The Dirty South Page 3

  I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

  But then I glance around again and quickly come to my senses. Jealous of living out here? In a town with one lawyer? One. Stinkin’. Lawyer? How is that even possible? I’ve had more lawyers than that sitting on the couch in my living room on more than one occasion, for chrissakes!

  “It must be a really nice place to live,” I murmur politely.

  “Well, I don’t know how it compares to California and all… looks pretty amazing from what I see on TV.”

  “Hollywood is way overrated. It’s all so… fake. Trust me.”

  “So what brings you all the way out here?”

  I sigh and grit my teeth. “What can I say, I needed a change of scenery and the offer was too good to pass up…” My words die away, and my eyes widen as I hear the wail of a siren getting closer and closer. “Wow, I really didn’t need a dramatic rescue or anything.”

  “Oh, that’s just Dale. Any excuse to run the lights and race the road. Boy missed his calling as a NASCAR driver. But don’t worry; you’re in good hands now, darlin’. Make sure to stop by and introduce yourself proper once you get settled. I’m in the police station, right across from The Dirty.”

  “Okay, sure,” I say, as I open my door and wave at the policeman pulling up. His lights are still flashing like crazy, but at least the siren is off. I cringe at all the commotion, but I’m definitely relieved to no longer be alone out here by the side of the road with only Maple’s voice to keep me company. I turn back to the phone.

  “The Dirty what?”

  Maple chuckles again. “Oh, you’ll see. Welcome to the South, darlin’.”

  Chapter 3.

  The lanky deputy steps out of his patrol car and walks toward me, shining his flashlight around the scene of the crash. When he gets closer, I’m taken aback by how young he looks… like hardly more than a teenager, with a boyish baby face, dimples, and a smattering of acne on his forehead. I try not to betray my amusement.

  “Thank you for coming, officer,” I say, studying his uniform. It looks real enough. But maybe he borrowed it from his big brother or something and this is part of some joke. Because seriously, this kid doesn’t even look old enough to drive.

  He nods at me respectfully, tipping his hat. Then he turns his attention to the pile of crumpled metal and lets out a low whistle. “Man oh man, you’re sure lucky to be walking away from that in one piece—” He looks back and gives me a very deliberate once-over. “And hardly a scratch? You sure do have a strong team of angels looking out for you!”

  I grimace. “I think it just looks a lot worse than it really was. Plus, the car has the full body airbags, so I hardly felt anything at all—other than my lip getting kinda busted.”

  The deputy peers at me closer and shakes his head. “Well, I’m grateful you’re okay, but it’s a real shame about the car. Looks real nice.”

  Actually it looks like a pile of shit. Something that was once nice and shiny and fancy and pretty and perfect, but is now a worthless wreck on the side of a road. Just like my life.

  I shrug. I’m sure Deputy Doogie isn’t interested in my personal quarter-life-crisis right now. “Hopefully someone can fix it,” I mumble.

  Dale looks at me, his eyes wide with astonishment. “You think that’ll get fixed?”

  “Well, hopefully—”

  The sudden flash of headlights causes us both to turn around. “Looks like Colton,” Dale says, walking back over to his car and retrieving a thin folder. “I just need to ask you a few questions, and we’ll get you the report for your insurance.” He looks back over his shoulder as the large tow truck pulls up beside his patrol car. The words ‘Grease Monkey’ are splashed across the side in bright red.

  It slows, and then starts to beep as it begins to back up. Before it’s even come to a stop, the passenger door opens and a tall, skinny black boy jumps out, immediately followed by his exact copy.

  “’Sup, Dale?” one shouts, and the other just waves a quick hand as they move on to the mangled pile of metal and start to examine it.

  “What’re they going to do with it?” I ask.

  “Aw, don’t worry ‘bout them, sugar,” a deep voice calls from behind me. “They’re just some local hoodlums casing it for parts, maybe looking to make a few bucks off the scrap metal.”

  “What?” I turn around. And then I stare.

  Lord, have mercy.

  One look at him and immediately I see more red flags than if I were watching a Chinese national parade. The easy swagger. The loose jeans that do nothing to hide his fit, athletic bod. The way his lips pull back in a sexy smirk on his tanned face. The hint of ink peeking from beneath his black t-shirt like dancing snakes.

  Dale nods at the newcomer. “Been bathing with the pigs again, Lassiter?”

  “Your mama know you’re out past dark, Rowan?”

  “Why don’t you ask her the next time she’s whooping your butt, and you’re crying like a sissy girl?”

  The man turns and flashes me a quick smile, and I’m taken aback by the pristine whiteness of his teeth, a stark contrast to the rest of him which looks covered from head to toe in grease.

  “In my defense, I was only six years old the last time that happened. And his mama really does know how to hand out a whoopin’. Name’s Colton Lassiter, ma’am.”

  Ma’am? Did I just get ma’am’d!?

  His clear, pale blue eyes seem oddly out of place surrounded by the sheen of sweat and grime. As they lock on mine, I briefly lose my train of thought.

  He wipes his brow and looks over at the mangled heap. “You’re lucky to be alive,” he says matter-of-factly.

  I survey the car, then shrug and lick my lip. I can feel how swollen it’s become. When I look back at him, Colton is staring at me intently.

  “What?” The word comes out harsher than I intended. But I’m tired and hungry and have been through way too much shit today.

  Colton slowly rakes his gaze up and down the full length of my body, pausing only briefly on my mouth before returning to my eyes.

  “May I help you with something?” I ask, my tone icy. I cannot believe he is just standing there blatantly checking me out. I thought Southern boys were supposed to have some manners.

  A shadow crosses his face and he shakes his head, then looks back over to the car. “You sure don’t look like you just walked out of that wreck.”

  I frown, unsure how to respond to that. Say thank you? Apologize? Instead, I point to the two boys. “What do you mean they’re casing it for parts? It just needs to be towed and hopefully fixed. Not turned into scrap metal.”

  He stares at me again, and I’m struck by the intensity in his eyes. “I was only kidding. That’s Terrell and Jayson, my apprentices.”

  “Oh… They’re twins.”

  His eyes widen in feigned shock. “Wow, beautiful and smart. Be still my beating heart.”

  Wow, sexy and a smart ass. What a shocker.

  I bite my tongue and turn back to Dale, who’s writing some stuff on a clipboard. “Excuse me, officer. How long do you think this will take?”

  “Well, once Colton stops standing around flappin’ his gums like a moron and gets the car loaded up, we can get you back to the shop in no time.” He pauses a moment. “You need help getting some accommodations nearby? Obviously that car ain’t going anywhere anytime soon. And even gettin’ yourself a rental won’t happen ‘til morning at the earliest.”

  I let out a low sigh and nod. “Actually, I’m planning on staying here in Sweet Oak for a while anyways, so I already have a place lined up, thanks. But I’ll need some info on where I can get a cab or a rental…”

  I glance over at Colton and can’t help but notice the subtle way his jaw twitches and his eyes flash when I say I’m planning on staying. As if me being here would affect him in the slightest. Even if I were on the hunt for a guy… which I definitely am not… he’d be the last one I’d ever go for. One look tells me he’s already bedded half
the girls in town, and the other half are just patiently waiting their turns. Hot guys like him are the devil’s disciples. I know his type and I want nothing to do with him, or any other man for that matter. I’m better off alone. I need to sort out the mistake my life has turned into, not make another one.

  Colton wipes his brow again and motions to Jayson and Terrell. “Get ‘er hitched so we can pull her up to the road. Then we’ll ease her up on the flat.” He pauses to glance back at me, and I quickly move my attention to the car.

  “The bumper is off, and the two front wheels is busted,” one of the boys says.

  “The radiator is totally shot, and she’s losing fluids,” the other adds.

  “Get the flashlight and look around for any loose parts. Don’t leave anything behind,” Colton tells them. Then he turns back to me. “How’d this happen, anyways?”

  Dale looks up from writing something on his notepad and stares at me with interest.

  I shake my head. “It was crazy. All of a sudden, from out of nowhere, this huge thing was standing right in the middle of the road. All I saw were glowing eyes. I swerved to avoid hitting it and crashed into the tree instead.”

  Dale and Colton exchange knowing glances.

  “That was probably Big Daddy,” Colton drawls, cocking an eyebrow. “He likes to scare away the city girls in their fancy tin cans.”

  “Tin can? That’s a sixty-thousand dollar Lexus!”

  “That’s a sixty-thousand dollar tin can. Prolly woulda fallen in a pot hole anyways. What you need out here is a big truck, nice and sturdy. Like a tank.”

  I give him a scathing look, tempted to say something else. But I decide against it. A troglodyte like him isn’t worth my time. I’m sure he thinks he’s hot shit in this ass-backwards town, and that every girl who crosses his path should just quiver her knees and blush like a sweet damsel before lifting her petticoat for him.

  Screw that.

  “Just get it towed please so I can get out of here. I’ve had a really long drive, and I’d really like to just get to my destination.”

  Colton gives a small nod. “Sure thing, ma’am. We’ll have her locked and loaded and on the haul in just a few. Dale will tell you where to find her.” He turns and lopes down the hill to the two boys, where he motions with his hands and points to the truck. They attach some wires and cables to the back of my car and begin hauling it up.

  Good God, it looks even worse than I thought.

  “What should I do now?”

  I turn to Dale as he scans the scene again. “Looks like those boys got it under control. I can give you a ride into town. And don’t worry about the paperwork tonight… we can take care of that tomorrow, if you like. You say you have a place to stay?”

  I nod. “Yeah, my father set me up at a place called Magnolia Manor. It’s a plantation house that takes in long-term boarders, I guess. I’m planning on staying through Christmas.”

  Dale gets a quirky expression on his face, and looks over to where Colton and his helpers are loading the Lexus onto the flatbed. “Magnolia Manor, huh? Nice place. I’m sure you’ll really like staying there.” I detect a faint smile on his lips.

  I follow his line of sight. Jayson and Terrell are on top of the flat next to the car, and Colton is tightening down some cables, his forearms and biceps flexing with the strain. He reaches up and absently brushes away a stray lock of chestnut hair from his eyes, apparently not caring that he just got another smudge of grease on the side of his forehead.

  Just then Colton glances up and catches me watching him. He pauses for only a fraction of a second, and I quickly turn to Dale, embarrassed to have been caught blatantly staring.

  “Ready when you are. Wait… what about all my stuff in my car?”

  He opens the passenger door and pauses. “The police station is right by the garage. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  From inside the squad car, I watch as Colton squats down to survey the load one last time. Then he disappears into the monstrous yellow truck, my broken car perched helplessly on its back.

  Dale gets into the driver’s seat and turns to me with an innocent smile. “Now, sweetheart, let’s get you home.” He turns on the engine and puts the car in drive.

  I lean my head against the glass of the window, mesmerized as the back of Colton’s truck lights up in a brilliant, twinkling display.

  “This is not my home,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

  Chapter 4.

  The town of Sweet Oak, South Carolina, population 6,729 is situated near the southern border of South Carolina, about seventy miles northwest of Savannah, Georgia, and between two rivers. The town is known for its historical mansions from the antebellum era, and a carefully preserved downtown area that looks like it hasn’t been touched since before Sherman marched his troops to the sea. Remnants of the Old South are alive everywhere, and as Dale drives us down the winding, tree-lined road that leads to the heart of Sweet Oak, I feel as if we’re traveling back in time. This place is such a bizarre mix of the old and the new, such as the modern-looking grocery store situated right next to a Pre-War building that serves as the town’s library.

  As we make our way into town, tall, ornate lampposts gracefully nestled between the overarching trees create a glowing, leafy canopy. I’m mesmerized by the unexpected beauty¸ the distinctive charm, as if I’m entering into some sort of enchanted fairy tale.

  Despite the age of many of the structures, the place feels pure and fresh… distinctly from another era, yet untouched by the ravages of time. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve never even imagined anything like it. The streets I’m used to are cold, hard and functional— cement and concrete and paint, with standard landscaping to make everything look prettier.

  But here… it’s as if Mother Nature simply opened her doors, permitting passage into the most beautiful and sacred parts of her magical kingdom.

  “Wow,” I breathe, as I stare out the window at the stately mansions set back away from the road. Not exactly the Mayberry scene I’d pictured in my mind. A few moments later we pass an empty, condemned shack that obviously hasn’t been lived in for years. It’s so strange. Back home in SoCal there are the wealthy areas, the middle-class areas, and the poor areas. All distinct, never really mingling. Here, a stately multi-million dollar mansion is literally right across the road from a tiny apartment complex.

  Dale turns down a narrow street, and these houses are even fancier than the ones before. “They sure grow them big out here,” I murmur.

  “That there was the home of the former Governor Harrison,” Dale says, pointing to an enormous Colonial-style mansion surrounded by lush, vibrant foliage.

  “Beautiful.”

  Before long, we’re entering the small, gated parking lot of the police station. Right across the street is a brightly-lit warehouse with the words ‘Grease Monkey’ painted in cursive on an old red sign. Colton’s rig with my car on it is in the process of pulling into an empty space by the garage.

  My gaze is drawn to the sounds of voices nearby. Next door to the garage, set apart by what looks to be a small park, is another building. The large sign out front reads ‘The Dirty South’. That must be what Maple was talking about.

  This house looks like a smaller version of those grand colonial mansions we passed earlier. It has a long, wrap-around porch with rockers and hanging candle-lanterns, and music is filtering out from somewhere. Several people are mingling around, laughing and talking, enjoying the start of the weekend.

  My stomach rumbles, and I realize I haven’t eaten in hours. I’m surprised I have any appetite at all after everything that’s happened, but I’m actually pretty famished.

  Dale comes over to me. “Like I said, if you wanna get settled in first, we can take care of all the paperwork tomorrow. You can go to the Grease and check on your things. And I’m sure Colton’s got a loaner car lying around that you can borrow for a bit. He always has some ol’ clunker he’s working on.”

  “Tha
nks.” I glance at the garage just in time to see Colton jump out of the driver’s side door and disappear from sight. “Is there any place close by where I can grab a quick bite?”

  Dale smiles and motions to the colonial house I was just looking at. “Sure is… The Dirty has the best food in town by a mile. Kitchen’s open ‘til midnight on the weekends. Got a bar in there too, if you’re wantin’ a night cap. After what you’ve been through, I wouldn’t blame you for needing to indulge.”

  I shake my head. “Just a light supper.”

  He nods. “Let me just get some quick info, and we’ll get you on your way.”

  Ten minutes later I’m crossing the road to the garage. Colton and the boys are just finishing up getting the car off the back of the truck, and my heart sinks when I see the damage in all its fluorescently-lit glory. My father is going to absolutely lose his shit. I haven’t even had it two months. It was his and my mom’s guilt gift for being absent a huge part of the last seven years of my life while they enjoyed their retirement years traveling the world. Actually, all things considered, maybe it is best smashed to hell.

  Colton spots me walking toward him, and I think I detect that quick smirk again. He stands up and wipes his hands on his jeans. As if that makes the slightest difference. The back of his hands are practically black, and his neck is damp with perspiration. I have to admit, this Southern humidity is something that’ll take some getting used to. I’m wearing a thin cotton tank top and white capris, but I can feel the warm, wet air settling on my skin, giving my whole body a slightly sticky feel.

  At this moment all I want to do is eat, take a long shower, and crawl into a comfy bed. I do not want to deal with all this. I do not want to deal with the humidity. I do not want to deal with a busted car. And I certainly do not want to deal with him.

  He moves toward me, and his energy hits me like an invisible force. “You know it’s a wreck, right?”

  Something about his cavalier tone grates on my nerves. Or maybe it’s his smug posture. “Yeah, I got that message loud and clear when I was smashed up against a tree.”