A Night of Southern Comfort by Robin Covington

felt. “Yeah, well, that’s the benefit of being the owner’s son. I get to eat here whenever I want.”
    “Dolly’s your mom?”
    He nodded. “It’s a small world.” He watched her expression change from confusion to understanding as she processed that piece of information.
    Then she licked her lips and he almost forgot to breathe.
    He shifted his gaze to her lips, then lower. Her hard nipples peaked the thin fabric of her dress, confirming he wasn’t the only one affected by the heat sizzling between them. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched a pink tint creep up her cheeks. She was such a fascinating contradiction.
    “You said you don’t live here. Where do you live?” she asked.
    “I live in Roanoke. I work undercover so I’m not around a lot but it’s close enough to stop by when I’m off duty.” That might come to an end if he came through for the governor. “My current job is only temporary until I can get back to DC and the FBI.”
    “You didn’t want to come back to Elliott?”
    “No. I couldn’t wait to leave.”
    “Why? This place is so small and welcoming.”
    “Too small.” He scoffed, reining in his reaction when he saw the confusion on her face. “It’s different when everyone thinks they know you.”
    “I know how that goes.” She smiled and jerked her thumb at her chest. “Grew up in a fishbowl, remember?”
    He laughed, her humor deflating his ire. She hadn’t had it easy—still didn’t from what little he’d observed—but she was sticking to her guns. The sexy exterior had grabbed his attention but it was the inner fire, the deep-seated self-knowledge that kept him intrigued.
    “I haven’t said it, but I admire how you stood up to your father. It couldn’t have been easy. It was gutsy.”
    “It wasn’t—”
    “Yes. It was.” He paused wondering if she would answer his next question. “Has he always been like that?”
    “Yes. No.” She scrunched up her face, struggling with her thoughts. “I remember he was easier when I was little. My mother ran interference among all of us.”
    “And after your mom passed away?”
    “My brother and I became props to get the ‘poor widower and single dad’ vote. As long as we followed his plan, everything was okay.”
    “And when you didn’t?”
    She paused, her eyes closing briefly before she answered. “I always did what he wanted, eventually.”
    “Until now?
    “Yes. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I had to live my own life.”
    “So, I was right.” She looked at him quizzically. “You are gutsy.”
    Pink tinged her cheeks as she shook her head and looked down at the tabletop. Her hands gripped the edge with white-knuckle tension. He guessed she struggled with whether she should stay here in Elliott. She was too smart not to have a backup plan. The fact that she needed one pissed him off. He’d been on edge since the meeting with the governor in Richmond and now he was wound so tight he either had to fight or fuck the anger out of his system before he blew.
    Jack moved in his seat and jostled the table, causing Kayla to look at him. The jolt of cellular recognition crackled between them like a live wire. He’d read about it—that crazy moment when your body remembers where it has been, whom it connected with, and yearns to be there again. Frankly, he was surprised that the Formica-covered table hadn’t gone up in flames.
    “I guess this is a pretty crazy coincidence.” With a shaking hand, Kayla smoothed her hair back from her forehead.
    “I don’t believe in coincidence.”
    A furrow creased her brow. “What? How can you say that? The bar? My father’s house? This town?”
    Jack leaned forward and placed his hand on the table, only a hair’s breadth from where hers lay. It took everything he had to resist closing that gap.
    “Doc, you went to the bar looking for a man and I happened to be in the right place at the very right time. That’s not kismet—that’s just probabilities.”
    “No.”