Stubborn as a Mule Page 11

  “I’m sorry, Lowe,” Larkin says sympathetically as she puts a hand on my shoulder.

  “It’s fine,” I say brusquely as I stand up from my stool. “I’m going to head home and get some dinner.”

  “We could go over to Central Cafe,” she suggests. “Tonight’s meatloaf special night.”

  “Nah,” I say as I lean in and plant a kiss on my sister’s cheek. “Maybe some other time.”

  I’d rather be alone tonight to brood. I’m feeling all kinds of funky about Melinda Rothschild again, and I hate that this house has caused so many conflicting emotions within me. Why I’m the one in the family that got hit with this kind of sentimentality deep down is beyond me, but I can tell you it freaking sucks.

  CHAPTER 13

  Melinda

  I take a last look in the bathroom mirror, tilting my head left and right to make sure my makeup looks good. Rubbing my lips together, I distribute my gloss a bit more evenly and then think, You are one pathetic woman.

  Lowe doesn’t care if my mascara is on thick enough or if my cheekbones are perfectly highlighted. I’m pretty confident he doesn’t care that I used an insanely expensive hair product so that this damn humidity doesn’t frizz up my hair, nor that I’m wearing a six-hundred-dollar dress.

  While these are all silly things that might make my narrow world sometimes go ’round, I can tell they have nothing at all to do with Lowe’s simple world.

  And I don’t mean simple in a bad way.

  No, I mean it in an appreciative, highly respectable way that says I like that he’s just a damn good guy, or so it seems, and he gets joy from the small things in life.

  Giving myself a last look, I decide to take the lip gloss off. After, I head back into my room and change into a pair of running shorts along with a Nike t-shirt. Plopping down on my mattress, I put on a pair of ankle socks and tennis shoes before going back into the bathroom to scrub the makeup off my face.

  Lastly, I pull my hair back in a short ponytail although some pieces at my temple fall free to frame my face. I decide to leave it because I firmly tell myself I’m not trying to impress anyone with my new casual, laid-back look.

  Truth be told, I’d probably be in a pair of denim shorty shorts if I owned a pair, particularly after the way Lowe’s voice was so appreciative when he called out to that woman yesterday morning before she walked into Sweet Cakes. But that would be overt, and I’m not that obvious. Instead, I try for uber casual so he can see I can be all kinds of small-town casual.

  At least, I hope my running gear says that. It’s not that I plan on running this morning, but I want to be as un-made up as possible to try to gauge Lowe’s reaction to that. It’s a stupid little game I’m playing, but I suspect Lowe doesn’t necessarily appreciate name-brand labels and expensive makeup.

  Before I can talk myself out of my plain-Jane look today, I trot down the staircase and into the kitchen where I find a tempting pink box with a clear cellophane window sitting on the counter. There’s a handwritten note on a Sweet Cakes napkin from Morri.

  Got donuts for you and Lowe this morning. Out for a walk. Enjoy.

  I start to reach for the box, then I note the post script.

  P.S. Larkin said each donut was 320 calories in case you were counting today.

  Well, that just sucks.

  Morri knows me well, too. He knows I’ll weigh that information against the calories in a protein shake, especially since I’ve been trying to eat a little cleaner lately. It’s a sweet gesture, but if he really wanted to help, he wouldn’t bring freaking donuts to me.

  “Oooh, donuts.”

  I yelp as I jump about two feet in the air. Turning, I find Lowe standing there in his usual jeans and t-shirt that makes my mouth go dry. He doesn’t spare me much of a glance, so maybe he just doesn’t care at all what a girl wears, be it skimpy country clothes or high-end fashion. Certainly, running shorts and a t-shirt don’t make a noticeable impression.

  “Good morning,” I manage to croak as I step back from the donuts somewhat guiltily, as if considering eating one would give me calories.

  Lowe doesn’t have such problems with sugary, empty calories as he steps right up to the box and peers in. Without looking at me, he opens the top and says, “I saw Morri out for a walk, heading down Wright Street.”

  “Mmm, hmm,” I say noncommittally, because I’m just having an enjoyable time watching this man before me.

  Lowe snags a chocolate-covered donut with what looks like a white cream filling. “These are my favorite.”

  Larkin must have thrown a few of those in when Morri went over this morning to get the donuts, but I wonder why he’d do Lowe any favors. He’s still mad at him for the prank.

  At least, I think he is.

  My eyes go down to the note he left.

  Got donuts for you and Lowe.

  Now why would he get something for Lowe when he’s so mad at him right now? And why would he give me a pointed statement about the calories, knowing it would cause me to turn my nose up at them in guilt?

  Unless…

  My mouth opens and I start to warn Lowe, but it’s too late. He opens his mouth and takes a huge bite, at least half the donut at once. White cream that looks slightly yellowish oozes out along the side, then I watch in fascination as Lowe’s eyes practically bug out of his head.

  He looks at me in horror for about a nanosecond, then he’s rushing over to the sink where he hacks the donut out of his mouth, and then starts gagging.

  I’m rooted to the spot, watching Lowe make awful noises as he tries to spit out whatever was in his mouth before turning the faucet on and letting the water run into his mouth as he tilts his head to the side. He gathers a mouthful, swishes, and spits it out.

  Then he repeats that four separate times.

  On the fifth time, I feel someone come up behind me and turn a stunned face to see Morri standing there, looking smug and satisfied as he watches Lowe.

  Leaning to the side, he murmurs under his breath, “Glad you didn’t eat one, Mely.”

  My hand flies to my face, my palm clamping tightly over my mouth so Lowe can’t hear me laugh as he continues to rinse his mouth out. Morri walks further into the kitchen and gives a little pat to Lowe’s butt as he’s bent over the sink. He’s so engaged in getting out the taste of whatever’s in his mouth, he doesn’t even react to Morri, who just leans a hip against the counter and waits.

  Finally, Lowe straightens up and drags the back of his hand over his mouth, his eyes still a little wild looking as they come to rest on Morri.

  “We’re even now,” Morri says tartly.

  Lowe takes a deep breath in through his nose, nostrils flaring wide, and says, “We are in no way even. This is war.”

  “Bring it.” Morri sneers as he leans into Lowe. “But I am the most vicious gay man on the planet, and you are opening yourself up to a world of hurt if you don’t concede right now. I will make your life a living hell.”

  I press down harder on my mouth with my hand, trying not to let loose with the gut-busting laughs that are brewing inside of me.

  For a moment, I think Lowe may consider putting Morri in a headlock and wrestling him for superiority. Instead, he looks my way. “Were you in on this?”

  My laughter falls flat and my hand falls away from my mouth as I shake my head.

  “Good,” he says before shooting a glare at Morri, who just smirks back at him. “I’ll make sure to keep you safe from the crossfire.”

  And… that was nice. Gallant, protective, and swoony.

  Spinning away from both of us, Lowe stomps out of the kitchen. I send an admonishing look to Morri, who doesn’t look to be shamed at all, before turning to run after Lowe. I catch him just as he’s pulling the door open. “Where are you going?”

  He turns back to me, still looking a little green around the gills. “I’ve got to go brush my teeth or something. That was freaking disgusting.”

  “What was it?” I ask hesitantly.


  “Mayonnaise,” Lowe says, and then visibly shudders. “I hate mayonnaise. Like as in it will make me vomit and I want to vomit right now just talking about mayonnaise.”

  “But how would Morri know that?” I muse out loud.

  “I’m going to guess my sister Larkin may have helped him out with this little prank,” Lowe sneers, and I have a moment of pity for Larkin that she’s been caught up in this.

  “I’ll be back later,” he mutters and turns for the door again.

  “Wait,” I call out and he stops in his tracks, turning to look at me curiously. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  A shiver skitters up my spine as Lowe’s eyes brighten slightly from the darkness that was promising retribution of epic proportions. He smiles at me. It’s a soft, languid smile and he murmurs, “I’d be kissing you right now if I didn’t have mayonnaise breath, which I have no clue about your thoughts on the foul substance, but I don’t want to ever, ever in my life think about it being on your tongue so I’m dissuaded from kissing you in the future.”

  “Oh,” I say softly, then I smile back at him. “Got it.”

  “Let me brush my teeth and I’ll be back,” he says with a wink. “And we’ll come up with a game plan on how I can help with the house.”

  “Lowe… I really don’t want you to work on this house for free, or take up your free time. I’m past all that, and Judge Bowe’s order is really silly.”

  “Hey,” he says, his hand coming up so he catches my chin in it. Peering into my eyes, he says, “That’s what we do around here. We help people out. Let me help you with this house. Let me because this house means something to me too, okay?”

  “Okay,” I say breathlessly, because this man robs me of oxygen with his words.

  Lowe starts out the door but then stops, turning back to me. His eyes cut to the hall that leads to the kitchen, then back to me as he leans in a bit closer to me to whisper, “And Mely… word of advice. Don’t be the first one to take a shower tomorrow, okay?”

  I can’t help the giggle that comes out as I nod, and I am already bracing for the meltdown that’s going to come when Lowe gets one up on Morri tomorrow.

  Lowe turns for the door again, but stops one more time to look back at me. He doesn’t do anything but hold my eyes with his own, but it’s clear he looked at some point when he says, “And you look way sexier than Lynette Carnes in her Daisy Dukes right now.”

  My smile curves up slowly. “Why Lowe Mancinkus… that may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  “There’s more where that came from,” he promises me, then he’s gone and the door is shutting.

  I stare at it a moment longer before I turn to head into the kitchen. I find Morri with his butt against the counter, eating a donut that is obviously not cream filled.

  “Larkin helped you, huh?” I ask as I walk over to the box and look in.

  “Yup,” he says, licking a smidge of chocolate from his finger as he glances down at the box. “I’d stay away from all the ones with white filling if I were you.”

  Laughing, I pick up a powdered cake donut. “How did you get his sister to stoop down to that level with you?”

  “She didn’t actually do the stooping,” Morri admits as he polishes off the donut and then heads to the sink to wash his hands. “When I was telling her this morning how her brother was on my bad side in a big way, she suggested the donut trick. While she refused to help, she merely pointed out the cream filled were his favorite and were irresistible. I was going to fill them with toothpaste, which she agreed was a clever idea but the smell would give it away. She also then suggested the mayonnaise. I had no clue he hated it that much though, which was totally a bonus. I’m going to have to do something nice for Larkin.”

  “You are rotten,” I say with another laugh and take a delicate bite of the powdered donut.

  Morri doesn’t respond but helps himself to a cup of coffee.

  “This is all in fun, right?” I ask Morri hesitantly. I mean, I know he wasn’t all that keen on Lowe when they first met, especially since he’d vandalized my house twice and Morri didn’t see any humor in it. And then with Lowe messing with a drag queen’s wardrobe… well, that could have serious repercussions and all.

  But I need to make sure that Morri isn’t going overboard in his retribution. Lowe sees this as all good fun, but Morri can sometimes be a little too serious about things.

  “Of course, it is, girlfriend,” Morri assures me.

  I cock an eyebrow at him.

  He just stares back at me, and I can’t tell for sure.

  Finally, I blink first and he holds steady, so I’m going to trust that this is just good, pranky fun. I decide to change the subject and say, “Are you interested in the Lantern Festival they’re having this weekend?”

  Morri waves a hand at me. “Girl… told you I’m going to Raleigh for that drag show. Besides, you know I don’t do sweltering heat or bugs, and it sounds like both of those will be in copious amounts.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” I ask him with a grin.

  “Oh, I’ve got adventure,” he maintains. “In fact, I’m really going out on a limb wearing that red dress, as I have no clue if that’s too in your face for the South.”

  “I’m pretty sure any drag outfit is too ‘in your face’ for the south,” I quip dryly.

  “Yes, well… I still expect it to be a bit more understated below the Mason-Dixon Line, so we’ll see. The point is, I’m a rebel and will glam the hell out of myself in red sequins and be damned the consequences. And maybe I’ll find me a studly young man to dance with, and then let’s say that photos of me and said studly young man make it onto my Facebook page, and Stephan gets a taste of his own medicine, well… that’s just icing on the cake, right?”

  Laughing, I give Morri a squeeze on his arm as I walk past him to the refrigerator for a bottled water. “That’s right, sweetie.”

  “You’re coming with me,” Morri proclaims.

  “No, I think I’m going to go to that festival,” I tell him. “It sounds fun.”

  “It sounds ghastly,” he maintains. “It’s going to be a bunch of yokels square dancing to banjos while bare foot and just a hair’s breadth away from being inbred.”

  “That’s an awful thing to say,” I scold Morri, but I know he doesn’t mean it. He just does everything with a flair for the dramatic, including his condescension.

  “Well, you know what I mean,” he continues. “You’ll hate it.”

  “We’ll see,” I say softly, wondering if I will or not. I’m not an overly outdoorsy person. Much like Morri, I don’t like the heat or bugs.

  But I do like Lowe, and I know he’ll be there. I’ve seen a bazillion drag shows in my life, but I’ve never been to a Lantern Festival. I’m not going to miss the opportunity.

  And I swear it has nothing to do with the fact that Lowe will be there.

  CHAPTER 14

  Pap

  “Little more to the left,” Lowe tells Floyd through gritted teeth as they try to pull my old dishwasher out. It’s finally bitten the dust and I hate to do dishes, so I bought a new one.

  “I’ve got no more left,” Floyd grumbles, but then pulls harder and it sort of pops free.

  “There we go,” Lowe murmurs, and both men easily slide it out into the middle of my kitchen floor.

  Tagging a flashlight off the counter, Lowe flicks it on and shines the light into the space. “Pap… there’s water damage on the floor. That might need to come out.”

  “Just tell me what I need to do to fix it, and I’ll pay you to do it,” I tell him as I peer in at the stained subflooring.

  Lowe hands the flashlight to Floyd, who without a word squats down and starts evaluating the damage. As the owner of Floyd’s Hardware Emporium, I’ll be buying all the materials from him and he knows his stuff.

  “Pap,” Lowe says, and the tone of his voice makes my eyes take extra long to slide to him.

  “What?”
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  “This is an apartment,” he says pointedly. “You don’t own it. It’s not your responsibility to make these repairs.”

  “Mary Margaret doesn’t have time to be bothered with that—”

  “She’s your landlord,” Lowe cuts in. “That’s her job.”

  “I’ll pay to fix it and buy the new dishwasher,” I maintain adamantly.

  “I really hope she appreciates this,” Lowe mutters as he squats down beside Floyd. “If you’d just get off your butt and ask her out on a date, you wouldn’t have to do stuff like this to get her attention.”

  I don’t respond to that, mainly because my grandson thinks he has it all figured out so I let him believe that. It’s true… I’m a little sweet on Mary Margaret Quinn. She’s my landlord as she owns a lot of the property here in town, but I’m not doing this to prove anything to her. I’m taking care of the dishwasher and any accompanying problems because Mary Margaret took a big risk in renting this building to me more than twenty-five years ago when I came to town.

  This was the South and the Bible Belt moreover. Putting a bar right in the middle of town was an eyebrow-raising prospect back then. Mary Margaret was the only one who let me have my chance, and so if I can make life easier on her by keeping the little apartment over Chesty’s off her plate, then I’ll do it.

  “Where were you last night?” Lowe asks as he watches Floyd push down on the subflooring to determine how bad the water damage is.

  “Just tired,” I answer, hoping that’s enough. I was really, really tired, which has been happening more and more lately, and I was napping at damn five o’clock in the afternoon.

  Lowe doesn’t accept this fully, turning to me slowly as he stands straight. “You okay?”

  “Yup,” is all I say. There’s enough finality in my tone and challenge in my eye that he knows I don’t want to talk about it anymore. But that doesn’t stop him. His eyes harden and he opens his mouth to pry into my business, so I shut it down quickly by saying, “Heard Gill and Travis gave you some trouble.”