Chuckling, Bennie disappeared down the hallway and Lucky went back to the library. She scooped up the half-assembled projector and the rest of the parts and toted them back to her room. She could finish the job later, once she’d retrieved her toolbox from the trunk of the Chevy.
But now...
No more mothers-in-law, or flying lizards, or cranky old men wielding canes. Lucky was going to do what she should have done right after breakfast—hide in her room.
TWO HOURS LATER, Lucky stifled a yawn and willed her eyes open to the page in front of her. So much for reading to kill time. The words blurred and she slammed the book shut. She needed some fresh air or she’d wind up sleeping the day away—the longest Sunday of her entire life—and she couldn’t, in good conscience, accept money for lazing around.
She was headed down the hall when she heard Bennie’s voice.
“I hate this.”
Lucky ducked her head into Bennie’s room and saw the girl sitting at her desk wearing the dress Helen had brought her. “What’s wrong?”
“Me,” Bennie fumed. “I’m what’s wrong. I’m not good at anything, least of all this stupid math. Mabel explained the percentage formula to me at least a dozen times this morning, but I still don’t know what twenty percent of eighty-nine is and I don’t care. I hate percentages, I hate math and I hate trying to do something I really hate, especially wearing this awful outfit. If I have to sit here a second longer, I’m liable to go blind.” She rubbed her eyes, then covered her ears. “Or deaf. My head is just pounding and pounding and—”
“I know the feeling.” Lucky walked into the room and stared at the textbook spread open on Bennie’s cluttered desk. A blur of math problems glared back at her. “Maybe you need a break.”
She shook her head. “Daddy’ll have my hide if I don’t finish this stuff. Then there’s the piano... Ugh, I hate Beethoven.”
“Forget Beethoven for a little while. You need sunshine and fresh air. Your dad seems like a pretty humane guy. I’m sure he doesn’t want you to go blind or deaf.”
Bennie seemed to think about that for a long moment. “Well, fresh air does give you a new outlook sometimes. Besides, you’re my nanny.” She gave Lucky a smile. “I know Daddy wants me on my best and most cooperative behavior, and that means doing what I’m told, and that means taking a break if you say so.”
“So where are we going?” Lucky asked once they were outside.
“To the barn. You like horses?”
“Mr. Ed was pretty cool.”
“Mr. Who?”
“Never mind,” Lucky said as Bennie dragged her toward the barn.
“This is Liz.” Bennie introduced Lucky to a shiny brown horse with a white splotch on her face. “She’s named after Elizabeth Taylor, Granddad’s favorite actress.”
“Your family’s really into this old-movie stuff.”
“Granddad loves movies, but Dad doesn’t seem to like them much. Not the old ones, anyway, but he did take me to see The Santa Clause last year.” She stroked the horse. “Liz is the best birthday present ever. Granddaddy gave her to me last month when I turned twelve.”
“And-you’re already doing percentages? Isn’t that illegal?”
“It should be.” She fed Liz a sugar cube and pouted.
“Can I feed him?” Lucky took a sugar cube, held it out to the horse and said, “How many sugar cubes do you suppose an animal this large usually eats?”
“She can eat as many as ten.”
“Let me see,” Lucky glanced into the bucket and counted. “It looks like you’ve got about fifty percent of that. You might need to get some more.”
Bennie frowned. “Oh no. I’m sure five is enough. I don’t want to spoil her appetite for lunch.”
“That’s it,” Lucky said with a smile.
“That’s what?”
“You just told me what fifty percent of ten is. It’s five.”
“I did?” Bennie’s eyes lit with excitement. “I did!”
“And it wasn’t so bad. You didn’t go blind or deaf or feel a second of pain.”
“It was easy. I mean, fifty percent is half of something, and half of ten is five.”
“What are you two doing?” Tyler’s voice drew them both around to the barn door. Clothes streaked with dirt, he stood with a saddle balanced over one shoulder, work gloves on his hands and a frown on his face.
“I solved a percentage problem,” Bennie declared.
“That’s great, honey,” he said, swiping at the sweat lining his forehead. “Why don’t you run on inside and see what Mabel’s got for lunch? I’m starved.”
“You’re not so bad, for a nanny,” Bennie told Lucky before leaving the barn. She paused to give Tyler a smack on the cheek and an enthusiastic, “I did it!”
Tyler’s gaze followed his daughter until she disappeared. Then he turned to Lucky.
She expected him to lay into her, to tell her how angry he was that she’d lured Bennie away from her studies. Instead, he smiled, that disarming smile that melted her defenses like hot popcorn melts butter.
“I’ve never seen her so excited over percentages before. Mabel isn’t just my housekeeper and cook, she’s a retired teacher who fills in as Bennie’s tutor whenever we’re between nannies. She’s been trying to teach Bennie for weeks what you just did in a few minutes.”
“Percentages are tough.” Lucky grinned. “I ought to know, I had the very same thing explained to me a long time ago, only it involved spark plugs and lug nuts.”
“You really love cars, don’t you?”
“All kinds,” she whispered. “But don’t tell my Chevy. I wouldn’t want her getting jealous.”
“What about me?” The words came out so low, she almost didn’t hear them. She wished she hadn’t heard them. Then she wouldn’t have to think about what they meant. Not that they really meant anything at all, she reminded herself. Tyler Grant didn’t mean anything with all his teasing, his heated looks, his hungry gazes.
Wait a second. Hungry?
She did a double take, but the look in his eyes had faded. Deep, unreadable blue pools stared back at her.
Okay, forget hungry. Her imagination. Too much syrup on the pancakes this morning. Her brain was suffering from sugar rot. Nix the hunger idea and move on to something safe. “Why isn’t Bennie going to school like every other kid?”
“Because Helen would come unglued if I put her in public school. She thinks Bennie is far above the average education system.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think she would do just fine in school with other kids her own age. Inappropriate kids, as far as Helen’s concerned.”
“You sure do pay a lot of attention to Helen’s concerns.”
He shrugged. “I don’t have a choice. She’s my daughter’s grandmother, and I don’t want Bennie to ever feel caught in any disagreement between me and Helen. I want Bennie to have all the advantages. If she likes ranch life, fine. But if she ever has a craving for more, for Helen’s world of ladyhood and tea parties and opera, I want her to feel comfortable with that, too. I want her to see all life has to offer and realize she can have everything. It isn’t this life or that. She can fit in both worlds.”
“Like you?”
“Not like me.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t have it both ways, but Bennie can. She will.” He lifted the edge of his shirt and wiped at his sweaty forehead again. When he finally spoke, his voice was considerably softer. “You’re doing a good job with her. I really appreciate it.”
“Good, because I’ve got a proposition for you.” She faced him. “I’m supposed to be Bennie’s temporary nanny, so why don’t I actually be the nanny?” When he looked doubtful, she rushed on, “I can’t stand sitting around doing nothing and getting paid for it. I want to earn the money you’re forking over. I’m not prep-school polished, but I’m educated enough to be a darn good tutor. Besides, Helen is sure to be suspicious if she sees Mabel tutoring Bennie. That’s the nann
y’s job.”
“All right,” he said after weighing the idea for a few seconds. “You can help with her schoolwork and oversee her piano and French lessons, but I still want you to stay as far away from Helen as possible.”
“No problem. Consider me invisible.” Which wasn’t so far from the truth, at least for her chest. “I’m going to earn every penny of that money, you’ll see.”
“Oh, I plan on seeing, all right. Two weeks is a long time. You’ll only be able to hide from Helen for so long before she gets ahold of you. Then it’ll be showtime.”
“Meaning?”
“We’re still on for our nightly lessons. You’re fine in the academic department, but we need to work on your social skills.” He shrugged. “And since we’ll be working so closely together, we need to get something straight.”
“No kissing.”
“No kissing, no questions about kissing, or any other related topic. Strictly business.”
“Whatever you say, boss. But you’re the one who keeps kissing me.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Speaking of which, if you want a business relationship, why do you keep doing that—”
“Cut it out. I’m serious. No more questions. And don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like that.” He gestured toward her. “With your eyes so wide, your lips parted like that and that expression.”
“What expression—”
He growled and spun on his heel, and though Lucky had no firsthand experience, she had the inexplicable feeling that she’d just seen her first sexually frustrated man. And that she’d been the responsible party.
About time!
LUCKY SPENT the next several evenings with Tyler, and though she broached the subject of their kisses many times, he never failed to cut her off, and he was careful to keep his distance. Drat the man. How was she supposed to get this man-woman stuff down if he insisted on being so stubborn? And grouchy?
“You could smile once in a while. Your face won’t break,” she told him Wednesday.
“Remember all this stuff I’m teaching you and I’ll smile.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” Lucky fidgeted in her chair.
“Just concentrate. You don’t have to memorize every word. I just want you to have a general view of Helen’s world and what she expects. Now, everyone who’s anyone lives in River Oaks.”
“I know the area like the back of my hand.” Lucky launched into a description of streets and landmarks and Tyler frowned.
“Forget potholes and stop signs. You need to be familiar with some of the prominent families, such as...”
The list of Houston’s elite seemed endless, but Lucky memorized every name, trivia about the families, Helen’s charity contacts, and of course, Smithston. Not that Tyler had to tell Lucky anything about the elite school. It was all Helen talked about at dinner every night.
“Smithston is simply divine,” Helen declared over pot roast on Thursday. “All three of Louise’s daughters graduated from Smithston, and all of them married very well, I might add.”
“That wouldn’t be Louise Cromwell, would it?” Lucky stared across the table at Helen, watching her eyes widen in surprise. It was now or never. Either she shared some of her new knowledge or her brain was bound to explode from overload.
“Why, yes, it would. Don’t tell me you know Louise?”
“Not personally, mind you. But she did a wonderful job with that fund-raiser for the Houston Ballet last season.” Lucky smiled and Helen frowned.
“But I thought you were in Scotland last season?”
So much for showing off. “Well, uh, yes, but good news travels fast, and it was such a worthy cause.”
Helen stared at Lucky for a long moment, those dark eyes assessing. Finally she smiled. In the nick of time, too. Lucky could feel the sweat beads about to pop out on her forehead.
“Louise is a genius, and one of my dearest friends. Perhaps she could help me with all this trouble I’m having with the museum fund-raiser. I simply have to find a new location. I’ve been on the phone every day, all day, and each place I call is already booked.”
“Guthrie’s Barbecue. They do fund-raisers,” Ulysses declared. “Hosted the Texas Cattlemen Association’s annual cook-off last year. Got the best ribs this side of the Rio Grande.”
“Barbecue? Really, Ulysses. I need a ballroom, a concert hall, something appropriate for the affair.”
“Affair, my behind.”
“Now that is uncalled for,” Helen huffed. “Do you have to be so vulgar every time you open your mouth?”
“No, I can eat, too. But it’s more fun ribbin’ you. You know, you got a vein the size of Texas that pokes out on your forehead when you’re mad—”
“Dad!” Tyler cut in.
“Uh, not that I can see it, mind you.” Ulysses groped for his water glass, his swollen red eyes fixed on the air in front of him. “My old sight still hasn’t come back. But I remember clear as day how it did look.”
“Rude,” Helen said scornfully. “That’s what you are.”
“Snooty. That’s what you are.”
“Buzzard.”
“Old fuddy-duddy.”
And the insults went on and on with Tyler playing referee, Bennie smiling and Lucky doing her best not to laugh. As stressful as this nanny business was, it was the most fun Lucky had had in a long time, which spoke volumes for her lousy social life. But no more. In just over a week she returned home, richer and wiser, and she was going to nab the first available good-looking man she found.
Hurry! Hurry! her hormones chanted. If only her heart were half as enthusiastic.
WHILE LUCKY’S NIGHTS were filled with facts and headaches, her days were spent with Bernadette. Helen, thank goodness, was preoccupied with getting her gala back on track. The moment her plans fell into place, something happened to upset them and she was back on the phone. First, it was the location. Then she spent hours looking for a florist. Then the band cancelled. She stayed so busy she spared Lucky only a few harried glances. Thanks to Tyler.
He’d told Lucky he was a well-connected investment banker, a very successful one, but that image of him never quite fit with the rugged cowboy she saw day after day. As much trouble as Helen was having, however, Lucky had no doubt that Tyler had friends in very high places.
Helen’s preoccupation gave Lucky and Bernadette some time to themselves, to study and do other things Lucky deemed were ladylike endeavors.
“I don’t see why we have to do this,” Bennie said one day. “I hate high heels and you hate high heels and I’m never going to wear them and you shouldn’t, either, otherwise you’ll wind up with bunions and calluses and all kinds of gross stuff like that.”
“We’re not learning this because we have to, Bennie. We’re doing it because we want to. For your dad. All this is really important to him.”
Bennie gave a heavy sigh and nodded. “Oh, all right. For Daddy.” She balanced the book on her head, stepped into the inch-high shoes and wobbled across the room. She also started wearing a dress every evening to dinner, and putting in extra time at the piano. Score one for Lucky the nanny.
Now, if Lucky the woman had been half as successful. Tyler—damn his stubborn, professional hide—had gone from flirty and fun to stuffy and preoccupied, and Lucky was back to fantasizing about Buster and push-up bras.
“STELLA, how’s my granny?” Lucky asked Friday evening when she phoned the cab company.
“Fine—”
“It’s been a full week and I’m going crazy without you,” Buster declared, ripping the phone from Stella’s hand.
“Really?” She smiled. “You miss me?”
“Hell, yes! The Kangaroos creamed us. Stella’s game stinks worse than Georgie Petrie’s bowling shoes.”
“Stella?”
“She filled in for you. We had to have another person or the league would’ve disqualified us. When are you coming back? Because I l
ost a load of money, not to mention there’s this new girl at the shoe counter that I want to impress, and losing isn’t exactly impressive...”
“You missed my bowling?” Her smile dissolved and she had the sudden vision of herself bowling a perfect strike with Buster’s face as the tenth pin. “Rest assured, I’ll be back soon,” she vowed with tight lips. “How’s my granny?”
“Fine. I ain’t had my visit yet, my turn’s tomorrow, but between all of us, somebody’s looked in on her every day.”
“Tell everybody thanks for me.”
“Talk is cheap. If you’re really thankful, get your carcass back here. We play the Munson Cab Magpies tomorrow night and...”
Buster went on about the new shoe girl and the whopping fifty bucks he had riding on the next game.
Forget Buster, she told herself once she managed to hang up a few minutes later. Who cared if he missed her? She didn’t.
And she certainly didn’t care one way or another if Tyler Grant kissed her again, the jerk. She would just get some practice somewhere else. Tyler wasn’t the only man in the world.
At least that’s what her hormones—those vocal devils—kept saying. If only the rest of her could agree.
9
“LUCKY, I’m in deep trouble!” Bernadette stood in the doorway of Lucky’s bedroom Saturday morning. “Grandmother saw Marlon in my room. I told her I was baby-sitting him for you and I think she bought it, but anyway, she got this funny look in her eyes. I think she wants to take him back to Houston and have him made into shoes!”
“He’s a three-inch lizard.” Lucky put aside her screwdriver and stared at the antique projector, fully intact and operational once again. “What’s she going to make? Barbie shoes?”
“Please,” Bernadette pleaded. “He needs a new mommy.”
At the distraught look on her face, Lucky nodded and found herself quickly cradling the limp lizard. “I’m not really the nurturing type. I’ve got a houseful of dead plants, small children cry and hit me with candy and... Oh Geez, I think he’s really dead this time.” Yuck. She was holding a dead lizard. Okay, so dead might be good in this case. A quick flush down the toilet and her mommy days would be over.
Gettin' Lucky (Love and Laughter) Page 11