“Records of the anonymous money you sent to the Olson family after they lost everything in that fire, the new car that mysteriously appeared in some woman’s driveway when her husband died and she had to support all those kids, the drug bills that are mysteriously being paid for at least a dozen needy families. I could go on, but I won’t. Do you really want everybody to know that the wicked witch of Garrison, Tennessee, has the heart of a charred marshmallow?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Nita stalked out of the room, her cane punishing the floor with every step.

Blue had won another battle with the old bat, but she baked the cake anyway. Of all the women Blue had stayed with over the years, Nita was the first one who wanted to keep her around.

That night, Dean sat crossed-legged at the bottom of Blue’s bed, her calf draped over his bare thigh. As they recuperated from a particularly kinky round of lovemaking, he massaged her foot, which was sticking out from under the sheet she’d pulled up. She moaned as he rubbed her instep.

He stopped. “You’re not going to throw up again, are you?”

“That was three days ago.” She wiggled her foot, encouraging him to get back to work. “I knew there was something wrong with Josie’s take-out shrimp, but Nita kept insisting it was fine.”

He pushed his thumb into her instep a little too hard. “And you ended up spending the night alternating between hanging your head over the toilet and crawling down the hall to take care of that old biddy. Just once, I’d like to see you pick up the phone and ask me for help.”

She didn’t acknowledge the bite she heard behind his words. “I had everything under control. No need to bother you.”

“Are you afraid you’ll have to give up your jockstrap if you ask for help?” He dug into the ball of her foot. “Life doesn’t need to be an individual sport, Blue. Sometimes you have to rely on the team.”

Not in her life. That was a solo game from beginning to end. She fought an uneasy mixture of foreboding, despair, and panic. It had been nearly a month since she and Dean had met, and it was time to move on. Nita’s painting was almost finished, and it wasn’t as though Blue would be leaving her helpless. A few days ago, she’d hired a terrific housekeeper, a woman who’d raised six kids and was impervious to even the most blatant insults. Blue had no reason to stay in Garrison much longer, except that she wasn’t ready to leave Dean. He was the lover of her dreams: imaginative, generous, lusty. She couldn’t get enough of him, and for tonight, she shut out everything else.