body, then stepped into her sandals. Drawing a deep breath, she took one last look at the river before heading back to the path. Trey fought the urge to call out to her, to make the moment last longer. There were so many questions he needed answered—why hadn’t she written to him, why hadn’t she responded to his letters, had she come to regret the night they’d spent together? He watched as she disappeared from view, then groaned softly.
Great. Now he’d have this image swimming around in his head for the rest of the night! Especially since he was going to spend the night alone, with only his dog for company, trapped in a motel room on the edge of town. A motel room where the only distraction was an old television. An old television that got only one channel—the church channel.
Not even twenty-four-hour religion would banish his sinful thoughts or erase the image of a naked Libby Parrish from his mind. There was only one thing to do, besides leaving town at sunrise and never setting foot in Belfort again.
He’d just have to buy the house next door and find out exactly what kind of woman Libby Parrish had become.
“WOULD YOU PLEASE get away from that window?” Libby Parrish grabbed a handful of biscuit dough, took aim and hit the back of Sarah Cantrell’s head.
The dough plopped onto the floor and Sarah turned around, rubbing her head. “Aren’t you in the least bit curious? He’s lived over there for a week. Don’t tell me you haven’t done a little spying of your own.”
Libby sighed as she dumped the biscuit dough onto the floured counter. Sarah had been her best friend since the seventh grade, but there were times when she was an outright pain in the ass. And now that they worked together, that fact was made apparent on a daily basis. “Of course I’m not interested. Why would I have the slightest interest in what that man is doing?” She tried to add a good dose of disdain to “that man,” but she only came out sounding like a prissy old woman. “Now, let’s get back to this biscuit recipe. I’m concerned about the directions for working with the dough. Kneading is the wrong word to use here, especially if my readers take it in the context of bread. Kneading will make the dough too tough and—”
“He’s mowing his lawn,” Sarah said in her lazy drawl. “In a pair of baggy cargo shorts that are just barely hanging on to those nice slender hips of his. Oh, my, how I do wish he’d bend over and—”
“Stop it!” Libby cried, her heart skipping a beat. She drew a deep breath and tried to quash the fluttery feelings in her stomach.
“He’s also neglected to put on his shirt, naughty boy.” Sarah turned and grinned at her friend. “Now, I consider myself a connoisseur when it comes to the male form and I wouldn’t mind taking a taste of what Trey Marbury has to offer. There was talk back in the day about how he was quite…confident with the ladies.”
“Enough!” Libby shouted. She hurried to the window and grabbed the lace curtain from Sarah’s fingers, dragging it back into place over the kitchen window. The very last thing Libby needed rattling around her head was talk about Trey Marbury’s sexual prowess. She’d experienced that firsthand.
Her friend arched her eyebrow at Libby. “You’re blushing. Why, after all these years, does Trey Marbury still have the power to get you all hot and bothered?”
“I’m not hot,” Libby muttered. “Just bothered. And you know exactly why.”
“Because he had the high nerve to move in next door to you? You and the Throckmorton sisters have been complaining about the falling-down condition of that house for three years now. You should be happy someone has moved in and started fixing it up.”
“You know that’s not why I’m bothered,” Libby said.
Sarah’s eyes rolled up and she groaned. “Oh, please, must we talk about that silly feud again? It’s over. His daddy’s passed on, your daddy’s moved to Palm Beach and the rest of us in this sleepy little town have all but forgotten why the feud ever started in the first place.”
“I’m not talking about the feud.” Libby paused. “I can’t believe you don’t remember. It was only the most humiliating experience in my young life.”
“Oh, the kiss heard ‘round the world.” Sarah grinned. “The kiss that changed your life. The kiss that—”
“I am holding a rolling pin,” Libby warned. “And in my experienced hands, it could be considered a lethal weapon.”
“You threw yourself at him and he couldn’t resist your charms. Then he left town, never to be heard from again.”
“And then, I was stupid enough to write him a letter and profess my adoration for him. Not just a few pages of ‘Hi, how are you?’, but a ten-page dissertation on my feelings. I actually thought we were the modern-day equivalent of Romeo and Juliet.” Libby moaned. “Oh, God, I quoted Shakespeare and Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”
“You never told me about the letter,” Sarah said.
“He never wrote back. And he never came back to Belfort. I hear he spent his vacations working construction in Atlanta. He was probably too terrified to set foot in the town where I was living.”
“It was just a kiss. A high school kiss. How good could it have been?”
Libby felt her cheeks warm. She’d been carrying the secret around for so long. Maybe it was time to tell Sarah. “It was more than a kiss. I lost my virginity to Trey Marbury that night.”
Sarah gasped. “What? You and Trey Marbury—wait a second. How come you never told me this?”
“I wanted to. But after it happened I needed to think about it for a while. And then, when he didn’t write back, I was embarrassed. I never was very confident with the boys and that certainly didn’t help.”
“And now you blame Trey Marbury for your lack of a social life?”
“No,” Libby said. “I blame my busy career and living in a small town and the lack of eligible men in Belfort.”
“Your career? Honey, you’re every man’s wet dream. You’re beautiful, you make a lot of money and you cook. All that’s missing is a short career as a stripper.”
“Oh, right. Just the other day I saw a bunch of handsome single guys hanging out watching Julia Child. They were all saying how she was really hot and they wished they could see her naked.” She slowly shook her head and sighed. “Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with this life. Why didn’t I ever get out of this town? I’m living in my parents’ old house, I spend my days stirring and slicing and sautéing. My idea of an exciting evening is writing grocery lists and reading old cookbooks. When did I turn into my mother?”
“Why didn’t you get out of town?” Sarah asked.
Libby shrugged. “This is going to sound pathetic but I guess I always hoped he’d come back someday. At least that’s what kept me here during college. And now, I have this house and I feel safe here.” She sighed. “Maybe I should move. I could buy a place in Charleston and get out of Belfort for good.”
Sarah watched Libby from across the kitchen, her expression filled with concern. “Or maybe you ought to just face him and put the past in the past. Bake some cookies, wander over into his yard and reintroduce yourself to your new neighbor.” Sarah crossed the kitchen and grabbed Libby’s hand, dragging her
