Available July 2007 from Whiskey Creek Press Torrid!!
Libby followed Davidson down a winding dirt road and up a short gravel driveway. His house, a smallish white cottage adorned with black shutters. The front porch ran the length of the structure, screened in and decorated with two rocking chairs. In the drive sat an emerald green GTO, shining in the soft light of the spring evening. The air was moist and the scent of fresh pine from the nearby thicket brought back memories of childhood, safe in the bosom of her grandmother’s love.
"My castle," Davidson grinned as he exited the squad car and slammed the door.
"Nice car," Libby remarked getting out of her car. "’64?"
"Yes. My baby."
Libby looked at her heap. "Mine's a '65. Dwayne thought my clunker had potential."
"Oh," Davidson grinned. "She does." He approached her and set a hand on her lower back. "Come on in. I’ll fix you something cool to drink and you can wash up before dinner."
Libby stood her ground, uncertainty tugging at her throat. "Why are you being nice to me?"
He shrugged his shoulders, "I don’t know. I guess it’s like my momma said, help where you're able."
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