Lucky 13 (Deadlines & Diamonds)

by Kearns, Morgan

  Fighting the urge to melt into a puddle herself and slide down the bench, slithering across the floor and out the door to safety, Shayne stabbed a tomato. Instead of her son. She forked it into her mouth and moaned.

  “Are these homegrown?”

  Elena nodded and took a bite of her enchilada. She chewed, swallowed. “Yes. It’s my hobby.”

  “Mama has a huge garden.”

  Shayne’s mood lightened. “Really?”

  “It’s not that huge.” She lifted one slender shoulder. “Almost an acre.”

  “An acre?” Shayne took a small sip of her soda. “I’d call that huge. What do you grow?”

  Elena finished chewing. “A little bit of everything.”

  “We rotate the seasons to keep something growing all year round.” Ricky forked up a bite.

  “If you’d like to see it, you’re welcome anytime.”

  “I would love to.”

  Ricky smiled at her. “I’ll bring her by real soon, Mama.”

  “This is hmm—” Matt put his hand to his full mouth, his jaws double-timing it. “Sorry. This is really good.”

  “Thank you.” Pride showed on Elena’s face, her delicate cheekbones tinting pink. She really was a pretty woman. Shayne would guess her to be nearing sixty. Her black hair contained a few silver highlights, notating her years. Wrinkles around her mouth and eyes marked her sense of humor. But her eyes, the ones so similar to Ricky’s, held the key to the depths of this woman. Her kindness reflected in every twinkle.

  Shayne suddenly felt a kinship with Elena Santiago. She didn’t understand the reaction, but was certainly grateful for it. In a very short time, she’d developed feelings for Elena’s son. Deep feelings. Scare-the-shit-out-of-her kind of feelings. Having his mother in her corner certainly couldn’t hurt matters. Or…it might make it worse.

  9

  Ricky knew Chick-Flick Hell awaited him. Shayne stood at the Redbox, her finger swiping the choices away. She shifted her stance, bit her lip, her index finger poised over a movie. A quick glance at the car, a quicker jerk of the head and she dismissed yet another flick.

  Matt’s head popped up between the two front seats. “You must really love her?”

  “Huh?”

  “Dude! You know she’s coming back with a movie we’re gonna hate.” Matt watched his mom. “Crap! That’s one of her favorites. ‘Aaaaas yoooou wiiiiish’.”

  Ricky choked on his laugh. “Say what you will, kid, but I will gladly be Wesley to your mother’s Princess Buttercup any day.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Matt snorted through a grin and slunk into the rear seat. His seatbelt clicked back into place.

  The door opened and Shayne climbed in. Ricky flipped the air conditioner back up to high to offset the heatwave that entered with her. He put the car into drive and pulled out onto the road.

  “Find something good?”

  She held up the movie he knew she’d gotten. “There wasn’t really a great selection at this kiosk.” She shrugged. “Princess Bride, one of my favorites.”

  Matt’s long, drawn out groan emphasized his opinion. “Take me home.” Shayne opened her mouth, but didn’t get a word out before Matt put a hand on the back of her seat and leaned forward to plead his case. “I’m a big boy, Mom. I’d rather play video games than watch that dumb movie. Again. Besides we can’t watch it at our house because we only have the one ginormous TV and that’s where I plan to play my video games.”

  The kid’s matter-of-fact, I’ve-got-it-all-figured-out tone made Ricky snicker. “Well, then, I guess we’ve got a plan.”

  “Yep. You guys will watch the movie at your house and I’ll play video games at ours.”

  Shayne didn’t say anything, just concentrated on her cuticles. Ricky took her hand, the DVD clanking to the floorboard.

  “You okay with that plan?”

  “Do I have a choice?” She closed her eyes, leaned her head against the headrest. Her narrow nostrils flared with a deep inhale.

  He squeezed her fingers and waited for her to look at him. “You always have a choice. Veto it and we make a new plan. No protests.”

  “But—”

  “No. Protests.”

  The only gripe came in the form of a grunt from the backseat.

  A slow smile captured the corners of her lips, lifting them upward. She sighed. “I think it’s a great plan.”

  Thanks to the rearview mirror, Ricky watched as elation replaced disappointment.

  She twisted in her seat to ask Matt, “Maybe we should stop and grab you some dinner on the way?”

  He used the fist, elbow bent combo to accentuate the “Yes!”

  “Where to, sport?”

  Matt didn’t pause, simply sputtered a local burger chain. The name alone made Ricky’s gut arm itself. He wasn’t sure he’d ever eaten there, and didn’t plan to. But with Matt in his life, it looked like he’d have to frequent the joint. Good thing they had a drive-thru.

  ***

  After getting enough food to feed an army of adolescents whose taste buds couldn’t differentiate filet mignon from roadkill, Ricky headed toward Shayne’s.

  The stench of grease wafted up from the backseat. Ricky tried to hold his breath until his vision went wonky. He resorted to short puffs, sounding like a hyperventilating Saint Bernard. Finally, he cranked the AC, rolled down all the windows and opened the sun roof. He’d have stuck his head out too if he hadn’t been afraid of catching bugs in his teeth.

  “Hey!” Matt yelled through their wind tunnel. “What the heck?”

  “Your food reeks!”

  The crinkling of the bag shot Ricky’s adrenaline into panic mode as visions of food debris danced through his head. He whirled around in his seat so fast, the car swerved. Matt held up a fry.

  Ricky’s gag reflex kicked in when Matt tossed the fry in his mouth and made a production of chewing it. “You don’t know what you’re missin’.”

  “Ah, Ricky?” Shayne said with an edge.

  He turned around to focus on the road just in time to watch the yellow light turn red. He scrubbed his face, finishing the cleanse with a plow of his fingers through his hair. “If I find one French fry back there you’re going to detail my whole car.”

  “What if you find three?”

  “It’ll be pretty damn hard to play those video games with three broken fingers.”

  Shayne’s smile turned somber. “Yeah, so don’t drop more than ten or we’ll have to start on your toes.”

  “Mom.”

  She gathered the lashing strands of her hair and tied it into a knot. “You started it, Matt.”

  The kid didn’t say much the rest of the drive, except to announce they were driving by his school and pointing out the corridor that housed his locker.

  They pulled into the parking garage and eased into a parking space. Before the engine finished purring, Matt was out of the car, bag in hand, heading toward the elevators.

  “I won’t wait up.” He held up his Coke cup in a pseudo wave. “Goodnight.”

  Ricky hadn’t intended to just dump him off. Neither had Shayne. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I know the way home, Mom.” He pressed the up button. “Have fun, Ricky. Enjoy the movie.”

  Shayne closed her door and headed toward her son. Ricky didn’t let any moss grow, he double-timed it over.

  Matt rolled his eyes. “I’m not a baby.”

  “No.” Shayne put her hand on his shoulder. “But you’re not a man yet, either.”

  Ricky expected a protest to come or maybe a reference to the height difference between mother and son. Yet nothing came. They got onto the elevator. Matt pushed the button for their floor, and it jerked the beginning of its ascent.

  Matt leaned against the faux wood wall, crossing his ankles. Shayne stood next to Ricky—leaving way too much space between them. He rested against the paneled wall behind him and folded his arms. His tattoo flexed and he thought of his mom. She hadn’t been happy at his idea of a trib
ute to her. In the beginning. Now? Well, he wasn’t sure how she felt about it now. It’d been on his arm for nearly eight years. Whether she accepted it or not, she certainly didn’t bust his balls over it anymore.

  The elevator doors opened. Matt shot out and hurried down the wide hallway. He slid a key into the lock, disappeared inside and left the door wide. By the time Ricky and Shayne made it through the doorway, Matt had pulled a David Copperfield.

  “Matt?” Shayne closed the door and set her purse on the table next to it. “Matt, where’d you go?”

  “I’m fine, Mom,” came the muffled reply from down the hall.

  “Oh.” She turned back to Ricky and they both pretended the kid wasn’t in the bathroom. “So, what do you want to do now that we don’t have an audience?”

  Well, shit. What did she think he wanted to do? He wanted to get real up close and personal. He inched toward her, closing the minimal distance they’d had between them, and leaned in for a sweet kiss. Her eyes drifted closed, her hand landed on his waistline.

  Her soft moan preceded her retreat. “I think we’re on the same wave length for the rest of our evening.” She blushed. “Oh crap. That didn’t come out right. I don’t think we’re gonna—”

  “You can leave now.”

  Ricky jumped back from Shayne. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to hide what else was happening in his pants.

  She pressed her hand to her lips, letting it slip down to rest on her pink tinged throat. “You okay?”

  “Yep,” he and Matt answered in unison.

  Shayne smiled, but then her brows crinkled when she asked Matt, “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Real sure?”

  “Seriously, Mom, I had to take a dump, okay? I’m fine.” He opened the bag and began to unload his dinner. “I had to make room.” He pulled out a bar stool and sat down. “You kids have fun.”

  Laughing, Shayne approached her son, kissed his cheek, which he promptly rubbed. “I won’t be late.”

  He shrugged. “Won’t matter to me. I’m gonna just text the guys and let them know I’ll be playing tonight.”

  “If I’m not home by ten, I want you to sign off and go to bed.”

  Matt glanced over at the clock on the microwave. “Only three hours?”

  “Three hours of video games is more than enough.” He opened his mouth to protest. “Uh-uh. One more word and you don’t get to play tomorrow.”

  His mouth closed.

  She kissed his cheek again. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too, Mom. Night, Ricky.”

  They crossed to the doorway. Shayne picked up her purse and opened the door.

  “Hey, Mom.” Matt stood in the archway to the kitchen.

  “Yeah?”

  “Have fun stormin’ the castle.”

  “Ya think it’ll work?” Ricky quoted the next line.

  Shayne laughed, playfully slapped at his chest. “Only if you’re very, very lucky.”

  Once out in the hall, Ricky stopped Shayne, crowding her with his body until her back met the wall. He kissed her, then looked right in her eyes. “I am always lucky, Shayne Xavier. That’s why I wear lucky thirteen.”

  ***

  By the time they pulled into Ricky’s garage, Shayne felt like a mass of exposed nerves plugged into a two-twenty outlet. Every part of her buzzed and tingled and ached. It’d been a long time since she’d had sex. A very long time. A one-time-deal she’d rather forget.

  The garage door rumbled toward the ground and Ricky opened his car door.

  “Wait.” The word burst out of her mouth, surprising them both.

  He closed the door again. “No big deal. We’ll go to a movie instead.”

  Disappointment slashed across his features, cutting her like the sharpest blade. She caught his hand as he reached for the keys. “I don’t want to go to a movie.”

  Gathering her courage, she crawled over the console to straddle his lap. She reached down to the side of his seat and started pressing buttons. His seat moved all the way back and then began to recline. Desire raged in those dark eyes of his and her throat tightened around her beating heart. Before her brain kicked in and stopped her, she smashed her mouth against his, slipping her tongue through his parted lips.

  A mint tinted moan floated into her mouth. His hands moved down her back, over her hips before coming to rest on her ass. He settled her in his lap, connecting all the right parts. She moved against him, the hard heat of his body easy to detect even through the layers of denim, satin and…cotton?

  Would his boxers be cotton? The fleeting thought drove her fingers to the buttons of his shirt. One by one, she opened them, driving them both insane by the slow process. She paused for a moment, her palms flat against his tanned pectorals. Their eyes met and she lost her breath. His came in tiny, controlled puffs.

  She maintained eye contact as she feathered her fingertips over his washboard abs, tickling toward his waistband. She tugged his shirt from his pants and started with the buckle of his belt. When she popped the button of his jeans, he sucked in a breath that didn’t come back out. Rough hands caught hers.

  His exhale burst between his lips. “Hold up, mujer bonita.” Inhale. Exhale. Eyes squeezed closed. Opened. “I am not complaining. Not by a long shot.” A single finger traced from her temple, down her cheek and neck and over her collar bone. “I want you. So. Damned. Bad. But this isn’t the place. We’re not in high school anymore, and I don’t have a condom in my wallet. Not even one that would turn to confetti if we tried to put it on.”

  She managed to keep the Who cares! to herself and smiled. “Please tell me you have some in your nightstand.”

  His expression went thoughtful. His frown didn’t seem promising. He looked her right in the eye as he put an arm around her back, holding her to him, and leaned forward to press the garage door opener.

  ***

  Knock him over with a feather! If he’d had any idea tonight would be the night Shayne would allow him to love her, he would have committed armed robbery, stealing a Trojan truck with the intension of using every damned one.

  He restarted the engine and had just taken his foot off the brake when Shayne’s delicate hand landed high on his thigh. He jumped. She caressed. He groaned. She squeezed. He hardened. Shit!

  Those fingers stroked up and in. Almost as if it had a mind of his mind of its own, his hand clamped down over hers. He picked it up and placed it in her lap.

  “You are not allowed to touch me until we get to Walgreens.”

  The grin she gave him said he was in big trouble. “I’m not, huh?”

  Her hand once again moved toward his lap, her eyes gleaming with erotic menace.

  “I mean it, Shayne.” He put the SUV in reverse and backed out of the garage. He turned in the seat to watch as the truck went down the long driveway and into the deserted street. As he shifted into drive, he laid down the law. “Unless you’re going to strut that sexy ass of yours into the store and purchase my raincoats, you are not allowed to touch me.”

  She made a production of buckling her seatbelt, folding her arms, and tucking her fingers under her armpits. She probably didn’t realize her arms plumped her breasts. Yeah, not helping.

  He suddenly wished for blinders, the kind they put on horses to keep their attention focused on their goal, ‘cause all he could see in his periphery were the perfect swells of her creamy chest.

  Damned good thing the trip to the drug store consisted of three right turns in the course of five minutes.

  Her private smile offered promises he couldn’t wait to uncover. He raced inside, catching his shoulder on the automatic door that wanted to take its own damn time. Trying to play it cool, which was pretty freakin’ hard to do sportin’ a Louisville in his pants, Ricky wandered the aisles.

  The truth was he had no idea where to find condoms. Hell, he drove past this corner multiple times a day, but wasn’t sure he’d been inside for more than lottery tickets.

>   After wandering up the third aisle, taking in the scenery of bubble gum, lollipops and magazines, he emerged at the back corner of the store.

  An elderly lady, wearing a blue Walgreens vest, lavender pants and a smile approached him. “Can I help you find something, young man?”

  His desire shriveled, overcome by the horror of looking into the wrinkled face of this gentle old woman and asking for her help.

  Yeah, not gonna happen.

  Ricky never considered himself a lady’s man, the way some of the other guys were, but he had in fact purchased condoms before.

  As he stared into the innocent, eager stare of—he checked out her name tag—Marge and lied like the fool he was. “My, ah, wife sent me here for,” he leaned in close to whisper, “tampons.”

  Marge patted his forearm, shaking her head when she realized she’d touched his tats. “You aren’t the only man to stop in here asking for those. We make the task a little more discreet than Wal-Mart or Target. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  He pursed his lips and swallowed his laugh. The situation just kept getting better! Marge’s wide hips swayed with her steps. Two aisles over, she turned left, walking halfway down.

  “Here ya go.” She did her best Vanna White impression. “Do you know which kind she uses? Or how heavy her flow is?”

  Oh man! This was so not happening.

  “No.”

  “Can you call her? ‘Cause getting this wrong is definitely not a good thing.”

  “I can’t call her. She’s on a trip.”

  Gray eyebrows furrowed. “Then why are you buying her tampons?”

  Dammit! “Because she’ll be home tomorrow morning and doesn’t have any more.”

  Marge frowned. “Are you sure you even need tampons?”

  “Yes.” He reached out and grabbed the biggest box on the shelf. If Shayne didn’t want them, he’d donate them to a women’s shelter. “Now that I’m looking at the boxes, these are her favorite.”

  He let his eyes wander up and down the aisle, looking for the family planning section that always coincided with the girlie products. Nothing. Great!