Love, Alabama (Alabama Series Book 2) Page 3

  Soon after Tad had dropped Emma at the lowest moment in her life, he’d turned to the lovely and wealthy Sadie. She was everything his family would have desired in his future spouse. She demonstrated the grace and elegance her kind of upbringing naturally produced. She’d never had a chance to develop into the down-to-earth rich girl she might have had she spent time around a less affluent crowd. This was only Emma’s opinion, of course.

  Sadie never mentioned Emma’s past relationship with her husband, to her credit. Unfortunately, Jamie and Judith weren’t so discreet with their tongues.

  “I’d like to apologize for before.” Matthew had moved beside Emma, snapping her out of her wormhole. She was still sitting in the tall, folding director’s chair where she’d applied Cammie’s makeup. “You thinking about what I said, or are you about to take me down? Because you look like I kicked your dog.”

  “Huh?” Emma shook her head to clear it. “No. Sorry, I was distracted.” She took a deep breath and tried to smile as if things were peachy. “So, you wanted to apologize?”

  His gaze was slightly puzzled at her weirdness. “That’s where I was headed. Would you be willing to have dinner with me this evening? As my apology?”

  Dinner. As in, a date? She didn’t often date. But he wouldn’t understand how things were. “Um, I don’t think—”

  He stopped her by holding up a hand. “It’s not a date, Emma. I’m just tired of eating alone. Since I’ve been in town, I’ve hit the Mexican place, the Cajun place, the barbeque joint—”

  She laughed, discontinuing his litany of food establishments in town. “Okay, fine. I’ll go, but we have to go where I say.” It wasn’t a date.

  It was acquaintances having a meal together. They had no romantic connection, so why not? But still, it would be putting herself out there in town to be talked about. Every time she’d done it, it hadn’t ended well.

  “I’m at your mercy.” He raised his hands in surrender.

  “Fine. Meet me at my studio around eight after my last class. Is that too late?” She asked.

  “Nope. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy after shooting wraps up today.” He smiled at her. It was—bone-deep sexy, and that wasn’t something Emma was prepared for. “Thanks for taking pity on me.”

  Tamping down the sudden crazy galloping of her pulse rate, and working to control the flush she was certain had just stained her cheeks, neck, and every other exposed area of skin, Emma tried to sound normal. “Sure. Give me your number and I’ll text you the address. The restaurant is casual.”

  He nodded. “See you at eight.”

  And just like that, Emma Laroux had a dinner date. Even though it wasn’t officially a date, people around here would think it was. And that would get around. Rumors of their short breakfast likely already had.

  Chapter Three

  ‡

  “Well, I wouldn’t have worn it so early in the season, if at all, that’s for sure.” Judith Dozier-Fremont stated with a finality that bore no argument from her sister, Jamie, or Sadie Beaumont. Emma gritted her teeth and swore she’d get through this for about the fifth time since they’d shown up fifteen minutes late discussing last night’s Junior League planning dinner.

  “I thought it was a little tacky, but the color wasn’t bad,” Sadie inserted.

  It was her way of agreeing with Judith while showing a little support for the fellow member whose fashion choices were being maligned.

  “Have you had your eyes checked lately, Sadie? It was lime green linen, for Pete’s sake.”

  Sadie’s lovely lips pursed. “I like green in all shades. What do you think, Jamie?”

  Jamie, instead of taking the side of her sister, appreciated the opportunity to needle her whenever the opportunity arose. “Sister, I do believe I saw a similar ensemble hanging with the tags still attached in your closet. Could it be that somebody made a debut in an outfit you recently purchased but haven’t had the chance to wear?” It was obviously a fine moment for Jamie, a rare opportunity she’d decided to enjoy to the fullest.

  Judith’s face reddened and her hands fisted at her sides.

  Just as she took the first charging step toward her sister, Emma cut in. “Ladies, let’s take a few moments to work on our mental relaxation techniques.”

  “Oh, let’s do that,” Sadie agreed a little to loudly and grabbed Judith by the arm, spinning her toward Emma.

  Judith shot Jamie a glare that promised retribution after class ended, then turned her attention toward Emma.

  “Imagine that you’re on stage where all the attention is focused on you. The interviewer asks a question and your mind goes completely blank with anxiety and fear.”

  “I would never wimp out like that.” Judith laughed.

  “I might,” Sadie said. “What would I do if it happened?” She asked Emma.

  Emma couldn’t help but feel compassion for Sadie and barely controlled the urge to strike Judith.

  So, she smiled at Sadie. “First, don’t worry. Always smile and say, ‘That’s a great question’.”

  Emma went through some breathing and relaxation techniques with the women, and was just finishing up when Tad Beaumont strolled in without a how-do-you-do. He wore his uniform of business casual with cowboy boots. All charm without the warmth to melt butter in his mouth.

  “Oh, hey, honey, what a surprise.” Sadie appeared taken aback.

  “Just thought I’d take my best girl out to dinner since it’s getting late,” Tad said, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

  “I left dinner for you and Sarah Jane warming in the oven before I left.” Sadie reminded him.

  “She’s fed and all tucked in for the night. Gerta is with her until we get back.”

  Gerta was their house-keeper/nanny who lived in the small groundskeeper’s cottage on the property of their pre-Civil War antebellum mansion. Emma also had grown up in a similar home that her family ran as an event-planning business.

  Historical homes here in Ministry were the norm rather than the exception, some were far larger and grander than others, but one would be hard-pressed to find new construction within the city limits, or even nearby.

  Judith and Jamie were heading toward the door, with Tad and Sadie following when—something made Emma look up. She’d almost forgotten about her dinner with Matthew. Oh, crap. The last thing she needed was a run-in between the two men.

  For whatever reason, Tad had acted strangely on the rare occasions when she’d had a date. And, on those rare occasions, he’d managed to always be nearby.

  Emma hurried over to the front entrance to see Matthew holding a small nosegay of wildflowers. “Well, hello there.” This was from Judith, who’d never met a handsome stranger.

  Matthew quirked up the side of his enigmatic lip in a half-smile of greeting. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Matthew. Let me get my purse and I’ll meet you outside.”

  Unfortunately, that was enough for Tad to take notice and stick his mayoral hand out in introduction. “Hello, I’m Tad Beaumont, mayor of our fair city. You must be new in town. I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

  Matthew’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second; and likely only Emma caught it, thankfully. Her stomach twisted.

  “I’m Matthew Pope, producer of Cammie Laroux’s cooking show.” The two men shook hands a little too firmly in Emma’s estimation.

  “Well, no wonder we haven’t met. I’ve been meaning to make it out there to lay eyes on things. Is our Emma here showing you around town?” The gleam in Tad’s eye made her even more nervous than before.

  “She’s shown mercy and agreed to have dinner with me tonight. Apparently she knows the best places for someone who eats out regularly.” Matthew wasn’t showing his cards, thank goodness. His smile was forced, Emma could tell, and there was a dark current between the two men that seemed oddly intense.

  “Oh, wow. How unusual. Emma doesn’t date much,” he said.

  She wanted to rip his ears off and feed them
to the pigs in Farmer Jensen’s pen. He was taunting her.

  Tad slapped Matthew on the back then said in a smug tone, “You two kids have fun.” He shot her a look, but while his mouth still smiled. Was that a warning in his eyes?

  Her gaze must have communicated some of what was in her mind.

  “Hey, you okay? What gives with mayor Ken doll?”

  Emma just shook her head and remained silent. If she actually said the words, Matthew would question a possible need for antipsychotic medication.

  *

  Once they were seated at Marvin’s Garden, a local soul food establishment and one of Cammie’s favorite restaurants, Matthew asked, “So, you going to tell me what that was about between you and the mayor?”

  “I’d prefer not to discuss Tad, if that’s alright,” she said.

  “He seemed ticked in some weird way.”

  She sighed. “I guess saying that I don’t want to talk about him isn’t going to work.” Emma put down her menu. “We dated a long time ago.”

  “How long ago?” After meeting Tad, it explained why she’d given him the heads up.

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Almost ten years now.”

  Back when Matthew had encountered Emma that night in the frat house wandering around. “And he acts weird when you’re out with someone else? And he’s married?”

  “I don’t date much, so it probably surprised him.”

  “Why don’t you date?” He tried to keep his tone neutral.

  She held up her hand to warn him. “This isn’t a line of questioning I want to continue. I might as well be having dinner with my mother. She and I do this all the time.”

  He knew it wasn’t his business, but he really wanted to know. “So, you rarely date, and when you do, you get the evil eye from your ex, who’s the mayor of the town? And you haven’t put him in his place?”

  “Calling Tad out is easier said than done, plus, it’s really never worked out with anyone,” she admitted.

  “Is he some sort of homicidal maniac and killing them off?”

  She laughed. “No, of course not. I just haven’t found anyone I like enough to put a stop to his childishness, I guess. And Tad’s annoyance doesn’t bother me. In fact, I’m glad it bothers him in a way after how badly he treated me when we broke up. I’ve decided that it’s not worth the end result.”

  Matthew didn’t know what to say. He just stared for a second, trying to think of something.

  “I know that sounds strange, but people around here are used to it. No one even asks me out anymore. I’ve got a good business and a wonderful family. My life is very satisfying.”

  “Don’t you want more?” He asked.

  “I have nieces and nephews, and I have Big Al. It’s all good.” But the sadness that touched her eyes belied her words.

  He sensed she would lump him with all the others who’d not made it past the first date and then run the other way, if he confessed how they’d met ten years ago. He would tell her soon, but tonight didn’t feel right.

  Tad Beaumont might have been her boyfriend at the time Matthew met Emma after the football game that night. He’d keep that in mind.

  The pretty waiter came over to take their orders. Matthew began by asking about carb and fat content.

  Emma shushed him and ordered for them. “You really can’t go around town doing that. This is natural and healthy whole food. It won’t kill you—unless you start picking apart every item on the menu. Then, someone will likely do something really nasty to your food in the kitchen. That would be worse than maxing your daily intake of carbs, I promise.”

  He made a face at her that spoke his thoughts. “You just ordered fried pickles.”

  She waved that away with her hand, like she was swatting a fly. It was a graceful gesture. “So, Matthew, where are you from originally?” Emma asked, clearly using the break to change the subject from her dating or lack of.

  Oh, boy. To lie or not to lie? He wasn’t a fan of untruths, and had made a stand in the past on honesty and integrity.

  This was truly his character put to the test. “I was born in Texas. We moved around a lot when I was a kid.” Truth. He’d lived in Texas for exactly one month of his life, then moved around for a few years until they’d settled in Alabama when he was seven. So, true enough, he supposed.

  “What about college?”

  His heartbeat accelerated, breathing became shallow and rapid. He began to sweat. The roar in his ears was near deafening.

  “Are you alright? You don’t look so good.” Beyond his overwhelming physical symptoms, he registered her concerned tone.

  “Just—just need some air.” He bounded out of his chair toward the exit, feeling as if the past were a giant wave gaining on him, threatening to engulf him and his almost lies.

  *

  Emma wondered if all men had some major malfunction. Matthew was the first one who’d even asked her to dinner in a coon’s age, and he’d gone thrashing out of the restaurant in a full-blown panic attack, poor guy. She figured she’d better get their orders to go, which would give him a minute to get himself under control. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to call 9-1-1. The dispatchers were the worst of the gossips; then there were the old biddies with their police scanners manned twenty-four-seven who stayed up to speed on everything as it went down.

  So, going through official channels was really a last resort. She hoped his panic attack was not the hospital kind. Lord knew she’d had enough experience with them over the years, being in the pageant business and with some of the other—stuff. Fortunately, they weren’t her personal drama. She’d managed all that without ever actually experiencing one, but several of her loved ones hadn’t been so lucky.

  By the time she’d paid the check and walked out the restaurant with a large to-go bag, Matthew was sitting on a bench reserved for overflow customers when there was a wait at busy times. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those times, and he was outside alone, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Poor guy.

  “Do you need a paper bag? Or are you finished with the hyperventilating part?” She asked, handing him a paper lunch sack.

  He took it and glanced at her with an incredulous expression. Clearly he’d gotten control of himself.

  “How about we head over to my house and not let this delicious food go to waste?”

  The lights from the overhang illuminated his face. His expression was guarded, embarrassed, even ashamed. She’d seen it all before.

  “I think I’ll just head home. Sorry about that inside.” He vaguely motioned toward the restaurant.

  She set the bags of food down on the end of the bench and plopped down beside him. It was full dark out here and the crickets were chirping happily, unaware of the tense situation nearby. “Look, I don’t know what set you off, but I’m way too familiar with a garden variety panic attack to freak out, not that a panic attack is anything to sneeze at, mind you. But I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you don’t need to be carted off to the hospital, because the whole town would know about it by midnight if you did.”

  “You don’t think I’m a nut case?” His expression was stupefied, as if he’d just realized the world wasn’t flat.

  “Nah. Just somebody else who’s had something rotten happen to them that they haven’t dealt with all the way. Look, my dad drowned in the lake right in front of us kids when we were teenagers.” She covered his hand with hers.

  “How horrible.” He looked at her with a softness that caused strange feelings she’d thought had taken off to greener pastures years ago.

  She nodded to acknowledge his sympathy, but that wasn’t why she’d revealed her tragedy. She wanted him to understand he wasn’t alone, so she continued, “We were too far offshore to help. You can only imagine the nightmares and issues we’ve carried around. A couple of us had mild panic attacks, and we’ve all wondered if there was something we could have done differently since we were kids. Every now and then there’s a recurren
ce. Sometimes it comes out of nowhere.”

  He nodded. “Survivor’s guilt.” He looked down. “So this is no big deal to you?”

  “Nope. It’s a big deal when it happens to you, though. But I do know the best counselor in three counties, if you want her card. She moved here awhile back and has worked miracles for a friend. That’s if you believe in that sort of thing. Aren’t most New Yorkers in counseling for one thing or another?” She smiled at him and gave him a little sisterly pat on the back.

  “I’ll try not to take offense at that insinuation, but I will take her name and number. Thanks.” Then, he turned to her and said, “I’m still hungry if you are.”

  Emma grinned. “I’m starving. I was hoping this little episode wasn’t going to cost me dinner.”

  They’d taken separate cars from her studio, so he followed her the mile-and-a-half to her house. It occurred to Emma she’d never brought a man here besides a worker to fix something, or her brother, certainly never a date. Because of that rarely ever dating thing.

  As she unlocked the front door, she sincerely hoped there wasn’t an errant pair of panties on the floor, dropped while transporting laundry or some such comedy. It wasn’t something she’d ever given a thought to before.

  Thankfully, after a quick glance inside she saw that her little two-bedroom, two-bath cottage was nice and tidy, exactly how she liked it. It was a refurbished historical home tucked neatly between two massive oaks. She’d adored this house since she’d been a child, and when the opportunity to buy it became available once her business was doing well enough, she’d jumped at the opportunity. It was her dream home and Emma cherished it.

  As he approached the front door, he said, “Wow, what a great house. It’s like something from a movie.” As soon as the words left him, Emma saw him grimace.

  She smiled. “I get that a lot, but I’ll take it as a high compliment since it came from a bona fide director/producer in the business.”