Free Playing Dead in Dixie by Paula Graves

herself she'd be out of town within a week, had even added another hundred dollars to her stash, thanks to Floyd taking pity on her and paying her wages Friday in cash instead of a check.  Three hundred dollars would get her back to Savannah, for sure, or maybe she'd head south toward Valdosta, see what kind of work she could find there.
    She needed to keep moving.  Harder to hit a moving target.
    But there were other considerations.  Like Floyd and his problems at the store.  She hadn't yet figured out a way to get a look at his books, but she wanted to give it a whirl before she headed out of town.  If what Wes had told her was correct, the hardware store shouldn't be having financial troubles.
    Carly thought maybe the problem was with Sherry and her non-existent math degree.  Or perhaps someone was skimming money off the receipts and covering it up somehow.  She wouldn't know until she got a look at the books.
    There was also Shannon Burgess to think about.  Carly couldn't run out and leave her holding the bag at the fabric store.  Shannon had already put in a lot of hard work into making the outfits Carly had ordered.  Carly would have to keep working long enough to pay Shannon for the clothes.
    And then there was Wes.
    He hadn't come around since Thursday night, when he'd left her on the front porch after driving her home from his father's house.  She'd expected to see him at church on Sunday when she'd attended with Bonnie and Floyd, but neither Wes nor his father had been there, an absence significant enough that everyone Carly had met that day commented on it.
    Maybe Mr. Hollingsworth had been sore from his fall.  Maybe Wes was tending to him.
    Or maybe the chief was just avoiding her.
    "You're doin' great, honey.  I may put you to snappin' beans next."  Bonnie tossed the last hull into the garbage bowl and crossed to the sink to run water over her peas.   "You ever snapped beans?"
    Carly finished emptying her last hull and rose as well.  "No, we mostly got our vegetables already frozen."
    "That's a shame.  There's nothin' quite like vegetables fresh from your own garden."  Bonnie took the bowl of peas from her and ran them under water as well.  She nodded at Carly's hands.  "You'll want to go wash those hands."
    Carly looked down at her fingers and found them stained purple from the hulls.  "Will it come off?" she asked, alarmed.
    Bonnie smiled.  "You may have to scrub it a bit."
    Carly hurried to the bathroom and took a bar of soap to her hands, scrubbing until the sudsy water ran lavender.  She managed to get most of the stain off, although the tips of her fingernails remained faintly purple.  Blotting her hands dry with a towel, she stepped out into the hallway.
    And collided with one hundred and ninety pounds of solid, muscular male.
    She gazed up at Wes, her pulse ratcheting up a notch.  He slid his hands under her elbows, steadying her.  She half expected an apology—he was a polite Southern boy, after all—but he remained silent, his dark gaze settling on her lips.  He filled the narrow hallway, sucking the oxygen from the air with the sheer force of his presence, until Carly's head felt light and cottony.  Her body thrumming with awareness, she took a step back just to find room to breathe.  Her back connected solidly with the wall of the hallway behind her.
    Wes's eyes darkened.  He took a step toward her, closing the distance she had opened, and lifted one hand to rest on the wall beside her head.  "Still here, I see."
    His low growl set her nerves humming at a higher pitch.  She struggled to keep her reply even.  "You really need to make up your mind, Chief Wes.  Do you want me to stay or go?"
    He cocked his head slightly, his gaze still fixed on her mouth.  "That's the question, isn't it?"
    He smelled good.  Male, spicy warm, laced with a whiff of soap, suggesting he'd showered before he came over.
    Tantalizing thought.  Brought all sorts of intriguing images to