Carnal Innocence

call into town and ask for Burke. That’s Burke Truesdale. He’s the sheriff.”
    “And your cousin, no doubt,” she said between her teeth.
    “No, ma’am, though his baby sister did marry a second cousin of mine.” If she assumed he was a southern rube, he’d oblige. “They moved across the river into Arkansas. My cousin? That’s Billy Earl LaRue. He’s on my mama’s side. He and Meggie—that’s Burke’s baby sister—they run one of those storage places. You know, where people store furniture or cars or whatever by the month? Doing right well, too.”
    “I’m delighted to hear it.”
    “That’s neighborly of you.” His smile was as slow and easy as the water beside him. “You be sure to tell Buke I said hey when you talk to him.”
    Though he was taller by several inches, Caroline managed to look down her nose at him. “I think we both know it would do very little good. Now, I’ll thank you to get off my property, Mr. Longstreet. And if you want to sit and watch the water again, find someplace else to do it.”
    She turned and had taken two steps before Tucker’s voice—and dammit, it was mocking—called out to her. “Miz Waverly? Welcome to Innocence. Y’all have a nice day now, you hear?”
    She kept walking. And Tucker, being a prudent man, waited until he figured she was out of earshot before he started to laugh.
    If he weren’t up to his neck in quicksand, he’d enjoy teasing that pretty Yankee on a regular basis. Damn if she hadn’t made him feel better.
    Edda Lou was primed and ready. She’d been worried that she’d botched things by going on a rampage after she heard Tucker had taken that bitch Chrissy Fuller over to Greenville to dinner and the movies. Butfor once, it seemed, her temper had worked in her favor. That scene in the diner, and her public humiliation of Tucker, had brought him around as surely as a brass ring through his nose.
    Oh, it could be that he’d try to sweet-talk her into letting him off the hook. Tucker Longstreet had the smoothest tongue in Bolivar County. But he wasn’t going to waggle himself loose with it this time. She was going to have a ring on her finger and a marriage license in her hand quick as a lick. She’d wipe the smug look off every face in Innocence when she moved into the big house.
    And she, Edda Lou Hatinger, who’d grown up on a dirt farm with dusty chickens squawking in the yard and the smell of pork grease forever in the kitchen, would wear fine clothes and sleep in a soft bed and drink French champagne for breakfast.
    She had a fondness for Tucker, and that was the truth. But she had more room in her thirsty heart for his house, his name, and his bank account. And when she swept into Innocence, she’d do it in a long pink Caddy. There’d be no more working the register at Larsson’s, no more scraping pennies together so she could keep her room at the boardinghouse instead of living at home where her daddy would as soon smack her as look at her sideways.
    She’d be a Longstreet.
    Weaving her fantasies, she pulled her rattletrap ’75 Impala to the side of the road. She didn’t question the fact that Tucker’s note had asked her to meet him back at the pond. She found it sweet. Edda Lou had fallen in love—as much as her avaricious heart would allow— because Tucker was so downright romantic. He didn’t grab and grope like some of those who sidled up to her at McGreedy’s. He didn’t always want to get right into her pants either, like most of the men she dated.
    No, Tucker liked to talk. And though half the time she didn’t know what in the blue blazes he was talking about, still she appreciated the courtesy.
    And he was generous with presents. Bottles of perfume, bunches of posies. Once, when they’d had aspat, she’d made herself cry buckets. That had landed her a genuine silk nightie.
    Once they were married, she’d have herself a whole drawerful if she wanted. And one of those American Express credit cards to buy them with.
    The moon was full enough, so she didn’t bother with a flashlight. She didn’t want to spoil the mood. She fluffed her long blond hair, then tugged her skinny tank top down until her ripe breasts all but spilled over the edge. Her hot-pink shorts cut into her crotch a bit, but she figured the effect was worth it.
    If she played her cards right, Tucker would have her out of them in no time. Just thinking of it made her damp. Nobody did it like Tucker. Why, sometimes when he was