Nobody's Angel (19 page)

Her lack of response seemed to challenge him to go even further. “I used to watch you when you were younger, panting after him all the time. He was Ashley’s boyfriend, but that didn’t stop you. No, that was what made you do it.”

For the most part, true, Lucy thought as she sipped her tea.

“Now, he’s her husband and you are still whoring yourself out to him.”

Whoring seemed a little harsh, but that was Carl. Why go easy on someone when a sledgehammer would make your point more effectively?

“What is going on in here?” Lynne arrived in the doorway, armed and ready to join the battle.

Lucy felt numb as she kept her butt pressed against the counter and sipped her tea. It was like watching a show play out around her, as she stood in the center, there but not there, involved, but so totally detached.

The story always went a little something like this: Carl attacked, Lucy fought back, and Lynne flew right into the middle. They all had their preassigned roles in this melodrama and the lines really didn’t change that much. Lucy was always bad and unworthy, Carl was always self-righteous and cruel, and Lynne was always the rescuer. What a sorry bunch they were. Lucy and Carl would get worse. Carl would turn on Lynne, now playing the role of victim, and Lucy would roar in as defender. Carl attacked, Lucy fought back, and Lynne flew right into the middle. Lucy bit back a sigh. It didn’t matter one bit this morning.

She should have known better than to think last night had meant any more than scratching an itch. Richard had responded to a physical need, not an emotional one. Part of the blame was hers and her ridiculous expectations.

“Dad was expressing an opinion on my whereabouts last night,” Lucy responded to her mother.

Lynne looked momentarily confused by the change in script, but even now Lucy could see her rallying. “What did you say to her?”

“I told her she behaved like a whore over that Richard Hunter and she always has.”

“Carl.” Lynne rounded on her spouse. “That is no way to talk to our daughter.”

And like that they were back on track again.

“I’m going to have a shower.” Lucy placed her mug into the dishwasher.

“He didn’t mean it,” wailed Lynne at her back.

“Oh, I think he did.” Lucy straightened up and looked at her dad. “I think he meant every word. I think I have been pretty much a constant disappointment to him since the day I wasn’t born a boy.”

Lynne looked ready to wade in, but Lucy cut her off. “But I don’t care anymore.”

God, it felt so good to say that. It felt even better to know it was true.

“I’m not a whore. I may have made some questionable decisions when I was younger, but I am not a whore and I am not worthless and I don’t need anyone to tell me that.”

As exit lines went, it was pretty much the bomb. Lucy used it to get herself out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

It occurred to her, as she turned the shower up to its hottest, that it had been a long time since Carl’s opinion of her had been anything more than mildly annoying. The thing with Richard was going to hurt far longer. She’d gambled and lost.

Now, in the disappointing aftermath, she could see her own shattered hopes. That did not entirely take away her one night or make it meaningless. Only she had the power to do that. Lucy stepped under the hot water and let it wash over her.

It was over. After twelve years, it was finally over. It was time to grieve and then heal. Lucy was amazed she was being so together about all of this. She stepped slightly outside of herself and saw Lucy Flint coping with heartbreak and rotten fathers like she’d written the textbook.

That lasted for all of ten minutes. And then she started to cry. Apparently grieving had arrived with a vengeance.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Lucy had not expected this. Richard standing at her door, hot and sweaty in one of those silly, Lycra getups for cycling. His hair was all plastered to his head where his helmet had flattened it.

Her brain stuttered to a halt. She was not exactly thrilled to see him. Ah, jeez, Lucy almost sighed out loud. She was ecstatic to see him. She didn’t want to be and she definitely knew she shouldn’t be.

“So, um, this morning . . .” He ran a hand through his hair. It stuck straight up in the air like an antenna. “Not my proudest moment.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. Was she getting an apology or an explanation? Both? Neither? “You can say that again.”

He smiled, but resisted the gag. “The thing is, Luce, I totally lost it. I woke up this morning with you in my bed and it felt so amazing. I panicked.”

The panic thing sucked, but the middle bit really softened the blow.

“And now?” Lucy was softening, but not putty.

He was obviously ill at ease and fidgety in his own skin. It also helped to soothe the hurt a bit.

“Now . . .” He sighed and went at the hair again.

Lucy pressed her lips together as his hair channeled Bart Simpson.

“I haven’t got a clue. I know I behaved like a dick this morning, but I was really hoping you could give me a free pass on that one.”

“I probably owe you one or two of those,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Maybe we can call it even?” he asked softly, tentatively.

“Okay.” Lucy shivered in the cold wind whipping through the open door, but this felt more important. “So, we’re even. What happens next?”

“Man, you’re tough,” he groaned softly. “I don’t know, Lucy, but I do know that I am sick of fighting.” He shifted his helmet from one hand to the other. The helmet she had given him. “I thought, maybe, you’d like to come to dinner.”

“Dinner?” Lucy eyed him warily.

“At my house.” He made an abrupt gesture in that direction with his helmet. “Not like a date or anything,” he hurried on as she hesitated. “My mom is coming and Josh. I know they would both like to see you.”

“I don’t know, Richard.” Things were only getting more entangled with Richard and this morning had cut right through to the heart of her. It seemed a bit masochistic to be lining herself up for more hurt. On the other hand, she wanted to go. She wanted to take every moment she could before she went back to Seattle.

“Do it for my mom,” he coaxed, his eyes twinkling at her. “And Josh has been asking about you.”

“Am I going to get an apology with dinner?” She could feel herself sliding straight into a hell of her own making.

“Do you want one?”

“What do you think?”

He ducked his head, but the tiny beginnings of a sheepish grin hovered around his mouth. “I think you want a bit of groveling.”

“Well, then, look at the brain on you.”

He looked up at her. “I can grovel.”

“Really?” She pursed her lips and glared at him skeptically.

“I was married for seven years, I learned a thing or two.” He held his hands out wide in supplication.

“Good.”

“But I prefer not to do it on an empty stomach.”

“Fair enough.”

“So.” He shifted the helmet again. “Dinner? Tonight?”

Inside Lucy, a tussle was going on. She didn’t know if there would ever be a time when she wouldn’t want to be with him and he was here on her doorstep asking. On the other hand, she’d spent this morning trying to put his behavior in perspective and move on. A sensible, mature adult would assure him she was not angry about this morning, but would politely decline his offer.

“Please, Luce,” he said, reading the hesitation on her face. “I was a total dickhead and I would like to try and make it up to you.”

“I’m not sure. I’ll think about it.” It was a token protest and she didn’t think he was any more convinced than she was. “What time?”

“You’ll come?” A huge grin of relief split his face. He’d been really nervous. Lucy stared at him in amazement.

“Maybe.”

“Be there at eight.”

“I said maybe,” she had to shout, because he was already on the move. She peered around the doorjamb to watch him sprint away from the house. He leapt the four steps to the driveway and slid a little on the pavement.

She closed the door slowly. Caution waited for her behind the door.
You should have said no,
it whispered to her.
You should have made him work a bit harder.
Yes, but where was the fun in that. A smile tilted the corners of her mouth upward. It would be good to see Donna and Josh.

“Lu Lu?” Her mother’s voice drifted down the stairs. “Who was that?”

Lynne appeared at the top of the stairs wearing unhappy all over her face.

“It was Richard,” Lucy replied, but she had the feeling her mother already knew that.

“Did he want to see me?” Lynne folded her arms and tucked her hands into the sleeves of her cardigan.

“No.” Lucy drew a careful breath. “He came to invite me to dinner with his mother and Josh.”

“Oh.” Lynne loaded the syllable with meaning.

 

 

Richard saw them from his kitchen window. His mother and Lucy, chatting away like sorority sisters. Lucy had always fit right in with his family. This might be a stupid idea, inviting Lucy to dinner with his mother and brother. Ashley would have a shit fit if she heard about it. Richard shrugged off the thought. Ashley had made her decision. He waited for the crushing sense of failure to hit him. All he got was ‘meh.’

Lucy’s laugh reached him, muted by the window glass.

Were Lucy and Donna talking about him? He felt childish even thinking it, but he wanted an answer anyway.

He reached the front door before them.

Donna smiled up at him, happy to see him. “Look who I found?” She motioned to Lucy and her smile grew broader.

He was getting the maternal seal of approval. At thirty-two, it shouldn’t matter anymore, but who was he kidding? He was Donna’s boy through and through. He smiled back at his mother.

Richard turned to greet Lucy and his chest tightened. He forced himself to breathe. She was wearing makeup tonight, her green eyes all hot and smoky, drawing him deeper. There was something shiny on her mouth that made him want to suck on her bottom lip. He looked away quickly. Distraction offered itself up to him, trying to make itself invisible between his mother’s ankles.

“What is that rat doing here?”

Rasputin gave him a reproachful doggy stare.

“Hush now, Richard.” Donna disentangled the quivering mutt. “You are frightening Rasputin.”

“And he is dripping on my floor.” Richard jabbed his finger at the pool of melting snow surrounding the pitiful-looking creature.

“Then,” Donna said, sticking her chin out. “You will fetch me a towel and I will clean it up. Honestly, Richard, the way you worry about your floors is like a middle-aged housewife.”

“Those are real birch,” he yelped in protest.

“And you are becoming a nag.” Donna hung up her coat and got to work on the laces of her boots. She rose and sniffed the air. “What are you cooking for us?”

“Pasta.” Richard was aware of Lucy hanging up her coat. He turned to take it from her and stopped. He nearly swallowed his tongue

She wore a black dress that ended several incredible inches above her knees. A pair of heels made her legs stretch on forever. Last night, he’d had those legs wrapped around him. Lust punched through him like a fist.

Lucy looked up and caught his stare. A blush of color crept over her cheeks.

He wanted to know what she was thinking. If it was anything near where his thoughts were going, this was going to be a long, long night.

“Oh, darling,” Donna chattered away oblivious to the snap of sexual tension. She reached up and patted his cheek and Richard jerked his eyes away from Lucy. “You know how I adore pasta. How are you doing it?”

“Seafood, garlic,” he said, shrugging, and turned back to the kitchen. He needed to get it together. His mother would see straight through him.

 

 

“So,
belle fille
”—Donna’s arm slid around Lucy’s waist—“you and my son have made friends.”

“Or something.” Richard said from up ahead.

Lucy choked back a laugh.

Donna rolled her eyes and made a shushing motion at his back. “It is good to see you.”

Lucy dropped her head to hide her face. Donna made something burn bright and hopeful in her chest. A sense of belonging that she couldn’t afford to acknowledge. This might have been a really big mistake, coming here tonight.

Donna gave her waist another squeeze before letting go and following Richard into the kitchen.

Lucy wondered what the rest of the house looked like. She had only seen this room.
And the bedroom,
whispered a naughty little voice in her mind.

The back door opened on a blast of cold night air and Lucy turned.

“Well, well, well, Lucy Flint, in the flesh.”

Lucy found a veritable man-god shrugging out of his long black coat. Even from here, Lucy could see the coat was cashmere. Holy cow, but he looked good. Lucy gawped openly at him.

Joshua Hunter had been a fine-looking boy; as a man, he was ridiculously beautiful. He was well worth a second and a third look. The grin Josh threw her said he knew it, as well.

“Josh.” Lucy responded to his grin with a shy smile. “How are you?”

“How do I look?” he shot back.

“Like a girl,” Richard barked from the stove.

“Oh, please.” Josh grinned back, undeterred. He looked down at his Paul Smith floral shirt and back up at Richard. “What do you know?”

Lucy’s smile widened. When you looked like Josh Hunter, your ego was fairly bulletproof.

“Man.” Josh turned back to her and gave her a bad-boy grin.

Josh’s gaze swept her from top to toe and his eyes gleamed appreciatively. “You’re looking good, Lucy.”

“Liar. Great shirt.” She giggled, and she never giggled. There was just something about Josh Hunter.

Josh grinned. “Come here, beautiful, and give me some sugar.”

Without waiting for a response, he strode toward her and swept her right off her feet and into a monstrous hug. His body beneath that hug was tight and hard and Lucy was willing to bet it would be worth getting a look at him out of his fancy shirt.

She was laughing and breathless when he put her on her feet again. Thank God, despite his near godlike beauty, Josh Hunter had never done it for her.

“It’s good to see you, Lucy.” He held her at arm’s length. “You and those legs.” Laughter played in the depths of his eyes. Richard and Donna had blue eyes. Josh ramped it up all the way to indigo and surrounded them with lashes that had no business belonging to a man.

“Excuse me,” Donna said, coming to her rescue before Josh could make her blush any more. “Am I invisible?”

Josh strode off in his mother’s direction. “Hey, good looking.” He gave Donna a noisy kiss on the cheek. “What’s cooking?”

“Nothing.” Donna tried for repressive, but her eyes, clearly, hadn’t received the memo and twinkled back at him.

Lucy watched them and felt the familiar allure of this family wash over her. Josh was Donna’s charmer. Richard was her rock, while Thomas was her baby. All three of them fine, beautiful men any mother would be proud of.

A pang of nostalgia had Lucy blinking rapidly to clear the tears prickling the back of her eyelids. She had loved spending time with the Hunters. They always felt like a real family. In the Hunter household, people were allowed to be themselves. When she was with them, Lucy never felt as if she were constantly failing some sort of bizarre test. She used to sit amongst all three boys and Des, letting the sounds of argument and laughter wash over her, and pretend she was one of them. For the first time, she felt the tangible loss of Des. She looked up and caught Donna watching her.

The older woman gave her a gentle smile, as if she understood what Lucy was thinking.

Richard opened a bottle of wine. He poured a glass for his mother and then Josh. He set a glass of sparkling water in front of her. She smiled her thanks and their eyes met. His eyes glowed hot at her.

“Great dress,” he murmured, so quietly only she could hear him.

Lucy’s pulse picked up the pace
.
She dragged her gaze away and watched him go to work on some onions and garlic, his long fingers working quickly and efficiently.

“So, Lucy?” Josh slid his arm around her waist and tugged her against his side. He smelled deliciously sinful. “Did you and Richard kiss and make up?”

“Jesus!” Richard glared at his brother.

“What?” Josh shrugged unrepentantly. “It was a bit of humor, Richard. Lighten up a little, would you?”

Richard growled and turned his attention back to his mother. He and Donna started a conversation, speaking in French so rapid Lucy lost track of what was being said.

“It’s why he’s the favorite,” Josh said, as he jerked his head at Richard and Donna. “Because of the French. Clearly, I’m the better brother, but all he has to do is
parlez
a phrase or two and I’m dog meat.”

“Then learn French,” Lucy returned tartly.

“Ah, baby,” Josh gave her the smolder. “I know all the French I need to.”

“I bet you do.” Lucy ruined the effect with a giggle.

“Would you give it a rest?” Richard growled at his brother suddenly.

Lucy looked up in surprise.

Josh blinked, recovered fast, and gave Richard a look loaded with challenge.

They never changed, these two. They could turn a clambake into a head-to-head challenge.