Sweet Southern Nights. Liz Talley

her mother—as a laughing girl. Not as the emotional wreck she was now.

      Eva pulled off her sandals and padded barefoot through her small kitchen and into the bathroom, which she made quick use of. She then pulled two beers from the fridge, popped the tops and walked back to the living room, sinking onto the couch. “How was the sale?”

      “What?”

      “The rummage sale. Did they raise a lot of money?”

      “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.” He walked over and grabbed the beer she held out before dropping onto the couch beside her.

      Eva didn’t want him to sit next to her. Any other time it would have been fine, but at the moment a kiss sat between them. She’d spent all of last night and half of this morning berating herself for being a damn idiot.

      She’d kissed a man who’d been trying to give her a noogie. Who did that? Especially when she’d been so successful in holding back her feelings for him for the past three years. But, like a valve bursting on a pipe, she’d gone and spewed forth the desire she had for him. It was another problem piled onto a plate that felt suspiciously full at present.

      “So we gonna talk about what happened yesterday?” he asked.

      “No. We’re not.”

      He studied her for a few minutes as she pretended to be impassive. Finally, he reached out and picked up the TV remote control. “So you want to watch Ohio State and Notre Dame?”

      “Do what?”

      “Play football.” His voice was incredulous.

      “Not really, but sure.”

      Jake put the game on. A couple of announcers were discussing the OSU quarterback’s injury and how with one turn of an ankle, his college career was over.

      Yeah, tell her about it. One innocent little misread and things could turn upside down fast.

      About mid-beer, Jake looked over at her. “So you wanna talk about why you had to talk to my mom?”

      “No.”

      “Eva, this is ridiculous.”

      “It’s not ridiculous. It’s none of your business.”

      He actually looked miffed. Turning his attention back to the TV, he finished his beer and sat the empty bottle on the coffee table littered with health magazines and one copy of Parenting, which she’d snagged at the grocery store yesterday.

      Charlie coming to live with her scared Eva silly. She knew nothing about living with a boy. Her half brother, Chris, had already been eight years old when she emerged on the scene, and since he lived with his mom, her father’s first wife, in Belle Chase, Eva rarely saw him. And by the time she could actually interact with Chris during his visits on random weekends, he was too busy for a snot-nosed girl. Not that Eva dealt with sinus issues or anything.

      As a teen, she’d rarely babysat. And when her father had married his third wife, Claren, Eva had been in her twenties. The odd time they’d brought Charlie over to visit, she’d been at a loss for how to change a diaper or even how to entertain him. The only time her career put her into contact with kids was when she conducted a field trip tour of the fire station.

      Mother material she was not.

      She tucked her feet under her, careful not to touch any part of Jake’s naked leg. Unlike Jamison’s very put-together style, Jake wore athletic shorts, a T-shirt he’d cut the sleeves off, and his thick hair looked as if he’d raked his hands through it a million times that day. A five o’clock shadow finished off the gruff, sexy image. Polished wasn’t Jake’s vibe. Rumpled sex god was more like it.

      “I guess I should go,” he said. Jake looked uncomfortable, something he never seemed to be. And it was her fault. She’d screwed up, and now she was acting as if things were different. If she wanted to erase the kiss and its repercussions, she had to go back to being herself.

      “You don’t have to. The game’s nearly over, and I think Georgia plays South Carolina next. I could order pizza from Gumbeaux’s.”

      See? Everything was normal. Just like always. They’d watch TV, share a pizza and never, ever talk about the kiss.

      Ever.

      “Sounds good but I don’t like this vibe between us. You’re acting weird after the ki—”

      “Uh-uh. Don’t say it. Please. It never happened.”

      But it did. She knew it. He knew it. But maybe—

      “Fine. It didn’t happen. Erased.”

      She breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. So pizza?”

      “Yeah. Get extra olives on my half,” he said, toeing off his sneakers and propping his socked feet on her coffee table. As if he was her brother. As if he’d already forgotten.

      Gotta love the single-mindedness of a dude.

      Perfect.

      “I know what you like.” Eva uncurled and padded toward the kitchen to grab her phone and the number for Gumbeaux’s. After ordering Jake’s extra hamburger, extra olives pizza, she slipped off to her room to change into a T-shirt and some shorts she’d made from an old pair of sweatpants. She even took out her contacts, washed her face and put on her glasses.

      She returned to the living room and held out her hand.

      Jake moved his head around to catch a play.

      “Money.”

      He looked up. “For...”

      “Pizza. No freeloading.”

      Jake reached for his wallet, pulling the pocket inside out and leaving it that way. Yeah, Jake wasn’t anything near Jamison French...other than being good-looking as the devil himself. He handed her a couple bills. “That’s too much,” she said, shoving a ten back at him.

      “Keep it.”

      “No, this isn’t a date. We go halfsies.”

      “I’m drinking your beer. Keep it.”

      Eva shrugged and tucked the money into her wallet, plopping onto the wing-backed chair far away from Jake. He watched the game until a commercial came on, and then he turned to her. He wrinkled his nose. “Why’d you change?”

      “Because it’s just you.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “It means I don’t have to stay gussied up.”

      “But you did for Jamison?”

      He sounded almost jealous. Weird. “Of course. It was a date. Don’t you take a shower, brush your teeth and douse yourself in cologne when you go on a date?”

      “I don’t douse myself.”

      Eva laughed. “Well, I guess it’s better than smelling like gym socks.”

      Jake faked outrage. “I hope you know my gym socks smell like a summer’s day.”

      “Exactly. Ripe.”

      A short while later the doorbell rang and Eva answered, taking the piping-hot pizzas and inhaling the deliciousness. Seconds later she grabbed paper plates and set the boxes on the coffee table, lifting the lids. Jake dug in, pulling out several pieces, dangling the stringy cheese into his mouth before taking the first bite.

      “Ah, now that’s some good pizza,” he said, chewing and making an orgasmic face. Or at least that’s how she envisioned his orgasmic face. Yeah. She’d fantasized, in the small darkness of her room, snug beneath her down comforter, her mind going where she normally wouldn’t let it in the brightness of the day. “Come sit by me, Eva.”

      He’d patted the couch next to him, offering her a nonwolfish smile.

      “Why?”