Phillips, was the original Phil, but the nickname and the restoration business had passed down to Phylicia when her father died. Phil had expanded the business, catering to special restoration projects across the South.
As they drove back to her grandparents’ place, Mya filled her in on her grandmother’s condition. She was about to ask Phil what she knew about Corey’s relationship with her family when they pulled up to the house and she spotted his Escalade parked next to the mailbox.
Mya’s eyes roamed around the yard, and then grew wide. Corey Anderson, shirtless and sweaty, was picking up the vegetables that had fallen to the ground in her grandfather’s garden.
“Good Lord,” Phylicia breathed. “Is it safe to leave you here?”
Mya wasn’t so sure, but she answered, “Of course. That thing between Corey and I happened a long time ago, Phil. I’m over him.”
Phylicia slid her that unconvinced look that hadn’t changed since high school.
“Oh, whatever,” Mya said, opening the door and sliding out of the truck. “Thanks for the ride. We’re going to get together before I leave, right?”
“Just tell me when and where,” Phil said. She motioned to the garden with her chin. Mya glanced over her shoulder and found Corey standing next to the stalks of corn, watching them. Phil’s brows rose and one corner of her mouth hitched up in a smile. “Good luck,” she said with a little wave before driving off.
Mya took a deep, fortifying breath before turning and heading toward the naked chest she’d dreamt about for a solid five years after leaving Gauthier.
Chapter 4
C orey carried the bushel overflowing with mustard greens and sat it on the back porch, then picked up another of the wooden baskets and headed back toward the garden. He could feel the blood rushing faster in his veins as he neared Mya, who had stopped just at the edge of the garden, next to the tomato patch.
“I see you finished cutting the grass.” She motioned to the lawn he’d finished trimming an hour ago, before pulling the weeds from the front flower bed. After he was done with the weeds, he’d started on the garden. He kept telling himself he was just being a good neighbor. He hadn’t been finding things to do just so he could stick around until Mya came home.
“How’s Mrs. Eloise doing?” Corey asked.
“Stubborn as ever and causing the hospital staff all kinds of grief.”
“That’s my girl.” Corey laughed.
After a beat, Mya tilted her head to the side and asked, “Since when?”
The curiosity in her voice was expected, but he was thrown by the unease coloring the simple question. Was the fact that he got along with her grandmother a sign of the apocalypse? He’d thought—rather, he’d hoped—that she would be pleased about the way things were between him and her family.
“Things change, Mya. People change.” He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Do you have a problem with me getting along with your family?”
“No. It’s just...I don’t know...different.” She rubbed her arms as if she were chilly, despite the fact that they were smack in the middle of a ninety-degree day. “But I guess you’re right. Things change.”
Corey moved past her and started picking ripened tomatoes from the vines. Mya bent over the stalk a couple of feet away and plucked several tomatoes.
“On the other hand, some things never change,” she said. “I was just on Main Street. Felt as if I’d stumbled into a time machine.”
“It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. Had you expected anything different?” Corey asked.
“I guess not. Though, according to Grandma, support for the businesses on Main has been dwindling because of the new outlet mall in Maplesville. She strong-armed me into attending a meeting Monday night with her civic association. They’re trying to revitalize downtown Gauthier and stop some big-box store from setting up shop.”
Corey’s back
As they drove back to her grandparents’ place, Mya filled her in on her grandmother’s condition. She was about to ask Phil what she knew about Corey’s relationship with her family when they pulled up to the house and she spotted his Escalade parked next to the mailbox.
Mya’s eyes roamed around the yard, and then grew wide. Corey Anderson, shirtless and sweaty, was picking up the vegetables that had fallen to the ground in her grandfather’s garden.
“Good Lord,” Phylicia breathed. “Is it safe to leave you here?”
Mya wasn’t so sure, but she answered, “Of course. That thing between Corey and I happened a long time ago, Phil. I’m over him.”
Phylicia slid her that unconvinced look that hadn’t changed since high school.
“Oh, whatever,” Mya said, opening the door and sliding out of the truck. “Thanks for the ride. We’re going to get together before I leave, right?”
“Just tell me when and where,” Phil said. She motioned to the garden with her chin. Mya glanced over her shoulder and found Corey standing next to the stalks of corn, watching them. Phil’s brows rose and one corner of her mouth hitched up in a smile. “Good luck,” she said with a little wave before driving off.
Mya took a deep, fortifying breath before turning and heading toward the naked chest she’d dreamt about for a solid five years after leaving Gauthier.
Chapter 4
C orey carried the bushel overflowing with mustard greens and sat it on the back porch, then picked up another of the wooden baskets and headed back toward the garden. He could feel the blood rushing faster in his veins as he neared Mya, who had stopped just at the edge of the garden, next to the tomato patch.
“I see you finished cutting the grass.” She motioned to the lawn he’d finished trimming an hour ago, before pulling the weeds from the front flower bed. After he was done with the weeds, he’d started on the garden. He kept telling himself he was just being a good neighbor. He hadn’t been finding things to do just so he could stick around until Mya came home.
“How’s Mrs. Eloise doing?” Corey asked.
“Stubborn as ever and causing the hospital staff all kinds of grief.”
“That’s my girl.” Corey laughed.
After a beat, Mya tilted her head to the side and asked, “Since when?”
The curiosity in her voice was expected, but he was thrown by the unease coloring the simple question. Was the fact that he got along with her grandmother a sign of the apocalypse? He’d thought—rather, he’d hoped—that she would be pleased about the way things were between him and her family.
“Things change, Mya. People change.” He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Do you have a problem with me getting along with your family?”
“No. It’s just...I don’t know...different.” She rubbed her arms as if she were chilly, despite the fact that they were smack in the middle of a ninety-degree day. “But I guess you’re right. Things change.”
Corey moved past her and started picking ripened tomatoes from the vines. Mya bent over the stalk a couple of feet away and plucked several tomatoes.
“On the other hand, some things never change,” she said. “I was just on Main Street. Felt as if I’d stumbled into a time machine.”
“It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. Had you expected anything different?” Corey asked.
“I guess not. Though, according to Grandma, support for the businesses on Main has been dwindling because of the new outlet mall in Maplesville. She strong-armed me into attending a meeting Monday night with her civic association. They’re trying to revitalize downtown Gauthier and stop some big-box store from setting up shop.”
Corey’s back
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