Second Chance at the Sugar Shack Read Online Free

off the magazine articles you were in. She even kept a scrapbook.”
    “She did not.”
    “She totally did.”
    “Go figure. The night before I boarded that bus for L.A., she swore I’d never make a living hemming skirts and teasing hair.”
    “No, what she said was, making a living hemming skirts and teasing hair wasn’t for you,” Kelly said.
    “That’s not the way I remember it.”
    “Of course not. You were so deeply immersed in parental rebellion she could have said the sky was blue and you’d have argued that it was aqua.”
    “We did argue a lot.”
    Kelly shook her head. “Yeah, kind of like you were both cut from the same scrap of denim. I think that’s what ticked you off the most and you just didn’t want to admit it.”
    No way. “That I was like Mom?”
    “You could have been identical twins. Same red hair. Same hot temper.”
    “I never thought I was anything like her. I still don’t.”
    “How’s that river of denial working for you?”
    “How’s that rewriting history working for you ?”
    Kelly tightened her fingers on the steering wheel. “Someday you’ll get it, little sister. And when you do, you’re going to be shocked that you didn’t see it earlier.”
    The remnants of the old argument curdled in Kate’s stomach. “She didn’t believe in me, Kel.”
    “Then she was wrong.”
    For some reason the acknowledgment from her big sister didn’t make it any better.
    “She was also wrong about you and your financial worth,” Kelly added. “You make three times as much as I do.”
    “But not as much as Dean.”
    “God doesn’t make as much as Dean,” Kelly said.
    Their big brother had always been destined for greatness. If you didn’t believe it, all you had to do was ask him. Being an NFL star quarterback did have its perks. Modesty wasn’t one of them.
    “Almost there,” Kelly announced.
    The green highway sign revealed only two more miles to go. Kate gripped the door handle to steady the nervous tension tap-dancing on her sanity.
    Ahead, she noticed the swirling lights atop a sheriff’s SUV parked on the shoulder of the highway. The vehicle stopped in front of the cop had to be the biggest monster truck Kate had ever seen. In L.A., which oozed with hybrids and luxury cruisers, one could only view a farmboy-vehicle-hopped-up-on-steroids in box office bombs like the Dukes of Hazzard .
    The swirling lights dredged up a not-so-fond memory of Sheriff Washburn, who most likely sat behind the wheel of that Chevy Tahoe writing up the fattest citation he could invent. A decade ago, the man and his Santa belly had come hunting for her. When she hadn’t shown up at home at o’dark thirty like her mother had expected, the SOS call had gone out. Up on Lookout Point the sheriff had almost discovered her and Matt sans clothes, bathed in moonlight and lust.
    As it was, Matt had been quick to act and she’d managed to sneak back through her bedroom window before she ruined her shaky reputation for all time. Turned out it wouldn’t have mattered. A few days later she boarded a bus leaving that boy and the town gossips behind to commiserate with her mother about what an ungrateful child she’d been.
    As they approached the patrol vehicle, a deputy stepped out and, hand on gun, strolled toward the monster truck.
    Mirrored shades. Midnight hair. Wide shoulders. Trim waist. Long, long legs. And . . . Oh. My. God. Not even the regulation pair of khaki uniform pants could hide his very fine behind. Nope. Definitely not Sheriff Washburn.
    A double take was definitely in order.
    “Wow,” Kate said.
    “They didn’t make ‘em like that when we lived here,” Kelly noted.
    “Seriously.” Kate shifted back around in her seat. And frowned. What the hell was wrong with her? Her mother had been dead for two days and she was checking out guys?
    “Well, ready or not, here we are.”
    At her sister’s announcement Kate looked up at the overhead sign crossing the two-lane road.
    Welcome