by Stuart, Amie
“I’ll have cramps and be grouchy every month forever.”
Tim couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped as he sat up and faced his daughter. “And get pregnant. Don’t,” he added with raised eyebrows. The knot in his gut tightened enough to strangle him.
“Like that’d happen. Men are dogs,” she sneered, her scornful tone taking him by surprise.
“You’re a little young to be so jaded.”
“I live with you.” She threw herself back on the pillows, a smaller one clutched to her chest. “What did you expect?”
“Yeah, you do,” he said solemnly. Nobody regretted more than him that this wasn’t an ideal world where mamas never ran off and left their babies and families didn’t get torn apart. “Just because I’m your dad doesn’t mean I’m perfect, Rene.”
She gave him a twisted, sarcastic smile. “No shit?”
He sighed. “Don’t swear at me, and don’t be lettin’ me catch you rollin’ around in anyone’s pickup, young lady.”
Unhappy with the way things had gone, he stood and headed for the door, wanting nothing more than to get away from his daughter. And end another failed conversation.
“Hey, Dad!”
Her cheerful tone brought him up short. Warning lights flashed in his head and his grip on the doorknob tightened. “Yeah?”
“In three years, I’ll be as old as Mom was when you knocked her up.”
“Then for God’s sake, don’t make the same mistake your mother and I did,” he snapped, slamming the door behind him.
Shit! He’d just called his daughter a mistake.
I STUCK MY tongue out at Dad’s back and then bit my lip to keep from laughing. Thank God that was over!
I reached under my pillows for my iPod and worked the earbuds into my ears. The ChainSmokers filled my head as I lay there, all stretched out, studying the ceiling and wishing I could go talk to Aunt Delaney. Dad sucked, and my stomach hurt. And all I’d been able to think about all day long was getting home to see Aunt Delaney. That was part of the reason I’d pretended to lose my shit over starting my period. Last night she’d screamed at Poppy—in the driveway, at the top of her lungs. They’d probably heard her in Oklahoma.
It’d only been a few weeks since her mom had died, so I really couldn’t blame her for causing a ruckus. But after it was all over, Dad wouldn’t let me go see her. He yelled at me to do my homework, then stood out front with Uncle Ty for like an hour, so I couldn’t sneak out. Not that he’d known I was going to sneak out. I tried to imagine, for the billionth time, Poppy cheating on Gram. They were old. That was grosser than Dad and all his women. But Dad said not to ask stupid questions about it cause everyone would get all bent outta shape. How was I supposed to learn anything, for cryin' out loud? At least Delaney didn’t mind sharing.
Decision made, I rolled off the bed and silently crossed the room to dig a fresh pair of jeans out of my closet and quickly changed. That was easy. Remembering what I’d done with my boots was another matter. I turned in a circle, kicking at a stray pile of clothing.
Dressed for adventure with my trusty iPod at my side, I crossed to the window, wondering if Dad could hear me downstairs. Or if he’d gone back to work.
Not that he’d care.
I knelt on the window seat and slid the window open, wrinkling my nose at the ugly pink and white curtains that drifted up on the warm, damp breeze. I set my crepe-soled work boots outside the window, and then climbed out after them.
The calm was downright spooky. Overhead, the hot summer sky was cloudless, the grass still green. But probably not for much longer. July’d burn everything to the ground. I stood up and watched one of the jets from the base in San Antonio shoot by overhead while music blared in my ears.
I’d better scoot. Poppy’d bust my butt if he caught me on Dad’s roof again. Not to mention the humiliation of getting caught making an ass of myself dancing on the roof. The Uncles would never let me live it down.
The roof beneath my feet vibrated as the front door slammed and Dad appeared in the yard below me. I sucked in a breath and crouched by my still-open window, waiting as he walked toward Uncle Ty’s house. If he’d looked back and up, he would have seen me. But of course, he didn’t.
My comment about him and mom had scored a direct hit, but I was grouchy enough not to care. I’d celebrate later. After he went out for the evening. That’s what he got for never talking about Mom anyway. Shit. She’d been gone so long, I couldn’t remember anything about our life before she left.
Daddy said Boudreauxes took care of their own. If I had to hear that lecture again, I’d barf. Were other families as messed up as mine? I shook my head. Nobody’s life could be this hellish.
In the last couple years, I’d lost all my friends to boys and makeup or because their moms didn’t want them at my house without a woman around. Unless, of course, they were single, and then they had their own agendas. Not that I’d had a lot of friends to begin with, but still. And I couldn’t just walk around town, askin’ folks if they’d known my mom and what was up with that.
Poppy didn’t want anyone knowing family business—like they already didn’t? The whole entire county knew he’d cheated on Gram. Even the kids at school had gotten in on it, which was how I’d ended up in a knock-down drag-out the last day of sixth grade.
People could talk shit about me all day long. They could even talk shit about my dad, within reason, but you didn’t talk about Gram or Poppy. Even though he’d fucked up, I loved him. I loved him even more than my dad. Poppy didn’t talk down to me, he didn’t get mad at me over stupid stuff, he never took my crap, and best of all—because of him, I now had my Aunt Delaney.
Speaking of Aunt Dee...I grabbed up my boots and headed for the eastern corner of the roof. Before I reached the edge, I threw them over the side, then eased myself over, my dangling feet searching for and finally resting on the porch railing.
Piece of cake.
Singing along softly under my breath, I knelt in the sparse grass just long enough to yank my boots on, and then headed across the road to Poppy’s. Yeah, I could have used the door, especially since Dad had left. But what fun was that?
I felt Gram’s screen door squeak in my hands and waited a second to see if anyone would come check. They didn’t. And darned if I didn’t smell brownies. I’d have to snag some on my way out.
Upstairs, Aunt Delaney lay curled up on the queen-size brass bed, her arms wrapped around a pillow. The special one her mom made before she died. Her lips moved, and I frowned, trying to read them. Giving up, I slipped off the headphones. “Huh?”
“I said come in.”
Aunt Delaney’s nose was nearly as red as her hair, and she had little fuzzy curls escaping from her braid. Her eyes were all red and puffy, but the rest of her face was pale enough to make her freckles look drawn on. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. “Are you sure? Are you okay?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” She smiled gently and rolled onto her back. “We’d just pulled in at Dr. Ritter’s when your dad called. How are you feeling?”
“A little crampy.” Closing the door behind me, I kicked off my boots and then joined her on the bed.
“Tim get you anything?”
“Yeah, thanks. How you doin’?” Knowing how much she’d dreaded her first therapy session, I’d been worried about her all day. If I hadn’t started my period, I would have faked throwing up or something in order to come home early.
“I’m alright.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “I heard you raised quite a ruckus though.”
I grinned, unable to hold back a giggle. “Yeah.”
Delaney chuckled and hit me with the pillow and hissed, “You little shit! You did it on purpose.”
“You can’t prove it. And just for the record, I hate Principal Skinner.” I flopped on the bed next to her, causing my earbuds to fall out. “And summer school sucks.”
“Well, if you hadn’t failed English—” One slender red eyebrow
rose.
“Lightener’s got it out for me, too.” Lightener was my English teacher, and a bigger hag never walked the planet. “I’d rather be here with you,” I softly added.
Delaney chuckled. “Such a shame, the conspiracy against you.”
“Yeah. Kinda like on that “X-Files” show, huh?” I asked with a grin, rolling to face her. We lay there staring at each other, barely six inches and six years separating us. Aunt Dee was the weirdest, coolest thing to ever happen to me.
“What?” she whispered, when I continued to stare.
“Was it bad?”
“The doc’s really nice. I can see why Ty likes her. But yeah, it sucked.” Her lower lip shook, and I scooted closer, my iPod providing background music as we curled up together.
IF LADY LUCK IS indeed the lady she says she is, then Fate is her sadistic step-sister—a fickle bitch with a bad sense of humor. I finally decide to return to Louisiana, only to end up broken down in the middle of nowhere south Texas. A highway patrolman drove past on the westbound side, but didn't even slow down, let alone turn around.
So much for helping a lady in distress. Shit!
I glanced down at myself, taking in my damp jeans and grease-smudged T-shirt. Not much of a lady, eh? With a grunt of disgust, I slammed the car’s hood and looked around. T’was fucking hot! Fifteen years in the Nevada desert, and I’d forgotten how humid the South was.
So much for Miss Rose and her wonderful plan. Thanks to my inheritance—a pink, 1968 GTO convertible—I now had no excuse for not returning to Louisiana. And according to Miss Rose, I needed to make myself findable in case I couldn’t find her. All this despite my protests that I had three years to go, three years until my baby turned eighteen. This was Miss Rose’s dying wish, and after all she’d done for me, I couldn’t let down the woman who’d been my friend, family, and confidant for half my life.
Fate, apparently, had other ideas about my return to Louisiana.
Shading my eyes with my hand, I looked around, wondering how far I’d have to walk for help. The highway shimmered in the ungodly heat, and what little vegetation there was alongside the highway clung to its last shreds of green. A semi drove by, blowing his horn, his tailwind shoving a thick mass of hair in my face. Merde! I ducked my head and pulled my hair back, knotting it with a flick of my wrist. I leaned against the hood of the car, trying to get the grit and sand out of my eyes. I didn’t notice the SUV pulling in behind me until its tires crunched on gravel.
Through narrowed eyes I took in the woman who stepped from the shiny blue Ford. She was shorter than me and as blonde as I was dark. Probably in her late thirties, or early forties, and despite her blue jeans and high heels, she reeked of money. Like someone who’d never had to scrabble for a meal a day in their life.
Then again, how much sense did she have, stopping to help a stranger?
“Are you alright, honey?” she asked, a smile on her face.
I eyed her and pushed my sunglasses further up my nose. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Would you like a ride somewhere?”
“I can’t leave my car.” I shrugged. That car was all I had. That car was everything. My past, my future.
“I could call a tow truck for you. Any idea what’s wrong with it?” She moved a little closer, her smile never wavering. I’d bet she knew jack about cars. Hell, hers was probably still under the manufacturer’s warranty while mine was built before they needed warranties.
“The radiator, or possibly, the water pump.” Or maybe even both. And right in the middle of my favorite Bob Seger song, too. Another groan escaped me.
“Oh,” she said with a frown, “that’s not good.”
Fingertips wedged in the pockets of my tight jeans, I watched as she pulled out a fancy cell phone and called for a wrecker to tow my car in. “Where are we going?”
“My friend, Petey James, has a wrecker service and a small garage in Bluebonnet. The town’s only about fifteen minutes up the road. It’s small, but we do have a motel. And a bed and breakfast.”
“That’s great. Thanks.” While she talked, I did the math. The dollar signs added up at a nauseatingly fast rate. A hotel bill could quickly wipe out what cash I did have. Small garages usually meant big bucks—especially if you had tits. And I did. At this rate, I’d never make it back to Louisiana.
“We could sit and wait in the air conditioning until Petey gets here.” She gave me an easy smile and tilted her unruffled little head toward her shiny blue SUV. As if she sensed my hesitation, she held out her hand and added, “You’re perfectly safe with me, honey. I promise. I’ve lived in Bluebonnet all my life. I’m Susie Boudreaux.”
Decision made, I strolled closer, offering her my hand. “Toni duBois.”
SHE CAME OUT of nowhere, like a thief in the night. No, wait. That’s a cliché, and he hated clichés.
After blowing things with Rene, all Tim had wanted was a beer and a couple dances with some sweet young thing.
He strolled into Aunt Susie’s dancehall, surprised to see a tall brunette where a short blonde had once stood. But there she was, a sultry-eyed, pagan goddess hidden under denim and worn, soft cotton. The image made his mouth water and his fingers itch.
God, he loved tall women, but they were hard to find. Short women were literally a pain with all the stooping you had to do, but he’d never tell a woman that to her face. Momma’d raised him better than that.
His goddess didn’t seem to have much of a tan, but her hair was as dark as his—dark as midnight—and hung down her back in fat, loose curls. The kind you wanna wrap your fist around and pull on in the middle of really hot, wall-banging sex.
Wanting a better look, he slowly approached the bar. Her curls fell to her waist and swirled around her like a river with every move she made. Her white T-shirt accented the rest of her assets, every curvy cupful. Cup, of course, being about a “D” if he didn’t miss his mark. She was hot, she was stacked, and he wanted her.
Tim resisted the urge to wipe his chin, clearing his throat and smoothing a hand over his goatee instead. There wasn’t a woman in Bluebonnet, or for that matter, anywhere, who’d tell him no. If he wanted her, you could damn sure bet she’d be his before too long.
She flashed him a quick smile, then yanked two longnecks from the cooler and danced away, her hips swaying. The back looked as tempting as the front. Slim hips but a nice round ass. Good for playing with. The thought made his cock tighten inside his jeans.
“Tim Caldwell!”
Aw, hell. He turned toward the office door and flashed his aunt a sheepish grin, knowing damn good and well she’d caught him red-handed, staring. “Aunt Susie.”
“Have you met my new bartender?” As if she had all the time in the world, Susie casually strolled into the bar’s back area, letting the heavy office door click shut behind her. Aunt Susie could fool you like that. Act all calm and sweet so you forgot she had a mind like a steel trap.
He cleared his throat, surprised at the sudden attack of nerves that hit him. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”
His new goddess turned toward him, a dimpled smile on her lips—but that’s as far as it went.
Tim sank onto a barstool, watching as Susie and the dark-haired beauty sang in surprisingly perfect harmony with the sad song blaring from the jukebox. He wasn’t a man for shaky knees. But he’d been well and truly pole-axed, and he was still waiting for his introduction.
Finally, his aunt took pity on him, a wicked grin on her face. “Tim, Toni. Toni, don’t believe a word he says.” She pointed at him and added, “That one’s full of it.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he said.
Toni wasn’t much of a name for a woman. Tim studied her like he needed to memorize every inch of her from her firm ass and full breasts to the beauty mark at the outer corner of one eye. She had porn star lips: full and painted a shiny pale pink. The kind of mouth a man could waste days dreaming about. Tim’s eyes drifted up to hers. Pale but not quite blue. The bar’s di
m light made it difficult to tell their exact color, but he’d bet his last dollar he’d know by the time the sun came up.
“Oh, yeah.” Her grin only made her full lips look even more provocative. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was deliberately teasing him. “The girls told me about you.”
Oh, now that wasn’t good. Deciding to play it cool, he ignored her comment and turned to Aunt Susie. “What happened to what’s-her-name? The blonde?”
“She eloped...with my liquor sales rep.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You kids, I swear. Want a beer?”
He chuckled and nodded. Susie motioned to Toni who pulled a beer from the cooler, popped it open, and slid it across to him. Her movements were deft and skilled, her fingers long and graceful with short, neat nails.
“Thanks. That’s a nice accent you got there.”
“You’re welcome, Flirty Boy.”
He paused, the bottle halfway to his lips, his face burning a little in embarrassment. “What, exactly, did they tell you about me?”
Her breasts gently bounced as she chuckled and shook her head. “They said you were good for scratching things, hmm?” she finished with more laughter.
“Tim, I do believe that reputation of yours just came back and bit you in the ass, sugar.” Aunt Susie smiled angelically, as he silently stood and tipped his bottle to both of them. Behind him, he heard more laughter, and damnit, it stung. Especially on top of last week’s comment from Betsy Halloran on his well-known prowess in the sack as he’d dressed to leave. Once upon a time, the comments hadn’t bothered him, but they were beginning to.
Something about hearing “So the rumors about you are true,” from one of his daughter’s former teachers had left a bad taste in his mouth.
It didn’t matter how discreet he was, in a small town, people talked. Especially when Jerrod Boudreaux was your dad. And at twelve, Rene had reached the age where she couldn’t help but hear things. He had enough trouble with that one and sure didn’t need to muck things up any worse.