Getting Lucky (A Nugget Romance Book 5)

by Stacy Finz

  Raylene had told him it was fate.

  “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t come back?” Lucky asked.

  “I would’ve finally gone to your mother.”

  It pissed him off that she would’ve waited until Katie was out of options. “You know how messed up that is, Tawny?”

  “I can’t go back and change things. If I could, I would. I am truly sorry, though.” She started to get up, but he pulled her back down.

  “Just sit with me for a while.” When she settled back next to him, he said, “I’m worried that she won’t get better and this is all the time I have with her.”

  Tawny tilted her head against the back of the couch as if to hold back the tears rolling down her cheeks. “We can’t think that way. We just have to stay positive. If you’re not a match, maybe your mom is.”

  He reached out and dried her face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. How do you think it’s going so far between the two of us?”

  “You and Katie? I think good. She feels comfortable with you, that’s for sure.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m her mother, Lucky. I know these things. She talks about you a lot. Wants to know about your ranch, about what kind of animals you have. That sort of thing.”

  He liked that. He liked everything about Katie. Who would’ve thought of him with a daughter? Damn!

  “Anything new?” she asked.

  “This reporter wants to come up and interview me for Sports Illustrated. One of those stories about how an athlete changes careers after his heyday is over.”

  Tawny sat up straight. “Your heyday isn’t over, Lucky. Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t know. I wrecked pretty bad in Billings. Had to be hospitalized. I’m getting to that age where it’s hard to compete with the younger guys. I thought about going into announcing, but to tell you the truth I’m sick of the traveling. I won’t lie, though, I’ll miss the celebrity of it. I may not be Tom Brady, but I have my fair share of fans. I like being recognized and signing autographs.”

  She smiled at him. “I don’t think that’ll go away. You’re a world champion, Lucky. That doesn’t stop when you retire.”

  He shrugged. At least winning this year would make him the longest reigning world champion in the history of the PBR. If he had to go out, breaking his own record would be the only way to do it. Plus, having Raylene in the stands watching him ride would mean a lot to him. As far as he knew, she’d never seen him compete in any Professional Bull Riders events, unless she’d watched on ESPN. Back in high school, when she’d been the Plumas County rodeo queen, she’d cheered him on when he’d competed locally. But that had been small potatoes.

  “I’d like Katie to come watch me compete in Vegas,” he said, and hastily added, “You too.”

  “We’d like that.”

  “Yeah?” He grinned at her. The woman had always been nice to talk to. That night they’d made Katie, she’d been his salvation. Calming him after the nightmare at the Rock and River and helping him come up with a plan.

  “Of course.” She smiled back. “I think I’ll turn in now.”

  “Is it okay if I look in on Katie first?”

  “Just don’t wake her up.”

  “You’re bossy, you know that?”

  She elbowed him in the ribs. “I am not.”

  He watched her collect the toothbrush and shirt and walk to the bathroom, enjoying the sway of her backside. He tried to visualize Raylene’s ass instead, but found that he couldn’t.

  Katie’s fever disappeared the next day and Tawny took her home. The girl could use a little less excitement. Between Cecilia’s fussing and Lucky’s constant roughhousing, Katie needed some downtime. And Tawny needed to start Clay McCreedy’s boots.

  “I’m bored, Mommy.” Katie got a carton of orange juice out of the refrigerator and poured herself a glass.

  “How about reading a book?” Tawny said, and Katie made a face. “What? You like to read.”

  “Can we go to my dad’s ranch?”

  “Not today, baby. I want you to rest and I have work to do.”

  Katie pouted, finished her juice, and went in search of her e-reader, another gift while she’d been in the hospital.

  Tawny heard a car pull up and moved toward a window so she could see the street. Sam got out of her Mercedes convertible, carrying a basket, and made her way up Tawny’s porch stairs. Before Sam could knock, Tawny opened the door. Startled, Sam jumped back, then started to laugh.

  “Sorry,” Tawny said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You come for your boots?”

  “And to see how Katie is and deliver this.” Sam held up the basket. “It’s an autumn root gratin with ham, from Brady. Very fancy.”

  “It sounds delicious. Come on in.” Tawny took the basket from Sam and took it into the kitchen. “Who’s Brady?”

  “He’s the new chef at the Lumber Baron. Fabulous cook and very hot—if you don’t mind tattoos. He’s got loads of them on his arms. Maybe more elsewhere too. But I wouldn’t know, being a married woman and all.” Sam held out her ring finger and wiggled it, the gem beaming so bright that Tawny needed sunglasses.

  No question the woman was in love. Tawny didn’t know Nate Breyer well, but he was certainly good-looking and not your typical Nugget rancher or railroad worker. The man owned something like ten hotels, most of them in San Francisco.

  “How’s Katie?” Sam asked. “When you left the Ponderosa last night, we got word from Rhys, who got word from Jake, that you weren’t taking her to the emergency room.”

  “No. The fever went down and it seemed like a better idea for her to rest at home. Today she’s much better.”

  “Ah, Tawny. I’m so glad she’s okay, but I’m sorry that you’re going through this.”

  “We should hear fairly soon whether Lucky’s a match for the stem cell transplant.” Tawny knew she was putting a lot of faith in the transplant. Even if Lucky turned out to be a perfect match, a chance existed that it wouldn’t work and that Katie would continue to get sicker. “Let’s go out to the studio and get your boots.”

  Tawny quickly checked on Katie, who’d curled up on her bed with her nose buried in the e-reader. Once they got inside the studio, Tawny handed Sam her boots to try on.

  Sam squealed. “They’re stunning, Tawny. Absolutely perfect.” She slipped into them and walked back and forth across the studio. “I’ve never worn cowboy boots before. They’re so comfortable.”

  “That’s because they’re custom made to the shape of your feet and calves. It makes a big difference.”

  “I love them.” Sam turned her legs this way and that as she examined the boots in the mirror. “I’m wearing them to our monthly sales meeting in San Francisco next week.”

  Tawny laughed. She couldn’t see the boots going too well with Sam’s wardrobe, which as far as Tawny could tell consisted of a lot of designer suits.

  Sam must have read her mind because she looked up from the mirror and said, “I’ll wear them with jeans and a nice blazer.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Tawny gave Sam instructions on how to take care of the boots and included a bootjack in her package.

  “I know this is a bad time with Katie and all,” Sam said. “But is there any chance you would be interested in a setup?”

  “You mean like a blind date?”

  “Yeah. Sort of. Brady, the chef I told you about, is single. He just moved here, doesn’t know a lot of people, and is a really sweet guy—and a good listener. I thought you two might hit it off.”

  “I don’t know, Sam. Everything is up in the air right now with Katie’s treatment. It just doesn’t seem like a good time.”

  “I understand,” Sam said. “But just come into the Lumber Baron one day and introduce yourself. Nate’s petrified Brady will leave us if he doesn’t make any friends.”

  “I will definitely do that and personally thank him for the casserole.”

  “
Just make sure you call it a gratin,” Sam teased. “Fancy chefs don’t do casseroles.”

  She wrote Tawny a substantial check, which would keep her and Katie in Top Ramen for a while, and wore her boots out of the shop. No sooner had Tawny gone back into the kitchen to heat up Brady’s gratin than Lucky showed up with an armful of grocery bags.

  “There’s more in my truck,” he said, and went outside to fetch them.

  “What are you doing?” Tawny took one of the packages out of his hands on his return flight.

  “Stocking you up.”

  “Lucky, I don’t need charity.” It was one thing to send over a covered dish, a whole other to send an entire supermarket.

  “Charity? I’m feeding my daughter. The way I look at it, I’ve got nine years to make up for.” He stopped and tossed her an acid look as if to say And that’s your fault. “From here on in, I’ll be clothing her too.” And then he handed her a check. She took one look at the amount and nearly gasped. “The rest is coming.”

  “The rest of what?” she asked.

  “Nine years of child support. Where’s Katie?”

  “She’s in her room, reading. I want her to rest, so don’t go in there riling her up.”

  “I don’t rile her up.” He headed for Katie’s bedroom door.

  “She’s fragile, Lucky. All that tossing her and spinning her . . . It’s too much.”

  “I’m gentle,” he said, dismissing her. Then he knocked on Katie’s door and popped his head in the room. “Hey, kiddo.”

  Tawny heard Katie say hello and went into the kitchen to put away the groceries. Half of them would spoil before she and Katie could eat everything.

  Katie and Lucky came into the kitchen. “Mommy, can Dad stay for dinner?”

  Uh, way to put me on the spot. “Sure.”

  “What smells so good?” Lucky wanted to know.

  “It’s a vegetable and ham gratin that Sam brought over. The chef at the Lumber Baron made it.”

  “A what?” Lucky said.

  “It’s like a casserole.”

  “It sounds gross,” Katie said. “Can we have mac and cheese?”

  “No, we’re having this with a big salad. Go wash up.”

  Katie skipped off and Lucky said, “She looks good. Less pale.”

  “Let’s keep it that way.” Tawny opened the oven and touched the top of the gratin to see if it was hot enough. It needed a few more minutes. “No roughhousing. I want her to go to school Monday.”

  “You think I could take her to lunch tomorrow? Just to the Ponderosa.”

  “Is your mother going?” Tawny only asked because she had a bad feeling.

  “Nope. Raylene.”

  Bingo.

  “I thought we talked about that, Lucky.”

  “Yeah, we did. I was hoping you would soften your stance on the whole Raylene issue since she and I are seeing each other.”

  “I made it perfectly clear that I don’t care who you see. I only care who my daughter sees. Look, Lucky, Katie is vulnerable right now. Raylene can be, shall we say, insensitive, not to mention possessive. She’s not going to like having to share you with a nine-year-old.”

  “Tawny, you’re describing Raylene at fifteen. She’s grown-up now.”

  “Is she?” Because the description of her at the Gas and Go didn’t exactly make her sound mature.

  “She’s going through a bad divorce and acting out a little,” Lucky acknowledged. “But I think this is more about you holding a grudge against her for picking on you when you were a kid. There’s stuff you don’t know about her, Tawny. Bad stuff. It doesn’t excuse her . . . Could you just let it go?”

  The woman had been ruthless. When she wasn’t calling Tawny names, she was making fun of Tawny’s father, calling him an “invalid” and a “stupid Okie” because of his accent. Like many Californians, Franklin Wade’s people had come here during the Dust Bowl, and he’d never quite shed the simple ways of his poor farming background. He moved slow and talked slow, but he was a good man, who’d raised a daughter alone after Tawny’s mother had died.

  Yet Raylene Rosser had never missed an opportunity to put him down. The really sad part of it was that no one noticed what a bully she was. They were so busy admiring her beauty on the outside that no one saw her rotten core. Just her victims.

  For Lucky’s sake, she hoped that Raylene would eventually grow out of her meanness. People could change. Melting down in a public place wasn’t the same thing as being a bully. And who could blame her anyway? Her husband had cheated on her with her best friend and she’d had to come home with her tail between her legs.

  “You can take Katie,” Tawny told Lucky. “But so help me God, if Raylene even looks at Katie crossly, this’ll be the last time.”

  “Okay, mama bear.” Lucky’s mouth quirked. “I think that thing you’ve got in the oven is done.”

  Shoot. Tawny grabbed the gratin just before it got too brown and put down an extra place setting for Lucky.

  “Katie,” she called. “Time to eat.”

  They dug in and even Katie admitted that the meal was good. To Tawny it was about the best thing she’d ever eaten.

  “Brady made this?” Lucky asked, his mouth full.

  “You know him?”

  “Yeah. He’ll be in charge of catering events I’m doing with the Lumber Baron at the cowboy camp. Why do you ask?”

  “I just heard he was new in town. What’s he like?”

  “What do you mean, what’s he like? He’s a guy and he cooks.”

  “I was just curious is all. Sam asked me to introduce myself to him. She and Nate are worried he’ll leave Nugget if he doesn’t make friends.”

  “As long as he cooks like this, he’ll make friends. Anyway, he’s got Clay’s wife. She’s a cookbook author and sometimes helps out at the Lumber Baron.”

  “I think Sam meant single people. Maybe I’ll tell Harlee and Darla to invite him to their bowling nights at the Ponderosa.”

  Lucky looked up from his plate. “Why? They’re not single. You’re the only person I know around here who’s single. Is Sam trying to set you up with him?”

  “Of course not.” God, why had she even brought it up? “She just wants him to make friends. That’s all.”

  “And date you,” Lucky said. “Why not? He seems like a good guy.”

  “Mommy, why don’t you date Daddy?”

  Tawny shot Lucky a dirty look. “Finish your dinner, baby. Tonight’s an early night.”

  Katie took a few more bites and asked to be excused.

  “Okay, but I want you to change into your pajamas. A warm pair.”

  When she took off, Lucky said, “Sorry about that. I’m not used to having to watch my p’s and q’s.”

  “Well, get used to it. She hears and absorbs everything around her.”

  He nodded in understanding. “When the Sports Illustrated reporter comes up to do that profile I told you about, he’ll find out about Katie. You and I have to decide how to handle that. I’d like us to be on the same page.”

  “You mean about you just learning about being Katie’s father?”

  “Yeah. Knowing the media, he’s going to try to make one of us out to be the bad guy. That’s why it would be good to get our story straight.” He locked eyes with her. Tawny presumed it was to convey how important this was. “Something plausible.”

  “You mean like how you were accused of rape by Raylene and her dad, and how I was trying to protect my daughter from the nasty fallout?”

  “Tawny, keep your voice down. You just got done telling me that our daughter is a sponge. And for the record, I’d prefer to go with a different story.”

  “I thought you might.” She turned up her lips in a tight smile. “What did you have in mind? That I’m a selfish bitch who wanted Katie all to myself?”

  “Works for me.”

  “All right,” Tawny said.

  “I was kidding, Tawny. What if we just tell the reporter that it’s private—t
hat Katie is sick and our focus is on getting her better and that we don’t feel like the past is relevant.”

  Tawny laughed. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  “Instead of being negative, why don’t you try to help me out here?”

  “First off, I’m not sure I even want him to know that Katie’s sick.”

  Lucky all but rolled his eyes. “The whole town knows she’s sick, Tawny. The reporter is planning on staying a few days. How long until he bumps into Owen or Donna?”

  Lucky had a point, but still . . . Tawny wanted some privacy for her daughter. “I don’t like this, Lucky.”

  “I don’t like it either, but I committed to the story before I knew about Katie. Look at the bright side: It might drum up even more publicity for your boot business.”

  “I doubt that,” she said, and Lord knew she had more business than she could handle. “The story is about you. Why would some reporter care about my boots, anyway?”

  “Because I’ll show them to him. Hell, that could be a whole story in itself. Your boots are pretty spectacular, Tawny. And I’ve seen a lot of boots in my time.”

  The compliment sent tingles up her spine. She had a fairly good idea of how special her boots were, but to hear it from Lucky . . . “What if the reporter goes nosing around about why I didn’t tell you about Katie all this time?”

  “I think it’s a good bet he will. But unless you told someone, no one will be able to give him an answer.”

  “I didn’t tell anyone,” she said. “Are you worried about Raylene spilling the beans?”

  “Not in the least.” Lucky said it with such confidence that Tawny started to believe that maybe Raylene was different now. “She’s sorry about that night, Tawny. She wishes she would have spoken up on my behalf and said what we were doing was consensual. But she was afraid of Ray. She was afraid he’d kill us both.”

  Ray could be mean, that was for sure. His temper was so legendary that when he’d approached Tawny about making him a pair of boots, she’d told him she couldn’t take on any new clients until Katie was better. His face had turned redder than a Bing cherry, but what was he going to do? Tell Tawny she had to put his boots over her daughter’s care? That wouldn’t have gone over real well in this town. And Ray Rosser cared as much about his reputation as he did about the Rock and River Ranch.