Page 7 of Handling Skylar (Hope Parish #5)

SKY

Oh my crimeny. I was dancing with Jake and it was clear he and Anna Kate were on the outs.

Friends he’d said which didn’t really float my boat.

But I always believed that relationships started out better when folks were friends first. Geez, he felt so hard and muscular, so warm against me.

I tried to stay focused, but ever since I clapped eyes on this strapping man, I’d wanted to be right here.

But, in those blue eyes of his, those enticing blue eyes he looked so… lonely.

“You really want to hear about pecans?” His tone skeptical.

“I’m nuts about pecans.” He chuckled and I smiled. “Yes, of course I do. I personally could talk about hair and beauty products all night, but I’m guessing blush, mascara and lipstick are not quite up your alley. I’m sure you probably don’t exfoliate and moisturize.”

He chuckled. “You do that a lot.”

“What?”

“Make me laugh.”

“I like your laugh and your smile. Very nice. You don’t do it often enough.”

He looked away as if he was trying to keep something from me, afraid I would see it in his eyes.

Jake liked me. I knew it. He had his eyes on me all night, and they weren’t friendly looks at all.

He was kidding himself, but it wasn’t my place to point that out to him.

I believe that people had to see their own sins to change their ways.

If he was hell-bent on being with Anna Kate, there wasn’t really anything I could do about that.

I wasn’t going to be inappropriate with him.

That wasn’t my style. I was a strong, independent woman and had a lot to offer.

I didn’t need to feel at all self-conscious about that.

Nothing Anna Kate could say to me would hurt me as much as losing my parents.

Of never getting a chance to say goodbye, make amends.

I regretted that bitterly. But the way I managed myself?

I was proud as punch and confident in my own self.

Anna Kate, in my opinion, was a bully, and really, at heart, bullies were very insecure.

I could two-step around her without breaking a sweat, and I suspected she knew that.

Just let her try to take my lunch money, and she’d see this Wyoming girl get real. “So, pecans?” I asked to ease the tension we were both feeling. Trying to stop my thoughts about how it would be to kiss him was like holding back a stampeding herd, but I had to make an effort.

“What exactly do you want to know?”

“Everything, but why don’t you start with history because that’s really where the story begins, doesn’t it?”

“Sutton history or history of the pecan?”

“You have a very analytical mind. Obviously very smart since you went to Harvard and I suspect will breeze through a Ph.D. You talk, Jake. I’ll listen.” It would be no hardship to pay attention to that husky Southern accent and the slow, delicious way he had of talking.

“The very beginning of pecans started with Native Americans. The nut was a staple in their diet starting around the 1500s. Then Spanish colonists cultivated orchards, English settlers planted pecan trees, and both George Washington and Thomas Jefferson enjoyed them with the economic potential for pecans discovered in the late 1700s. Mostly due to the Port of New Orleans and its ability to export the nuts. But, the propagation started with Antoine.”

“He only needs one name like Cher?”

I grinned when he smiled. “Yes, he’s the first-name-only slave-gardener from New Orleans who is credited as the first person to successfully propagate pecans.

By grafting a superior wild pecan to seedling pecan stocks, he was able to create a new pecan plant or what is called today; an improved variety. ”

“Very impressive. I know that groves are natural and orchards are planted.”

His eyes sparkled, turning them into a quicksilver blue. “Now you’re flirting with me.”

I threw my head back and laughed. One of those deep belly ones that you can’t help. This was the teasing man I wanted to see.

Jake shot me an amused look, the half-smile deepening into something warm and disarming, something sensual and oddly intimate—something that was enough to make my heart pound.

He had no idea how seductive he was. Anna Kate had no idea what to do with all this gorgeous man.

She was not only a bully, but a mite dumb one at that.

“How do you know about groves and orchards?”

“I grew up on a ranch and we planted orchards, and I learned a lot from that. I loved working with my hands and being one with the land. Cattle punching is hard, dirty work, but it was honest and rewarding.”

“Cattle punching,” he said. “You were a tough cowgirl, then.”

“I still am,” I said, punching him in his rock-solid arm.

“My mistake. You have experience in managing crops, farming?”

“Not exactly. The orchards were my dad’s hobby, but they ended up producing well.

We were involved in hay production for obvious reasons.

I wasn’t exactly involved in the science of it.

To me it’s just grass that’s dried in the sun and feeds livestock.

No, that was my dad’s thing.” I got a lump in my throat remembering my big, boisterous, wonderful father.

I looked away, tears flooding so unexpectedly.

Grief had a way of sneaking up on a person when it was least expected.

But, the memories of him only reminded me of the hole in my life.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bring up something sensitive.”

Drawing a steadying breath, I waved my hand and he gave me his handkerchief. I dabbed at my eyes and shot him a stern look when I handed it back, feeling all kinds of vulnerable. “I suppose this is mandatory in the South?”

“My momma would box my ears if I wasn’t a gentleman and offered a lady a way to dry her tears.” He pocketed the square.

“It’s all so Gone With The Wind charming.” I sighed. I loved that novel and the tempestuous relationship between Rhett and Scarlett. “Everyone has their traditions and ceremony, don’t they? In Wyoming it was a strong backbone and lots of gumption.”

“I’d say you’ve got gumption—in spades. You all right?” His voice had dropped an octave and did funny things to my insides.

“You really are a very nice man,” I said, thinking he was isolated and lonely, bitterness often in his eyes and in his demeanor. What caused this in him? I wanted to know. I wanted to help. “I bet a lot of people don’t know that about you.”

He leaned in and said softly, “Don’t spread it around.” Man he had the thickest lashes and the most unique eyes, the rough stubble on his jaw so damned enticing.

I looked up at him. “It’ll be our secret,” I whispered back falling into his seductive gaze.

I didn’t really know what I was doing here.

He was still with Anna Kate but heavily flirting with me.

I couldn’t quite figure out what it meant.

It wasn’t in my nature to take someone else’s man.

But, on the other hand, Anna Kate didn’t really have a hold over him if he was acting this way toward me.

He struck me as a man who was a little lost, but pretending he knew what the heck he was doing.

I had been there once, maybe was still stumbling around a bit.

Jake needed…solace, care, warmth. Not many words I would associate with that selfish, shallow, cold fish of a woman.

But the matter still remained he came from prime stock in this town, and I was a former cowgirl with jail time on my record.

He wasn’t shallow. There was much too much depth in those silvery eyes, but the man knew how to dress.

He somehow managed to be casually polished and rugged as hell at the same time.

If I cared about things like that, I’d have felt downright shabby whenever he was nearby, with my beat up boots and whimsical style.

Feeling shaky, like I was setting myself up for the biggest heartache in my life, I pulled back with effort. The bottom line was that Jake thought he needed Anna Kate, and that thought made me sad. “I should really be going. I’ve got work tomorrow. All I have to do is find Jordan, she’s my ride.”

“Can I offer you a lift?”

“Are you sure about that? I don’t see Jordan.”

“What kind of Southern gentleman would I be if I left a lady to fend for herself?”

I laughed, unable to get away from all that intense charm. “All right. You can drive me if only to play to your traditions.”

I met River’s eyes briefly as we headed for the front of the town hall and her look was pleased. I wasn’t quite sure where this would go with Jake, but I still was determined to leave it all in his hands. I knew what I wanted.

As we rounded the end of the building and hit the parking lot, I saw his sleek toy gleaming under the lights.

He opened the door for me. “Thank you,” I murmured, not feeling as playful now that this tension between us had upped into a tighter knot.

He settled in the driver’s seat and turned the powerful engine over and it rumbled through me. I looked over at him. “On a night like this with this beautiful convertible, you’re going to leave the top up?”

“Won’t it mess with your hair?”

“What? I’d gladly look like a windblown wreck to feel the breeze and have the utter freedom of rushing through the night. There’s nothing like it, well, except maybe on the back of a horse.” And, making love to Jake. I’m cotton-picking sure that would feel utterly wonderful.

As if he read my mind, his eyes lingered on mine as he pressed the button to retract the top. The hood whirred as it folded neatly behind us. He said, “Strap in and hang on.”

The powerful car accelerated, only adding to the fierce rush in my belly.

The road stretched out before us like a ribbon, flat and snaking around canebrakes and copses of trees, skipping over fingers of Lazy Rabbit Bayou where I lived in a restored idyllic Creole cottage.

Driveways to plantations blinked past, and the countryside grew wilder with every second.