Lovin' a Good Ol' Boy Read online

  "Just one more day with you," she said. "Just you and me and no mill business."

  Buck's smile broadened, and he looked as if he were in hog heaven at her answer. "You got a deal. Now gimme my dime."

  It was Anne's joyful opinion that a Yankee dime was the only currency in the world whose value hadn't deflated in the last one hundred years. And Buck knew how to make every penny of it count.

  His hand moved gently up her back and across her ribs until he could cradle her breast in his palm. The fire he'd stoked throughout the night now surged with hot flames once more. A bonfire went wild inside her, consumed her, and left her burning with passion.

  "Buck?" The front door slammed at the same time they heard Bryce calling out. He yoo-hooed up the stairwell and called his brother's name again, before his steps started coming their way.

  "I'm gonna kill him," Buck muttered under his breath as Anne scrambled off his lap and into a chair behind the table, trying desperately to cover her nakedness.

  "Mornin’." The doomed brother greeted them with a bright, cheerful smile. Anne's cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment as he briefly scanned the scene before him. He then turned nonchalantly to help himself to a cup of coffee, as if everything was as he'd expected it to be. Without looking up from his coffee pouring, he added, "Nice day for a yard sale."

  Buck, who had been openly frowning at his brother, now looked confused. He shrugged at Anne when they exchanged curious glances and asked, "Who's havin' a yard sale?"

  "Well, I thought we were," he said, doing a poor job of looking perplexed. "There's clothes all over the front yard and—"

  "You wanna live to see thirty?" Buck stood and gave his brother a threatening glare. Anne had forgotten all about the clothes they'd tossed off in the throes of their passion the night before. Her flaming cheeks got even hotter.

  Bryce was so intimidated by his brother that he dissolved into laughter. "You want me to bring down some of my old stuff and throw it out in the yard with yours?"

  "That does it." Buck and Bryce made a blurred exit. Anne couldn't help laughing.

  "I was only tryin' to be helpful," she heard Bryce say plaintively as the front door slammed open and the screen door echoed with a squeak. "What will the neighbors think?"

  "We don't have any neighbors, you fool."

  Anne soon heard a truck engine start, a sound she'd missed before when Bryce had arrived. Buck returned with a grim look on his face, but he didn't look like a murderer.

  "I was just thinking," Anne said, calmer now that they were alone again, but still a little off center with the whole situation. "What if Bryce had come home last night? I mean, while we were still outside or—or even later."

  "Then I would have killed him," he said. He handed Anne a cup of coffee and went back to the pot with his own. "But I was pretty sure he wouldn't."

  "Why?"

  He grinned at her then. "Cuz I told him what would happen if he did."

  "You mean you—you told him not to come home because you knew—you knew we'd ..."

  Buck laughed. "I hoped is all. And then when you started actin' so strange, well, I sure as hell didn't want him around then."

  "Well, where was he all night?"

  Buck's grin took on a sly angle. "You remember Liddy Evans?"

  She shook her head.

  "The one with the boy who's diabetic. You met her at the mill on Friday, remember?"

  "Yes. Yes, I do," she said, recalling her promise to the young woman.

  "Bryce is sweet on her." He confided this with a great deal of satisfaction. "He stayed with her last night."

  "With all those children around?" She vaguely remembered the mention of two besides the one the woman was most concerned about.

  "He manages to get to the couch before they get up, and to tell the truth, I've never been able to figure out who he cares about more, her or her kids."

  Anne suddenly had a whole new respect for Bryce. It was one thing to dally with the mother of three children. To care for her children as well was very special.

  "He came home for clean clothes, then," she decided out loud.

  "Nope. He took clothes with him yesterday mornin'."

  "Buck!" She couldn't believe the man's presumptuousness.

  "I was hopin' – hard. Can't blame a man for that."

  She sent him a disapproving glare before she asked, "Then why did he come home this morning?"

  "Stopped at Jimmy's to see if you had any messages. You had three from Calvin Schwab.""He stopped—well, you thought of everything, didn't you?" she said, marveling at Buck's determination.

  "Just about."

  She gasped dramatically. "Well, what on earth didn't you think of?"

  "How to keep Schwab from ruining our day together. He is going to ruin it, isn't he?" he asked glumly.

  Stopping to think about it, Anne couldn't help but agree. She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she knew exactly how their conversation would proceed.

  ~*~

  "Well, it's about time you called," Calvin Schwab bellowed over the phone an hour or so later. "Where the hell have you been?"

  "Out." Anne didn't keep an account of her time for her father anymore; she certainly wasn't going to account for it with Calvin.

  "Don't tell me you were out sight-seeing. Anne, you could look till your eyes fall out and never see anything. I've been there, remember? There's nothing to see in those mountains."

  She wanted to tell him how wrong he was and how beautiful the mountains were. She wanted to tell him about some of the people, about their courage, generosity, and kindness. She wanted to tell him about good ol' boys, but instead she asked, "Do you want to hear how the employee meeting went or not?"

  She didn't mean to sound angry and abrupt with him. He didn't know that he'd spoiled her day with Buck. He could never guess that she'd been so happy with Buck, she'd wished she wouldn't ever have to think about New York, Harriman Industries, or him again. It simply wouldn't have occurred to him that in less than a week, Anne was ready to dig a deep hole in the rich Kentucky soil, climb in, and grow roots. How could he? She'd only just realized it herself.

  How did she feel about that, she wondered, as she gave a robotlike accounting of the union meeting. She felt good about it and yet knew it was all wrong and didn't make sense at the same time. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do, but it scared her to death. Her heart grew heavy when she wondered what Buck would say to the idea.

  After all, he was assuming that their relationship was a temporary thing. Would he feel put upon or obligated if she stayed longer than she was supposed to?

  She shook her head and pushed the thought out of her mind. It was a crazy idea.

  "Well, at least they know we mean business now," Calvin was saying. "Sounds to me as if they wanted to eat you alive, but you gave them the old what-for and held your ground. I'm proud of you, Anne."

  Oops. She must have forgotten to tell him about the mob scene and her rescue by the LaSalle's.

  "There's one other thing, Cal. I don't see it as a big problem, but I think I ought to mention it to you," she said, bracing herself for his reaction. His silence was her cue to proceed. "They're planning to make a bid for the mill. They want employee ownership."

  Silence.

  "I told them they could try it."

  Silence.

  "Cal?"

  "And you don't see this as a problem?" he asked, his voice quivering under the strain it took to control his temper.

  "Well, you're the one who called them a bunch of stupid hillbillies, remember? And personally, I don't think they'll be able to come up with the resources. Economically or professionally. What harm can come from their trying?" She paused before adding, "Besides, it'll keep them busy and off my back, while I finish up what has to be done. They'll never make the sixty-day deadline."

  "They'd better not, Anne."

  "Even if they do," she said, thinking of Buck, "all you have to do is t
urn them down when they make the bid."

  "Let's hope for your sake that it doesn't get that far. The last thing we need is a bunch of bog-stompers clogging up the works."

  Anne's chest grew stiff with anger and resentment at his disparaging remark. Something in her heart half-wished that Buck and the other workers would pull it off in spite of all the obstacles before them. It would be worth it, just to see the look on Calvin Schwab's face.

  ~*~

  Since they hadn't known what Calvin wanted or how long her discussion with him would take, they had agreed that Buck would take Anne to town so she could pick up her car, make her call from the office at the mill, and go back to Buck's whenever she was finished.

  Apparently Jimmy McKee was a very understanding fellow. He'd agreed to continue taking messages for Anne at the motel, as a favor to Buck, so that nothing would look untoward. She had insisted on paying for the room she wasn't staying in, but Jimmy McKee had said that was crazy. "Round here we look out for each other's . . . best interests," he'd said, a wry smile on his lips and a decided twinkle in his eye. "Right now, you seem to be what Buck's most interested in."

  Anne had been grateful, but she couldn't help speculating on how long "right now" would last. She managed to do some work at the office, to justify her presence in Webster and to appease the guilty conscience she'd developed after talking with Calvin Schwab. It wouldn't be fair to anyone, she'd decided, to let her feelings for Buck deter her from her purpose.

  It was late afternoon by the time she returned to the LaSalle home. The trees cast long, lazy shadows across the gravel road as she approached the house. Nestled in the small clearing, with nature growing up around it on all sides, the house had a very safe look about it. It was big and old and it had withstood the test of time. As a matter of fact, the house looked as if it had been there forever, as if it belonged there.

  It was a strange notion—belonging. Anne hadn't ever felt she truly belonged anywhere. And yet Buck's house belonged. Buck belonged. The trees and the mountains seemed to fit right in; they looked as if they belonged where they were. Was there a secret to belonging? How long did people have to stay in one place before they became part of the scenery, before the things around them became a part of them? two years? ten years? a lifetime?

  Anne wasn't sure. All she knew was that she'd never felt more comfortable than she did at that moment. Sitting on the front steps of Buck's house, she breathed in the clean air, listened to the wind as it fluttered the leaves in the trees, and knew a sense of peace she hadn't ever experienced before.

  Hustle, bustle, and tussle didn't live here, Anne realized, as she felt herself unwind. Quiet, simple, and peaceful resided in these mountains, and Anne had the oddest feeling they were bidding her welcome.

  She laughed at herself. She didn't usually get so carried away. It was time to get back to somethingsolid and real, she decided. She went in search of Buck, who was very solid and very real. She found the note on the kitchen table, in a big black frying pan with a can opener holding it in place.

  Gone fishing. If you remember the way, join me.

  If you don't, start dinner. I’ll be back.

  Buck

  "Start dinner? Start dinner? Just like that? Start dinner?" she repeated, irked beyond belief. Buck was taking this claim-staking business a little too seriously. If he thought he'd claimed her and her servitude, he was about to be informed otherwise. She not only thought that she might remember the way to the pond, but she was more than willing to die wandering the forest looking for it. She didn't even care if she had to battle lions, tigers, and bears to get there. But she sure as hell wasn't going to start dinner on his order.

  In a snit she marched upstairs to change her shoes, only to discover that her bags had been put in Buck's room. She also found a box of old clothes and another note on the bed waiting for her.

  These are some of my sister's old things.

  If you can use them, feel free.

  Here's a map, in case you get lost.

  He'd drawn a prominent-points map to the pond that made Anne giggle. And then she growled. "Buck LaSalle, you're enough to drive a perfectly sane woman nuts," she told him, not caring that he couldn't hear her.

  ~*~He looked carefree and a little bit like Huck Finn when she found him. Out on the end of the old jetty, slumped against one of the pilings, he sat alone and at ease with himself and everything around him. He had his bare back to her, his folded shirt and his boots on the ground beside him, and his fishing pole was propped between his crossed legs, balanced between his toes on the other end. His head was bent as he read from a book in his lap. She almost hated to disturb him. Almost.

  "Start dinner?" she asked, her hands on her hips as she stood on the land end of the dock.

  He turned his head and smiled at her. He wasn't the least bit surprised to see her. "It got ya here, didn't it?"

  "It was a dirty trick, but I thank you for the clothes." Cautiously she began her walk out to join him. She tried not to think of the planking disintegrating under her feet, as she was sure it was about to do, and concentrated on getting closer and closer to Buck. She knew he'd keep her safe.

  "Oh, no. I thank you," he said, his eyes taking in the white sleeveless shirt she had knotted at her waist and the jeans, cut off well above the knees, that hugged her hips. Anne thought they gave her a decided Daisy May look and was pleased to see that he liked the effect. "Now I know there is a God and He does listen to our prayers."

  "You really shouldn't talk like that out here," she cautioned him, letting her smile and her eyes tell him just how glad she was to be with him again. "She might decide to let this thing fall apart, after all," she said glancing at the dock. "And then we'd both drown for your disrespect."

  "She might, huh?" He grinned, extending his hand to her. "Well, if you're afraid that She's so easily ticked off, you can always come down here and hold on to me. I’ll tell you a different story."

  "What. About God?" she asked, sitting down beside him, in much the same fashion as he was sitting. Again she thought that this quiet place could very well be His summer place, as she got comfortable and thoughtfully took in her surroundings. "Don't tell me you talk to God here."

  "All the time." He handed her an open can of cold beer that he'd taken from the cooler beside him, then he took a long gulp from his own can.

  "Recently?" She took her first and best sip of the cold brew and set it down beside her. Then she leaned back on her elbows.

  "Not ten minutes ago." He moved her can out of his way before he leaned toward her and sipped the taste of the beer off her bottom lip. "He told me I'd be spendin' the rest of this day makin' love to a beautiful woman who goes by the name of Annie."

  "I don't go by that name," she told him a bit breathlessly, as his lips skittered down her neck and into the V of her shirt. "You're the only person in the world who calls me Annie."

  "Good," he muttered. He'd been leaning on one arm, but when he reached over with his other hand to loosen the button that was getting in his way, the book on his lap fell off. "It's just me and God then."

  Anne laughed despite the way her stomach was tying itself in knots. "You're very conceited," she said, feeling she should point this out to him for his own good.

  He looked up at her, surprised. "I told you, it's part of my charm."

  "I remember." She angled her head and kissed him sweetly. “You're also very hard-working, aren't you?" He frowned, and she glanced down at the book on office management that had fallen from his lap. He shrugged then and said, "When you work, I work. When we're together, we make love. Wasn't that our deal?"

  "Sort of," she said, smiling her agreement with his rewording of their bargain. "But I thought you were supposed to be fishin'."

  He looked shocked that she thought he wasn't. "I got my pole in the water." He bent and placed a warm wet kiss on her belly, which exposed itself just below the knot in her shirt. Absently he picked up her beer can and unerringly dribbled se
veral drops of the liquid into her navel. "It doesn't matter what else you're doin' at the time, as long as you got a pole in the water, it's still fishin'."

  He lowered his head and sucked the beer from her navel, his arms curled around her as he rolled his body over the lower half of hers. He nibbled gently on the sensitive skin of her abdomen. Anne's arms grew weary as she wallowed in the fine sensations crawling across her. She lowered her head to the dock and closed her eyes. When the knot in her shirt fell away, she reached out and let her fingers tangle in Buck's hair. It was warm from the sun, thick and soft.

  The dock swayed and bobbed on the water. Time stood still. Buck's mouth closed around the throbbing tip of one breast and Anne's whole world disappeared. Her mind was empty, except for the sound of the water beneath the old planks and the feel of Buck's mouth and hands as he made slow, agonizing love to her.

  They could have been Adam and Eve in God's garden, discovering all the wonders and joys of being his creations. Did He have any idea of the power Buck had over her heart, her soul, and her body? Anne guessed He did. Otherwise He wouldn't have designed such a miracle. A miracle that would last from the beginning to the end of His reign. An act so good and simple, so beautiful and glorious that it reflected His own genius.

  Yes, there was indeed a God, she reflected in her love-hazed mind, and He had heard her prayers, she concluded as Buck's damp body pressed close to hers and she held his head near her breast. And then another thought occurred to her.

  "Buck?"

  "Hmm?"

  "If a southerner drinks beer from your naval, is your belly button still a Yankee shot? Or does it then become a Dixie cup?"

  "UGH!"

  Nine

  The next few days drifted by in a mist of pleasure, confusion, and pain for Anne. And it wasn't as though there were specific instances in which each emotion was evoked individually. It was as if they came to Anne in all things, in the form of an inextricable, self-contained package deal.

  On one hand, there was her job and the mill. She'd gotten a head start on the employees with the work she'd done on Sunday. But when she showed up on Monday and discovered that she was going to have to share the conference room she'd been using as an office, she was very taken back.