Page 42 of Second Chance

“We understand,” Cora answers for us, and I’m grateful she has more grace and manners than I. “How are you doing, Dee?”

“It’s Lores,” she corrects, and I blink up at her. “Rusty likes to call me Lores, so I’m trying to go by the new name.”

I stare at her. Rusty? Does she mean Crusty Rusty from the same motorcycle club James joined? The same one where Cora’s son is an initiate? Dolores can’t possibly be hooking up with someone from the Devil’s Edge?

“Rusty?” Cora asks, swallowing back the same thought as me.

“Rusty Miller.”

Yep. Confirmation. Aw, shit. What is Dolores doing with him? But the question doesn’t get asked when the room falls silent as we hear the tap, tap, tapping of Magnolia’s cane.

“Ladies,” Magnolia announces, greeting Cora and me. “Are those some of Apple’s muffins?” Apple Jane is the name of the personae Jane Royston, Cora’s daughter, portrays. She’s a modern-day Betty Crocker, portraying the perfect housewife circa 1950, dressing in bright red dresses to set off her brunette hair and signature red lips. I’ve always considered the costume ridiculous. Her apple baked goods are her claim to fame.

“Yes ma’am,” Cora chirps cheerfully, still proud of her daughter’s accomplishments which, over time, Cora credits as all her daughter’s doing. Cora has come a long way.

“Well, let’s set up outside. Sweet tea, Dolores,” Magnolia snaps at her granddaughter like she’s a servant and takes her tapping cane toward the front of the house where a screened-in porch sits off the main parlor.

“I’ll get the tea,” Cora offers, seeing the exasperation, frustration, and exhaustion on Dolores’s face.

Thank you, she mouths, swiping at a tear in the corner of her eye. Not knowing what to do with myself, I step over to Dolores, ready to hug her, but she puts her hand up. Comfort is the last thing she wants while touch is the very thing she needs. Good Lord, is that why she’s with Crusty Rusty? I shiver as I shrink back from her raised hand.

“I think I’ll keep Magnolia company.” Exiting the kitchen for the long hallway leading to the front of the house, I see Denton cross the front yard through the double door entry screens. He stops. Notices the truck next to his car and turns for the house. I tuck myself behind a wall by the staircase, holding my breath and banging my head on the plaster behind me. The screen creaks open and then something slows it from slamming shut. Heavy footsteps stalk down the hall and I close my eyes as if it will hide me.

I sense him pass me. Rather, I smell him pass. Fresh cut grass. Fall leaves. All man. Suddenly, his presence is before me, but my eyes remain closed.

“Mati,” he whispers, and I have no choice but to open to him.

“Oh, hey.” My voice is too loud, my tone too cheery.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to visit Magnolia and see your mother. Cora Conrad is with me.”

“Are you two friends?” he asks, placing his large hand over my head as he leans toward me. My heart races, my throat closes. By God, I want him to kiss me. My teeth cut into my bottom lip and Denton’s eyes follow the movement.

“Yeah,” I whisper, no longer remembering what he asked. A thick thumb comes to my lower lip, tugging it free from where I hold it, and retracing where my teeth stung.

“Don’t tease me, Mati.” His voice is strong, the warning clear. He’s a man who doesn’t need to be trifled with. He can get any woman he wants. The thought irritates me.

“Why would I ever tease you, Denton?” I snap.

“Because that’s what you do.” He presses off the wall and steps back, pivots for the kitchen and leaves me breathless against the wall. Two seconds later, I’m still recovering, my thoughts racing to all the pranks we played on one another as children. Some were rather poor decisions with heavy consequences. Or was he referring to the other night?

“Nothing happened, huh?” Cora says, walking toward me with a tray of sweet tea in a pitcher and several glasses. “That how you got dirt on your lips?” she teases, but as she passes, I wipe a shaky finger over my mouth and fresh soil marks the pad of my thumb. I realize that’s not the only dirty spot on me after being near Denton.