Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12) - Dorothea Benton Frank Page 0,50

I’m Leslie’s husband.” He extended his hand for Archie to shake and Archie shook it soundly. “And tonight, I’m Charlene.”

Not to me, you’re not, I thought. I was a little confused.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Charlene,” Archie said. “Of course, you are.” He turned to the photographer. “Can we get a picture of the three of us?”

“I hope you don’t mind that I stopped in,” Charlie said. “I came to the island to surprise Leslie. I want her to come with me, back to Vegas.”

“And I’ll bet you surprised her, all right,” I said.

“No, I’m delighted to see you,” Archie said, smiling.

We stood together and smiled, and the photographer snapped several pictures.

“Thank you. I should probably go help Leslie with the drinks,” Charlie said and walked in the direction of the bar.

“Terrible thing about the seagulls and all,” I said. “Is Sharon okay?”

“Oh, sure. She’s fine. Luckily, she has another dress. She went inside to change.”

“So, when do y’all leave? I mean, what time? I know it’s in the morning.”

“At ten. Holly, I need to say something.”

I could feel the electricity between us. It was as real and as powerful as anything I’d ever felt.

“No, you don’t. You just go and have a great time in Bermuda and don’t worry about a thing.”

I looked at him, staring straight into his eyes as if to say, You’re a damn fool, Archibald MacLean. A damn fool. Did his eyes say he was in agreement?

“So, aren’t drones remote-controlled bees?” Hunter said.

I said, “No. Drones don’t do anything except mate with the queen. And then they die.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Tyler said.

Chapter Fourteen

The Vapors

Well, Charlie’s physical appearance was too much for Momma. When we all got home from the wedding, Momma was in the kitchen. She looked up and gave him the most serious hairy eyeball I’d ever seen her deliver.

“You’re not planning on sleeping under this roof, I hope,” she said.

“Momma, Charlie is my husband, for goodness’ sake,” Leslie said.

“Go get yourself a hotel room,” Momma said. “I think you’ve done enough for our family’s reputation for one night.”

“Momma! That’s not nice! You can’t treat my husband this way!” Leslie said.

“Charlie, I’m talking to you. Do you have a hearing problem, too?” Momma said.

“No, ma’am. I do not have a hearing problem. But I must say you are hurting my feelings,” Charlie said. “However, I will not stay where I am not welcome. Come, Leslie, gather your things. We can go to the Courtyard Marriott.”

Leslie looked like she was about to burst into tears. Her fist covered her mouth.

“Oh, Charlie, I can’t go with you, you know, like this. I love you. You know I do. But I just can’t.”

“I see,” he said. “And why not? We were just at a wedding.”

“That was a bad call,” Leslie said.

“Do you not have a mirror?” Momma said. “I think it’s time for you to call it a night.” She went about ten feet from the kitchen and turned around. “And another thing. You were never that handsome as a man, but, great God almighty, you make one ugly woman.”

Momma left the room, presumably to go to her bathroom to try and find ten milligrams of something that would readjust her central nervous system.

Charlie looked at me, pursed his lips, and put his hands on his hips.

“Have you ever?” he said.

I said, “Charlie, sometimes things go your way and sometimes they don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means bless your heart,” I said.

“Which means?”

“You’re an idiot, Charlie,” I said. “You can’t come around here dressed how you are dressed and expect a good reaction. I’m sorry. That’s just the way the world turns.”

“I never thought you were so narrow-minded, Holly.”

“Don’t insult me, Charlie. I’m not narrow-minded one bit and you know it. You’re the odd man out here.”

“Well, that’s an interesting expression. Your mother? Okay. She’s from another generation. But I’d have thought you were, well, a lot cooler about the ways of the world.”

“Charlie, I have nothing against your lifestyle. How you live is entirely your business.”

“Thank you,” he said, still giving me some self-righteous attitude. “Although I don’t need anyone’s permission.”

“But you should’ve told my sister the truth before you married her.”

“Maybe we should talk in the morning,” Leslie said. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.”

“So, I’m being thrown out into the night? Dismissed like an unwanted visitor?”

“Come on, Charlie,” Leslie said and took his arm. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

I said, “Charlie?”

He turned back to me.

“It wasn’t a black-tie wedding. You’re, like, way overdressed.”

He shrugged

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