Summer Kisses (40 page)

The weight of supporting a family settled awkwardly on her shoulders. It occurred to her that Will had been shouldering that responsibility alone until now. “You’ve been supporting them?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I know it’s a betrayal of you, but I couldn’t let them live on the streets or go into foster care.” His words bordered on desperate, but his tone was controlled, even.

“It’s that bad?” Lucky rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s that bad.”

Why hadn’t he come to her sooner? Duh. He had, and she’d ignored him. If she’d been alone, she’d have smacked herself on the forehead.

“As always, you’ve taken care of everyone.” She put her hand on his thigh. Under the khaki trousers, it was hard muscle. He’d been working out. “I’m sorry.” The words didn’t stick in her throat too much. “You needed me and I wasn’t there.”

This wasn’t about her and the kids, it was about being there for an old friend when he needed her most. If there was one thing Lucky prided herself on, it was loyalty.

He glanced down at her hand on his thigh and cleared his throat. “Yes … well, that’s all in the past. You’re here now, and you’ve agreed to the show. That more than makes up for the last year and a half.” He looked up at her with earnest eyes framed by outrageously long lashes and held out his hand. The longer he kept his gaze on her, the more heat rushed to places that shouldn’t be more than lukewarm. She’d never noticed gold flecks in his brown eyes. Or his thick black hair that was a tad unruly, huge milk-chocolate eyes, a straight nose, and high cheekbones; he was part Indian brave and part Fortune 500 CEO. Why hadn’t she noticed him before?

“Is everything okay? You’re staring at me with the oddest expression on your face. Are you ill?” He touched her forehead with the back of his hand. “You don’t feel warm, but there’s a nasty respiratory bug going around.”

“No, I’m fine.” She forced herself to look away. It was just Will. The older brother she’d always wanted … only he wasn’t her brother and no longer felt like her brother.

“Good.” He nodded. “So how’d you come by the hundred-million figure?”

“Sounded like enough to get us out of hock. Is it?” Lucky bit the inside of her cheek. She’d been here less than two hours, and she was already thinking of herself, Will, and the girls as an “us.” Getting emotionally attached was a bad idea; the girls weren’t hers to love.

“Us?” One of Will’s eyebrows shot up.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t gloat. It causes wrinkles.”

Light knocking sounded at the closed door. It quickly turned into banging. “Uncle Will! Uncle Will!”

He stood, was at the door in two strides, and pulled it open. “What’s wrong now?”

“Nothing.” Dawnie, with a paper shopping bag on each arm and dragging a three-story plastic, pink Barbie mansion, stood in the door wearing a silver sequin ball gown, a rhinestone tiara, and pink flip-flops. “I brought the Barbies.”

Lucky stood. “I see that. Aren’t you a little overdressed?”

She shook her head. “Nope. We’re having a wedding. Barbie Fashionista’s marrying Ken.” She looked around surreptitiously. “But Ken’s secretly in love with Barbie Color Magic.” She tried to wink, but blinked instead.

How could Lucky keep from loving this adorable creature?

“Wow. Art imitating my life.”

Will put a hand on Lucky’s shoulder. “Let’s give Lucky some time to settle in—”

“I’m good.” She covered Will’s hand with hers. This new touchy-feely side of Will was nice, and it felt right.

“My daddy loved Barbies. He’d play with me for hours.” Excitement radiated off Dawnie in waves.

Lucky didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to think of Ricky with his daughters—the daughters he’d had with another woman.

Will shot her a sympathetic look. “I bet Lucky would like some time to unpack.”

He was trying to shield her from any references to Ricky, but she needed to face it. No longer could she run from reality, because it was standing right here holding two bags full of Barbies.

She shook her head and smiled at Will. “Nope. I’m okay.”

Will returned her smile.

“What are you doing in the hallway?” She pointed to the bags of Barbies. “Get in here. We’ve got a wedding to set up.”

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you?” Betts Monroe’s famous voice droned on from Lucky’s iPhone.

“Nothing is wrong with me. I’m making dinner.” It was mac and cheese from a box. How hard could it be?

“For the love of God, put the spoon down. Don’t you remember what happened the last time you attempted to cook?”

“That’s not fair. Not everyone had to go to the emergency room. Some people didn’t even throw up.” Lucky stared at the amazing array of pots and pans hanging from the rack above the kitchen island. She counted twenty-seven. Her eyes went up to the iron hook bolted to the ceiling. It must be braced between two studs to hold that kind of weight. Finally, after evaluating the different sizes, she chose a pan slightly larger than the mac and cheese box.

“That’s because they had diarrhea. For the good of the public at large, walk away from the macaroni. Think of the innocent children.” Betts sipped something.

“How’s the morning sickness?” The directions called for six cups of water. She shrugged. The pot looked like it held six cups—give or take. She filled the pot all the way up to the brim with water.

“It’s gone … well, as long as I eat lots of fresh tomatoes and cream cheese. Damn, now I’m hungry.” Betts sighed. “Truly, put that handful of dog food down. I can’t believe that I have a child who prefers dry dog food to her mother’s home cooking. Truly, I’m not going to tell you again—oh no, you don’t.” There was some shuffling.

“Betts handed the phone off to me. Truly made a break for it, and Betts is lumbering off after her. Man, can that kid run. It’s like watching a sprinter in the Olympics but on short, stumpy, one-year-old legs.” It was Charlie’s voice, Lucky’s other best friend. Betts, Charlie, and Lucky had met their freshman year in high school when they’d all dressed up as Marilyn Monroe for the Halloween dance. They’d been raising hell ever since. “So you’re back in Austin.” She took a deep breath. “What are you not telling us?”

Lucky set the pot on the stove and turned the knob until the flame caught. “What? I can’t call and tell you that I’m back in Austin without some catastrophe?” Her voice was higher than normal.

“Don’t make me jump in my car and drive down there. Because I will, and I’ll bring Betts—all six months pregnant of her and the dog-food-eating hellion too.” Her voice softened. “Truly has grown so much. Our baby girl is walking and talking. She calls me Cha Cha. I must admit, I kind of like it.”

Charlie was visiting Betts at her new house in Hollisville. Charlie claimed that her monthly overnights at Betts’s were merely convenient stop-offs as it was on the way from Shreveport to Dallas. Lucky knew the truth—Charlie just wanted to put in enough time with Truly so she’d get the good aunt name and leave Lucky with something stupid like poopsy. There was absolutely no reason for Charlie to go to Dallas once a month to run her father’s reelection campaign. He was the governor of Louisiana. Last time Lucky checked, Dallas was rooted deep in the heart of Texas … well maybe not the heart, but at least the neck.

“Damn it, you got the cutesy name. I’ll probably be Tutti or Smucky or something awful. I hate you.” Lucky ripped the box open. “I miss her so much. Give her butterfly kisses from me.” Lucky dumped the noodles in. Water splattered everywhere. Grabbing a dishtowel, she sopped up the mess and then the dishtowel caught on fire. “Crap!”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She threw the flaming towel into the sink and turned on the water. The flame sizzled out. “Whew.”

“You caught something on fire again, didn’t you?”

She glanced at the iPhone to reassure herself she wasn’t Facetiming her friend. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Prove it.” Since not all of the noodles fit into the small pot, Lucky picked up a wooden spoon and crushed them until they all fit.

“So … what are you not telling me? You think I forgot, but I didn’t.” Charlie was all southern hospitality on the outside and pure junkyard dog on the inside.

“Well, I moved back into my old house and agreed to do a new reality show with Ricky’s girls and Will.” She said it all on one big breath.

“You moved back into your old house?” Charlie sputtered. “Wait. Hold on … new reality show with Ricky’s daughters?”

“Yeah, their mom died, and Ricky’s will isn’t settled, so they don’t have a place to live.” Neither did she, but she would die before admitting that to her two best friends.

“So let me get this straight. You’re living with Ricky’s girls, and all of y’all are doing a reality show?” Charlie sounded confused. “Are you drunk?”

“Nope, I’m making macaroni and cheese. Dawnie’s hungry.” Lucky smiled to herself. Dawnie needed her. It had been all of eight hours, and Lucky wanted to belong.

“Why are you really doing this?” Charlie had the very annoying ability of looking beyond the surface.

“I need to. For me, for them, and for him.” It was out before she had time to analyze it. Only yesterday, the thought that she owed Ricky anything would have pissed her off, but now, when she looked at Dawnie, she felt the slightest warming toward Ricky. He’d been a shit, but he’d produced this incredible little girl.

“Okay.” Charlie seemed satisfied. “But don’t cook. I strongly urge you to order pizza. In fact, if you give me a minute, I’ll order it for you.”

“I’m fine. It’s all good. I’ve got this.” The water still wasn’t boiling, so she turned the heat up to high. Water dripped over the side, and sizzling steam rose. It was like getting a free facial.

“Since I can’t talk you out of this reality show, Betts and I are going to send you a care package. Look for it in a day or so.”

“Okay, I love you and will talk to you soon.” Lucky needed to hang up and get the milk and butter together for the mac and cheese. “Bye.”

“Take care. Call if you need something.”

Lucky hit end and set the phone down on the island.

Dawnie walked to the stove and slid her hand in Lucky’s. “I don’t think you’re supposed to put the noodles in before the water boils.”

“Everyone’s a critic.”

They stood there hand-in-hand watching the pot. “I guess it takes a while.”

“Not usually. When mommy made it, she always waited for the water to boil.”

“Okay, I got it. I should have waited. Next time I will.” Lucky shook her head. She was taking criticism from a five-year-old.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to smoke like that.” Dawnie pointed to the plumes wafting up.

“It’s not smoke, it’s steam. That’s a good sign. On the Food Network, steam always rises from cooking food.” Lucky didn’t know who she was trying to convince, Dawnie or herself. She was willing to admit that the pot might have been a little too small, but it was working … sort of. “Where are your sisters?”

“Vivi’s at basketball practice with Uncle Will ’cause he’s the coach. Mandy’s in her room sulking. She hates you.” Dawnie glanced up at Lucky. “Don’t take it personally, she’s sixteen and hates everyone.”

“Thanks for the tip.” More steam rose, and the water began to boil … and boil … and boil. Water and noddle bits flowed over the sides like lava from a volcano. With the charred dishtowel, she grabbed the pot handle, picked up the noodle-magma-encrusted pot, and tossed it into the sink. “How about pizza?”

“Really? Uncle Will never gets us pizza. He says it has too many carbs.” Dawnie’s voice held definite yearning.

“We’ll get pizza with extra carbs.” Lucky wiped her damp hands on her jeans. “What kind do you like?”

“Plain cheese.” Dawnie’s lips twisted into a sly smile. “Can we get extra cheese?”

“You bet. What do your sisters like?”

“Vivi likes pepperoni and Mandy likes anything that makes Uncle Will mad.”

“So one plain cheese, one pepperoni, and one meat lovers with extra grease to make your uncle mad.” Lucky picked up her iPhone and scrolled. “Hill Country Pizza okay?”

“Never had them before. When we lived with Momma, we only got pizza if we had coupons or if Mandy used her babysitting money.” Dawnie pulled her to the kitchen table. “Let’s play some more Barbies.”

Why had the girls only gotten pizza when they had coupons? Hadn’t Ricky provided for his girls? She rolled her eyes. The dumb bastard probably hadn’t. “Where did y’all live before your mother died?”

Not that she wanted to know … but she kinda wanted to know. Had Ricky kept them close?

“We lived in a house down a road.” She picked up Barbie Fashionista. “Our landlord always complained because the rent was late.”

“Oh.” Little girls shouldn’t have to worry about late rent. But Lucky had also had a childhood like that. “Where did you live?”

“On a road that was close to Whataburger.”

The closest Whataburger was in Lakeway. It was a nice part of Austin. Lucky found herself hoping the girls had had a nice life. She should be mad and jealous and vengeful, but Dawnie hadn’t asked to be born to a cheating bastard of a father—it wasn’t her fault.

“I guess it’s time you introduced me to your sister.” She took Dawnie’s hand. “Let’s go track her down.”

“She’s in her room.” Dawnie shrugged. “She’s always in her room.”

“Okay.” Lucky rolled her shoulders, letting go of some of the tension that knotted there. They walked out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the living room. The last time she’d seen Ricky, it had been in their living room. She’d been sitting on one of the blue velvet couches, and he’d been smiling ear to ear as he shepherded in Rosie and the girls. As long as she lived, Lucky didn’t think she could ever forget the look of pride and joy on his face. It was like he was bringing her the present of a lifetime. Had he really been that stupid? What sane, conscious woman wanted to meet her husband’s mistress and their children? She let out a long breath as they walked behind the sofas.

It was time to admit that she’d married a stupid man.

If she married again, he’d be required to pass both IQ and common sense tests. She shook her head. There wasn’t a man alive who could pass a common sense test. She’d have to settle for IQ.