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“Neither should you.” That kind, beautiful face made her ache. A few weeks ago, she’d have asked herself what a man like Ted was doing with a woman like her, but something had started to happen inside her, a sense of accomplishment that had begun to make her feel just a little bit worthy.
He dragged the ruined futon outside, followed by the damaged couch and chairs she’d gotten from the club. He cracked a few jokes as he worked to lift her spirits. She swept up broken glass, examining it so she didn’t accidentally throw away any of her precious beads. When she was satisfied, she went into the kitchen to clean up the mess there, but he’d already done it.
By the time they were finished, it was nearly dark, and they were both hungry. They carried the luncheon leftovers and two bottles of beer into the graveyard and spread everything out on one of the bath towels. They ate directly from the containers, their forks occasionally touching. She needed to talk about what had happened at his mother’s house, but she waited until they were finished before she broached the subject. “You should never have done what you did at the luncheon.”
He leaned against Horace Ernst’s tombstone. “And what was that?”
“Don’t play games. Kissing me.” She worked to suppress the exhilaration that still wanted to bubble over inside her. “By now, it’s all over town that we’re a couple. Spence and Sunny won’t be back for more than five minutes before they’ll hear about it.”
“You let me worry about Spence and Sunny.”
“How could you do something so stupid?” So wonderful.
Ted extended his legs toward the Mueller plot. “I want you to move in with me for a while.”
“Are you paying attention to anything I’m saying?”
“Everybody knows about us now. There’s no reason not to move in.”
After all he’d done for her, she couldn’t fight with him any longer. She picked up a stick and peeled the bark with her thumbnail. “I appreciate the offer, but moving in with you would be like thumbing my nose at your mother.”
“I’ll take care of my mother,” he said grimly. “I love her, but she doesn’t run my life.”
“Yeah, that’s what we all say. You. Me. Lucy.” She stabbed the stick into the dirt. “These are powerful women. They’re sane, they’re smart, they rule their worlds, and they love us ferociously. A potent combination that makes it tough to pretend they’re normal mothers.”
“You’re not staying here alone. You don’t even have a place to sleep.”
She gazed through the trees toward the trash pile that now held her futon. Whoever had done this wasn’t going to stop, not as long as Meg stayed in Wynette. “All right,” she said. “But only for tonight.”
She followed him back to his house in the Rustmobile. They’d barely gotten inside before he drew her to his chest and made a one-handed phone call. “Mom, somebody broke into the church and trashed the place, so Meg’ll be staying with me for a couple of days. Y
ou scare her, I’m mad at you, and you’re not welcome here right now, so leave us alone.” He hung up.
“She doesn’t scare me,” Meg protested. “Not much, anyway.”
He kissed her on the nose, turned her in the general direction of the stairs, and patted her bottom, lingering on the dragon. “As much as I hate saying this, you’re dead on your feet. Go to bed. I’ll be up later.”
“Hot date?”
“Even better. I’m going to rig up a surveillance camera at the church.” His voice developed a hard edge. “Something I’d have done right away if you’d told me about the first break-in.”
She wasn’t foolish enough to try to defend herself. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down on the bamboo floor. After everything that had happened today, this time would be different. This time he’d touch something other than her body.
She rolled on top of him, grabbed his head between her hands, and kissed him ferociously. He kissed her back with his customary competency. Aroused her with his intoxicating ingenuity. Left her sweaty and breathless and almost . . . but not quite . . . satisfied.
Chapter Seventeen
Meg wasn’t used to air-conditioning, and with only a sheet covering her, she got chilly during the night. She curled against Ted, and when she opened her eyes, it was morning.
She rolled to her side to study him. He was as irresistible asleep as awake. He had the best kind of bed head, a little flat here, a little spiky there, and her fingers itched to sort it out. She studied the distinct tan line across his bicep. No respectable Southern California glamour boy would be caught dead with a tan line like that, but Ted wouldn’t spare it a thought. She pressed her lips to it.
He rolled to his back, dragging part of the sheet with him, and stirring up the musky scent of their sleeping bodies. She was instantly aroused, but she needed to be at the club soon, and she forced herself out of bed. By now, everyone would know all about what had happened at the luncheon yesterday, and it wouldn’t occur to any of them to blame Ted for that kiss. A day full of problems stretched in front of her.
She was stocking the cart for the Tuesday morning women golfers when Torie emerged from the locker room. With her ponytail swinging, she marched toward Meg and, in typical Torie fashion, got down to business. “Obviously, you can’t stay at the church after what happened, and you sure can’t stay at Ted’s, so we all decided the best thing is for you to move into Shelby’s guest suite. I lived there between my first two unfortunate marriages. It’s private and comfortable, plus it has its own kitchen, something you wouldn’t have if you stayed with Emma or me.” She set off for the pro shop, ponytail bouncing, and then called over her shoulder, “Shelby’s expecting you by six. She gets upset when people are late.”
“Hold on!” Meg stalked after her. “I’m not moving into your childhood home.”
Torie planted her hand on her hip, looking as serious as Meg had ever seen her. “You can not stay at Ted’s.”
