Down Home Dixie. Pamela BrowningЧитать онлайн книгу.
engaged to in high school. Then Rob Portner, the guy who delivered firewood to everyone in town. And after that, Thad Ganey, who’d gone and enlisted in the navy. Last, and definitely least, Sam Hodges, who’d run off with Tattin Kelly when they were all staying in a rented condo at the beach last Fourth of July. The thing with Sam still rankled, since he’d neglected to pay his share of the condo rental. Plus, Dixie had loaned Tattin her best beach cover-up for the weekend and never got it back. If she’d known those two had the hots for each other, she’d have made sure Tattin borrowed the cover-up with the peach-juice stain down the front.
“Dixie Lee,” Mayzelle said, interrupting her reverie. “I’m going to run over to Glenda’s for a bit? I should only be an hour or so. You don’t mind answering the phones, do you?”
“No, Mayzelle, you go right ahead.” Anything to get Mayzelle out of the office for a while; she tended to drive everyone crazy with her high voice and the annoying habit of ending almost every sentence with a question mark.
Mayzelle woke Fluffy, her elderly poodle, who slept under her desk, and with the unresisting dog tucked firmly under her arm, she exited the office, leaving Dixie alone.
Dixie intended to write letters to a couple of friends who had shipped out with the Guard unit. As it turned out, all she did was replay last night’s kiss in her mind. She took out a pen and paper. She even addressed the envelopes. Before she had a chance to get started on the letters, the phone rang.
“Dixie,” said her friend Joyanne calling from California where she’d lived ever since getting her big break in the Luke Mason movie and embarking on a new career as an actress. “I only have a minute before I leave for an audition, but I heard Milo Dingle is back in town. Have you seen him yet?”
“No, and I don’t expect I will,” Dixie said, pulling up her e-mail screen on the computer. Sure enough, there were two messages with Milo’s name in the subject line, so the Yewville grapevine was in gear.
“Don’t be so sure. Milo told my cousin Norm’s wife, Betty, that he’s going to renew his acquaintance with you. He asked her to get your phone number.”
“Milo knows where to find me, not that I care,” Dixie said. “Right about the tenth pew, lefthand side, in church every Sunday. In fact, that’s exactly where he left me twelve years ago.”
“Milo didn’t leave you,” Joyanne said. “I distinctly recall that he asked you to marry him shortly after the collection plate passed by, and you said no. Milo was ambivalent about joining his father on the family peach farm so he moved to Kingstree to help his uncle grow daylilies for Wal-Mart is all. Since you declined to go with him, that does not qualify as leaving you.”
“I’ve never regretted my decision.”
“It would have been a beautiful wedding,” Joyanne said wistfully. “All those daylilies.”
“I was ready to go out with other guys,” she told Joyanne, not that this was real news.
“Speaking of guys, have you heard from Sam?”
“Sam the Mooch and Tattin are planning their wedding. They’re having two singers, eight candelabra and a string quartet at the First Baptist Church in Florence.”
“Has Sam paid you his share of the condo rent yet?”
“He never will, the cheapskate. He liked to let me cover the tab at the Eat Right Café, and I filled his SUV with gas more than once. I wonder why I put up with it for so long.”
“It was only a couple of months, Dixie.”
“A couple of months too long. It’s some consolation that Tattin will have to deal with him for the rest of her life.” She paused. “How are things going with you?”
“I’m up for a part in a family drama for the Lifetime channel,” Joyanne said. “It’s a cross between Little House on the Prairie and Little Women.”
“All that ‘Little,’” Dixie said. “I hope it’s not only a little money.”
“If I get the gig, I’ll be able to buy my own place.”
“Good for you, Joyanne,” Dixie said warmly, finding gig an odd new word in her friend’s vocabulary.
“What’s up with you? Anything important? How did your tooth whitening go?”
“Good. I got two fillings, as well.” She didn’t mention Kyle Sherman.
“Is that the end of your self-improvement program?”
“I’m not sure. Now that I’ve got a new wardrobe for my job, my hair professionally highlighted and my eyeliner tattooed on, I may be through.” Dixie didn’t believe she was vain, exactly, but she was twenty-nine years old and competition for husbands was stiff these days. She’d merely done what she could to maximize her chances in a town where for every hundred females over the age of eighteen, there were only seventy-one males, many of them away in the military or way over the age of sixty.
Joyanne chuckled. “You couldn’t be anything but gorgeous, trust me. Look, I’ve got to run. Talk to you soon, Dixie. Call me if you hear from Milo.”
“Uh-huh.”
They hung up, and Dixie opened her e-mails. One was from Voncille, who had typed a few lines about Skeeter’s running into Milo at the Eat Right that morning. Another was from Milo’s sister, Priss, who invited Dixie to stop by her house for coffee next Saturday. Dixie was quite sure this was no mere coincidence since she hadn’t seen or talked with Priss for ages.
So back to last night. She and Kyle had kissed with the moonlight beaming down so bright it hurt her eyes, which was why she’d closed them as his lips met hers. He had the softest lips. They were firm, too, and he used them to elicit the most exciting sensations. She’d swooned into the kiss, every part of her body primed for more as he used his mouth to tell her how much he wanted her without saying a word. It was a long kiss, that first one, followed by several more, or perhaps it was one kiss broken into several parts because once they’d started neither of them tried to stop. She’d been tipsy only a couple of times in her life, and this reminded her of that loose, dizzy, confused feeling. It was even better though, because instead of falling asleep as she always did after too much to drink, this time, she was fully alert, aroused and ready.
It probably wasn’t the wisest thing in the world to be deeply kissing a man she’d just met. She’d told herself to put a stop to it right then and there. Only, what harm was there in indulging herself for once in her life, as she did by eating a chocolate bar now and then? Kyle T. Sherman would soon be on his way back to Ohio, and she’d never see him again. Never kiss him again.
Last night she’d instinctively looped her hands around Kyle’s neck, pulling him closer until their bodies came into contact. Electrified, she made no objection when he tangled his fingers in her hair, when he cupped her face, his big hands rough against her cheeks. She couldn’t remember ever kissing anyone with so much feeling and longing. Certainly it had never been that way with Milo or Sam or any of the others. She’d let them take the lead, but with Kyle, she’d be satisfied with nothing less than the whole sexual experience. Longed to lie naked with him in the shadows of the oaks near the edge of the lake. Anticipated guiding him into her and being possessed by him, his flesh hammering her into total surrender. It was bewildering to feel such a strong yearning, one that seemed likely to deprive her of all control.
So if they’d kept on kissing, where might it have ended? However, as things were heating up to the next level, they heard a raucous cry, then a large bird swept out of nowhere, its wings nearly brushing their cheeks as it passed. They sprang apart, both startled.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” Kyle said ruefully. His hand still rested on her shoulder, but the mood was broken and they had awkwardly moved apart.
Due to the untimely interruption, good sense returned, and she’d told Kyle that she’d better get a decent night’s sleep because she had clients to meet the next morning. When they reached