Free Kiss Me That Way: A Cottonbloom Novel by Laura Trentham Page A

of a June afternoon of bearable heat, a hellish inferno more typical of August had come calling. A deep breath was impossible with the maxed-out humidity. She retrieved her purse from the backseat and tucked the invitation inside.
    Her mission was to hand-deliver Tally’s invitation to the Tarwaters’ cocktail party. Though Tally had never made her nervous, she had seen her an hour ago at the gym, and the compulsion to shower and dress up before dropping by for a visit was new.
    The logical assumption was that Cade had everything to do with her erratic behavior, the flip-flop of her stomach, and her fidgety hands. Accepting the truth as being ill-advised still didn’t stop her from walking over the gravel to Sawyer’s back door.
    She knocked on the door. No one answered. She knocked again, cracked it open, and called out, “Tally? Something smells good enough to eat.”
    She’d already stepped inside when Sawyer Fournette popped his head into the small foyer. “Hey, Monroe. Tally took my truck to the grocery. Come on in.”
    She forced a smile, her steps hesitant. In high school, because he and Regan had dated, they’d hung out with Monroe occasionally, but his breakup with Regan had destroyed any bridge to friendship under construction. Monroe always got the impression Sawyer tolerated her because of her friendship with his sister but didn’t trust her as far as he could throw a dead raccoon because of her friendship with Regan.
    But rudeness wasn’t part of her DNA, and she followed him into the kitchen. Gumbo bubbled in a big pot on the stove while steam puffed out of a rice cooker. Sawyer propped a hip on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.
    The only trait Sawyer shared with Cade and Tally was the intensity in his eyes, although Sawyer’s veered toward a softer hazel. Otherwise, his sandy blond hair, handsome, open face, and ready grin were his own. He was Mr. All-American. The man should be in a baseball uniform and carrying an apple pie at all times. Everyone loved Sawyer, which sent Regan careening further into madness.
    “What brings you by the house? Regan send you to check up on my festival plans?” Sawyer asked in a friendly-enough voice, but the underlying competitive spirit had her muffling a smile and turning the invitation to the fund-raiser in her hands.
    “She’s too wrapped up in her own plans to give yours much thought.” Regan was doing more stewing over Sawyer than she had in years, but Sawyer sure didn’t need to know that.
    He harrumphed and gave the pot a stir. He wore khakis and a white undershirt. A plaid button-down hung on one of the cabinet handles. After taste testing a little gumbo, he jabbed the wooden spoon in her direction. “I’ve got big things in the works. Big. Things. You tell Regan that.”
    “I’m really not involved, Sawyer. I mean, I’m not even heading up any committees.”
    “I got the Cottonbloom, Mississippi, marching band. It’s a done deal.”
    Monroe gasped. Regan was going to be madder than a wet hen. She’d already penciled in the marching band for her parade. “How’d you manage that?”
    “Got old man Bancroft to donate some instruments.” The smile on his face was Cheshire cat meets Hannibal Lecter.
    “Well played.” Her lips twitched.
    “Terrible pun.” He shook his head, but a genuine smile lurked at the corners of his mouth. “I need that prize money.”
    “What civic project are you throwing in the ring?”
    “I want to revitalize Cottonbloom Park. Revamp the playground and the baseball field. Turn it into someplace people can gather with their kids. Maybe restart the Cottonbloom intramural league. That would be good for both sides, don’t you think?” As with Regan earlier, it was hard to deny the fire and passion in his voice.
    “That’s a fabulous idea.” And it was. Within walking distance of River Street, the park had spiraled into disrepair, the money to maintain it funneled into fundamental projects like road