Not So New in Town (8 page)

He flopped on his back, staring at the shadowed ceiling. A face-to-face talk with Julia was long overdue. By telling the truth, she could put a stop to all the nonsense and gossip Harmony thrived on. Not for one second did he believe Julia went around saying Parker was his kid, but it was what she
didn’t
say that fueled the rumor mills. Shutting that mill down and encouraging the town to support their golden boy was on top of his to-do list. An idea had been percolating since running into Lucy. She didn’t know it yet, but her temp days might be a thing of the past.

Lucy stumbled downstairs, not because she wanted to be awake at 5:45 on a Saturday morning, but because her nose smelled coffee, and she always followed her nose when it picked up a delectable scent. Sitting at the round oak table in the kitchen was the reason for the bags under her eyes and her foggy head.

Brogan.

Again.

Looking gorgeous and well rested. Not dog tired, wearing an oversized Georgia Tech T-shirt, one fuzzy green sock, and a pillow-creased face. Lucy had lain awake half the night, reprimanding her heart for pitter-pattering over Brogan. She’d certainly lost her fair share of sleepless nights over the heartbreaker of Harmony High. She didn’t want to spend her early thirties in a repeat performance. But every time he appeared interested or showed any sign of caring, Lucy’s heart went whirligig crazy, and she’d start to hope…again. And didn’t that add to her crankiness at this god-awful hour?

“Why am I living in the nightmare on Daffodil Lane? And what is that green slime you’re drinking?” Lucy pointed to the large BetterBites tumbler in his hand. He jumped up with way too much energy and pulled out her chair.

“Good morning, Little Lucy. As per your request”—he slid an extra-large cup from the Daily Grind toward her—“a piping-hot latte and the best banana nut muffins you’ll ever put in your mouth.” Lucy peeked inside a brown-and-green BetterBites bag and spied two jumbo, delicious-looking muffins. “Still warm. Just came out of the oven,” he said, using his rich voice designed to soothe cranky, non-morning persons.

Lucy sipped her coffee, hoping to jostle her brain awake as she dug in the bag and pulled out a sticky muffin that smelled of bananas, nuts, and total deliciousness. “Do I have to share?” She broke a piece off and popped it in her mouth. Coconut, vanilla, and banana danced on her tongue. “Mmm, these are good.” Lucy sipped more coffee and broke off another piece.

“Better than Krispy Kremes?” Brogan asked, his moss-green eyes twinkling as he dropped back into his chair and reached for his cup of slime.

“Nothing is better than hot Krispy Kremes, but these aren’t bad.” She pointed with her coffee cup. “What is that green stuff? It looks vile.”

“Energy smoothie. Made with kale, cucumber, honey dew, and protein powder.”

She recoiled at the listed ingredients.

“I made one for Parker too. Where is he?”

At the mention of the runaway-teen-aunt-hater, Parker stumbled into the kitchen, wearing long Nike basketball shorts, running shoes, and a case of bedhead worse than Lucy’s.

“Here’s my sweet, adorable, sneaky nephew. Good morning, Parker.”

Through sleepy eyes, Parker still managed a pretty effective glare-down. Brogan jumped up again, making Lucy dizzy with all his morning energy. “Have a seat, Parker. Your smoothie is in the fridge.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out another cup of slime, handing it to Parker. “Drink up. You’re going to need the boost of energy.”

“Why do I have to do this? Why am I being punished? I said I was sorry.” Parker eyed the drink with trepidation. Lucy didn’t quite blame him. “This looks like sheee…gross. I’m not drinking it.” On this, Lucy agreed with the kid. She gulped more coffee, hiding behind her cup.

“Drink it. Or you’ll be sorry when you lose steam halfway through our run.” Brogan shot Parker a stern look. “Football takes a lot of hard physical work, and if you want to be any good, you have to be dedicated to getting in shape, eating right, and getting plenty of sleep.” Brogan leaned his forearms on the table. “Sneaking out at night and drinking beer isn’t going to help you make the team. It will catch up with you. I know.”

Lucy didn’t know anything about working out or trying out for football, but she knew Brogan had been an incredible athlete. And from the way his muscles bulged in his arms and the looks of his strong legs, she had no doubts he still knew what he was talking about. Slumped lower in his seat, Parker took a tentative sip of the nasty sludge. Lucy barely suppressed a shudder.

“You almost done there, Lucy?” Brogan asked in an easy tone that didn’t match the calculated look behind his eyes.

“Not exactly. Why?” she answered slowly.

“You need to change. Unless you want to go in your”—he motioned at her ratty T-shirt—“tarp, or whatever you’re wearing.”

“Go? I’m not going anywhere.” Alarm colored her voice. Parker perked up, sitting straighter as he continued to drink his smoothie.

“We won’t make you run sprints, but you can walk the track while we exercise. Right, Parker?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not? If I have to, then you should too. Don’t you want to set a good example?” What Lucy really wanted was to wash all that sarcasm out of her nephew’s beautiful mouth, starting with the green gunk.

Brogan checked his electric-blue techno sports watch. “Parker, finish up. Go get changed, Lucy. We’re leaving in five.”

Panic started to set in. “But I have to be here for Julia. She’s going to need—”

“Mom won’t wake up before nine. We
will
be done before that.” Parker challenged Brogan with his look.

“We’ll be back in plenty of time.” Brogan grabbed the bag with the remaining muffin and closed it up. “Take your coffee. I have water in the car.”

This went beyond her job description. “What did I ever do to deserve this? I’d rather be clipping Mrs. Bunkins’s toenails than exercising at six in the freakin’ morning.” She headed for the stairs to the sound of Brogan’s laughter.

* * *

At the school track, Brogan and Parker warmed up their muscles by stretching. Brogan moved with the ease of a finely tuned athlete, and skinny, lanky Parker followed his examples. A spark of interest showed in how Parker listened at Brogan’s instructions, given in a low tone.

Lucy sat on one of the metal bleachers, sipping her coffee in the muggy morning air. The temperature hadn’t reached stifling, but by midmorning, it would be a scorcher. Bugs swarmed in circles over the grassy field, and the air smelled damp with morning dew. When she’d left the kitchen earlier, she’d splashed cold water on her face to help the wake-up process, thrown on a pair of yellow nylon Nike shorts, an orange-and-white T-shirt with “Eat a Peach” on the back, and sneakers. She’d knotted her hair on top of her head and wore a skinny rubber headband to keep the flyaways off her face. Not that she had any intention of taking off down the track like Brogan and Parker, whose long legs made running look effortless. Not in this lifetime. She was content to sit and watch the glorious display of well-toned muscles rippling under bronzed skin—Brogan’s, of course. Not her nephew’s. That would be creepy.

When Brogan approached her, he had Parker doing short sprints between orange cones on the red-surfaced track. “Time to get your legs moving.” He reached for her hand.

“Not gonna happen. I’m not running with you guys.” She tried pulling back, with no success, as he propelled her off the bleachers. “And
why
am I being tortured? I wasn’t the one who snuck out after curfew.”

“Come on. You don’t have to run, but you can walk a few laps, right?” Brogan placed her coffee cup on the bleacher. “Do a few jumping jacks to get your heart and legs moving.” He cocked his head. “Please. Don’t you want to set a good example for Parker?”

No. She really wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep for a month. Preferably with Brogan. Except with him, she’d be doing more than sleeping.
What?
Lucy’s naughty thoughts shocked her into jumping like no Jack had ever seen.

Brogan chuckled. “Slow it down there, Richard Simmons. You’ll give yourself a heart attack.” He trotted toward Parker as she slowed her flapping arms and legs to a more normal speed, enjoying the view. Straining muscles and glistening sweat on Brogan Reese was a mighty fine sight. Maybe she’d learn to run or jog or jump rope or whatever if it meant ogling his chiseled form. Inspiration didn’t come any finer. Sigh. Lucy sucked in huge breaths as Brogan and Parker headed down the track in a fast jog.

Just when she thought she’d dodged the exercise bullet, Brogan turned and jogged backward. “Come on, Lucy! Start walking. Give me two laps.” She’d like to give him a kick to his shin in her pointed Jimmy Choo pumps.

“Don’t make me come get you,” he yelled, laughing.

“Go on. Be healthy. I’m walking, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she yelled back as she started around the track at a brisk pace.

* * *

Brogan couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he drove a pooped Parker and perky Lucy back to their house. Parker had risen to the challenge and shown real potential. After Brogan had shared stories about his playing days, Parker had warmed up to him and started listening, asking smart questions about running plays and leading as quarterback. Even Little Lucy showed promise as she power walked three laps around the track. Bright pink glowed on her cheeks, and light shone in her gray eyes. Exercise looked good on Lucy…real good. He tried not to stare at the trickle of perspiration that snaked down her neck, across her chest, and into her rock-star cleavage. Her V-neck T-shirt clung to her form, and he didn’t dare contemplate what “Eat a Peach” meant, because it conjured up images of juicy, sweet peaches, along with other fantasies. All starring Lucy in various stages of undress.
Slam
that
door
closed, man.
Not now. Not here. And not with Little Lucy Doolan.

“Well, this has been an interesting morning. Can’t say I’ve ever spent one like it before,” Lucy said as she pressed the icy water bottle to her flushed cheeks and then to her heated chest. Brogan tore his gaze away and concentrated on the curve in the road approaching Daffodil Lane.

“How do you feel, Parker?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“You did real well out there. I was impressed. Looking forward to starting practice on Monday?”

“I guess. Maybe if I had more…” Stubborn pride stopped Parker as he shifted in the backseat, crossing his arms over his sweaty T-shirt.

What was one more day with the kid? He was going to exercise anyway, so if the kid wanted to join him, then he didn’t have a problem. “I’ll be by tomorrow. Same time. We can run a few different drills. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I can do that.” Eagerness lit Parker’s usually sullen face.

“Gah! Does this mean what I think it means?” Lucy said.

Brogan pulled the car in the driveway and killed the engine. “Drink plenty of liquids today and eat some protein,” he said to Parker’s image in the rearview mirror.

“Got it. See ya tomorrow, Brogan.” Parker bounded from the backseat.

“And no more sneaking out,” Brogan called before Parker slammed the car door and vaulted over the blooming daylilies, heading for the front door.

He turned to Lucy’s flushed, suspicious face.

“Please tell me I’m not getting up again at the godforsaken hour of six.”

“No can do.” Her gray eyes narrowed under thick lashes. “I’ll bring more coffee and another treat.” He grinned. “Admit it. You had fun.” She gave a snort. “You were even singing while you walked…I guess it was singing. Sounded more like a dying bullfrog. Hard to tell.”

Lucy rubbed her damp hands down the front of her shorts. “Everyone sounds like a dying bullfrog when they try to imitate Adele. If you don’t want me to offend your ears, you better add earbuds to your list of goodies. I can’t find mine.”

“How’s that going to help? You’ll sing even louder because you can’t hear yourself.”

“Not me. I only improve when I hear the music.” Lucy snapped her fingers and started swaying in her seat as she belted a verse from “Rumour Has It.”

“Christ. Stop that croaking. I’ll bring buds and earplugs for Parker and me.”

Lucy snapped her mouth shut and grinned. “Thanks. You’re a real prince. Now, I need to check on the bedridden princess inside and eat a box of Pop-Tarts. Want some?”

She had the diet of a river rat. “Hell no. Eat something healthy.”

She reached for the door handle. “Okay. I’ll eat a Snickers bar. It’s chock-full of peanuts.” He glared at her. “What?”

“Look, give me an hour, and I’ll be back to pick you up. I’ll bring some food when I come.”

“Why are you coming back? I don’t need a food Nazi calculating my intake.”

“To help you get your car. Remember? The steaming bucket of bolts you left on the side of the road? If we don’t hurry, someone’s gonna cart it off and park it next to their double-wide and use it as a dog house.”

“Pickled pops on a stick.” She gave a huge sigh that drew his attention to her plump breasts. He tried leveling his gaze on her stubborn chin. “Okay. But you better not bring any quinoa or flaxseed. I hate that stuff.” She hopped from the car and slammed the door. As she trotted toward the house, he couldn’t help but admire the cute sway of her butt. She looked good in workout clothes. She probably looked even better out of them. Nope. Not gonna happen. He shook his head, willing away the image of Lucy wearing only him and a satisfied smile. Nothing a pile of unpaid bills and crunching lagging sales numbers with Javier wouldn’t cure. That and maybe three or thirty cold showers and having his eyes surgically removed from his head.

* * *

“Candy corn niblets.” Lucy rushed around the kitchen, trying to make Julia’s eggs as specified. Her success rate didn’t seem any better than the day before. The good news: Parker actually spoke in a civil tone when she asked him to pour his mom’s cranberry juice and fix her special mint-flavored water.

She slid the mangled eggs on the Lenox china plate rimmed with pink roses. “They don’t look so bad, do they?”

Parker leaned over her shoulder and grunted. “I wouldn’t eat ’em.”

Neither would she.

“Parker, run outside and pick some of those black-eyed Susans for your mom. Let’s make her tray pretty, and maybe she won’t notice the burnt toast and green eggs and ham.”

“Yeah, like that’s gonna help,” he mumbled. “She’s pregnant, not blind.”

“Lucy! What’s taking so long?” Julia’s bellow carried down the hall.

“Parker, hurry.” He dragged his feet to the back door as she opened upper cabinets, searching for a bud vase. “Coming, Julia! Be there in a sec.”