Page 21 of Endless Southern Love

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What can I do for you Ina?” At five in the morning.

“Well, you see . . .” She pauses, which only sends a flare of irritation up my spine. “I can’t really sleep at night and well . . .”

I’m going to need to start drinking soon. “Go on.”

“Well, there is a light coming from the school and my eyesight isn’t all that great anymore.”

What the fuck!

“What kind of light?”

“I’m not certain, but I’m certain those teens are doing the unmentionable.”

I take a deep breath. “Did you call Sheriff Parker?”

“Oh gosh no. I wouldn’t want to bother him at this hour.”

No, you just want to wake me up to deal with a police matter because I’m the damn principal. “Okay, Ina. I’ll check it out.”

“And you’ll call me back?”

Another inhale. “If it’s a school matter, it’ll remain a school matter. Thanks for calling.” I hang up and limp my way to my closet. The last thing I want to do at this ungodly hour is put on a skirt and blouse. I opt for a T-shirt and sweats, twist my hair in a messy bun, and throw a ball cap on for good measure.

I pass my car in the parking lot of my complex and wonder if I should drive or walk. I live close to the school, which wasn’t ever meant to be a long-term plan. Waiting for the right house to come on the market is painful. There are beautiful homes here in Magnolia Grove, but none of them are the location I want.

Instead of driving, I walk, wishing I had made myself a cup of coffee or had driven over to Jitterbug Coffee for my morning jolt. The walk is only a few minutes, which isn’t bad, except as I stand on the street and look to my right, the police department is there—much closer than my apartment—and Ina’s house is still blocks away, which doesn’t make sense to me on how she could see lights at the school. Unless she moved, which she could’ve done while I was gone for the summer.

I have no idea what to expect and probably should’ve called the police to investigate, but here I am, rounding the corner of a building I’ve sworn to protect, ready to fight.

“What the hell are you doing?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and one would think I’d stop walking, but no. I keep on hoofing it toward the offender.

He stops and looks at me or at least I think he’s looking at me. The spotlight facing the ground, which is probably what Ina saw, is sort of blinding and I can’t really see him other than the outline of his body and shovel. If I had to guess, he’s burying a body or something.

What? Who would bury a body on school grounds?

“What are you doing out there at . . .?” I pause and look at my phone. “Half past five?”

“Do I know you?” he asks, throwing my words back at him.

“I’m calling the cops.”

“Okay. Call them. Be sure to let them know you hired me for a job and now you don’t want me to do it.”

“I didn’t—” Then it dawns on me. “You were supposed to do this yesterday.”

He chuckles. As if this is funny. Nothing is funny when you have the likes of Ina Meyers waking you up at the ass crack of dawn. I cross my arms and huff.

He laughs again.

“This isn’t funny.”

“You’re right, Lemon. It isn’t. Believe me, leaving my nice warm bed at four in the morning to come dig and till land for you is not my idea of a good time.”

“Like I said, you were supposed to do it yesterday.”

He slams the shovel into the ground and rests on the wooden part of it. “And you were supposed to set this up last week. Seems neither of us can keep time very well.” He yanks the shovel from the earth and then pushes it in again with his foot, repeating the process until he’s finished an outline.

I don’t know why I stand there and watch him, but I do. The muscles in his back, even hidden by his shirt, are forever etched in my mind. This man—the one who busted my heart into a million tiny shards—is beautiful and naturally muscular from years of hard work. I swallow hard as I watch him move earth with ease.

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