Dream House

by Jean Brashear

  Then Micah knew exactly where he was going tonight.

  The noise hit him before he opened the door—boisterous laughter, affectionate jeers. The click of pool balls barely heard above a raucous country song on the jukebox.

  He shoved open the wood and entered.

  And there she was.

  Sultry was the first word that leaped to mind. She was in jeans again, tight enough to have been painted on those hips meant to be held in a man’s hands.

  He could still feel them in his.

  Her blouse, a royal blue this time, plunged to a vee between those stunning breasts, wrapped across her midriff and tied at the waist in a big floppy bow. Every time she moved, a slice of ivory skin taunted him. She moved a lot.

  Blue-and-silver dangles winked at her ears amid the profusion of black curls tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. She’d caught some of her hair up to reveal the curve of one perfect ear and an enticing sweep of throat.

  On her arms, bangles sparkled. The long line of her endless legs topped feet encased in black high-heeled sandals, revealing carmine toenail polish.

  Man, she made his mouth water.

  “You get the hell out now, you hear me?” Darrell broke into Micah’s line of sight, fury on his face. “Your money’s no good here, not after what you did to her.”

  Micah blinked. “Me? I didn’t—” Then his gaze fell on the table of the booth where he’d spread her out like a feast.

  Darrell shoved him. “You turn around and walk away, or I throw your ass out in the dirt.”

  Micah’s hands clenched. “Maybe you should ask her what really happened.”

  Darrell’s nostrils flared. His frame tensed, his arm cocked to—

  “Darrell, please go back to the bar.” Jezebel stepped between them, her voice low. In her heels, she was nearly as tall as the two men she was trying to part. Micah couldn’t peer past the wild mane to tell how Darrell was reacting, but he didn’t appreciate the interruption.

  “Jez, step aside,” Darrell said.

  Around them a crowd was gathering.

  “Darrell, I know you mean well, but everything’s already too rowdy tonight. Skeeter can’t afford any broken furniture, and if you two start fighting, it will escalate. I’ll just escort Mr. Smith to the door, and everything will settle down.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Please.”

  Darrell cast Micah a glare that promised retribution. “Don’t waste your time on this lowlife, Jez. He ain’t worth one more tear.”

  Startled, Micah peered at Jezebel. She’d cried?

  Her body language said that she was displeased with the revelation. “One round on the house,” she called out. A small cheer rose.

  Darrell backed off reluctantly and made for the bar.

  Jezebel’s features were schooled into neutrality. “I would appreciate it if you’d go.”

  “We have to talk first.” He noted an instant of panic and wondered at it.

  “We have nothing to discuss.”

  So close to her, he could smell her perfume, something spicy and floral mixed with the scent he already recognized as solely hers: lush, ripe woman. He scanned her figure, and his body responded powerfully.

  He should leave now. But he couldn’t.

  Was she doing this on purpose? Scrambling his brains with sex? Sweet mercy, she exuded clouds of it, blurring his ability to recall why he was here.

  Except that he’d had to.

  “Please leave.” Her tone was flat.

  Micah shook his head to clear it and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “My mother’s awake.”

  Her eyes widened. “I’m glad. How is she?”

  “Fragile. So small it scares you to death.”

  She warmed a bit. “She’s a strong lady.”

  Someone bumped her, and Micah steadied her. He didn’t remove his arm.

  “She always has been, but now—”

  Sympathy bloomed in her expression. “I understand. Some days Skeeter breaks my heart.” She hesitated. “Look—” She glanced around, then seemed to reach a reluctant decision. “Let’s step outside. It’s too noisy in here.”

  She surveyed the group. “I’ll be in the parking lot. No swearing while I’m gone. Chappy, you collect the money for me if there is.”

  Chappy perked up. Louie grumbled.

  But nobody argued.

  Micah caught Darrell’s scowl but ignored it and followed her.

  But once outside, it was too quiet. Too dark and…intimate. He didn’t know why he was here anymore.

  She rescued him. “What do the doctors say?”

  “That’s it’s going to be a long haul for her. She should recover, and her mind seems intact, despite the coma.”

  “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” He swiped a hand over his hair. “But she’s got months of physical therapy ahead, and Lily can’t run the nursery by herself.”

  He saw the shadow sweep over her features. “Lily told me what she said to you. I’m sorry. She’s…feisty.”

  She shrugged. “She’s protective.”

  “I’m her big brother. And practically twice her size.”

  “I never had any siblings, but I don’t think size matters. You stick together. That’s what family is for.”

  “It is. So…I’m staying.”

  She recoiled. “In Three Pines?”

  “Mom can’t afford to hire extra help while she heals, and Lily already works too hard. Noah can’t leave his job, and Levi’s got his hands full.” He turned up his palms. “That leaves me, at least for a while.”

  Her shoulders sank. “You’ll need the cottage, then.”

  Micah had never thought you could actually watch dreams die, but grief was in her face. “I don’t know.”

  “You’d stay at your mother’s?”

  “For now. When she’s home…I’ll have to see.” He found himself driven to explain. “I haven’t been inside the cottage yet.”

  She studied him silently, and he felt awkward and foolish. She was being nicer than he deserved.

  He’d made her cry.

  “Jezebel, it’s—I—” He paused. “I was out of line when I said you weren’t fit to wipe your shoes on her mat.” He forced himself to meet her gaze. “You were right. Charlotte would have behaved better.” Suddenly, he was weary to the bone. “I’m keeping you from your customers.”

  “True.” She turned to go. Paused with one hand on the door. Faced him again, her shoulders stiff. “I probably can guess your answer, but I have to ask. If you find that you can’t live there but aren’t interested in selling, would you consider renting it to me?”

  He flinched, but she rushed on before he could speak. “For Skeeter’s sake. I’m aware that you don’t want me there, but he isn’t able to live alone, and he’s a good man. He deserves to spend his declining years in someplace besides the nursing home. He’s withering in that place, and I just can’t stand by and let that happen.” Her expression was all about challenge.

  “I don’t—”

  Hurt vied with determination. “You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it, okay?”

  “Jezebel, don’t take this the wrong way, but—”

  “What else am I to understand? You don’t consider me good enough to live in the house you built for the wife you still love. I don’t claim to be a saint like her, but I’m not as bad as you make me out to be. There were two of us in that bed, Micah Smith, and neither one of us had a gun to his head.”

  She stared at him. “You’d like me to tell you to forget it and just go away, but I can’t do that. Skeeter is the closest thing to family I’ve had since I was five, and I’m not letting him down without fighting to the last second, even if you believe, as your sister obviously does, that I have no conscience.”

  She whirled away, then back. “She’s right, you know, but not about seducing you. I felt sorry for you and wanted to help, long before I had any idea who you were. And maybe I was a
little lonely myself. What happened that night shouldn’t have, but it did, and we just move on. But when it comes to that old man’s life, you betcha I’ll be a shark. I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep him alive and as happy as I can possibly manage. If you aren’t willing to help me, that’s your privilege, even if it’s wrong and selfish.” Tears glittered in her eyes as she took the first step away from him.

  In that moment, she was no longer only a siren, more than a bombshell whose allure he found tough to resist. Behind her outrageous beauty beat a heart that was passionate and courageous.

  That generosity made her dangerous, but it also merited more respect than he’d given her. “Thank you.”

  She frowned. “For what?”

  “Wanting to buy my mom flowers.”

  “Oh.” Her vibrancy faded. “You’re welcome.” She opened the door.

  “Jezebel.”

  She halted but remained facing away.

  “I’ll consider it,” he said. “But I can’t promise.”

  She nodded. “That’s all I can ask.” An awkward silence ensued. “Well…get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Yeah.” He pulled the keys from his pocket and began to walk to the car.

  “Micah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You should consult your mom about your roses. I suspect they need pruning.”

  Then she was gone, leaving him shaking his head.

  Inside, Jezebel plastered a big smile on her face for the benefit of Darrell and the rest of her protectors, as she made haste toward the ladies’ room. So much of her clientele was male that it might as well have been her own private retreat, one more reliably sacrosanct than her office.

  Once there, she locked the door and collapsed against it. Let her head fall back while panic reared and bucked like some half-wild stallion.

  He was staying. Indefinitely.

  Holy cow. How would she ever hide a pregnancy now?

  You don’t know, Jezebel. You can’t be sure yet.

  She had to leave. Run again. But where? Until Russ Bollinger was tried and convicted, she was at risk. But what about Skeeter?

  Her thoughts staggered like a wino.

  Okay. She made herself walk to the sink, splash some water on her face.

  Maybe her inner certainty was just wishful thinking, the result of these months when she’d begun to settle in and send roots into the rich soil of Three Pines. The legacy of all the hours she’d spent dreaming about Micah’s cottage, the epitome of a life as opposite of the one she’d lived as she ever expected to see.

  One more fantasy, this baby, one she’d cherished too long. She had no business trying to raise a child—what did she know about how a mother was supposed to act? Her memories of her own mother were rosy, yes, but was that reality or the blessing of time’s patina?

  She’d sure seen her share of bad mothers since.

  Maybe she should go back to the cottage and assess it with critical eyes. Look for flaws instead of falling for the romance of it. Perhaps she could argue herself out of it. Find someplace else to go and take Skeeter with her.

  And how, exactly, do you plan to support both of you?

  She could still dance and make a good living.

  But she didn’t want to.

  And if she was pregnant, that option was out, anyway.

  Okay. Okay. Calm down. Think clearly.

  The facts were these: three more days until she could test. A trial scheduled soon, she hoped. She wouldn’t show for some period after that, and by then, with luck, Micah might have returned to New York, and she’d be home-free.

  And if he doesn’t?

  “Shut up,” she told the woman in the mirror. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  With a deep breath, she unlocked the door and steeled herself for a bravura performance as a woman with no worries.

  Chapter Nine

  Lily was up and out the door at five-thirty, determined to visit with her mother before the myriad morning chores at the nursery began. If her mother was still asleep, she’d just sit with her, but she was willing to bet that Mama, even more of an early riser by nature, would be awake.

  Others were stirring, she could see as she walked down the corridor to her mother’s room. Very soon, the level of activity would be at full force, with breakfast and baths and doctors making rounds, but she had a sense of the world holding its breath just yet.

  She didn’t knock on her mother’s partly opened door, just in case. Mama was still very weak and would sleep a great deal, the floor nurse assigned to her had said yesterday. Lily gave a gentle push and peeked inside.

  Her mother’s eyes opened. She smiled.

  It was then that the sun rose for Lily. “Hi, Mama. Can you handle a visitor?”

  “You bet.” But her voice came out a croak, and when she tried to push herself higher on the pillow, she grimaced.

  “Should you be moving?”

  “I want to see you.”

  “I’m here.” Lily adjusted the pillow behind her and stroked her hair. “How about some water?”

  “Yes. Please.” Her mother leaned forward and winced. Her hand shook on the cup, so Lily steadied it.

  “Are you hurting, Mama?”

  “I’m okay.”

  Lily could tell she wasn’t. “Would you like me to find the nurse?”

  “It’s a half hour until I can take my next dose. Nothing for her to do.”

  “I can ask. I’ll be right—” Half-turned, she stilled with the touch of her mother’s hand on her arm.

  “I’ll make it. Sit and talk to me. That’s the best medicine of all. Tell me how you’re doing, sweetheart. Catch me up on everyone.”

  Lily pulled a chair close and sat clasping her mother’s hand, careful not to jostle her IV. “I’m fine. Had to check on you before I started watering.”

  “I’m so sorry the burden of this has fallen most on you, honey.”

  “It’s nothing, Mama. You’re awake, and you’re going to get well. That’s all that matters.”

  “How’s Cal doing?” her mother asked.

  A picture of the thoroughly disreputable Calvin Robicheaux popped into her mind, his dark eyes gleaming with challenge. She shook her head to dislodge it.

  “Is he helping you?”

  Relief silenced her for a second. Mama hadn’t read her mind, for a change. She was ready to talk business. “Depends on what you mean by help.”

  “She means am I lettin’ you lie around like a pampered princess, sugar,” a very familiar voice said from the doorway.

  “Cal,” her mother noted with obvious pleasure. “How nice.”

  “I have to keep tabs on my best girl,” he said, approaching the bed. “You look a lot better awake, chère.”

  Lily leaped from her chair and gave him wide berth.

  Smoothly, he replaced her and pressed a courtly kiss to her mother’s hand, then frowned. “You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

  His presumption galled Lily. “It’s too soon for her next dose,” she snapped.

  “No? Well, let ol’ Cal here see what he can manage. Don’t go anywhere now, you hear?” He winked at her mother and left the room.

  Her mother chuckled. “If I were thirty years younger…”

  “You’d have better taste than that—that—”

  “That what, honey? Scoundrel? Scamp? Oh, darling, I hope not. A man like that was born to make women’s hearts beat fast.”

  “Women being the operative word. That alley cat wouldn’t recognize monogamy if it bit him on the—”

  “My, my, our Cal can rile you up, can’t he?”

  “He’s obnoxious and rude and high-handed and—” Lily spluttered.

  “And loyal and kind and brave,” her mother noted. “And I’d bet that he’s put in a lot of hours since I’ve been in here, hasn’t he?”

  “He’s not kind,” Lily said. “And I don’t get what’s so brave. He’s an ex-con, Mama.”

  “Who made a dumb kid’s mistake a
nd paid for it,” her mother admonished. “He’s been honest and dependable ever since he’s been with us, and he’s put in hours he didn’t get paid for, just because he believes in doing a job right. I’m surprised at you, Lily. You have a quick temper, but you’re not usually unfair.”

  “Me? I’m not unfair—”

  “Then why does he get under your skin so?” Her mother’s eyes crinkled. “As if I couldn’t guess.”

  “You don’t know everything, Mama.”

  “Don’ sass your mama, chère.” Cal strolled in as though he had nothing better to do. He winked at Lily, who scowled back at him. Then he stepped aside as the nurse entered.

  “Mr. Robicheaux—”

  “Oh, Cal, sugar, please.”

  The nurse dimpled. “Cal, then. Mrs. Smith, Cal says your medication isn’t keeping up with your pain level. We can talk to the doctor about putting you on a demand system through your IV so you can have more control over your remediation.”

  “I don’t like drugging myself. I’ll do fine.”

  “Marian, chère, pain is hard on the body when it’s trying to heal. You should take the offer, so you can be back with us sooner.”

  “My head gets fuzzy. I don’t want to slip back—”

  Lily’s throat tightened. Her mother was afraid of falling back into unconsciousness. “That won’t happen, will it?” she asked the nurse.

  “No. And we won’t let you sleep too much, but at the moment, rest is critical. Don’t worry, though—later today, the physical therapist will be here, and he’ll be putting you to work.”

  “That’s good. I need to get out of this place. I want to go home. Tend to my plants.”

  Lily heard the longing in her mother’s voice, and tears threatened. There was nothing she desired more than to have her mother home, too. “You will, Mama. But you have to rest first. You take your medication, and I’ll get on to work, so you don’t have to be concerned. The plants are in good hands.”

  “Of course they are, sweetheart.” She accepted Lily’s hug, then glanced past her. “And I thank you for standing by my daughter, Cal. She’s lucky to have you.”

  Cal glanced at Lily with a slow, wicked smile, then turned it into another, sweeter one for her mother. “She thinks so, too, chère. She’s just shy about sayin’ it.”