Blue Colla Make Ya Holla

by Laramie Briscoe

  “Hey, Caroline…It’s a little late, but congratulations on being Charlottesville’s best looking First Lady.”

  The fact that she’d married William “Never Bill” Ainsley just made his skin crawl. He was like the bad guy in every eighties teen movie. All golden hair and star quarterback on the outside and Darth Vader in the middle.

  Lucy made a choking sound, dragging her finger across her throat in a silent, age-old, but still effective threat. He frowned at her then glanced back at Caroline. The smile was still there, but it wasn’t quite right. The warmth had left her eyes and she looked—broken, he decided. She looked broken.

  After a second’s pause, Caroline spoke. “I guess you’ve been so busy working in here that the gossip hasn’t reached you yet—William and I are divorced, or will be soon at any rate.”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  Her smile curved upward then, into something ugly and a little mean. “He was doing that too…with his secretary.”

  Boone shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He hadn’t just put his foot into his mouth, he’d chewed up and swallowed both of his damned combat boots. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I didn’t mean—ah, hell. I’ll just shut up now.”

  Lucy came forward and placed her bony arm around Caroline’s shoulder. It was the same pose in a dozen snapshots of them taken as children. “Too bad you couldn’t have reached that stellar decision about five minutes ago,” Lucy said acidly. “We’ll be next door if you want to come over and tell us how much weight we need to gain or lose, and how these pants do nothing for our asses. Maybe you can give us each a couple of paper cuts and pour salt in ’em!”

  Caroline chuckled, and Boone felt the tension ease in him. He’d gladly take Lucy’s brand of sarcasm if it meant making Caroline feel better. Still, it pissed him off a little that Lucy had kept that tidbit to herself. It was the kind of information that ought to be passed along. Of course, that was partially his own fault. Every time Caroline’s name had come up in the conversation, he’d snapped at her. It had gotten to a point that hearing about her, thinking about her when he knew she’d never be his, had just been too much.

  “Lucy, be nice to the poor boy. He’s only been home for a month, and he’s been working day and night in here!” Caroline admonished softly.

  One word stuck out for him in her defense. Boy. He was thirty-two years old. He’d been shot three times. He’d killed more men than he cared to count, and he had a trunk full of medals he couldn’t even stand to look at. But he was a boy to her, and that was never going to change. It made him so damned mad he wanted to punch something. But since he wasn’t about to destroy what he’d been working so hard to put together, he figured getting out would be the best bet.

  “I’m heading over to the PitStop for a beer,” he said. “I need a break.” And he needed to get the hell away from the woman he could never have.

  “Be careful, Boone,” Caroline offered. “It really was good to see you again.”

  “My foot in my mouth,” he said with an easy smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just like old times.”

  Grabbing his jacket and keys, Boone left the building. Climbing into the old step-side truck his grandfather had left him, he headed for the bar and enough beer to drown his sorrows.

  *

  Caroline left the tattoo shop, crossing the hall into the other small storefront that housed Lucy’s bakery. The building had once been a small department store, offering women’s clothing on one side and men’s on the other. Boone had helped Lucy buy the building and start her bakery. He’d signed over his half of the life insurance policy they’d gotten after his and Lucy’s parents had been killed, and he’d done it without a second thought. As far as brothers went, he was just about the best anybody could ask for.

  He’s not your brother, and he looked damn good. Ignoring the voice in her head, the one that had been saying all sorts of things only worthy of being ignored, she offered up the apology that had to be made. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by lately. Or called. Or texted. Or responded to your texts…and heaven knows I’m staying away from the pitfalls of social media right now. If one more person tells me how sorry they are, I swear to god, I’m going to climb the water tower buck-ass naked and shout to the whole town that I’m glad the son of a bitch is gone!”

  Lucy laughed, the throaty sound seeming at odds with her stick-like frame. No matter what, Lucy never gained weight. Even when she’d been pregnant, she had just looked like a skinny woman carrying a watermelon under her shirt. If she weren’t Caroline’s best friend, the hatred would have run deep.

  “The water tower is rusted as hell because your smarmy ex pocketed the money that should have been used to paint it. I hope you’re up to date on your tetanus shots.”

  Sinking onto one of the white, wrought-iron chairs with its striped pink cushions, Caroline laid her head on the small bistro table. “I need a cupcake. Or a dozen. Then I won’t be able to haul my fat ass up the water tower.”

  Lucy reached into the glass-fronted display case. Another errant thought about Boone and all the wonderful things he’d done for his sister popped into Caroline’s head. He’d found the display case at a flea market years ago and had helped refinished it while he was home on leave and Lucy’s pregnancy hormones had been akin to demonic possession.

  When her friend produced one chocolate cupcake, placed it on a small plate, and walked over to the table, Caroline tried not to salivate.

  Lucy placed the treat in front of her. “One cupcake. Then you’re going to stop feeling sorry for yourself and tell me what that needle-dicked bastard has done this time.”

  Caroline looked at the cupcake. “I can’t pay you for this. My dad has cut me off…I signed the divorce papers this morning and he flipped. Said I was throwing away all that we’d worked for.”

  “You earned the cupcake for putting up with my bitchy ass all these years…Although I’m not sure if I’m talking about your soon-to-be ex-husband or your father. Speaking of your father, has he missed the part where your husband killed his political career by stealing from his constituents and sleeping with his married secretary?”

  Caroline felt the tears starting then. “According to my father, it’s my fault. If I’d taken better care of myself and not gotten so fat, my husband wouldn’t have strayed and his half-wit secretary—who incidentally can’t tie her shoes without instructions—wouldn’t have been able to sway him. But the real problem—” She stopped abruptly, unable to continue.

  Lucy looked at her. “And what?”

  The words came out in a rush, running over top of one another. “And-you’re-the-only-friend-I-have-and-I’ve-been-awful-to-you-but-now-I-need-a-place-to-stay.”

  Lucy shook her head. “My house would drive you crazy. Between Charlie screaming at the television, the dogs barking, the twins wailing, and the constant sound of video game gunfire accompanied by the random funk of a teenage boy…But I may have a solution.”

  “Really?”

  Lucy grinned. “Come with me, and bring your cupcake.”

  *

  Boone stared at his second beer. He’d been sitting at the bar for almost two hours, but getting drunk had lost its appeal. Maybe it was the horrible band or maybe it was the fact that the local college kids were slumming it in the dive bar, but he just felt old and tired.

  “Suck it up, buttercup. There’s more where that came from.”

  Before Boone could even respond to his sister’s taunt, she tugged the beer bottle from his hand and drained what was left in it. Afterward, she grimaced and wiped her mouth. “Wuss. You know it’s a party foul to let your beer get warm.”

  Boone took the bottle from her and signaled the bartender for another one. “I think it’s a party foul for the mother of a sixteen-year-old to use the words ‘party foul.’ Why aren’t you still hanging out with Caroline and bashing anything with a penis?”

  Lucy shrugged. “Penises are fine. It’s the men attached to them that ar
e the problem.”

  Boone shuddered. “It weirds me out for you to say that word. Let’s just forget it?”

  “What? Penis?” She laughed. “There are other words I can use instead!”

  “No. Definitely not. Not now. Not ever,” he said emphatically. If she was going to continue hanging out, he was going to need something stronger than beer.

  The bartender placed another longneck in front of him, and Lucy promptly stole it. With a weary sigh, he just shrugged and signaled for yet another beer. “Is there some reason you followed me down here? Other than to get drunk off the shit I’m buying for myself?”

  She patted him on the back. “You, little brother, owe me. You owe me so big that you’re going to paint my entire shop all by yourself.”

  Sipping the beer that finally made it into his hand rather than his sister’s, he said, “You mean like I did last time?”

  “I paid you!”

  “You bought me pizza…which your bottomless pit of a kid scarfed down half of,” he reminded her. “Now, what is it you think I owe you for?”

  She wore a smirk like a cartoon cat with a yellow feather hanging from its mouth. “You owe me, Boone, because Caroline is now your roommate.”

  He set the bottle back on the bar. He couldn’t swallow because his heart was in his throat. “What the hell did you do?”

  “She needed a place to stay…It seems that Needle Dick’s legal problems have resulted in her losing her house. Her delusional father believes it’s her fault that her shitty husband cheated on her and kicked her out of his house when she signed the divorce papers.”

  Boone shook his head. “You cannot do this to me! Do you know what kind of torture it would be to live with her?”

  Lucy nodded. “I do. You two have been tap dancing around each other for years. Now maybe it’s time to tango.”

  “What? Are we on Dancing with the damn Stars now? I don’t want to tango with her, tap dance with her, or anything else. You heard her, Lucy. She’s never going to see me as anything more than your kid brother, and I can’t keep throwing my ego out there for her to stomp on.”

  “She doesn’t just see you that way. She wants to, but Boone, as much as it repulses me to admit this about my own brother, you’re hot. And she’s—”

  “She’s what?” he demanded after Lucy’s abrupt halt.

  “You look at her and all you see is the beautiful girl you’ve always been crazy about…but other people in this town aren’t that nice. They see the Homecoming Queen, who now wears double-digit dress sizes.”

  “That’s bullshit. Caroline looks amazing.”

  Lucy’s smile was sad and a little bitter when she answered. “To you and to most other men, but not to the asshole she was dumb enough to marry. It’s women who are the nastiest, Boone. They chew each other up. It’s all smiles to your face, then claws and teeth the minute your back is turned.”

  That tore him up. It wasn’t just that Caroline was beautiful to him physically. In all his life, he’d never seen her be anything but kind to everyone else. It was bad enough that her husband had two-timed her, even though the ass-hat had never deserved her anyway. For her own father to kick her out and a bunch of bitchy women to tear at her—it just wasn’t right.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “She can stay…as a platonic roommate. I’m not getting involved in anything else with her. I mean it.”

  “Of course, you do, sweetie. You mean every word of it,” Lucy said with a laugh. “I just don’t know how long you’ll mean it for.”

  Boone placed his head in his hands. War hadn’t made him cry. But his meddling sister might. “You need to leave this alone. She doesn’t want me. She thinks I’m a kid.”

  Lucy practically bounced up and down on the padded bar stool. “And this is the perfect opportunity to show her you’re not! Kill spiders, open jars, carry her groceries up the steps for her so she can see how well all your push-ups paid off!”

  “I don’t need you to fix my life, Luc,” he said sharply.

  She smiled again. “I’m not fixing yours, baby. I’m fixing hers. She needs this way more than you do.”

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Two beers was more than he felt comfortable driving after. One and a half, he corrected. Lucy had stolen part of his second beer. Still, Boone had opted to leave his truck parked at the bar, a decision he’d likely regret, and had jogged back to the apartment in the early evening hours. It would have been fine had the heavens not decided to open and douse him with bitter, cold rain. Now it was full dark and he could barely see anything in front of him.

  He still wanted to murder his sister. Grumbling under his breath, watching it puff in front of his face, he turned the corner and smacked hard into something soft and yielding. The squeak, as she tumbled backward, had him reaching out to grab her. With his hands wrapped around her upper arms, she was off balance, falling against his chest until they were both backed against the cold, wet brick wall.

  Not that it mattered. He was practically sizzling as the rain hit him just from being so close to her. All the things he’d said to Lucy, all the dipshit stuff about being platonic roommates taunted him. Two seconds he’d held her against him and he was rock hard.

  “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “Oh, Boone! You have to help me!”

  He wanted to. God did he want to, but he imagined her vision of help and his would be very different. “It’s freezing and you’re wearing a—” He looked down and regretted it immediately. The white nightie and the robe that covered it were all but transparent from the rain. He could see everything he’d always dreamed of. “Not enough. Not nearly enough!”

  “I can’t reach it,” she said.

  His brain was going to the same places it had when he was twelve and trying to watch her change clothes through the keyhole. “What?”

  “Boone, are you even listening to me?”

  He was trying. He was really, really trying. He forced his eyes to focus on a point just beyond her shoulder, where he didn’t have to see big blue eyes and pink lips or, God above, glistening skin encased in transparent white lace and whatever the hell else her nonexistent nightie was made of.

  “What exactly do you need help with?”

  “The kitten! It’s trapped in the drain pipe and I can’t reach it!”

  That managed to sink into his lust frozen brain. “There’s a toolbox in the living room closet. Go get it…and get a damn jacket while you’re in there!”

  “It’s not that cold!”

  He shook his head. “Caroline, you’re a bright woman. I’m going to say this one time. You’re standing outside, in the rain, in the cold, wearing something thin and white. Put the goddamn jacket on!”

  Her mouth fell open; she glanced down, glanced back up, clamped her lips into a firm line, and headed for the door.

  Once she was inside, Boone moved to the corner of the building. He was close enough to hear the pitiful cries coming from inside the white aluminum. Lowering himself to the ground, ignoring the puddle he had to lie in and the rain that pelted him, he reached inside. The little thing had moved back beyond the bend, and his hands were too large to get to it. The dim street lamp illuminated the alley but did nothing to help him see into the downspout.

  “Hey, baby,” he whispered. “Whatcha doin’ in there?”

  The kitten cried louder. From the circumference of the gutter, the thing had to be tiny. He was going to have to trap it completely, closing off the gutter above and below before he could cut through it and extricate it.

  Getting to his knees, still gingerly petting what he could reach of the wet, matted fur, he pressed the aluminum in with his other hand. It caved in about six inches above where the kitten was. Removing his hand from the gutter opening, he did the same thing below the bend. He’d just finished when Caroline came out with the tool box, wearing a black hoodie over her transparent night clothes.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

/>   “I’m going to have to cut the pipe to get it out. When I saw through it, I don’t want the kitten to panic and take off in case it’s hurt.”

  *

  Caroline dropped the heavy tool box a little more gracelessly than she’d planned. Mortification apparently rendered her clumsy. “Oh,” she said. It also apparently rendered her inarticulate. She’d known that Boone would know what to do. Throughout their childhood, he’d dragged in one rescued stray after another while his and Lucy’s mother had ranted and raved and restocked the first aid kit.

  “Can it breathe in there?”

  “Yeah…It’s not closed off too tight for air. Just too tight for someone to wiggle away,” he said, sorting through the tool box until he produced a small saw and a set of wicked looking scissors. Probably not scissors, she thought. They undoubtedly had some manlier name, but she didn’t know what it was. William hadn’t been the handy type. She couldn’t recall even seeing him wield a hammer to help hang pictures.

  It didn’t take him very long to remove the caved-in section of the gutter. Regardless, the inhabitant was less than pleased. Pitiful yowling and possibly a few growls could be heard from inside. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Are you sure this is a cat?”

  “Yes?”

  He shook his head. “Let’s get it inside and see if it’s friend or foe.”

  She reached for the toolbox, but he’d already hoisted it up. Not that she minded. It weighed a ton. Of course, he carried it like it was nothing. And as he climbed the steps to the back door of the building, his wet jogging pants clung to his perfectly sculpted behind in a way that made her mouth water.

  No. No. No. Lucy’s baby brother, she reminded herself.

  Of course, he wasn’t a baby anymore. He was only two years younger than her.

  That’s your sex-starved libido talking.

  What could it hurt to look? She was still a married woman, after all, even if she was quickly approaching the expiration date on that mistake. Boone was a good-looking man. One of the best looking she’d ever seen, in fact. It had surprised the hell out of her. Of course, she was also staying in his house rent free. It was a definite complication, but a part of her looked at his chiseled profile and thought it might be worth it.