Last Chance Book Club(12)
Author: Hope Ramsay

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Dash filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee and took a sip that scalded his tongue. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to let fly with a colorful expletive. But he managed—depriving the blue-haired Lillian Bray, who stood behind the refreshment table, from obtaining another reason to dislike him. Miz Lillian was the chairwoman of the Ladies’ Auxiliary, a group that was synonymous with gossipers anonymous. Any right-minded male in Last Chance made sure he put on his best manners when addressing the old hen.

He could chalk one up for his side. Anytime he could thwart Lillian Bray counted as a moral victory for his gender.

He headed off to a vacant corner where he could brood in peace. What on earth had he been thinking, jumping in like that and telling the prissy Reverend Ellis that Todd would attend Sunday School? And where the heck did that last comment about taking Todd to the woodshed come from? Shoot, the boy needed discipline, but not a beating. Dash knew firsthand about the difference. He’d been walloped one too many times as a boy before he’d come to live in Last Chance. Guilt and dark emotions percolated in his gut.

He scanned the crowd of parishioners, and of course his gaze got stuck when it reached Savannah. That demure pink dress and those high heels made her look like Go to Church Barbie. Sex appeal oozed from every pore in her body while she still managed to exude a certain regal quality. After just a few days of living in the same house with her, Dash was having trouble ignoring the fact that she had a winning smile and way of putting most people at ease.

But not him. She did not put him at ease. Especially not at the bathroom door, where he always noticed her long legs and her soft, round curves.

Finding Savannah attractive was confusing and complicated, not to mention annoying as hell. He had a weakness for blondes. And it was showing up right on cue, eighteen months into his recovery. He needed to recognize this lust for what it was—just another old habit he needed to fight.

He watched his cousin as she helped herself to some coffee and then engaged the minister in a conversation. She was flirting with him, and Bill didn’t seem to mind. Oh, boy, he could practically hear the gossip. Everyone knew Bill was looking for a wife who was good in the kitchen, and Savannah was some kind of cook.

“Hey, Dash.” A sultry voice pulled him away from his speculation about Savannah and Bill. He looked to his left to find Hettie Marshall, dressed in a light purple dress that kind of matched her eyes. How the hell had she snuck up on him? Usually he spent his Sundays watching her every move.

Shame and confusion washed through him. How on earth had Savannah managed to make him forget about Hettie?

“So,” Hettie said, “how are the plans coming for the theater?”

He sighed. “Hettie, I’m the last person on earth Savannah wants as a partner. The plans are nowhere. She got a part-time job pushing coffee at the doughnut shop. She’s staying, but she’s kind of given up on the theater.”

“Well, you’ll just have to work harder to convince her not to give up. I can’t imagine why a woman would turn down an angel like you.”

“A what?”

Hettie looked down her beautiful nose at him. “An angel investor. The proper definition is a person with deep pockets who takes on a project because he or she believes in it, not because it will necessarily lead to any significant income.”

“But that’s just it, Hettie, I don’t believe in this project.” He was tempted to tell Hettie that if she cared so much about The Kismet, she could be an angel. But Dash knew that Hettie’s late husband had left her with a lot of financial issues.

The truth of it was that Dash wanted to help Hettie, not Savannah. But Hettie was too proud to take his help.

And so was Savannah.

Which put him smack dab in the middle of a conundrum.

“Come on Dash,” Hettie wheedled. “I know you. You’re a very generous person on the inside. And you love that old theater just like you used to love Mr. Brooks. Can’t you see your way through to doing this? For your own self if not for the town?”

He finished the bitter brand of coffee in his cup and then crumpled the Styrofoam. “Hettie, you don’t understand. My uncle used to call Savannah ‘princess,’ and she is just about as proud as one. She won’t take my money or my help. She hates me. She always has.”

“That’s just silly, Dash. I’m sure you can charm her. You’ve charmed every other female in Allenberg County at one time or another, even me. I’m counting on you.”

And with that, the love of Dash’s life turned away from him and headed off toward Bill Ellis. She gave Bill a huge smile that practically lit up the room.

Why the hell didn’t Hettie ever smile at him that way?

Dash knocked on Todd’s door, but he didn’t wait to be invited in. He opened it and found the kid reclined on his bed, staring off into space. The sight knocked the breath right out of Dash, like a wild pitch to the solar plexus.

“Can I come in?” he asked quietly, knocking on the door frame.

Todd shot him a sullen look. “Are you going to give me a lot of crap about Sunday School?”

The boy turned away, studying the live oak outside his window. He crossed his arms over his chest, and the muscle along his jaw bunched. Dash knew this body language like he knew what most power pitchers would throw on a three-one count.

“I came to apologize,” Dash said.

He got no reaction. The boy continued to study the Spanish-moss-draped tree through the big, curved windows.

Dash didn’t wait for an invitation. He entered the room and pulled the boy’s desk chair over to the bed. He straddled it backward and leaned his elbows onto the seat back. “I really do want to apologize. Saving you from making a life-altering mistake isn’t my place. If you want to go out and step in horse shit, son, I’m not going to stop you.”

The profanity surprised the boy. Dash figured it would. That’s why he’d used it.

“Well, it’s too late. Mom told me I have to go to Sunday School, and I have to help with that lame Easter egg hunt. So the damage is done.”

Dash worked to stifle his smile. He could almost hear himself in the kid’s words. “Well, that’s how it goes, sometimes. But hey, look on the bright side—you’ll meet other kids there.”

Todd wasn’t buying his BS for one instant. “Like I care about the kids here in South Nowhere. Like I would ever be friends with them. That is so not going to happen.”

Dash took a big breath and wondered if he should ask if Todd had any friends up in Baltimore, but he reckoned the question and the answer might humiliate the kid.

So he headed down another alleyway. “Actually, I came up here because I need your help with something.”

The boy’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “Yeah, well, I’ve been grounded. I have to stay here until dinnertime.”

“That can be fixed.”

The boy frowned. “How?”

Dash smiled. “When your momma sees what you’re helping me with, she will forgive you for leaving your room and everything else you’ve done today. That’s how.”

“You mean you want me to disobey my mother and leave my room without asking permission?”

Dash nodded. “Yup. That’s about the size of it, ’cause if either one of us asked permission right now, we’d get our heads handed to us.”

The boy snorted. “That’s probably the truth. She’s madder at you than she is at me.”

“Did she say that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“See, that’s why I need your help. We’re both in the doghouse, and we need to get out because there’s nothing worse than having a woman put you in the doghouse. So hop up and put on your oldest jeans.”

The boy looked doubtful. “What are we doing?”

“You gotta come with me to find out, but it involves a trip to Lovett’s Hardware, some serious power tools, lots of noise, and a little bit of engineering. We can take the puppy, too.”

The boy’s serious eyes became a window into the workings of his mind. The wheels turned for a few seconds as Todd weighed duty to his mother against the prospects of a real adventure involving power tools. Dash was betting on the power tools winning out.

Chapter 7

Savannah rolled the dough for an apple strudel. Thank God for Sunday supper. Cooking kept her mind off her problems.

Miriam sat in one of the old vinyl chairs at the kitchen table keeping her company. “Dash knows his way around a kitchen all right for a man, but he doesn’t do roast beef and homemade biscuits and gravy. Not to mention strudel the way Sally used to make it. I tell you, Sally’s strudel was the most delicious thing I ever tasted. I can’t wait.”

Savannah chuckled. “I’m glad you like my cooking.” And she hoped Miriam ate more than a few mouthfuls tonight. Earlier this morning, Savannah had had to help her braid her hair. The old woman was losing it, and Savannah was deeply worried.

“Oh, while it’s on my mind, you’ll need to set an extra place this evening,” Miriam said.

Savannah paused the rolling pin as her stomach flip-flopped. She had this horrible premonition that Miriam might be planning on setting a place for Harry.

“Who’s coming to dinner?” Savannah invested her voice with a casual air that any right-minded person would see through in a New York minute.

“Bill Ellis.”

Savannah turned around to stare at her great-aunt. “Oh, my goodness. You invited the minister to dinner?”

The old woman smiled at her out of a pair of mischievous eyes that looked half a century younger than the woman’s wrinkled face. “I most surely did. Sugar, were you even halfway conscious of the way that man looked at you this morning? I declare I had the feeling he addressed the entire sermon directly to you.”

Savannah started moving the rolling pin again. “Uh-huh, and as I recall, the sermon was heavily laced with admonitions on the wages of sin. Oh, Heaven help me. The last thing I need right now is a preacher bent on saving my immortal soul. I already have a whole legion of folks with notions about how I should live my worldly life.”

“Well, I don’t believe that’s precisely what he has in mind, although his sermon did wax poetic when it came to the sins of the flesh. I reckon the man’s just lonesome for some female companionship.”

“Aunt Miriam!” Savannah rolled her eyes in her aunt’s direction. “I can’t believe you just said that about the preacher.”

“Well, he is a man, and he’s looking for a wife, and I already know that you think he’s cute. The best thing about him is that he has a good appetite. Once Bill tastes that strudel, he’ll be back on a regular basis. The man has women all over Allenberg County cooking for him. But I reckon none of them, not even Jenny Carpenter, has Sally’s strudel recipe.”

Savannah let out a frustrated breath. “Aunt Miriam, we talked about this a few days ago. I’m not looking for a husband. For that matter, I’m not looking for a boyfriend. The last thing I want in my life is some man telling me what to think and what to do and how to be.”