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"When Birdie goes to bed, I'll come over so you can finish what you started, Mr. Lively."
"Don't think you're getting an A just because you're putting out. You're going to have to draw that damn apple better."
Abigail fluttered her eyelashes. "Maybe you can tutor me."
"Oh, I'll tutor you," he said, with another slap of her bottom. Abigail gave a little squeal and then a flirtatious grin before slipping out the door.
14
THE SILENT DRIVE home wasn't as bad as Abigail expected. For some reason she enjoyed the hum of the tires on the road to accompany her mixed-up thoughts. Normally she would have lit into her kid about the way she'd acted earlier, but some sixth sense told her Birdie needed to think about it. So she let the issue go and focused instead on how she'd nearly screwed things up with Leif.
I don't want to get hurt.
Why had she let that cat out of the bag? Made her sound weak, like some clingy girl who might show up one day wearing a wedding dress, holding a piece of cake to toss into his face. She hated being vulnerable, hated letting any man, or person for that matter, have that much control over her emotions.
She could tell herself she was over the pain of Cal's betrayal. She could feed herself lines about being reasonable and taking relationships slow. But the fact was she was full of baloney.
Because she was afraid of what she could feel for Leif if she let herself go there.
And he was so wrong for her. Why couldn't she have chosen some regular Joe who had lived in Magnolia Bend his whole life... and never wanted to leave? Why the nutty, sexy art teacher? Why the guy who thought a gooddate was roasting tofu dogs and skinny-dipping? Why the man who dared her not to wear underwear? Why the man who made her …laugh, wear short skirts, and drink Scotch on moonlit porches?
Because he was the yang to her yin.
Maybe his being sonotfor her made him so for her.
Maybe Leif Lively was perfect for her.
But that messed up everything. Leif wasn't staying in Louisiana as his "love 'em and leave 'em" past proved. She couldn't let herself think about something more than what they now had. She had to protect herself from falling in love.
But maybe it was too late?
Birdie sneezed, drawing her attention away from her total failure as a one-night stand. She hoped Birdie wasn't getting a cold. The virus had swept through the lower grades of St.George's last week, rendering a lot of absentees. When they got home, she'd look for an anti-histamine for the girl. The motherly knot of concern nearly overshadowed the earlier disappointment she experienced at her daughter embarrassing her in front of Peggy and Alba.
''Alice Ann said she had to run over to Neil's to iron his suit for an interview. She said she'd be back later tonight, though. I forgot to tell you," Birdie said as they crossed over the old mill pond road, still several miles away from Laurel Woods.
"Oh? Well, I guess it doesn't matter. We don't have any guests tonight anyway,'' Abigail said, a nugget of worry gnawing at her. Business had slowed since the holidays. The only bright spot was that Mardi Gras was a week away and she was booked solid for ten days straight. Then there would be only a few more slow days until the arts festival and tourist season launched in Louisiana. She hoped her business picked up then.
As she swung into the long driveway studded with twisting oaks, she caught sight of Cal's new truck shining like a penny in her driveway.
Great.
"Daddy 's here,” Birdie said, straightening, her beleaguered expression melting into a smile. "He said he might stop by to see what I did in art class. I think I'm going to enter one of my drawings in the UIS category of the festival. Mr. Lively said he'd look at my portfolio and suggest the ones he thinks are the best. Can you take it to him when you go over there?"
"I don't know when I'll go over."
Birdie smirked. "I heard you say you were going to drop by tonight.”
Abigail felt as though her daughter had punched her. Had Birdie spied on them? No. She hadn’t seen anyone peeping. The child might have skulked around outside the door. Maybe. “I might go over for a drink."
“Oh, that's what you call it?" Birdie muttered under her breath.
Panic slammed into Abigail. How could Birdie know she'd slept with Leif? She couldn't. Abigail let the smart-aleck remark slide. “Are you upset I went over to his place for dinner? You didn't act very nice to Mr. Lively tonight.”
Birdie shrugged. "It's your life, and I doubt he cares what I think."
"That's not true. He's always been one of your favorite teachers."
"Jeez, Mom, don't worry, I'm not into him if that's what you think. Spying on him was just a silly thing. That's it. I'm not a pervert or anything.”
