Read Heart of Dixie - Tami Hoag (1) for Free Online Page A

stirred around. Since she had returned to Mare's Nest she'd been a perfectly pleasant person--once her depression and grief had subsided. Then along he'd come with his blue eyes and his blue Porsche, making her remember she was a woman and bringing reminders of a way of life that had made her miserable.

    Leo returned and set a plate in front of each of them. Side by side the meals looked like a do and don't guide for good health. Jake's meal consisted of sliced turkey on a bed of lettuce and tomato. Dixie's sandwich towered alongside it--salty Virginia ham layered with bright orange cheddar cheese, all stacked between two slices of thick white bread that resembled slabs of foam rubber.

    Jake frowned. "Are you really going to eat that?"

    "No," she said peevishly. "I'm gonna put it in a time capsule and bury it for posterity."

    He raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, it's your body." "That's right, and I'll do with it whatever I darn well please."

    "Fine, fine," he muttered, cutting his meat. "Jeez, you don't have to pull your gun on me again."

    Dixie scowled at him and pushed her plate away. There was nothing like a nutritionally conscientious person to take all the fun out of eating. She chalked up another strike against Jake.

    "So, Jake, what happened to the car?" Bubby Bristol asked, turning toward a new source of entertainment. On the TV screen the credits for Wheel of Fortune rolled over the image of Pat and Vanna waving good-bye.

    "Overheated. Might be a hose," Jake said, trying to sound as if he knew something about it.

    "Or the water pump," Bubby added, nodding. Bubby looked around thirty. He was built like a lumberjack and had dark eyes and dark hair so thick it looked as if a beaver pelt rested on his head.

    Jake sipped his beer and nodded along in macho camaraderie. "The radiator was bone dry."

    A horrified look crossed Bubby's square face. "Man, let's hope you didn't blow the engine." "Yeah." Jake tried to force a chuckle, but it sounded more like he was choking. He stared morosely at his plate, his appetite gone.

    Dixie tried to take vengeful enjoyment in the fact that Jake had gone as pale as the bread housing her killer sandwich, but she couldn't. Poor guy. He looked like a kid whose biggest, best, shiniest Christmas present had just gotten sat on by his fat aunt. She reached over and patted his hand consolingly. Little currents of magnetism buzzed up her fingers.

    "I know a fella had that happen once," Joe Dell said, shoving his mug toward Leo for a refill. He adjusted the bill of a dirty red baseball cap with "Whippets" stitched across the front in gray. His mouth turned down in a frown that elongated his lean face. "Cracked the engine block, if you can believe that. The whole works just plum froze up--the drivetrain and everything. Had to sell that car for scrap."

    Jake whimpered.

    Dixie scowled. "Joe Dell, really! Can't you see the poor guy is upset enough as it is? We're talking about a brand new Porsche here, for pity's sake!"

    The men moaned in unison, gazes falling glumly into their beer once more. In the silence the theme music from Entertainment Tonight gurgled merrily in the background. As the host introduced the lead story, Dixie reached for the remote control that lay on the bar. Jake beat her to it, his hand darting with the speed of a striking snake.

    "This is my favorite show," he said, flashing her a smile as he punched the volume button.

    On the screen the image of Devon Stafford loomed larger than life, a sultry smile lifting the corners of her famous lips, her silver-blond mane spilling all around her in sexy disarray. Then the scene cut to an exterior shot of Stafford's palatial home in the Hollywood hills. While a gardener ran around on the lawn chasing trespassers with a bamboo rake, a serious-looking Entertainment Tonight correspondent standing on the curb reported that on the one-year anniversary of her vanishing act, Ms. Stafford still had not been located. Reports of