Not So New in Town (5 page)

“Football practice starts next week, and he’s going out for quarterback. You’ll need to make sure he gets to practice, has clean workout clothes, eats three healthy meals per day, drinks plenty of water…you know the drill.”

Uh…not really. Lucy didn’t have much experience in taking care of fifteen-year-old boys…especially one with a bad attitude. “About that meal thing…er, when you say
healthy
, what exactly do you mean? Like Lean Cuisines? Or low cal on the Taco Bell menu?”
Twip, twip,
she wrapped a strand of hair around her finger.

Julia stopped reaching for her laptop, slamming Lucy with an incredulous look. “I mean healthy. Like steamed veggies, grilled chicken, homemade pasta. You need to make him protein shakes and make sure he packs granola bars and fresh fruit for snacks. I don’t want him eating crap from Taco Hell or any other fast-food joint.”

Funny. Parker didn’t share this love of healthy eating, if all those candy and burger wrappers Lucy had thrown in the garbage were any indication. “Uh, Julia, you must’ve missed the email, but I’m no chef.” Lucy crossed her arms to stop from twirling her hair. “I can barely boil water, and from those uneaten eggs and gagging noises you were making…I think you know what I’m talking about.”

“I realize you’re not a chef, but surely you can sauté—”

“That would be a big NO. I can’t sauté, flambé, or soufflé. But I do run a mean microwave. I can heat all kinds of food up in less than three minutes.”

Julia’s lovely blue eyes narrowed in what Lucy remembered as her bitchy glare-down. Anybody within striking distance of that glare felt fried, sizzled, or toasted. How appropriate, since they were discussing food.

“You can’t be serious, Lucy. How can you be thirty-five and not know how to cook?”

“Thirty-two. You’re the one pushing thirty-five,” Lucy snapped. Immediately regretting her tone, she said, “Look, learning to cook was never a priority for me. I always preferred working to cooking. But—”

“Whatever. Listen, you’ve got to figure something out. I can’t be stressed wondering if Parker is eating healthy.” She clutched her rounded baby bump. “I’m starting to feel sick already,” she moaned.

Lucy jumped up and placed her palm on Julia’s forehead. Cool as a mountain brook. “Just calm down. Don’t curdle that baby’s milk. I’ll figure out something.”

Julia’s eyes drifted closed as she groaned. “Okay. Stop poking me.” She nestled her head against the pillows. “For tonight, order takeout from the Dog. They have delivery service now. There’s an envelope of money on the kitchen counter. Make sure he doesn’t eat only French fries and milk shakes.”

The Dogwood Bar and Grill was known to all the locals as the Dog. One of Lucy’s best friends, Bertie, owned it with her brother, Cal. The same Bertie who’d married Keith Morgan, the drop-dead fabulous, finest piece of man-flesh this side of the Atlantic Harmony had ever seen.

“Oh, and order me a spinach salad with a side of balsamic vinaigrette dressing. Tell them to hold the chopped egg and onion, but add croutons and a little Parmesan cheese.”

“Let me get my pad so I can take all this down.” Sarcasm laced Lucy’s voice, but Julia didn’t seem to notice…or care.

Her eyes remained closed, and she added, “And a baked potato with a tiny dollop of sour cream…not too much. And caffeine-free iced green tea. Unsweetened.”

Next to the cut crystal lamp on the nightstand lay a notepad with Julia’s name printed across the top in hot pink. Lucy grabbed it. “My name is Lucy, and I’ll be your server…anything else, ma’am?” she drawled as she scribbled Julia’s complicated order.

One eye peeked open. “Make sure Parker gets to bed on time. He needs his rest.”

“He’s fifteen. What exactly is bedtime? I can assure you, he’s not gonna want me tucking him in.”

“He’s fifteen, thinks he’s twenty-eight, and acts like he’s six. So, yes, you need to make sure he washes his face, brushes his teeth, and is tucked in with lights
out
by ten thirty. No later.” Julia rolled her head toward Lucy. “And take his phone. He’s not allowed to charge his phone in his room at night. Charge it on the kitchen counter. Also, no videos, TV, or computer.”

Oh, goody. She could add drill sergeant to her résumé. “Dang. You’re tough. I’m assuming all these rules are spelled out and he knows the drill.”

“Don’t assume anything when you’re dealing with a teenage boy,” Julia mumbled before her eyes closed. “Oh, and Lucy”—her voice barely above a whisper— “don’t even think about leaving town. I need you.”

Julia’s breathing evened out, indicating she’d dropped dead asleep. Massive amounts of guilt coupled with a little sadness seared Lucy’s pinched heart. She adjusted Julia’s blanket and gave her hand a gentle pat. She had no clue why Julia had never married and had kept the fathers of her babies a mystery, allowing Harmony to speculate and gossip, instead of setting the record straight. They’d never been close or shared those kinds of confidences, and Lucy had never gotten up the nerve to ask. But Julia must’ve had her reasons. She took motherhood seriously and wanted to do right by her kids. Why else would she be having another baby out of wedlock? Lucy had to admire that. Any single, working mother deserved that little bit of respect.

Lucy turned off the bedside lamp and removed the computer from Julia’s lap. She picked up the plate of uneaten eggs and tiptoed from the room. Time to hunt down her darling nephew and have a little come to Jesus talk.

Brogan glanced around the crowded bar as he nursed his second beer at the infamous Dog. For newcomers, the Dog took some getting used to, with its green-and-yellow Dalmatian-spotted vinyl booths, zebra-striped barstools, and chicken-wire pendant lights. Not your typical small-town diner. But it always drew a crowd, and this Friday night was no exception.

Javier had left a few minutes ago to check into his room at Hazel’s Boarding House, the only place to rent a room near Main Street. Hazel and Frank Conway, both pushing eighty, had converted their three-story Victorian into a quaint bed and breakfast. Brogan would’ve invited Javier to stay with him, but he’d hired Bertie Anderson Morgan as his interior designer, and she’d already started renovations on his mother’s house, making it uninhabitable for guests.

“Hey there, Brogan!” Bertie wove her way around the colorful tables to reach him at the bar. “Got some flooring samples to show you, and I need your approval.”

Brogan stood, scooting his barstool down to make room. “Hey. Where’s Keith?”

“Sent him home with Maddie and the baby. He says all the pros at the academy really love BetterBites. I’ve been meaning to check it out.”

Brogan squeezed her shoulder. “No worries. I’d rather you finish the house so I can get it sold.” He motioned the bartender over as he offered her a stool. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh, no. Heading home. Can’t work these shifts anymore. My feet are killing me.”

He glanced at the feet in question and raised his brows. “Woman, they should be, in those ridiculously high contraptions of torture.”

Bertie shimmied her curvaceous hips onto the barstool and turned her small foot as she admired her strappy silver shoes. The bartender slid another icy mug of beer in his direction. “They’re my favorite wedges.”

Brogan shook his head but remained quiet. He’d learned from Kathryn, his ex-wife, not to question females about their love affairs with shoes.
Zap.
Yep, it still hurt.

“You decide to list your house with Julia?” Bertie gave him a pointed look. “She’s the best…even stuck in bed.”

“Probably.” Did he have a choice? To not use Julia as his realtor would seem petty, and he didn’t need any more negative gossip. Then again, to start working with Julia would fuel the rampant speculation over whether they’d get back together.

Even though Keith Morgan had presented a solid business plan with growth potential, opening BetterBites was only one reason why he hadn’t hit the trail yet. Unresolved issues from his past was another reason why he was sticking around.

“Heard you picked Lucy up today on the side of the road. I give her credit for coming home to help Julia and take care of Parker, but she’s gonna go bonkers if she doesn’t find something else to keep her occupied.”

Brogan shoved his unwanted thoughts from his mind. “She seemed a little nervous about being home.”

“She and Julia aren’t very close. They still have unresolved differences.” Bertie snapped her fingers. “Hey, you should talk to Lucy about marketing. She could really help if you need someone for BetterBites.”

Now that was good news worth sinking his teeth into. Brogan set his beer down slowly. “Really?”

“She’s amazing. She helped me on a couple of projects, and Keith plans to talk to her about promoting one of his tournaments.”

“If she’s so awesome, why is she here? I got the impression she didn’t have a choice.”

Bertie shrugged. “She got burned bad in a business deal. I don’t know all the particulars, and it’s not my story to tell, but being home and reconnecting with some of her old friends will be good for her.” Bertie straightened the condiment rack on top of the bar. “Hate to leave you alone. Is your friend coming back?”

“Nah. Javier is settling in at Hazel’s.”

“Ooo, sorry to hear that. You know Hazel has Bible study on Wednesday nights, and attendance is mandatory for her boarders.”

He grinned into his beer. “I know that. But Javie doesn’t.”

Bertie laughed. “You trying to run him off?”

“Javie’s a charmer. He’ll have them eating out of his hand and probably converting to Catholicism before he leaves.”

“Conways are die-hard Methodists. They will welcome the challenge.” She chuckled and patted his arm. “I’ll be by first thing tomorrow with those samples.”

“Thanks.”

Bertie eased off the barstool. “See you then—oh, it’s Lucy. Luce. Over here!” She waved as he peered over his shoulder toward the entrance. Lucy maneuvered around the colorful tables, wearing a tight knit top that did nothing to disguise her curves, over snug jeans, a grimace marring her face. She clutched the funky handbag over her shoulder, ducking her head as she worked her way across the bar.

“Loco Lucy! Is that you?”

“Hey, Lucy, glad you’re home.”

“Look, it’s Lucy. We’ve missed you, girl.”

Lucy hadn’t gotten two feet before everyone at the Dog seemed to perk up and give a shout out. Brogan watched in wonder as the imaginary welcome wagon practically barreled her over in its eagerness to greet her. Looking embarrassed, Lucy kept her head tucked as she waved and smiled. Shit. He’d give his right arm to receive a welcome like that. He’d encountered only polite nods and condolences about his sainted mother on top of nosy inquiries about his relationship with Julia. Lucy had been the one who’d left town like the prodigal son. And like the Gospel story, returned home to welcoming arms and fatted calf.

As she approached the bar, her feet, clad in soft-pink Keds, hesitated when she spied him next to Bertie. With a resigned shrug, she continued across the colorful terrazzo floor.

“Where’s Parker? You lose him already?” Bertie asked, and then ordered a margarita on the rocks, no salt.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Lucy said, horror registering on her face. “He’s home. I had dinner delivered from here for him and Julia. I’m thankful for any help I can get.”

Brogan stood and pulled a barstool out for Lucy on his left, while Bertie hovered on his right. Another hesitation. Brogan waited, locking gazes with Lucy. Stepping closer, his heartbeat turned erratic. Gray eyes widening, Lucy appeared to suffer from the same malady. Finally, she sighed and hopped up on the stool.

“Are all fifteen-year-old boys sarcastic, nasty, and rude? I don’t remember our friends from high school being—” Lucy stopped, as if mentioning high school was taboo in his presence.

“Drink. You look like you need it.” Bertie slid the icy margarita in a blue Mason jar Lucy’s way. “Most of the teenage guys we knew were really nice. Unless you’re thinking about Buck Evans, that stupid pothead. Remember when he set the boys’ locker room on fire?”

Good ole Buck, the dumb fuck. Brogan had forgotten all about him. “He did more than set the locker room on fire. Remember, he flew his boxer shorts up the flagpole and got caught by Deputy Dog, the security guard?”

“I’d forgotten about that,” Bertie said, grinning.

No longer able to contain her laughter, Lucy choked as margarita went down the wrong pipe. Brogan patted her on the back. “You okay? Need some water?”

She wheezed and laughed simultaneously, clutching her throat. Hank the bartender filled a glass of water, and Lucy reached for it, gulping half of it down. “Th-thanks. I’m good.” Brogan pressed his palm into her warm back and felt the catch of breath. A slight blush highlighted her cheeks, and she shot him a sideways glance as he reluctantly removed his hand. Yep. Funny Lucy was no more immune to him than he was to her. And didn’t that complicate matters?

“Try not to choke to death.” Bertie chuckled. “Hank, bring Lucy another ’rita on the house and whatever Brogan’s drinking. I’m shoving off.” Bertie gave Lucy a brief hug. “I’m here for you if you need anything,” she said close to her ear but loud enough for Brogan to hear. “Don’t kill your nephew. And remember, not all the guys we knew were jerk-wads. Some were adorable and sweet in their obvious, cocky way.” Direct hit. Bertie gave Brogan a wink and then said to Lucy, “Don’t forget…Keith wants to talk to you about some marketing ideas.”

Lucy nodded. “Tell Keith I’ll call him this week.”

“Bye, y’all.” Bertie waved as she left, and Lucy stared after her as she exited the bar.

A good minute passed, then he said to the back of Lucy’s head, “You going to keep ignoring me?” Her shoulders stiffened, and he pulled a strand of silky hair to gain her attention.

“Stop that! You keep yanking on my hair.” Stormy gray eyes met his.

Lucy wanted to erect big stone walls with thick mortar, and Brogan couldn’t blame her. On this, he kinda had to agree. Too much weird history and too many years had passed. They both had lives away from Harmony. But an alluring warmth that emanated from Lucy snagged his attention, a warmth with the power to penetrate his dormant heart and make him feel alive again.

He let the strand of hair slip through his fingers. “It’s irresistible. I always liked pulling it, especially back in high school when you had all those curls.”

Brogan smiled at her skeptical face. “Still don’t understand how you get it so straight.”

Lucy gathered her blond hair up in both hands and deftly knotted it on top her head. She snorted, and her heavy hair knot listed to one side. “The only thing you ever liked doing in high school was Julia.”

“True. Doesn’t mean I didn’t notice your hair.”

“Hey, Loco Lucy! We heard you were back. How does it feel?”

“Not planning to lop off any more of Julia’s hair, are you?”

Julia’s best buds from high school, Amanda Hobbs and Marcia Williams, slipped onto barstools next to Lucy.

At the sound of her nickname, Lucy cringed, flashing her discomfort before her features veiled in indifference. The town meant no disrespect. It just had a weird, in-your-face way of showing its affection. Everyone loved Lucy, except maybe Julia’s two high school besties. Brogan resisted the desire to tuck Lucy into his side for safekeeping and tell her she had nothing to worry about.

“Hey, Brogan. Have you seen Julia?” Amanda picked up a menu from the bar. “It’s so cool you’re back, and Julia’s, you know…available.” She winked at Brogan.

Pain pricked behind his eyes.
Note
to
everyone:
not
going
to
happen.

Lucy chugged her margarita and slammed the glass back down on the bar. As she reached for her handbag, Brogan grabbed her arm.

“Wait,” he whispered. Against his better judgment, he rubbed her wrist with his thumb, amazed at the softness of her skin. Lucy tugged her arm away as if she’d been burned.

Brogan countered by resting a heavy hand on her shoulder to keep her from bolting as he addressed Amanda and Marcia. “I plan to see Julia this week.” Low growling came from Lucy’s direction. Repressing a laugh, he squeezed her soft shoulder. When had Little Lucy become so prickly? Brogan liked that he made her nervous. “Been busy with the opening of BetterBites. When are you coming to the store?”

“You sell prepared foods?” Amanda asked.

“Yes. Healthy organic foods you can’t easily find around here. Come on by, and tell all your friends.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll stop by the store tomorrow. Will you be there?”

“Absolutely.”

Lucy made a production of coughing, which gained Amanda and Marcia’s attention. “You okay, Luce? You haven’t said two words. How are you and Julia getting along?” Marcia asked, broadcasting with her smirk what she thought of the sisters’ reunion.

A strained smile appeared on Lucy’s face. “Like straw and berries, poly and ester, stud and bolt. Speaking of Julia”—she pulled her cell from her jeans pocket and read the screen—“better get home before she develops calluses on those fingers. She’s giving that keyboard a real workout.”

Digging for her wallet in her handbag, she slapped a ten on the bar. “Great to see you guys. Be sure to let me know when you want to visit Julia.” Her unspoken message rang loud and clear:
I’ll be sure not to be there.

Brogan ducked as she slung her heavy hobo bag over her shoulder, narrowly missing his head. God only knew what she carried inside. Skirting around him, she aimed for the front door. He wasn’t ready to let her go. For the first time in weeks, he’d been enjoying himself. He fished for his wallet, threw some bills on the bar, and snatched up Lucy’s ten.