Just Her Luck (3 page)

His taps grew sharper, irritating me all the more.

"Blondie and Ephraim boxed me in with their truck. Blondie plastered his ass to my bumper, now he’s ‘tap tap’ tapping at my window. Why are they so desperate to make sure I don't leave? What
aren't
you telling me?" I inquired suspiciously. “The Ephraim guy didn’t look too excited at the idea of me being here in the first place, but now they don’t want me to leave? Explain.”

"Is it the green-eyed blonde or the brown-eyed one?" Ruthie asked, interrupting me.

I thought of those pretty green eyes.

Crazy, obviously, but pretty.

How did she work for these hooligans for so long?

"The green-eyed one, but I don't see how that..." I trailed off, trying to gather my scattered wits.

Damn. She’s being quiet.

That’s never a good sign.

Okay, she's clearly avoiding telling me stuff or she would have assured me already, knowing her the way I do.

This doesn’t bode well for me.

Uhm… should I be worried here?

“Ruthie! What the hell…”

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, cutting me off, "That must be Thatcher! Sawyer has the brown eyes."

"There's more of them?" I squeaked incredulously, trying to keep my mouth from flapping about.

“Are they all like those two?” I blurted.

‘Cause if so, I’m gone.

I bit my lip, knowing how important this all is to Ruthie.

Please let some of them be sane!

My eyebrow started ticking, signaling my anxiety getting ready to pay a visit.

It always starts with the damned tick.

Oh, joy!

I growled and turned back to the tapping blonde, Thatcher, unable to take it anymore.

I smacked my window, and he immediately ceased his incessant tapping, startled so much by the unexpected reaction he jumped back.

Pointing at him warningly, he waited for my next move.

I made a cutting motion, letting him know I wanted him to stop, and he mimed me opening the door.

I shook my head 'no', and he put his hands up in a pleading gesture.

My raised brow said it all.

"Open the door. I wanna talk to you," he shouted over the noise of both of the engines running.

"Do you mind? I'm a little busy at the moment!" I shouted right back and quickly turned away again.

"But, wait!" he pleaded, eyes large in his disgustingly sexy face.

Crazy and drop your panties gorgeous.

Too gorgeous.

See, the way I’m figuring it, he had to go nutty to balance it all out. They don’t make normal
that
good looking.

So not fair!

"You can't back out, Genevieve! What will happen if I don't make good on my promise of a replacement until I'm better?" Ruthie sniffled, on the cusp of a wail, "They might fire me! Where would I be then?"

“Uh, hello? With me. I already said you could. In fact, you know I’d love it if you did.”

And then came the voice crack and the beginning wail, sounding disturbingly enough like a warning siren.

No! Anything but that!

"Wait!" I cried anxiously, "Don't cry!
Please
don't cry! You
know
I can't stand it when you cry!"

Gah!

She sniffled quietly for a minute.

"So, then you'll do it?" she asked tentatively, her voice soft and low.

I groaned and smacked my forehead with my hand.

"Aunt Ruthie...” I groaned dramatically, “you know I'm not really a people person. And they seem a little...
unhinged
," I tried to explain.

A little sob came from her, and I cringed, my chest abruptly aching.

Damn it.

“Aunt Ruthie,” I whined.

She emitted a gut curdling little sob, and I felt sick, my stomach twisting right along with my intestines, my conscience poking little 'You suck, Vieve' holes in my heart.

How can you do this to your auntie?!
I shrieked at myself, my resolve to leave cracking.

“I… I…” she said between sniffling sobs.

And I completely caved.

No! Not the crying!

I hate when she cries!

Aunt Ruthie is like my surrogate mother, she’s always jumped to my rescue whenever I needed it.

And here I am, about to abandon her when she needs me to do something for her.

Says she needs me most.

It eats me alive when she's upset.

Old bat knows it too!

She's like my kryptonite, I can't help it!

Why the hell else would I have agreed to this terrible idea?

Damn it!

Argh!

I closed my eyes and pretended I was still in my own house, all by myself. Not a soul in the world, other than me, around for miles...

Nothing but my laptop and the sound of the birds in the trees.

Ahhhh…

Opening my eyes, I tried to think about this shit from the bright side.

I already know I’m gonna do it, just have to gird my loins for it.

Come one, Vieve, think of the good stuff…

It's only for a little while and it's only cooking and cleaning.

How hard could it be?

Other than that, I don't have to have anything to do with them. Not really...

You can do this, Vieve!
I assured myself, pepping myself up.

Do it for Ruthie, Vieve. The one person who's always been there for you, no matter what.

She needs ya, Vieve!

Family first!

Fudge me! Fudge me!

Decision made,
I acted.

"I give! I'm doing it! Bye, Aunt Ruthie! I'll see you on Friday for your appointment! I love you, take it easy! I gotta go now
, so blondie doesn't crack my window
, okay?" My voice was high and tight, borderline hysterical as I practically shouted into the phone.

Quickly turning off my engine, I yanked my keys out of the ignition.

"Oh, thank you, Vieve, my dear heart!" she cheered, immediately brightening up, "I'll see you on Friday! Love you too, bub-bye, honey!"

She hung up before I could say anything else.

“I… but…”

Now I’m the one spluttering and blundering about.

Hey! Wait a darn…

A little stunned, I pulled my ear away from my phone and gawked down at it.

I couldn't shake the sudden feeling that I'd just gotten played by my seventy five year old, sweet as molasses when she wants to be, aunt.

Probably because I just did and I totally know it.

I frowned over that for a minute, praying that I'll have her same tactical diligence when I'm her age.

Totally jealous of that a bit right now.

I'll get over it though.

As for now, I have an odd, tap-happy blonde and a stammering brunette to deal with at the moment.

Yay me!

I reached behind me and grabbed my duffel bag, yanking the straps until my zebra print bag slapped down into my lap.

Unlocking my car door, I thrust it open, popping the blonde in the gut when he didn't back up fast enough.

Heh.

Oops!

Take that! Teach you to pin someone in with a truck!
I thought a little smugly.

She said I needed to work for them,
nowhere did she mention no accidental maiming when they irritate me.

No one said I had to leave them all here in one piece, right?

Maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll decide they don’t need me anymore.

My hopes of that were dashed when I thought about blondie dogpiling on my car- something about it giving me the impression they’d actually put up with me.

I sighed inwardly.

But I can dream, can’t I?

"So, sorry," I called sweetly, "I didn't see you there."

"S'okay," blondie grunted, trying to play it off from the dirt, valiantly trying to muffle his groan as he rolled around a little, “accidents happen.”

I hid a smirk.

Ephraim shut off the truck engine, the one boxing me in, and hopped out.

“Ma’am, I…” Ephraim began.

"Don't you dare say nothin', 'E', or I'll pop you in your damn, fat fool mouth! You almost made her leave!" Thatcher warned.

"I wasn't gonna say nothin' else, Thatch," he said defensively, "I didn't mean to insult her on account of she's short and..."

"Don't you dare finish that sentence! Or I swear, I will dig a god damned hole right here, right now, and be done with you!!" I bellowed at Ephraim warningly, my finger pointing at him condemningly like a loaded pistol.

Ephraim's hands shot up defensively and his eyebrows disappeared into his cowboy hat, lips pursed shut.

"Oh, thank god, he has an off switch!" I praised, looking up at the clear blue sky.

Thatcher broke out into loud guffaws from right behind me-
he must have gotten up already
- and Ephraim glared at Thatcher warningly.

The coldness that entered those pretty blue eyes so suddenly made me inclined to believe that Thatcher would definitely be paying somehow for laughing at Ephraim later.

"Your Aunt Ruthie was smart to pick you, I think," Thatcher said confidently, ushering me towards the house, "You are gonna fit right in with us. I can already tell."

Uhm, yay me?

Heh…

I gripped my bag tightly to my chest and pushed off Thatcher's arm when he slung it over my shoulder.

He was getting a little too familiar with my person, acting like we were the best of buds all of the sudden, his grin flat out wicked.

I tried not to squeak or blush, letting on that he was getting to me.

How could he not? He’s downright sinful to look at.

I’m hoping I put on a good enough front.

I’m going for mad and indignant.

Undeterred by my rebuffs, he put it back up there and acted like it was the most natural thing in the world, snuggling up to me and giving me a flirtatious wink.

"Funny. At least one of you seems to thinks so," I muttered and shoved his arm off again.

Ephraim grinned at Thatcher as I pushed his arm off yet again.

No.
Slap.
No.

Enough.

I slapped at him again as he tried to sling his arm back up,
again.

Thatcher is worse than a mosquito!

Shoo fly!

Don't bother me!

Ephraim glanced down at me and his smile died.

"I didn't mean it like that. The stuff I said," he apologized, "You just took me by surprise is all. I'm not good with words and new people… and women make me all… uh, flibber gibbeted."

Flibber gibbeted?

Yup, that’s a good way to describe it.

Sure…

I cleared my throat and thought about what I should say.

Should I be nice?

Or should I let him have it?

Be nice, Vieve, it's not like you're gonna be here forever.

And you did promise Ruthie you'd try.

He did apologize.

"It's fine. I'm, erm,
sensitive
." Going for casual, I tried not to snicker at myself.

Sensitive, my ass. I'm down right surly and I know it!

"Let's forget it and move on, shall we?" I tried.

"Oh, sure!" he said quickly, nodding his head vigorously, "And I won't even ask you about that ball ya got juttin' out from your face like that below your lip. You won't hear a word from me about it. Nope. It don't even look much like a mini flag pole sticking outta there to me anymore. Nuh-uh. I won't mention how funny you dress or how short you..."

"Ephraim!" I shouted at the exuberant younger man.

He paused mid-word.

What is he, like nineteen, if even a day, with a beard?

"Yes, Miss Ferguson?" he said quickly, snapping out of it.

I cringed, outward
and
inward.

We’ll work on the miss crap later
, I promised myself as my eye started ticking again.

Tick… tick… tick…

"Don't be offended when I tell you this, because I have a funny feeling I'll be saying it a lot, but,
Ephraim, shut up!!!"

Thatcher bent over laughing, and I hip bumped him, sending him sprawling towards the ground.

"You too, blondie," I snapped and picked up my steps toward the house.