4. Delilah #3
“Really?” Her arms crossed. “Says who?”
“Says everybody. At least everybody around these parts. Where are you from?”
She picked something from her shirt and dropped it on the floor mat. Hell, the last one to ride shotgun in my truck was probably Buster, the pit bull I’d adopted from For Pitties’ Sake. The dog not only shed like a beast, he also had some major gastrointestinal issues.
“I’ve lived several places. California, Florida, Alabama to name a few.”
“That explains it.” I navigated my truck onto the road, already counting the seconds until we got to Aunt Suzy’s.
“Explains what?”
“Why you don’t say the word ‘pecan’ right.” My mouth quirked into a sideways grin. The beauty queen seemed a bit flustered. I kind of liked her better that way.
“I say it just fine.”
Not wanting to cross the line between a little good-natured ribbing and totally pissing her off, I eased back on the teasing. “It is kind of cute the way you say it.”
Her head jerked up, and she met my gaze for a hot second before looking away.
“Just don’t let the locals hear you,” I advised. Especially not my dad. Dad would have no problem correcting her and probably wouldn’t mince any words in his approach.
As we neared Aunt Suzy’s place, I tried to think of something else to say to bridge the awkward silence between us. “What made you want to run for Miss Lovin’ Texas?”
She rested her chin in her palm. “My mother. She loves the thrill of a good title run.”
“Oh yeah? Where is she now?”
“Back in Dallas. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll join her. We’re starting a new business that will help raise money for my mentor’s nonprofit organization. She helps young girls learn what they need to know to compete in pageants.”
For a second, I thought she was joking. That’s all the world needed . . . more beauty queens. But the light in her eyes as she talked about it let me know she was serious.
“There’s a big need for these girls to learn how to strut the runway in a swimsuit?” I couldn’t help myself. Even as I asked the question, I imagined Lacey frowning at me and urging me to shut up and make nice.
“No. But there’s a big need for girls to have access to the kind of training that can help them get ready for public speaking, to learn how to defend their beliefs, to build their confidence so they’re not afraid to pursue their dreams.”
“And a beauty pageant can do all that?” I should shut this line of conversation down. I’d already unintentionally insulted her—the one woman who might hold the future of Taylor Grove, and the whole damn town, in her hands.
“Yes, actually, it can. My entire platform is about empowering girls so they’re not afraid to follow their dreams. When I’m done here, I’ll be able to devote all of my time to raising money to do just that.” The look in her eyes seemed to waver between heat and ice.
“I didn’t realize a pageant could make that big of a difference.
” Best to back away slowly, so as not to further anger the woman sitting next to me.
She might be sugar and spice and wrapped up in a gorgeous package with all the trimmings, but I could sense a fire burning deep down inside of her.
No way did I want to be the one to ignite those flames.
I pulled into the long drive at Aunt Suzy’s place.
Her double-wide sat in a small clearing of live oaks and a few tall pecans.
I used to love coming out here when Uncle Gus was alive.
We’d spend all day in the saddle, checking the farthest corners of the orchard for my dad and filling our lungs full of fresh country air.
Unfortunately, after Gus passed, Suzy couldn’t keep up with the horses.
She’d turned the outbuilding into her workspace.
No telling what kinds of projects Aunt Suzy had in the works.
I’d have to make sure to keep Delilah far away from there.
“Here we are.” I eased the truck to a stop in front of my aunt’s trailer.
Delilah peered through the windshield, her eyes wide.
I tried to see my aunt’s place with fresh eyes. I was used to her line of work but to a newcomer, especially someone who didn’t spend much time in the country, the sight of Suzy’s handiwork might be a little overwhelming.
Before I could admit that this had been a mistake, Suzy came out of the door and stood on the small stoop. She was dressed all in black, including the lace veil she wore over her head, obscuring her face.
Delilah glanced at me as she opened the door.
“Maybe you’d be more comfortable at my place instead.”
Before Delilah could answer, Suzy came down the steps, waving her hand, her black glove whipping back and forth. “Hello, hello. Y’all are just in time.”
I closed my eyes for a long beat, wanting nothing more than to bang my head on the steering wheel.
How could I have forgotten? The last day of September held special meaning for Aunt Suzy.
It was the anniversary of James Dean’s death.
My aunt had always been a huge fan. How was I going to explain a tradition like that to Miss Lovin’ Texas?