Sawyer hooked a hand behind her knees and pulled her legs more firmly into his lap. “Just seems strange that Amelia didn’t mention a word about the curse,” he said stubbornly. “Even in her journal entry the night before the wedding. Which she didn’t seem excited about, by the way. Seemed more like she was talking herself into it, than looking forward to it.”
“How about ice cream?” Mia leaned in to kiss his jaw, the hint of scruff on his cheek tickling her chin, making her remember the way that scruff had felt brushing across her nipples the night before. “I’m in the mood for ice cream. Preferably licked off of your stomach.”
Sawyer turned his head, bringing his mouth so close to hers that Mia’s lips began to tingle with anticipation. Of all the things she and Sawyer did together, kissing him was still her very favorite. Kissing him was like a dance, a sweet, sexy slow dance they got better at every time they came into each other’s arms.
“You can keep trying to distract me,” Sawyer said. “But sooner or later, I’m going to get you to talk about this.”
Mia dropped her head back, staring up at the pale blond planks of the porch roof as she exhaled. “Why? We’ve talked about it all we need to talk about it. There’s nothing more to say.”
Sawyer pressed a kiss to her throat, making her shiver despite the heat of the evening. “I think there is. I don’t like that you let this thing haunt you. It’s just a story.”
“I’m not haunted by it,” Mia said, eyes sliding closed as Sawyer continued to feather kisses down her neck. “I just think it’s better not to push my luck, that’s all.”
“That’s not a reason to believe in something.” Sawyer’s lips moved across her bare shoulder, making her nipples pull tight in her strapless bra.
“You know what I believe in?” Mia asked, answering her own question before Sawyer could respond. “Blow jobs. And I’d like to give you one. Tonight.”
Sawyer groaned softly against her neck, sending a wave of delicious vibration across her skin. “All right, woman. Consider me distracted. Let’s get out of here.”
Mia smiled. “I’ll grab my purse and say the quickest goodbye ever.”
She leapt up from the porch swing and headed for the door to the living room, Sawyer close behind her. Growing up, Mia had loved the arrangement of her parents’ house. The large central room was a combination living room, dining room, rec room, and kitchen, and boasted over three thousand square feet of living space and a vaulted ceiling that gave everyone plenty of room to breathe. There were doors on each of the main living area’s three walls, leading out onto the wrap-around porch, and so many windows that on spring days when the panes were open, it felt like living outside.
The only drawback to the design was that there was absolutely no privacy. As a teenager, she’d had to retreat to her bedroom on the other side of the house if she wanted to read romance novels with sexy poses on the cover without her dad making fun of her, and Pike had always gone to the barn to talk to his girlfriends, determined not to let their mother in on any of the details of his love life.
Now, as Mia stepped inside the home, she could see immediately that something was wrong, even though Gram tried to shush her father as she and Sawyer entered. But Mia saw trouble in the way Dad hunched over the kitchen island, his palms braced on the counter like he was ready for battle, and Gram’s pinched lips had gone white beneath her lipstick.
“What’s wrong?” Mia crossed behind the two overstuffed leather couches and past the heavy oak table where the dessert plates and coffees were still scattered across the polished wood surface.
“More ghost town drama,” Mia’s mother said with a sigh. “As usual.”
“Hush, Jenny,” Gram said, cutting her gaze meaningfully toward Sawyer. “This is private family business.”
Mia’s mother rolled her light brown eyes, which were carefully outlined with thin brown pencil, the way they were every Friday night, even though these dinners were usually family only. Mia’s mother had been a beauty queen and the legacy still showed. Even in a simple white silk tee shirt, khaki slacks, and a few pieces of elegant gold jewelry, she looked like she was ready to address the ladies of the junior league or host a fundraising brunch at the country club.
But her classic good looks and natural elegance were a smokescreen that hid a core of solid iron, and Mia wasn’t surprised when her mother ignored Gram’s warning. Of all the people in Lonesome Point, Jenny Sherman was one of the only women brave enough to go against Emily Sherman and live to tell the tale. Being married to her son—a man who loved his wife with a ferocity unequaled even by his love of baseball—helped, of course.
“Your grandmother just heard from the authorities in San Antonio,” Mia’s mom said. “It looks like the body they found might be an old Sherman family relative. They ran samples on the DNA and it came up as a partial match for your Great Uncle Roy. He’s the only Sherman who’s ever been in prison, so the authorities had his information on file.”
Gram eyes almost bulged out of her head, but Sawyer spoke up before Gram could spontaneously combust from the shame of having the family’s dirty laundry aired in “public.”
“Sounds like a good track record.” Sawyer smiled in Gram’s direction. “My dad and one of his brothers both did time. Every family has a black sheep or two.”
Gram’s lids drooped a few millimeters and her eyes began to look less bulgy, but she didn’t return Sawyer’s grin. “Yes, well, we’d still like to keep this quiet. At least until we find out who this person is. I don’t remember any Shermans going missing in the early days of the settlement, but I’ll be reading back through all the journals and letters this week.”
“I’ve been reading Amelia’s journals,” Sawyer said. “I haven’t noticed anything that would offer any clues so far, but I’ll keep a closer eye out moving forward. It would be nice to give this man a name, and a proper burial.”
“Well, yes. Yes, it would,” Gram said, the edges of her lips lifting the slightest bit.
“All right, well we’re headed out,” Mia said, deciding now was as good a moment as any to make their escape. She kissed her mother’s cheek and hugged her daddy, before turning to Gram. “Don’t worry, sugar britches, we’ll find out who the mystery Sherman is. And I’ll start brainstorming fundraising ideas tonight. I can even ask Tulsi about applying for grants. She’s great at that stuff.”
“No grants.” Gram pulled her in for a hug. “I don’t want Old Town to go non-profit until we’ve exhausted every other option. I want to leave this family a cash cow, not a dusty old museum.”
Mia released Gram with a sigh, knowing better than to argue with her. They’d all told Gram they didn’t need her to leave them anything but good memories, and embarrassing stories to tell after she was dead, but she never listened.
“Okay,” Mia said. “We’ll make it work. I’ll get back to you on Monday with a list of ideas.”
Gram patted Mia’s cheek affectionately before moving past her to draw Sawyer into a hug. Mia’s eyebrows shot up—her surprise mirrored on her mother’s face, as Jenny knew darn well Gram had a long and colorful history of disapproving of Mia’s choices in men.