Free One Hot Summer by Melissa Cutler Page B

Don’t need no aura reading to know that. How’s your family doin’? Your brother Junior still fixing cars?”
    â€œYes, ma’am. Business is booming at his garage,” Micah said.
    â€œPraise be. And your dad? I always liked him.”
    â€œHe’s good. Keeping busy at church and babysitting my sister Michelle’s kids now that she’s working. Got a teaching job at a preschool.”
    â€œLike your mama always did for work,” Granny June said, her tone softening.
    â€œYes.” Exactly like his mother had done, a point that hadn’t been lost on anyone in the family or their church. As far as Micah knew, no one had had the guts to ask Michelle about why she’d have any desire to go down that path.
    Granny June kicked her drink back, tossed the ice on the lawn, and produced a smartphone from her pocket. “Picture time. Come on and get in here, nice and close. Nothin’ quite as fun as making the ladies on Facebook jealous that I was having a drink with a hot number like you.”
    Micah shook off a sudden cloud of melancholy and indulged her, even posing with his lips puckered against her cheek for a shot. When they were done, she stood. “You’d best get on with your night. I know your girl is waiting.”
    â€œMy girl? What girl?”
    Instead of answering, Granny June gestured with her empty glass to a tricked-out golf cart parked behind the bench. “I’ll get you down to that wedding reception in no time.”
    She couldn’t possibly expect him to get in her golf cart with her. No way. Granny June was, without a doubt, the worst driver in Texas. Her driver’s license had been yanked by the state authorities after her last fender bender, but that didn’t stop her from careering all over the resort and terrorizing hotel guests in her golf cart that had been tricked out in white and maroon, complete with a Texas A&M flag flying from the rear.
    â€œThank you, but it’s such a pleasant night. I’m looking forward to the walk.”
    She hoisted herself into the driver’s seat. “Don’t argue with an old lady. Now get that fine tush in here so I can put the pedal to the metal.”
    Disappointing Granny June wasn’t on his agenda that night. So, stifling a cringe, he blew out the candle she’d left lit on the bench, then ducked under the golf cart’s maroon roof and took a seat.
    â€œHang on!” she called, which was good advice, seeing as how there weren’t any seat belts or doors—or a roll bar, for that matter.
    Tires churning over grass and mud, they went flying down the hill, Dukes of Hazzard– style. Swerving around meandering guests and landscape features alike, she honked and hollered and, indeed, kept the pedal to the metal, speeding toward the glowing lights and faint strains of music of the wedding reception in the distance. It was tempting to close his eyes and pray, but then he wouldn’t have been able to warn her of unseen dangers or grab the wheel from her if necessary.
    By the time she slammed on the brakes not a foot from the low brick wall surrounding the reception patio, Micah’s throat ached from calling out warnings to people trapped in her headlights and his head was spinning. He took a moment to catch his breath, then stretched out of the cart, refraining from the urge to drop to his belly and kiss the ground. “I mean it sincerely when I say thank you for not killing us both.”
    Her eyes twinkled. “I’ve got too much pride to end my days in a golf-cart accident. When I go, I’m going out with style.”
    He ducked his head back under the golf-cart roof and grinned at her. “And not for a long, long time, please.” He clutched his heart. “I couldn’t bear to live without you, darlin’.”
    â€œYou’d best save your smooth talkin’ and flirtin’ for your true love.”
    â€œYou still