Sweet Southern Nights. Liz Talley

surrounded by the deluded,” Eva said, rolling her eyes.

      “Gotta skedaddle. I’m meeting Chase out at Jennings. Someone’s been stealing copper out of their units,” Cole said, tossing the cup toward the trash cans standing sentry at the end of the driveway.

      “Oh? Usually you’re investigating the doughnuts over at PattyAnns,” Eva called.

      Cole mimicked a gun firing with a finger and thumb and staggered back toward his cruiser. “You got me,” he said with a flirty wink before sliding back into the car.

      She and Jake stood for a minute, sucking down water and watching as Cole pulled away. He issued a wave and then hit the siren once as he rolled away.

      “I think he’s in love with you,” Jake said, turning back toward the duplex.

      “I’m pretty sure he isn’t,” she said.

      “Because of Chase?” He made a face just uttering her ex-boyfriend’s name. Jake wasn’t a fan of Chase’s. They’d gone to school together, competing against each other for starting linebacker...and for who got to date the prettiest cheerleader. When Eva had broken things off with Chase, Jake had gotten a little easier to be around. She’d like to think it was because deep down underneath his playboy image, he carried a small torch for her. But she knew that wasn’t the reason. Jake had just gotten tired of Chase always hedging in on their gym time together, trying to outlift him.

      “Yeah. Something like that,” she said, emptying the rest of the bottle.

      “Hey, Wendell put in his papers. His wife’s gonna throw him a retirement party next month. Guess it’s official.” Jake took her empty bottle and walked it over to the trash can.

      “What is?” she said.

      Jake smiled against the sun peeking over the top of the trees, his auburn hair glowing like embers. His bright blue eyes, strong jaw and white teeth prominent against his tanned skin. He looked like pure sex. Like the kind of guy who knew right where to place his lips, right where to stroke, right where to tease. He was like a walking fantasy—teenaged heartthrob, rock ’n’ roll drummer and dangerous outlaw rolled into one. “That I get to arm wrestle you for the captain’s spot.”

      Eva laughed and chucked him on the chin. “Give it your best shot, Maverick.”

       CHAPTER TWO

      THE SCENE AT Ray-Ray’s was the same. It was always the same.

      Jake peeled the label from his NOLA beer and watched as his older brother, Matt, threw darts with one of the teachers from the school where Matt was principal. Jake couldn’t remember the older guy’s name. Only that he was from Oregon and drank Johnnie Walker Black Label.

      Across from Jake sat the guy he’d talked into peeing on an electric fence when they were eleven years old, the guy he’d caught his first bass with, the guy who’d stolen his old man’s cigarettes and shared them with Jake. Clint Cochran had been his best bud only since forever, and every week Jake picked him up and sat with him at a table while he nursed a gin and tonic.

      “What’s wrong?” Clint said after several minutes of them listening to Trace Adkins belt out a tune. His friend took a sip of his drink, and Jake noticed how big Clint’s biceps had gotten. All his gym work with Eva had paid off...as had the fact that Clint had to heft himself into bed, to the toilet and into the car. It took tremendous strength to move the bulk of his lower half around.

      “Nothing’s wrong.”

      “It’s this town, isn’t it?” Clint asked, his dark eyes searching his for some weakness, hoping Jake would finally crack. It was a game they played sometimes, a guilt-riddled, smoldering resentment of a game.

      “Nah. Why would it be the town?”

      “’Cause you’ve been here all your life and you’re sick of it. Hell, you’ve dated every woman within twenty miles and could drive the streets blindfolded. You’re done.”

      Clint wanted Jake to admit he hated Magnolia Bend. He wanted Jake to say he was only here because he felt guilty. That if Clint hadn’t been paralyzed ten years ago that Jake would be in LA or Chicago or even Baton Rouge. That he’d be anywhere but at a run-down bar, eating stale pretzels and babysitting a cripple.

      But Jake would never say that...even if sometimes it felt true.

      “I’m not sick of it. I could be the goddamn mayor if I wanted. Right here is a walking poster for tourism.” Jake thumped his chest, trying to summon lightness.

      “Hell, yeah, it is. I’d take a tour,” Vicky Barrett drawled, twirling a piece of hair over his ear before sinking down on the empty chair to Jake’s right. “What you boys got on tap tonight?”

      “Well, I’m thinking about doing a couple of shots, dancing the two-step with a sexy lady and then getting laid,” Clint said with a wry laugh before looking down at his withered legs. “No, wait. I forgot.”

      Vicky laughed and the sound grated on Jake’s nerves. “You’re such a hoot, Clint. And hell, you don’t need legs for two of those things.”

      Jake didn’t say anything because Clint’s being in a wheelchair—no matter whether he could joke about it or not—would never be funny to him.

      Never.

      Clint knew that, but his friend danced on the edge tonight. He wanted a fight with Jake, but Jake wasn’t picking up what Clint was laying down. Been there, done that, hated himself for it.

      The door to the bar opened, and Eva walked in accompanied by her friend Jenny, who worked for the sheriff’s department. He raised a hand, noting that Jenny looked pretty damn good in her tight jeans and halter top. He’d actually dated her back in the day. Maybe it was time to get reacquainted with the lithe Jenny, who if he remembered correctly made a good omelet and insisted on brushing her teeth before kissing him good morning.

      Eva had her hair up, with hoop earrings that brushed her long neck. She wore a T-shirt that stretched her broad shoulders, framing a nice rack. Her shorts were a bit too short. He didn’t like her showing off her long legs any more than he’d like his sister, Abigail, doing so. No need to advertise the goods. He waved an arm and Eva inclined her head, giving Jenny a little push in the right direction.

      Vicky noticed and frowned.

      “What’s up, ladies?” Jake said, scooting his chair back and grabbing an empty one from the table behind him. He smiled at Jenny and patted the chair. “Have a seat.”

      Eva rolled her eyes, snagged another chair from behind her and sank down next to Clint. “Hey, Clint. How’re things?”

      Clint shrugged but his eyes lit up at the sight of Eva. “Same ol’ same old. Nothing’s changed since I saw you three hours ago. Or from yesterday when you stopped by with those brownies for Dad. They were good, by the way.”

      “You know I didn’t bake them, right?”

      “Duh,” he said, flashing a smile that made Jake’s heart ache. He’d seen that smile a million times...just not from the man currently in the state-of-the-art wheelchair. That smile was like a whisper of the past sliding past him.

      “What’ll you have?” Jake asked Jenny as her leg brushed his, tearing his mind away from the maudlin. She smelled good—like wildflowers or some other crap women liked to slather themselves with. She wore a push-up bra that lifted her small breasts, creating a delicious valley for his perusal. He jerked his gaze away and lifted his eyes, meeting Eva’s. She mouthed “pervert” and he grinned. Hell, if Jenny wanted to show them off, he was obligated to look.

      “I’ll take a glass of white wine,” Jenny said, grabbing a napkin to spit her gum in.

      A tired waitress trudged toward them. “What’ll it be?”

      Jake