J. T. flashed back to that moment at the Misty Cat. And the sheriff’s expression as he watched. Glory Greenleaf onstage.
And then he remembered something with startling clarity: the Eternity Oak was carved with the initials ELB + GHG.
“You got that right, Eli,” was all he said, quietly.
It was pretty clear love hadn’t been kind to Eli Barlow, either. He wondered if he regretted that little visit to the Eternity Oak.
“See you around, McCord.” Eli Barlow touched his hat and headed off, back down to the road.
CHAPTER16
Just like a rock chucked into the river, the photos of J. T. and Britt caused a ripple through all of Hellcat Canyon.
Casey and Kayla were thrilled almost to incoherence to see Britt in a Kayla dress with a Casey hairstyle getting into a truck with movie star on a website that millions of people read.
“You almost look like someone he would really date, Britt!” Kayla told her.
Unfortunately, Britt knew exactly what Kayla meant.
“Gosh, thanks, Kayla. The dress, the makeup. I’m sure that’s why the photographer decided to take the picture at all.”
And a week went by, and the rhythm of their days mostly resumed. But the conversation J. T. and Britt ought to have but weren’t having now ran like a subliminal hum through every word they said to each other, through everything they did. It kept them ever-so-slightly on edge and made every word they said to each other just a little careful, a little more polite than it ought to be.
Sex helped them forget about that. The wanting part didn’t go away in the least. It in fact, diversified. In terms of positions and locations.
But Britt was reminded of an old television she’d once had, that developed an odd hum. She’d thought nothing of it, because everything that gets old seems to develop quirks along the way. It went on like that for a year.
Until the day there was a loud “pop” while she was watching a repeat ofFriendsand flames shot out its back.
Deep down inside she knew nothing good could come from unattended hums.
“Surprise me,” J. T. said, clapping his Misty Cat menu shut. “Like you did last night.”
Last night she’d finally told him about Sherrie and Glenn and the mermaid and the fisherman.
As an actor, he was intrigued. They hadn’t quite tried it out because they hadn’t worked out the wardrobe, but it had led to some friskiness that left both of them flattened, panting, replete and chock-full of bonhomie this morning.
J. T. had gotten into the habit of stopping in at least once or twice a week during one of her shifts. He always ordered a Glennburger with cheese.
“Surprise, huh? Be careful what you wish for, J. T.,” she purred. And she swiveled to take his order up to the counter. She’d decided she was going to bring him a turkey club with spicy mustard, because he liked that, too. She loved knowing the things he liked. God knows he knew the things she liked.
The french fries he’d ordered as a side were up and she whisked them back to him with a smile, and then zipped away again.
It was the lunch rush and the place was packed and in full cheerful conversational roar, and silverware was clinking and Giorgio’s spatula was ringing on the grill and Casey Carson was waiting for her to-go order, so when the door opened, no one paid much attention at first.
But when the door didn’t close, people looked up.
And conversations winked off, one by one, like bulbs blowing out.
Fully half the jaws in the place froze mid-chew. The rest swung open as if the hinges had snapped.
Every head swiveled toward the door. Every pair of eyes was unblinking and wondering.
And there wasn’t a sound except for the sizzle of meat on the grill. It was threatening to be the first time in history Giorgio had burned anything.
Rebecca Corday was like a carnal version of a Disney heroine. The light from the doorway obligingly backlit her flame-colored waves and made the floaty, gossamer peasant top she wore all but transparent. Her brilliant blue eyes were enormous and almost perfectly round. The rest of her appeared to be makeup free, but her great wide pillow of a mouth painted red. She’d beenbornto sell lip gloss.
Her legs were miles long, about the diameter of a thin woman’s forearms, and encased in faded jeans.
