Hold on Tight Read Online Free Page B

million soggy, little bitty pieces.”
    “Mr. McClure,” Dewey intoned in the voice of God, “I’m afraid I’ve got to take you in.”
    “Nah, you don’t. I’m with the mayor.”
    “That don’t mean diddly to me, Mr. McClure,” Dewey said politely. “Sorry, Dinah. Nothin’ personal about that.”
    “I understand, Dewey,” she answered. “But this once, couldn’t you—”
    “Out of the car, please, Mr. McClure.”
    Dinah closed her eyes in despair. Rucker McClure would wreak a terrible revenge in return for this escapade, she was certain. He’d hunt down every condemning, amusing thing he could find about Mount Pleasant and about her too. Mount Pleasant’s reputation could survive such a war. Hers couldn’t.
    Dinah opened her eyes to find Rucker studying the distraught expression on her face. Exasperation and disbelief shown in his eyes, but humor quirked around his mouth. He handed her the possum. “Take care of our baby,” he drawled. His voice was full of determination. “And tell him … tell him Daddy intends to learn all about this mean little town and its mayor. Just as soon as he gets off the chain gang.”
    Dinah clutched the baby possum to her stomach and nodded wearily. Her fate was sealed.

Two
    “Hey, coach, how was that routine?” the captain of the Mount Pleasant Wildcat drill team called.
    Seated on the hood of her small station wagon Dinah shielded her eyes from the late afternoon sun and nodded distractedly to the thirty girls lined up in the school parking lot. “You look great. Tomorrow well go down to the field and practice with the band. Run through it one more time.”
    Dinah rewound the tape in the boom box that sat beside her. The drill team snapped to attention, did a dress right, and began their routine to a marching-band version of
Thriller
that pounded out of the tape player. Anxious to get away from the jarring music, Dinah walked across the parking lot and stood at the edge of the stadium embankment, staring blankly down the long, steep hill at the football team practicing for Friday night’s game.
    As she’d done all day, she thought about Rucker McClure. He’d finally driven out of Mount Pleasant at two-thirty in the morning, possum in tow. His parting words to her had destroyed her sleep for the rest of the night: “Keep your heart open and your lips puckered. I’ll be back.” She’d answered dryly, “Bring proof of insurance.”
    The ear blasting version of
Thriller
ended, and Dinah walked wearily back to the car. “Let’s call it a day,” she told the drill team. “Good job.” They began gatheringtheir purses and tote bags. Dinah put the tape player in the station wagon’s back seat then stacked its cassettes in a shoe box with her usual precise attention to neatness. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed a car pulling into the lot. A mom, no doubt. Then she looked up.
    She inhaled sharply. Not a mom. A McClure. Rucker parked the sleek black Cadillac next to her dumpy wagon and climbed out gracefully. Dinah caught her breath and took a step backwards. In the bright light of day the man affected her even more than he had last night. He was tall, well built, confident, and totally devastating, which was saying a lot, she thought, considering the state of his clothes. He wore another pair of old jeans—or the same pair, who could tell—with an Auburn University football jersey and the same gray houndstooth sport jacket from before. Today he’d traded his fancy black boots for jogging shoes. That fashion decision must have taken him hours, she thought dryly.
    Rucker ambled toward her, his best nonchalant expression in place, a jaunty smile fixed on his face, his heart racing. She doesn’t look mad to see me again. At least that’s a relief, he noted. She did look defensive, though, sort of like a lady squirrel anxious to run for the nearest tree. A beautiful lady squirrel, he added in silent admiration.
    Man, she had style. No other woman could