“So you say. But he’s never met the likes of Sally Renee before. You know how she came by her money, don’t you?”
“No.” I frown. “Who is she? She’s not from around here.”
“Born and raised in Opelousas. She came down to work as a nail technician in Louisa Dandridge’s salon.”
“A nail technician can afford a five-thousand-dollar bachelor?” I lift my eyebrows. “Apparently, I’m in the wrong business.”
“She was only a nail tech at Louisa’s for three months. The instant Old Man Rutherford came in for a haircut, Sally Renee set her sights on him. She had him shackled quicker than you can spit.”
“You mean Old ManSilasRutherford? The one who lives two streets over?”
“Livedtwo streets over,” Auntie June corrects. “He died three months ago. Croaked in the middle of a randy bout of morning lovin’, if you believe the gossip.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “When the paramedics found him, there was nothing between him and the good Lord but a smile.”
I make a retching noise. Old Man Rutherford had more liver spots than the Mississippi has mud. “Gee, thanks, Auntie June,” I grumble. “I’ll need brain bleach to clean that image from my mind.”
She looks affronted. “What? You think us old folks shouldn’t be allowed to butter our biscuits?”
“Is there someone butteringyourbiscuit?” I lift an eyebrow.
“Psshhh.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t have the time or the inclination for a man. When you get to be my age, they’re not worth the trouble anyway. You know that saying about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks? Well, it’s true. And besides, I can butter my own biscuit, please and thank you.”
“Oh my Lord!” I bite by bottom lip because I’m laughing so hard folks are starting to stare. “Have you ever heard of TMI, Auntie June?”
“Means too much information, right?”
I nod.
She shrugs and takes another big gulp of champagne before adding, “Back when I was your age, I would’ve beenhappyto learn my plumbing would still be working at the ripe old age of eighty-three.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “Just one of the many,manyreasons I love you.”
Out on the dance floor, Luc and Sally Renee are making quite the scene. Well,Sallyis making quite the scene. I didn’t know a waltz could look so blatantly sexual.
“She’s young enough to be Old Man Rutherford’s daughter,” I muse as the song comes to an end.
Auntie June guffaws. “More like hisgranddaughter. She got the old coot’s money, and I guess now she’s looking for a young buck she can spend it on. Uh… Sorry. I better git.” She turns and quickly disappears into the crowd.
I frown, wondering what caused her to skedaddle in such an all-fire hurry. Then Luc steps in front of me, distracting me from her retreat. That Superman whorl is falling over his forehead, and those brown eyes of his are sparkling with humor…and maybe a smidge of desperation.
“Save me. Please.” He offers his hand.
I chuckle and let him spin me onto the dance floor. The band has switched to a slow song, and most of the well-heeled couples around us are swaying softly to the music. Luc pulls me close, and I close my eyes.
He smells like Cash. Like he used Cash’s soap and shampoo.
My belly dips, and I have to remind myself that the strong arms wrapped around my waist are those of a dear friend and not the love of my life.
“You’ve been wonderful tonight.” I press a cheek against his chest. “Thank you so much for doing this.”
“It’s been kinda fun,” he admits, his tone begrudging. “You know, once I got past the part where I felt like a ripe melon at a fruit stand.”
“These women aren’t exactly subtle in their inspections, are they? Are you bruised from all the poking and prodding?”
“And thumping,” he adds. “I was thumped a coupla times too.”
I giggle. “Who knows? Maybe one of them will actually want tobuythe melon.”
“One already did. Her name is Sally Renee Rutherford, and as far as I can figure, she’s gonna try her best to eat me whole.”
