house. “If you’re here to twist my arm further about the Cassavechia woman, I’m late for a meeting with the committee.”
“You can tell them,” Jake said, “that Maggie Cassavechia has graciously accepted the position of mayor.”
“I think you know that woman is not what I had in mind when I envisioned presenting Pecan Creek to the visiting public in a positive, welcoming light.” His mother looked at him, her gaze bitter. “We will hardly end up on the pages of Southern Living as a small town worthy of interest with her smoking cigarettes and advising the public of the fun of lying out topless in one’s backyard.” Vivian sniffed. “Yes, I heard about that. Your meathead friends can’t keep a secret to save their lives.”
Jake leaned against the kitchen counter. “Mom, look. Maggie is not the devil you paint her as. She’s a nice, friendly lady. Visitors will love her.”
“They may find her quaint, but they won’t be convinced to bring their money to Pecan Creek.”
“And it all comes down to commerce.” Jake sighed.
“Yes, it does,” Vivian snapped. “How do you think I pay for this place, Jake? And where do you think the revenues come from to keep Pecan Creek up to date and well repaired? You may not be aware of this, but it does cost quite a bit of money to keep Pecan Creek with the town services we all enjoy. Perhaps you’d prefer to raise taxes on a town that hasn’t had a decent employment rate in the last five years?”
“So we make our money on body potions and body candy.” Jake shrugged. “It won’t be the end of PC commerce if Maggie serves as our mayor.”
“The super-tanned, rumpled persona of Pecan Creek. Let’s see, would you respond better to a woman who looks like she’s been down a few hard miles of road, or a confident man who’s a war hero?”
“Easy on the war-hero stuff, Mom,” Jake warned. “Maggie will be fine.”
“Maggie, as you call her, wouldn’t be put forth as the face of Pecan Creek if you didn’t have significant hots for her daughter. A mistake you will rue, I feel certain, when Averie marries someone else. And I hate it when you call Pecan Creek PC. I really do. I’m well aware you’re making fun of the quiet businesses the ladies run by disparaging us as not being exactly politically correct.”
Jake shook his head. “Let’s not go there today, all right? Go to your meeting. I’m going to sit here and think. You got a beer in the fridge?”
“I do not,” Vivian said, her tone frosty. “I do not drink.”
“You do drink,” Jake said, pulling open a cabinet in the kitchen and pulling out a bottle of homemade wine fresh from her small fermentation station in the backyard shed. “I hope this has some kick.”
“Is something wrong?” Vivian asked, her motherly instincts rising to the surface.
“No.” Jake slung himself into the wicker sofa facing out into a backyard where the last flowers of summer ran in riotous tangles of white crepe myrtle blossoms. “Everything is just ducky.”
“It’s that woman, isn’t it?” Vivian asked. “You know, Averie is aware your attention has become a bit divided.”
He opened the bottle. His mother handed him a crystal long-stemmed wineglass. “Are you kidding me? Don’t you have something more user-friendly?”
“No,” Vivian said, “use this and don’t drink out of the bottle. I’m running low on my private label.”
Jake laughed. “Private label. Is that what they called it during Prohibition?” He poured some in the