It didn’t look like much now, what with work trucks, equipment and supplies all around, but in a week and a half, it’d be ready for the stream of visitors who would come to eat, listen to music and celebrate. Lucky would be there, too.
But not to celebrate.
Hell, he had way too many memories of this place. It had been his mother’s and his thing.
“The banner’s already up,” Cassie pointed out.
It was a new one. Logan’s or Helene’s doing probably. This one was shiny silver and copper and had McCord Founder’s Day Picnic on it. It was stretched across the grounds above the booths being constructed. It should have read Betsy McCord Founder’s Day Picnic.
“Why don’t you suggest that?” Cassie asked.
At first Lucky wasn’t sure what she meant, and then he figured out he’d said that last part aloud. Too bad. Because it put a new layer of trouble on her already troubled face.
He didn’t want Cassie worrying about him. He didn’t want anyone doing that. So, maybe it was time to do some “Lucky” stuff. Go out with a woman—not Wilhelmina or Sugar, either. But a woman he could take to Calhoun’s Pub for some tequila shots and a long enough make-out session to create some gossip. He’d do that as soon as this situation with the girls was worked out. As soon as Cassie returned to wherever she would be heading with her more-or-less ex.
Yep, that’s what he’d do.
“Do what?” Cassie asked.
Shit. Had he done it again? Had he blurted out what he was thinking? But this time it was a false alarm because Cassie was talking to Mackenzie while she was spreading out a blanket on the ground. Mia was helping her. Mackenzie wasn’t. She was glaring and pouting.
“I said I don’t want to hang around here and eat out of a basket,” Mackenzie snapped. “I don’t want to share my food with ants and sit in bug poop. I want to go for a walk.”
Lucky was instantly suspicious, but his suspicions lessened a bit when Mackenzie strolled off and left Mia, who was still helping Cassie. If Mackenzie was planning on running, she wouldn’t have left Mia behind.
“Stay where we can see you,” Lucky called out to her just in case.
Whether Mackenzie would or not was yet to be determined, but with the road behind them, there weren’t many places for her to go. Especially in those heels. They were clearly a gift from Livvy since they were higher than some stepladders.
“Della included this in the basket,” Cassie said, handing him a note.
Curious but reluctant to read what was on the paper, Lucky hesitated. And then he unfolded the note. It read, “It’s okay, Lucky. Your mom would be so proud of you. Della.”
That was bullshit, and Lucky paused a moment to make sure he hadn’t said that aloud. He hadn’t, but Cassie was watching him while Mia started in on one of the sandwiches Della had packed.
“Bad memories here?” Cassie asked, sitting down next to him. They both kept their eyes on Mackenzie.
“Some.” Plenty. Of course, there were bad memories all over town because everywhere reminded him of his mother, of her death. Every place but Calhoun’s Pub. To the best of his knowledge, his mother had never gone in there. “All of this was my mom’s idea.”
“I remember hearing that. I remember her being here, too, every year. She loved it.”
Yeah.
The silence settled between them. Before long, Lucky saw something that got his attention and changed his mood from sullen to suspicious. Mackenzie had stopped her strolling and was talking to Brody Tate, who was showing her the mechanical-bull-riding stations he was setting up. That got Lucky on his feet.
“You know that boy?” Cassie asked.
Lucky nodded. “He’s Elgin Tate’s son.”
That got Cassie on her feet, as well. Elgin had been their year in high school but had dropped out when he knocked up his girlfriend. And his girlfriend’s best friend. And the best friend’s sister. Rumor had it that there were a couple more knock-ups in there, as well. If Brody was anything like his father—and rumor had it that he was—Lucky might have to kill him, or at least superglue his zipper.
“Come on.” Cassie took hold of Mia’s hand. “Let’s go check on your sister.”
“Is she in trouble?” Mia asked.
No, but her getting in this kind of trouble was exactly what Lucky intended to stop. It was time for some bud-nipping. Especially when Lucky saw that Brody was leaning in closer and closer to Mackenzie. Lucky recognized sweet talk when he saw it. Heck, Lucky was the Spring Hill king of sweet talk.
By the time they reached Mackenzie, Brody had escalated things to nudging the girl’s arm with his. Crap. This was moving fast, and it didn’t help Lucky’s anxiety when he saw a truly horrifying sight.
Mackenzie smiled.
At Brody.
The girl hadn’t come close to a real smile since Lucky had first laid eyes on her, and now she was smiling at a turd who no doubt wanted to lay something more than eyes on her.
“Mr. Lucky,” Brody said when he spotted them. He wisely stepped away from Mackenzie. “We were just talking.”
Maybe Brody had added that preemptive explanation because Lucky’s eyelids were narrowed to slits. Of course, Mackenzie did her own eyelid-slitting when she looked at Cassie and him. She clearly wasn’t pleased with the interruption.
“Talking about what?” Lucky asked, and yep, he sounded like a cop or a father or something.
It wasn’t a tone he’d ever used, but he’d heard Logan dole it out often enough. Since Logan and he were identical in looks and that tone got him results all the time, Lucky figured it was his best shot at letting Brody know that any sweet-talk shit was about to stop.
“Bull,” Brody and Mackenzie answered in unison.
At first Lucky thought they were sassing him, but then he realized the mechanical bull was only a few yards away in the booth behind Brody. It was already all set up with the bull in the center of a hay-strewn area that had been made to look like a barn. Beneath the hay was the padded mat to break the riders’ falls.
“Where’s his legs?” Mia asked, sounding alarmed.
Lucky could see why she sounded that way. This looked like a real white-faced Hereford with sloping horns—minus the legs. It was as if someone had chopped them all off.
Yet something else Lucky would do to Brody if the boy touched Mackenzie.
“He’s not real,” Mackenzie grumbled. She rolled her eyes. “It’s a fake bull.”
“Not like that one,” Mia said, pointing to Lucky’s belt buckle.
“That one’s not real, either.” Mackenzie again, complete with another eye roll.
“But Mr. Lucky does ride real ones,” Brody explained. And he sounded, well, nice. Maybe he was doing that to get on Lucky’s good side, but it was working on Mackenzie, too. She quit eye-rolling long enough perhaps to realize that Brody wasn’t snapping or snarling at Mia’s questions.
“The real ones got legs?” Mia clarified.
“They sure do, four of them,” Brody jumped to answer. “In fact, I’ve watched Mr. Lucky ride, and he’s real good at it.”
More sweet talk, but Lucky had no intention of letting it sway him into trusting this son of a baby maker. Besides, he was only “real good” at it 30 percent of the time.
“I was thinking about bringing in a rodeo clown this year,” Brody continued. “Thought it would be fun—”
Lucky swiped his finger across his throat in a nix-that sign. “Logan hates clowns. Not a phobia exactly, but close. Since he’s the one actually paying for this, I’m thinking that’s not a good idea.”
“Right,” Brody agreed, and there was even more eagerness in his tone.
“You gonna ride this bull?” Mia asked Lucky.
“Why don’t you ride it?” Brody suggested to Mia before L
ucky could answer.
Mia’s eyes lit right up at the possibility, but then she looked at Big Sis, Cassie and Lucky to see if it was all right. Cassie turned to him, probably because she didn’t have a clue if it was safe or not. It was, for the most part, but Lucky intended to add his own safety precautions.
“Put it on the greenhorn setting,” he instructed Brody, and he helped Mia onto the bull. “To win, you need to stay on it for eight seconds.” Lucky looked at Brody again, a silent warning that she would stay on that long or longer, and he wouldn’t do any speeding up or joggling that would make her fall.
“Hold on to the rope,” Lucky instructed, and since this wasn’t a competition, he added, “with both hands.”
Lucky stepped back only when he was sure Mia had a good grip, and he stayed close enough to catch her. Brody waited until Lucky gave him a signal before he hit the greenhorn setting. Mia probably would have gotten more movement from a wave in a kiddie swimming pool, but she laughed with each gentle rocking motion.
“One,” Brody counted. And he just kept counting while Mia laughed.
Lucky couldn’t help it—he laughed, too. So did Cassie, and she moved beside him, maybe to help in case of a fall, or perhaps just to get closer to that very happy kid. After all the crap they’d been through in the past couple of days, it wouldn’t have mattered if Mia had lasted eight seconds or not. It felt as if they’d won. But she did last eight seconds, and at the end of it, she slid off as if she’d been born to do this.
She hadn’t been, of course.
No way would Lucky ever let her get on the back of a real bull.
“Now it’s your turn,” Brody said, looking at Mackenzie.
It was hard to tell with the makeup, but Lucky thought she might have blushed. “Not me. Cassie.”
Cassie didn’t blush, but she looked intimidated. Then she looked down at her skirt. So maybe not intimidation after all, but concern that she was going to pull an “I see London, I see France.”
“Here, use my hat,” Brody said, tugging his off. “Hold it on your lap.”
Lucky didn’t know whether to thank the boy or slug him for even thinking about Cassie’s underpants.
Hell.
He really did need to rein in some of this jealousy and fatherly twinges. Cassie wasn’t his, and he had no right to be jealous. No right to feel fatherly about Mackenzie and Mia.
Cassie got on the bull, placing the hat strategically in front of her pantie region. It was somewhat of a balancing act, but she managed to hold on with both hands while still pinching the hat between her legs.
That lasted about a second.
The moment Brody turned on the bull, he realized his mistake. This wasn’t the greenhorn setting. This was more the expert-on-steroids notch, and Cassie let out a shriek as she went flying. Thankfully, she landed on Lucky. Not in his arms, though.
On. Him.
They fell onto the padded mat in the exact position a couple might need to be in to have accidental sex. With the hat no longer in front of her pantie region, that particular part of her landed right against his dick. All in all, it was bittersweet. Bitter because it hurt like hell. Sweet because his dick thought it was about to get some action.
Cassie scrambled to get off him. Lucky scrambled to get his hands on Brody’s soon-to-be-broken neck.
“Gosh, I’m real sorry, Mr. Lucky and Miss Cassie. The switch must be messed up or something.”
Lucky stood, met him eye to eye and looked for any sign whatsoever that the faulty switch thing was bullshit. But Brody seemed genuinely shocked and sorry. Especially sorry. Now Brody was blushing. Mackenzie was still blushing, as well. Cassie was flushed, however, and the flush went up a notch when her gaze drifted to his zipper.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Other than perhaps losing any possibility of ever fathering children, I’m fine.”
Brody laughed. Not a good idea. But he must have realized that because he shut up and backed away several inches. Then a few more.
“Why can’t you father children?” Mia asked.
That caused some more snickering, and Lucky was on the verge of fighting his own snickers when Mia added some words that nearly stopped his heart.
“You could father us,” Mia said. “And Miss Cassie could mother us. Y’all could do it together.”
It suddenly got quiet. Too quiet. Lucky couldn’t be sure, but he thought maybe even the summer breeze had stopped dead in its tracks. Cassie joined in on that quietness, though her mouth was slightly open, as if she were trying to come up with an answer.
“Bull riders like Lucky can’t be daddies,” Mackenzie finally told her sister. It was either the wisest assessment on earth or the biggest insult. Lucky wasn’t sure which.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to decide. Or try to add more to Mackenzie’s explanation. That was because he saw Riley and Claire approaching them. Lucky was so glad for the interruption that he had to stop himself from hugging them.
“Bull-riding lessons?” Riley asked, but then his attention dropped to Cassie’s pantie zone and Lucky’s zipper.
Until then, Lucky hadn’t realized he still had his hand on Cassie’s hip, and Cassie probably hadn’t realized that the side of her skirt was hiked up to her pantie leg. If the kids hadn’t been around, it would have looked as if Cassie and he had just had a getting-dirty session.
“Lesson’s over,” Lucky explained, and he made the mistake of helping Cassie with her skirt. He just ended up groping her, and by the time she finally had it straight, he was aroused despite his “injury” on the bull mat.
“Ethan!” Mia squealed when she spotted the boy, and they took off chasing each other in circles.
Mackenzie and Brody seized the moment to step away from the adults, but Lucky gave them the eyes-on-you gesture.
“What brings you out here?” Riley asked.
Lucky had no trouble hearing the concern in his brother’s voice. Or seeing the concern in Claire’s eyes. Damn. Had everyone in his extended gene pool remembered that coming here would be tough for him? Even the bull looked as if it were in on this shit-filled old baggage.
“Doing a favor for Logan and having a picnic,” Lucky answered. “What about you? Why are you out here?”
“Doing a favor for Logan.”
At first Lucky thought that was code for checking on him, but then Riley handed him a piece of paper that he’d taken from his pocket. “Logan thought it best if I delivered the news in person.”
What now? Because if it was good news, a phone call would have worked. Lucky hoped Cassie and he weren’t about to be carted off to jail for those cats.
But it wasn’t about the cats. Or jail.
“The PI located the girls’ aunt,” Logan had written. “Her name is Alice Murdock. She’s out of the country on business but will come to Spring Hill next week. She said for us to have the girls’ things ready to go, that they’ll be leaving with her as soon as she gets here.”
* * *
MACKENZIE STARED AT Brody from the back car window as Lucky drove away from the park. Brody waved, gave her the call-me sign, and she smiled.
She made sure no one saw it, though.
She’d also made sure no one saw when Brody had written his number on her right hand. He’d done that when Lucky had been talking to Riley and Claire. At the time Mackenzie had thought it was a lucky break that they hadn’t had their nosy eyeballs pinned to her. But Mackenzie should have known her luck sucked and that the only breaks she’d be getting were the ones she’d always had.
Bad ones.
Mackenzie looked at her hand again. At Brody’s number. He’d drawn a heart around it. Her first heart. Her first boy’s number. And no boy had ever given her the call-me sign. No one, boy or girl, had ever looked at her the way he had. Of c
ourse this would happen now, just when she wasn’t going to have time to do anything about it.
“Will Aunt Alice be nice?” Mia asked.
Even though Mia used her mousy-whisper voice, Lucky and Cassie must have heard it because Cassie glanced back at them. Lucky glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes meeting Mackenzie’s.
Considering Cassie and he had just gotten the best news of their lives—no sucky luck for them—they weren’t acting all happy and everything. Probably because they were still mad about the bull throwing Cassie and her landing real hard on Lucky’s privates.
But that hadn’t been Brody’s fault.
At least Mackenzie didn’t think so, but even if it had been, Lucky and Cassie didn’t have a right to be mad. They just didn’t want her to be happy, that’s all. Nobody did.
Of course, maybe they were all mopey because they were going to have to keep playing mommy and daddy for another whole week. They’d made it clear right from the start that they’d wanted to ditch this job, and now they couldn’t. Yeah, that had to be it. They weren’t happy because they were stuck with Mia and her—her more than Mia—until their aunt showed up.
“Well?” Mia pressed, tugging on Mackenzie’s arm. “Will Aunt Alice be nice?”
“How the heck should I know? Neither one of us has met her, have we?”
“No. But you think she’ll be nice?”
“Sure.”
Mackenzie didn’t think that at all. If the woman was anything like their mom, then she might use stuff, get drunk and sleep around with men. Mia was too little to remember a lot of that, but Mackenzie had no trouble remembering. And her kid sister wasn’t going through something like that again. Heck, she wasn’t going through that again.
Brody was fifteen, two years older than she was, and he had a job. A summer one anyway. Maybe he could lend her some money so she could get Mia out of there. Of course, getting out of there would mean never seeing Brody again. Unless...
Maybe she could talk him into taking Mia and her somewhere?
After all, Brody said he had his learner’s permit, so that meant he could probably drive. And he had given her his number. Had smiled at her and talked to her as if she was, well, special. Yeah, that was it.
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