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The comments would have stung, except for one thing. All of the women, even Birdie, kept their voices low enough so only Meg could hear their barbs. She didn’t have time to ponder why they’d done that because Ted was setting down both coffee carafes and heading right toward her.
Although his easy smile was firmly fixed, his determined eyes told a more dangerous story. A car crash was heading toward her, and she couldn’t think of a single way to avoid it.
He stopped in front of her, pulled the iced tea pitcher from her hand, and passed it over to Torie. Meg took a step back only to feel his fingers curling around the nape of her neck, anchoring her in place. “Why don’t you go help Chef in the kitchen, sweetheart. I’ll clear off these dishes.”
Sweetheart?
The engine roared, the tires squealed, the brakes smoked, and the speeding car slammed into the baby carriage. Right there in front of the biggest gossips in Wynette, Texas, Ted Beaudine lowered his head, sealed his legendary lips over hers, and announced to the whole world that there’d be no more sneaking around. Meg Koranda was the new woman in his life.
A furious Kayla came out of her chair. Shelby groaned. Birdie knocked over her iced tea glass. Emma buried her face in her hands, and Zoey, who looked as befuddled as one of her second graders, cried, “I thought she was making it up to get rid of Spence.”
“Ted and Meg?” Hunter Gray’s mother exclaimed.
Francesca sagged back in her chair. “Teddy . . . What have you done?”
With the possible exception of her agent, everyone else in the room understood the import of what had just happened. Kayla watched her boutique slip away. Birdie saw her new tearoom and bookstore go up in smoke. Zoey mourned the school improvements that would never happen. Shelby and Torie envisioned more sleepless, guilt-ridden nights for their husbands. And Francesca saw her only son slipping into the grasp of a scheming, unworthy woman.
Meg wanted to cry from the sheer, exhilarating joy of knowing he’d do something so colossally stupid for her.
He brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “Go on now, sweetheart. Mom appreciates the way you stepped in to help her today, but I’ll take over now.”
“Yes, Meg,” Francesca said quietly. “We can handle it from here.”
Meg was more important to him than this town. Her heart surged with a giddy intoxication that made her dizzy, but the woman she’d become didn’t let her enjoy the moment for long. She dug her nails into her palms and faced his mother’s guests. “I’m . . . I’m . . . sorry you were forced to see that.” She cleared her throat. “He’s, uh, had a tough time lately. I’m trying to be kind, but . . .” She took a shaky, shallow breath. “He can’t accept the fact that I’m . . . just not that into him.”
Ted picked up what was left of Torie’s soufflé, took a bite, and listened patiently as Meg tried her best to do the right thing and dig him out of the beautiful mess he’d created. “It’s me, not you.” She turned to him, urging him with her eyes to go along with her. “Everybody else thinks you’re fabulous, so it has to be me, right? Nobody else seems to find you just a little bit . . . creepy.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
Francesca swelled up in her chair. “Did you just call my son ‘creepy’?”
Ted spooned up another bite of chocolate, interested in what else she’d come up with. He wasn’t going to help at all. She wanted to kiss him, yell at him. Instead, she returned her attention to the women. “Be honest.” Her voice gained strength with the rightness of what she was doing. “You all know what I mean. The way the birds start to sing when he walks outside. That’s creepy, right? And those halos that keep popping up around his head?”
No one moved. No one said a word.
Her mouth had gone dry, but she plowed on. “What about the stigmata?”
“Stigmata?” Torie said. “That’s a new one.”
“Marking-pen accident.” Ted devoured the last spoonful of chocolate and set the dish aside. “Meg, honey—and I’m only saying this because I care so much—you’re acting kind of crazy. I sure do hope you’re not pregnant.”
A dish banged in the kitchen, taking her resolve with it. He was a master of cool. She was merely a wannabe and she’d never be able to beat him at his own game. This was his town, his problem to solve. She grabbed the iced tea pitcher and made a dash for the kitchen.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he called after her. “Same time. And wear that dress of Torie’s. It looks a hell of a lot better on you than it ever did on her. Sorry, Torie, but you know it’s true.”
As Meg slipped through the door, she heard Shelby’s wail. “But what about the contest? This is going to ruin everything!”
“Screw the contest,” Torie said. “We’ve got bigger problems. Our mayor just gave Sunny Skipjack the finger and San Antone a new golf resort.”
Ted wisely didn’t return to the kitchen. As Meg helped Chef clean up, her mind was spinning in a dozen different directions. She heard the guests leaving, and before long Francesca came into the kitchen. Her face was pale. She was barefoot, her party clothes exchanged for shorts and a T-shirt. She thanked Chef and paid him, then handed Meg her check.
It was twice what Meg had been promised.
“You did the work of two people,” Francesca said.
Meg nodded and gave it back. “My contribution to the library fund.” She held Francesca’s gaze just long enough to display a little dignity, then returned to her work.
It was almost dinnertime before the last dishes were put away and she could leave, toting the generous sack of leftovers Chef had given her. She couldn’t stop smiling all the way back to the church. Ted’s truck was parked by the steps. As tired as she was, all she could think about was tearing his clothes off. She grabbed the leftovers and dashed inside only to come to a screeching halt.
