straightened. “Nothing.”
Bubba stuck his cap on his balding head and sallied toward the porch. “Mornin’, Mrs. Frances. Brent.”
“Don’t you even step one foot near me,” Meg said, flinging out a small, white hand and pointing at Bubba. “I don’t want any of your primordial ooze to get on me.”
Bubba Malone, the slightly dim, good ol’ boy of Howard County, looked down at his shirt. “I ain’t got nothing on me.”
Meg shivered. “Dear God, he’s got the brain of a flea.”
Brent could tolerate a lot. Hell, he ribbed Bubba himself upon occasion, but he wasn’t about to let a snooty slip of a feminist insult a good man. “But he has manners. After all, he picked you up.”
The termagant turned her dark eyes on him. She took him in from his work boots all the way up to his faded ball cap. He saw appreciation glint in her eyes just like almost every other woman. Then she arched an eyebrow. “So swatting a stranger on the backside is good manners around here? Really? Can’t wait to find out what the ill-mannered folk do.”
Bubba kicked a brick lining the walk. “Heck, it was a compliment. You got a sweet a—” he glanced at Frances “—uh, behind.”
Meg snapped her mouth closed as color flooded her cheeks. She stared at Bubba for a full minute before muttering, “I need to go make a call.”
She rushed through the front door, nearly bowling over Rayne in the process.
“Ow,” Rayne said, lifting a slender foot and rubbing her pinky toe. “You gotta ditch those combat boots, Megs. They’re killing me.”
Her assistant must not have answered, because Rayne shrugged and stepped onto the porch, barefoot and beautiful. Brent couldn’t stop himself from taking her in. Her unruly red hair lay tamed in a braid that fell over one shoulder. The dress she wore looked as though it had been purchased in Mexico. It had looping bright thread in whimsical patterns on the hem. A bright pink apron depicting a mixer reading Whip it Good on the front pocket nipped her trim waist and hugged her breasts. The only thing marring the perfection of Rayne was the frown she wore.
“What are you doing here?” she said, looking directly at Brent. Her eyes looked puffy, slightly red, as if she’d cried recently. Or had an allergy attack. But her gaze was flinty and accusing.
He shrugged. “I’m going to replace some boards and paint the porch.”
“No, you aren’t.” Rayne jerked her eyes to her aunt and gave her a look. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he thought it had something to do with the fact she hated him. She’d changed so much. Her words were direct and authoritarian. He could see her commanding a kitchen staff. Do this. Sauté that. Move.
“He’s the only person I can find, Rayne. And he’s my friend and neighbor. Besides, I take exception to your trying to micromanage every aspect of this venture. I’m perfectly capable of handling this.”
Bubba clomped up the stairs. “Hey, Rayne Rose.”
Rayne stopped frowning at Brent and her aunt and swiveled her head toward the large man lumbering toward her. “Oh, hey.”
Bubba wiped his hand on his shirt and offered it to Rayne. Rayne ignored his hand and rose up on her toes to give Bubba a hug. “Sorry about your momma, Bubba. She was a fine lady.”
Bubba nodded. He’d lost his mom a few years ago to cancer. “That she was. Everybody sure misses her.”
“Especially her Seven-Up cake. She taught me how to bake my first cake, you know,” Rayne said, her smile incredibly gentle. It was as if her irritation had melted away, leaving the old Rayne in its place. Brent loved her smile, the softness of it. He wanted to taste that smile against his lips.
Bubba stroked his scruffy red beard. “Yeah, she was good around the kitchen. Even taught me how to cook. Good to have you home, Rayne.”
Rayne’s frown returned. “Well, Oak Stand’s not exactly my home.”
Frances moved to Rayne’s side and curled her arm about her niece’s waist. “Of course, Oak Stand’s your home. The place you grew up is always your hometown. And she’ll be here for the next month or two. At least.”
“Maybe,” Rayne muttered, not quite meeting her aunt’s eyes.
For a moment they all stood silent, waiting for something to break the uncomfortable moment. Luckily, Bubba knew when to make an exit.
“Shoot, guess I better get. Jack’s got plenty for me to do out at the ranch. Y’all have a good mornin’.”
“You work on a ranch?” Rayne asked.
“He works for Nellie Hughes’s husband. You remember her. She’s a Tucker. Her husband, Jack, started a ranch with his daddy raising horses for the rodeo. He raises other horses, too,” Frances said, like a tour director for the Oak Stand Chamber of Commerce.
“Oh,” Rayne replied, watching Bubba head toward his truck. The overgrown man opened the door before turning around and snapping his fingers. It sounded like the crack of a bat and Frances literally jumped.
“That girl left her computer bag in my truck.”
Frances scurried toward Bubba. “I’ll get it.”
She left Brent on the porch alone with Rayne. It felt intentional.
There had once been a time when he and Rayne were like Forrest Gump and Jenny—like peas and carrots. But that time had long passed. Brent would have thought Rayne had gotten over the hurt, but one look at her yesterday as she blazed into his parents’ yard to rescue her son from his total depravity told him she still nursed the anger and betrayal. He wasn’t sure why it still felt so raw, but it did. For him, too. So standing beside her at that moment felt like standing barefoot in a field of stickers.
“If you don’t want me to do the work, just say. I’ll find someone else.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to pretend she was only another customer.
Rayne looked hard at him, making him squirm. He’d broken her heart nearly fifteen years ago. He hadn’t realized what he’d done when he hadn’t shown up at the Oak Stand High auditorium that spring night. But when he’d untangled himself from the head cheerleader, put his pants back on and uncurled the wadded paper Rayne had hurled at him, he figured out pretty quickly that he’d broken her heart and ended their friendship.
Like a dumbass, he hadn’t realized her feelings for him were of the romantic variety. Not really. Sure, they’d kissed, fooled around a little when he was first trying on girls. But he and Rayne had been best buds, friends of the heart, maybe even soul mates. One look at her eyes that night, and he’d known.
He’d been a boneheaded kid, wrapped up in trying to be his dead brother, afraid to be who he really wanted to be. But he supposed the results had worked out for the best. Rayne had wiped him from her hands and spread her wings. She’d left Oak Stand and made a new life for herself, rising like a flower among the brambles to open her face to the sun. She stood as a reminder of strength and grace. He couldn’t have been prouder of her…even if she hated his guts.
Rayne crossed her arms over
