I Crave You Read online

  I tried not to cringe. I wasn't sure classes would help. Sierra was a disaster in the kitchen. She was one of the smartest women I knew, but even working from a recipe, she couldn't make simple dishes like meatloaf or fried chicken. I'd even been witness to her scorching canned soup.

  I opted for physical safety over honesty and said, "Sounds great."

  "Your enthusiasm is overwhelming," Sierra commented. Her tone was as dry as mine had been.

  I shrugged one shoulder. "Until I see the evidence, I'm withholding judgment."

  "No, you're not!" Sierra exclaimed.

  I grabbed my purse out of my desk, ushered her out of my office, and locked the door behind us.

  "Okay, so I'll try harder."

  She scoffed but didn't argue.

  We walked down the short hall that lead from my office to the main part of the store. There was a bathroom to one side and a small supply closet on the other. When we emerged from the hallway, I saw a tall, male figure standing at the huge shop window at the front, his hands cupped around his eyes so he could see inside.

  "Who is that?" Sierra asked, her voice warm with interest.

  "Benjamin Murphy," I replied.

  "Wait, Murphy. Murphy? How do I know that name?"

  "You're thinking of Brody Murphy, J.J.'s best friend."

  We drew closer to the front door and Ben spotted us. He waved and walked to the entrance, waiting outside as I unlocked the door and let Sierra exit before me.

  "Hey, Cam," he greeted me, but his eyes were on Sierra.

  Sierra was shorter than me, but she had curves. She rarely worked out but had a gorgeous hourglass figure. Life wasn't fair. I was in great shape because I either ran, practiced yoga, or lifted weights nearly every day, but I would never look like a 1950's pin-up the way Sierra did.

  I wasn't surprised by the way Ben eyed her. Everywhere we went, men stared at her. Between the stacked bod and the thick, black-framed glasses she wore, Sierra was the epitome of men's fantasies; a hot, nerdy girl that went from buttoned-up to bombshell with one toss of her hair.

  While Sierra enjoyed the attention from time-to-time, nothing pissed her off more than a man who was so focused on her physical appearance that he had no appreciation for her intelligence or twisted sense of humor.

  My best friend was brilliant and gorgeous, but all those wonderful characteristics masked the fact that she was, well, a handful. Considering who my brother was, that was saying something.

  I turned back to lock the door before I answered Ben.

  "Hey, Ben. This is my friend and business partner, Sierra."

  Sierra held out her hand and gave Ben's hand a firm shake. "Nice to meet you."

  The glimmer of interest in his eyes intensified as he stared down at her and he grinned. "That's some handshake."

  Sierra raised an eyebrow at him and I knew he'd already taken one step toward pissing her off. "Well, I practice a lot," she stated, deadpan.

  Ben's grin widened and I bit back a sigh. Sierra's biting wit could be challenging and Ben never backed down from a challenge.

  This wouldn't turn into a shitshow. No way. Everything would be just fine.

  I braced myself to intervene when Ben opened his mouth and said, "Practice makes perfect. But it's a pleasure to meet you too."

  He said it sincerely and without a hint of smarm. Not that Ben was smarmy, but he could lay the charm on pretty thick. It worked well for him in Farley, but Sierra was immune to smooth talkers. She preferred intelligent, funny men to hunks with muscles and dimples.

  He released her hand and turned to me. "I actually came by to talk to you," he said to me.

  While I'd known Ben a long time, he rarely stopped by just to chat. "What's up?"

  "Brody's back in town," he stated. "And he brought my niece with him."

  "Um, okay?"

  Ben grinned, both dimples popping. "When I told him about your shop, he seemed very interested in bringing her by. I just wanted to warn you."

  I didn't understand why he thought I needed a warning. "Why?"

  "I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't be too surprised."

  I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him without a word.

  Ben sighed and shook his head. "Still don't like my sainted brother much do you?"

  "I never disliked him, Ben. I just get annoyed by his constant poking and prodding. It's like the man can't be in my vicinity without trying to get a rise out of me."

  "Well, you are kinda cute when you're mad."

  Ben and I might not be kids anymore, but I was definitely willing to sacrifice some maturity and sock him on the bicep for that remark.

  "Hey," he said, rubbing his arm.

  "No whining. When you say sexist things, you get frogged. You know that."

  The fake frown on his face vanished immediately and his eyes gleamed with mischief and humor. He was up to something, but I had no way of knowing what it was.

  "Yes, ma'am," he drawled, making sure his accent was nice and thick. "No disrespect intended."

  I sighed. "Thanks for stopping by."

  Ben gave me a side-arm hug. "You're welcome. I'll be back later for a milkshake."

  "You do that," I replied, hugging him back.

  "Sierra, nice to meet you. I hope I see you again while you're here." He accompanied his statement with a wink and a devilish smile.

  "Only time will tell," Sierra countered.

  Ben's grin widened and he released me. "Y'all have a good day now," he drawled, giving us both a wave as he sauntered down the street and turned into the local diner.

  Sierra turned to me and fanned herself. "Woman, why didn't you tell me that they grew men like that around here? I would have come back earlier."

  "Ben's cute but he's kinda wild. Well, he used to be. And we haven't spent a lot of time together since he came back to town."

  Suddenly, Sierra giggled.

  Worried, I studied her. "Are you okay?"

  She nodded, still giggling.

  "Okay, I'm confused. What's so funny?"

  Between bursts of laughter, Sierra managed to say, "He'll be back later for a milkshake."

  I continued to stare at her, which made her laugh harder. She bent over, smacking her thigh with her hand as she whooped. "Sierra! What is so funny?"

  Wiping her eyes, she straightened and grinned at me. The moment she opened her mouth, it clicked. I knew exactly what she was about to say.

  "Your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard."

  Without a word, I turned and marched off in the direction of my car.

  "W-W-Wait for me," Sierra sputtered. "I may not be a boy, but I want a milkshake too!"

  And now everyone on the street was staring at me.

  Shit. No doubt I'd be hearing from my mother about this.

  2

  My phone rang the moment I pulled into the driveway. I glanced at the screen and cringed. As I expected, it was my mother. The grapevine in Farley moved faster than the speed of sound.

  My mama, Colette McClane, was soft-spoken and sweet, a true Southern lady. But she carried a steel spine beneath that gentle exterior. And she could rip you to shreds without raising her voice or even using cruel words. Instead, she would tell you how disappointed she was in your choices. And that there were always consequences to your actions. Sometimes, she even cried. It was torture. She balanced that power with a dry sense of humor and the ability to not take herself too seriously. Which meant she was an awesome mom. Most of the time. Lately, however, she'd gotten it in her head that I needed to find a man. A good man. Someone intelligent, at least moderately successful, and preferably not living with his mother.

  I was beginning to think that was a tall order since all the men I met seemed to be lacking in one way or another. Then again, I hadn't met someone new in nearly two years. Which meant my mother was also convinced I was a workaholic and despaired her chances to have grandchildren to spoil before she was "too old to enjoy them."

  Forget t
he fact that I had an older brother who could also provide those grandchildren. I was pretty sure Mom had given up all hope after his last stunt. She'd been complaining to him about how all her friends had grandbabies and she didn't so the next time he came home, he brought a woman named Clea. She was adorable and sweet but dumber than a box of rocks. He only brought her the once but when Mom started in on him again the next time he came over to Sunday lunch, he told her that Clea would be the mother of his children. Mom never brought it up with him again.

  Hence the reason I was the only one who got the guilt trip about not having kids yet.

  With a sigh, I picked up my phone. It was better to answer now than let her marinate in whatever she had to say.

  "Hey, Mama," I answered as I shut off my car and climbed out.

  "Hi, Cameron. How are you doing today?"

  "Good. Great. Just running home to get Sierra settled before the shop opens."

  "Oh, Sierra's here. That's wonderful. I hope you'll bring her by the house for lunch after church on Sunday."

  Lunch on Sunday was a family tradition. My brother got out of it most of the time because he was rarely in town, but I was expected to show my face each and every Sunday or deal with Mom's verbal expressions of disappointment. And even at the age of twenty-seven, nearly twenty-eight, I didn't want to face my mother's lectures when she was disappointed.

  It didn't matter that I no longer went to church with them on a weekly basis since Sunday was usually a workday for me. It didn't matter that I was a grown woman who might have plans of her own. I was expected to arrive promptly at a quarter to one and stay until two-thirty, which gave me a half-hour to get to the store and open up. Sunday afternoons were a busy time for me. Texas stayed warm or even tortuously hot at least eight, sometimes nine, months out of the year, and my ice cream shop had quickly become the place to see and be seen by churchgoers, teenagers, and singles alike on Sunday afternoons.

  "Of course, Mom. You know Sierra always loves to come to Sunday lunch with me."

  Sierra appeared beside me, her eyes wide. While she loved my parents, she didn't love that my mama also tended to mother her the way she did her own children. In the McClane house, if you were close to one of Colette's children, you became one of her own. This meant she wanted to know what you were doing with your life and what your goals were. And if you didn't have any, she wanted to know why. My mother wasn't necessarily strict. She was...involved, intensely so. Sierra's mom and dad had a much more relaxed parenting style. In fact, they seemed to forget they were parents at all. My friend had never been grounded in high school, even when she pulled crazy stunts. Probably because her parents were never at home.

  As a result, Sierra didn't know how to handle all the maternal nurturing and questioning she received when she visited.

  She must have caught the tail end of my conversation because she started shaking her head vehemently, her vibrant red hair flying in all directions.

  You owe me, I mouthed.

  She scowled at me and crossed her arms over her chest. The act was mostly for show and one that she perpetuated every time we visited my parents, but I knew she secretly loved it.

  "Oh, and dear?" my mother said.

  "Yes, Mom?"

  "Would Sierra be the reason that Natalie Phelps called me a few minutes ago and asked me when you came out as a lesbian? For some reason, she was under the impression that you and your girlfriend were having a disagreement outside Crave this afternoon."

  I rolled my eyes heavenward and suppressed a sigh. One of the drawbacks of living in a smallish Southern town was that you would see at least one person you knew anytime you left the house. And if you did anything they considered untoward, your parents/husband/sister/cousin would get a phone call asking if something was wrong.

  It also didn't help that Natalie Phelps had read in some tabloid that one in ten women were lesbian and she was convinced at least one woman of her acquaintance was in the closet. Natalie was also older than dirt, deaf as a doorknob, and thought the term "politically correct" meant you voted in every election. She didn't understand that you couldn't believe everything you read in magazines and you definitely didn't ask people personal questions about their sexual orientation, age, or weight.

  "Mom," I said.

  There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment then I heard my mother snort. She was laughing at me. Great.

  "What did you tell her?" I asked.

  "Well now, honey, you know that I just want you to be happy and that I will support you no matter who you love. I told Natty the same thing."

  "Mom!"

  My mother cracked up, her laughter ringing through the line. "I told her that as far as I knew, you're very happy being a heterosexual spinster."

  " That woman is a menace. One day she's going to offend someone who isn't as nice as we are and there will be no saving her."

  More peals of laughter rang out and I actually had to hold the phone away from my ear because I couldn't stand the volume any longer.

  When the noise died down, I asked, "Are you done?"

  "Yes, dear," my mother replied. Her voice shook and I knew she was fighting back more laughter.

  I knew exactly how to get her goat and said, "Ben Murphy came by the shop today."

  Never one to miss an opportunity to remind me of the attractive, eligible men in the area, my mother replied, "Oh, really? Well, he is a very good-looking young man. And single."

  I rolled my eyes again. "Actually, he dropped in to tell me that Brody is back and he brought his daughter with him. I didn't get the details, but my impression was that he and his wife had split up."

  "Oh, I knew that. Your brother called me last week and asked me to keep an eye on him. Apparently, the divorce is finalized but there's still a lot of bad feelings. Or at least on his ex-wife's part. I got the impression that Brody put up with a lot before he said enough was enough."

  Damn. There went my leverage. It figured that my mother would know more about the situation than I did. As she did with Sierra, Colette McClane took Brody under her wing as well, mothering him as much as possible as well as passing out lectures when necessary.

  "Maybe he'll take a liking to Sierra when he's here for Sunday dinner," she commented.

  Something in the vicinity of my chest twisted at her casual implication. It couldn't be my heart, but it sure felt like it. More likely, it was the guilt I felt for having to subject Sierra to him because she was my best friend and she didn't deserve that. "Yeah, maybe," I murmured.

  "Oh, I have to go. Your father's two o'clock is here. Love you, Cam."

  "Love you, too."

  I didn't lower the phone after the line clicked, signaling that my mother had hung up. Instead, I stared at my front door, wondering why in the hell I cared if Brody hooked up with my bestie. I'd barely seen him in seven years and my pitiful high school crush was long gone.

  "Whoa, what did your mom say to put that look on your face?" Sierra asked.

  I shook myself out of my thoughts and shrugged. "Nothing. She's thinking of playing matchmaker for you."

  Sierra's blue eyes widened. "Oh, hell no. I'm not going Sunday. I'll come down with meningitis or something."

  I frowned at her. "You do realize meningitis is a serious illness and that you'd have to be in the hospital if you had it, right?"

  "Shit. I meant the mumps."

  "You've had all your vaccinations, Sierra. Mom and Dad made sure of that, so I don't think they'll believe it."

  Sierra sighed. "Damn. Well, what creepy dude are they planning to set me up with?"

  "Brody. He's Ben's older brother."

  Her expression turned calculated. "Oh, really. Is he as hot as his baby bro?"

  Hotter. Definitely. But I wasn't going to admit that out loud. Instead, I lifted my hand and rocked it back and forth. "So-so. He's handsome, but I don't know if I would say he's better-looking than Ben."

  "There is something to be said for the bad boy turned good
. Or at least, better." She cocked her head. "What's Brody like?"

  Smart. Funny. Sexy. Infuriating.

  I didn't utter the description aloud. "He's my brother's best friend. He lived to make my life difficult while I was in high school but I haven't seen much of him since he went to college over a decade ago. I have no idea what he's like now."

  Other than the fact that he'd looked even better at thirty than he had at twenty, the last time I'd seen him in more than just passing was seven years ago at his wedding. Maybe he'd gone bald and grown a beer gut.

  If only life worked like that.

  "Hot or not, I'm honestly not ready to jump into anything. The last guy I dated turned me off when it comes to relationships."

  Sierra had been tight-lipped about her previous boyfriend. I think she'd only mentioned him a couple of times. I didn't even remember his name.

  I unlocked my front door and gestured for Sierra to follow me inside. My house was cool and dim, an oasis in the middle of my usually hectic life. If I wanted more light, I only had to open my curtains. My house was small but perfect for me. A cozy hideaway.

  "Wow, this place looks great," Sierra said as she came in behind me. "You've really made it homey and peaceful."

  "Thanks. You wanna put your stuff in your room or grab a drink first?"

  Sierra groaned. "Room first. This bag is heavy as fuck."

  I glanced back at her. "Um, Sierra, that's a rolling suitcase."

  "I know," she replied, staring at me as though I'd lost a few marbles.

  "So why are you carrying it?"

  Her expression remained blank for a few moments until the penny dropped. "Well, shit."

  "You graduated magna cum laude?"

  "Shut up," she grumbled. "I've been up since five and then on the road all day. I'm tired."

  It was probably true, but I didn't tease her anymore. I didn't have time for the inevitable bickerfest that would surely follow. Sierra was brilliant but sometimes she spaced out on basic things that required common sense more than book knowledge. Usually when she was tired or tipsy.

  I led her down the hallway to the guest room and flipped the switch just inside the door.