Not So New in Town (2 page)

“And your hair factored into taking his business to the next level? What am I missing here?” He appeared baffled.

More than she cared to reveal. Thinking about her ex-boyfriend made all the hurt and anger bubble to the surface. And talking about him with Brogan, who was one of the good guys, made her feel foolish and stupid. Lucy would curl up and die if Brogan laughed, or worse, pitied her. She didn’t lay the blame on others for her own mess. But that didn’t mean she wanted everyone bantering about it. Talking about Anthony only infuriated her.
The
temp
pimp
rodent.

Lucy motioned toward the road. “Are we going to crawl to town? Because I can walk faster than you’re driving.” Brogan gave her a questioning look as he accelerated and resumed his normal speed.

Lucy almost bit her tongue at her unnecessary rudeness. “Thank you. I’m sorry for sounding testy.”

“You didn’t sound testy. You sounded mad.”

Not good. Not good at all. The whole reason for her coming home was to help Julia and to show everyone she’d changed. Riding into town with steam pouring from her ears and acting like a mad Doberman would not be putting her best foot forward.

“Not that I blame you. Tell me about the temp pimp rodent.”
What?
Brogan answered her shocked expression. “You said temp pimp rodent out loud.”

Holy crud
. She was worse off than she imagined, leaking her thoughts with loose lips had to be a sign of loconess. Crossing her arms, she said in a tight voice, “Well, if you must know, Anthony and I worked together before we started dating. He runs his own temp agency, and I did a lot of work for him.” Before he reneged and cheated her out of a partnership deal. The conniving, lying, heartless jerk.

Brogan nodded. “Temp pimp rodent. Got it. Makes perfect sense.”

Clearly it didn’t, but Lucy ignored his sarcasm. “You don’t know the half of it,” she mumbled under her breath.

* * *

Brogan could only imagine. Lucy had
catastrophe
written all over her. But in a funny, fascinating, weird way. He liked that about her. “I can feel a story there. Lay it on me. Scale of one to ten, ten being the highest, I’ll score it for hilarity content.” Brogan glanced at her profile. Soft pink highlighted her cheeks. From wind or embarrassment, he had no clue, but he admired the flush.

Lucy pursed her lips. “What makes you think it’s funny?”

“Hunch. Sixth sense. ESP.” The sound of snorting came from her general direction as she rummaged through the jumbo handbag resting on her lap.

“Cheetos?” The smell of fake, factory-produced cheese assailed his nostrils as Lucy waved a bag in his direction.

“God no,” he snarled. “And neither will you.” He snatched the bag from her hand.

“Hey!”

Brogan shook his head, shoving the Cheetos beneath his seat. “Little Lucy Doolan, I think it was destiny that we met again today.”

She swigged some water from a bottle she’d pulled from the bottom of her bag. God only knew what else lurked in there. “How do you figure? So you can monitor my diet?”

A curl of pleasure bloomed from the bottom of his gut to the top of his wind-blown hair. Lucy would be his test market. If he could get her on board, an obvious junk-food-aholic, then maybe his business would survive in Harmony after all. “Hunch, sixth—”

“Yeah, yeah. ESP. Whatever.” She gripped the dashboard, leaning toward the windshield as he turned off the service road and down Main Street, the heart and soul of Harmony, where most of the local businesses resided.

“When was the last time you were home?” he asked.

Lucy’s shoulders tensed. “Couple of years ago. For Bertie Anderson’s wedding. You know she married Keith Morgan, that famous ex–tennis player, right?”

Brogan knew him real well. Keith had managed to strong-arm him into opening his store in Harmony with statistical projections, data, and a hefty investment. After opening the Keith Morgan Tennis Academy a couple of years ago, traffic in Harmony had increased. And Keith had taken a special interest in sprucing up Main Street and attracting new businesses. His proposal had included BetterBites providing concessions at the academy. Healthy food choices for tennis players of all ages. Endless possibilities. And Brogan had had enough smarts to jump on board at the ground level. Feeding athletes was his specialty.

“Yeah. Keith’s cool. Bertie seems real happy. Her baby boy is going to be as big as Keith one day, and her stepdaughter is a sweetie too.” Lucy nodded, but Brogan wondered if she heard him. He slowed as someone pulled onto Main from the parking lot at the Daily Grind, the local coffee shop. Lucy adjusted the baseball cap over her eyes. People bustled over the brick paver sidewalks, browsing and window-shopping. He straightened in his seat as he tracked a family of four he didn’t recognize entering his store.

“What are you doing in Harmony?” she asked. “Hey, what’s that place?” She inched up from her slouched position as they crawled past BetterBites.

“That’s what I’m doing…for now.” He wished he could pull over and follow the family inside, but he needed to get Lucy settled first.

“Huh?” She glanced at him.

Brogan nodded at BetterBites. “That’s my newest location.” Whipping her head around, surprise lit her eyes as she lowered her sunglasses for a better look. “My fourth store. I have three more up North.” And his fifth and largest location would open in New York City, if he could get this one running smoothly. Brogan thrived on challenges, but the heavy breathing down his neck from his investors made his adrenaline speed up, and not in a healthy way. By September sixteenth, his butt needed to be the hell out of Harmony and in NYC. Simple. Better marketing and better customers. The reoccurring tension churned his stomach.

“Wow. What is it?”

He laughed as his anxiety eased. “Something you’re gonna learn to love.” Along with everyone else in this offbeat Southern town.

Lucy wished they’d move it along. Cruising down Main Street in a flashy convertible with Brogan Reese made her stick out worse than the last time she sat atop the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile during the Fourth of July parade dressed as a bottle of mustard. Although rushing to Julia’s side to play nursemaid didn’t inspire warm and snugglies, spending time with her nephew did.

Lucy slid lower in the cushioned leather seat as Brogan waved to a group of women walking with covered casseroles. Must be potluck camp-song night at the Harmony Community Center. Once a month, Harmony Huggers got together and sang along to an old player piano while sampling new recipes and drinking spiked punch. Drunk dialing usually followed, and husbands or significant others would be called to the rescue. Coco’s Cab had gotten smart and now waited out front to cart the tipsy women home.

Lucy really wanted to know if Brogan had moved back home for good, or if Harmony was only a bump in the road. She prayed he had more exciting places to be. She didn’t need any more Brogan encounters. The past fifteen minutes in his car had been enough to last a lifetime. Being with Brogan brought back a myriad of flashbacks. Not all pleasant, as she remembered how he smiled and hung on Julia’s every word while Lucy worried if Julia was spreading more lies about her.

Lucy glanced from beneath her lashes and watched as the wind whipped his sun-streaked tawny hair, which kind of ticked her off, since she knew he didn’t spend hours in a salon chair with foils sticking from his head like some sort of new-age cactus. Just looking at all that natural male hotness made her crabby. His big shoulders, tanned arms, and muscled thighs left her with a queasy stomach. Sparkly green eyes, cute smile revealing white teeth, and nice strong hands used for lifting boxes and opening stubborn peanut butter jars. Brogan Reese had been living in Lucy’s dreams for years, and he needed to remain there. She couldn’t afford getting all starry-eyed and moondoggie over him. Not this time around. One crumbled heart needing major repair was more than she could handle right now.

Heat from embarrassment infused her neck and cheeks as she recalled that night after the football game when she’d waited for Brogan like she always had. After a huge win against Harmony’s biggest rival, he hadn’t seemed himself. Lucy had only wanted to make sure he was okay. She’d had no intentions of sitting on the bleachers with him or talking to him…or almost kissing him. Lucy bit the inside of her cheek and started cataloging the urgent things needing attention, like opening a new bank account, replacing the chargers for her phones, and buying more Hershey’s chocolate. Anything to keep her mind off the past and Hottie Hotcakes burning the seat next to her.

The sleek Jag cruised through one of the older residential neighborhoods. A canopy created by huge oaks lowered the heat level by at least ten degrees. Despite the welcome shade, Lucy’s body temperature shot to boiling as she spied the redbrick, two-story Georgian-style house on Daffodil Lane that used to be her home. But it hadn’t felt like home in a very long time. Not since the day Julia had moved in…twenty-some years ago.

“You okay?” he asked.

Okay? She’d rather be cleaning gas station toilets with her bare hands than coming home to nurse her nemesis. And what did she know about babysitting her fifteen-year-old nephew? Lucy’s insides shriveled. She loved her nephew Parker and had enjoyed playing with him, but it had been a while. A long while. And now Parker was all grown up. He probably didn’t even remember her. Shaking off the shroud of doubt, Lucy straightened her spine.

Brogan pulled into the circular driveway lined with clusters of pink and purple daylilies, and stopped the car. “You don’t look so good. When was the last time you ate? Real food, not garbage?”

“Breakfast. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” She hefted her handbag over her shoulder. “Thanks for the lift. If you’ll just pop the trunk, I’ll unload my stuff and be on my way.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”

“What gave it away?” He narrowed his gorgeous green eyes. “I’m kidding. Clearly you’ve gone beyond the call of duty, but I can take it from here.” She hopped from his car and moved to the rear.
Hang
tough, Luce.
She couldn’t allow herself to fall in the lust-filled Brogan trap. Not this time.

Brogan stretched his tanned arm across the back of the seat and peered over his shoulder. “You never answered my question. What brings you home?”

Lucy removed the UNC baseball cap and tossed it on the backseat, shaking her hair loose. “Your girlfriend and her baby, for starters. Or should I be saying
your
baby?” Loose lips struck again. Ugly words suspended in the air between them. She could’ve smacked herself.

A knot appeared on Brogan’s jaw; his expression darkened. “Aren’t you too sophisticated for small-town gossip?” He met her by the trunk.

Lucy shrugged, trying to feign disinterest even though her heart raced and her palms sweated. “I’ve heard the same thing everyone else has heard.”

“And you believe it?” His brows drew together in a fierce frown, and murky green eyes shot sparks of anger. “Shame on you. Of all people, you should know how rumors spread, hurting those involved.”

Heat prickled her cheeks. Boy, did she ever. And she hated being reminded of it from the Golden Boy of Harmony. She’d been the brunt of many convoluted stories over the years, hence the nickname Loco Lucy. A part of her didn’t believe the wild stories about Brogan and Julia. But on some level, natural curiosity had taken root, making her wonder what had really gone down.

“Parker’s not my kid.” His voice deepened along with his intensity. “And neither is this one.”

All righty then. Hope sparked to life inside Lucy only to be doused by a big bucket of doubt. To be fair, she needed to hear Julia’s side of the story.

Pop
went the trunk, and Brogan started yanking bags out with unnecessary force. “I’ll get thos—” She tried reaching past him, but his broad back blocked her access. A whiff of clean soap, layered with exotic coffee and expensive leather, made her pause. Wonderful smell…all Brogan. She could take a long bubble bath in his smell. Unable to resist, Lucy leaned toward his white polo shirt and sniffed just as he turned toward her. His odd look confirmed she’d been busted. Lucy stumbled back, face aflame.

Brogan chose to ignore it. “After you,” he ordered, jerking his head toward the front door.

Two things: she hated that she’d upset him,
and
she dreaded entering the house. Lucy couldn’t decide which one disturbed her more.

“Look, Brogan, I’m sorry—”

“Save it.” The jumbo box of Pop-Tarts nudged her hip. Dragging her feet up the front steps, she gave a sharp knock on the solid, mauve-painted door. Yes, mauve, thanks to Babs, her ex-stepmother-turned-NASCAR-lover groupie. Lucy turned the brass knob and pushed the door open. Unlike Atlanta, where she’d been living, residents of Harmony left front doors open and cars unlocked. Crazy. But Harmony had never been a hotbed of crime.

Her feet tangled with a pair of dirty, size eleven football cleats as she stepped inside the foyer. Brogan followed close behind, dropping her bags on the dark, rose-painted Chippendale bench serving as a catchall. Familiar smells bombarded her, from the lemon-scented, polished wood floors to the floral potpourri favored by Babs. Afraid of looking past the foyer, Lucy stood frozen to the spot.

“You gonna be okay?” Brogan’s gentle voice brought her back to the present, making her feel worse, because he was being nice. A wave of nostalgia rushed over her. She could remember waiting by the front window for Brogan to pull up in his used red Ford Ranger. She’d always wanted to be the first to open the door and secretly savor the exclusive smile he gave her before Julia entered the room and hogged all his attention.

Lucy shook the past from her head. “S-sure. Just going to take a little getting used to, that’s all.” She willed her voice to sound convincing.

He chuckled softly. “You’ll knock ’em dead. I guarantee it.” His crooked smile warmed her insides, making little ladybugs dance in her stomach.

She was thrilled to see him smiling and not frowning. “Thanks. And listen, I didn’t mean what I said…you know, out there when I was being a Twinkie-sponged jerk. You came to my rescue, and I acted…um, like an ingrate. Will you accept my apology?”

“Nope.”

Lucy looked up into laughing green eyes. “Why not?”

“Because it’s going to take more than a lame apology. You owe me, little Lu-Lu.” He reached for a hank of her hair, twirling it around his finger. “Payback’s a bitch.” Lucy’s jaw dropped, and Brogan’s endearing, lovely, crooked smile, irresistible only moments ago, suddenly lost all its appeal.

“Don’t look so appalled.” He fiddled with her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. Appalled? She was terrified. Terrified of falling for him all over again.

Then he pulled her forward. “Ow.” She narrowed her eyes, reclaiming her hair with her hand. “Look, I’m about to dive into a very stressful situation with Julia. I’m not interested in hooking up with some high school crush…er, classmate.”
Jelly
bellies
. She hoped he didn’t notice the slip. No such luck.

“That’s not what I had in mind, but now that you mentioned it…might not be a bad idea.”

No
freakin’ way.

“Look, Bro. Wrong sister,” she snapped.

Another odd look came over him, and he paused. Lucy held her breath, hoping… Her mind went blank.

After what felt like ten years, he said in a low voice, “I don’t think so.” He reached for the door. “Glad you’re home, Little Lucy.”

She blinked, and he was gone.