His Brown-Eyed Girl

by Liz Talley

  But that voice was also the same voice that had urged her to sneak out with Robbie Guidry…to allow her present-day tormentor to be her first sexual partner. Bold, reckless and oblivious to consequences, that voice didn’t represent the smartest of part of Addy. Most of the time, she ignored that part of herself, choosing to control it with safe activities, like reading spicy romances. No one could hurt her in those books, unlike the real world.

  “Addy?”

  “What?” She refocused on Lucas.

  This man was not Robbie Guidry. Didn’t mean he still couldn’t hurt her emotionally, but physically he was quite the opposite of a threat. His touch awoke something beautiful inside her.

  “Sorry. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to get this involved with you.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “I didn’t expect you to trip over yourself running toward me, but I didn’t expect you to slam the door neither.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. We enjoy each other’s company. And though I want you in a not-so-friendly way, I’m a man of some control. I’m pretty sure I can handle an innocent outing chaperoned by three kids without humping your leg.”

  Addy couldn’t stop the smile at that image. She read too much into the invitation and allowed the mixed-up emotions she felt for Lucas to shade her responses. He was right. What he asked was no different than what she’d been doing with him and the kids for the past few days. Hanging out. Last night hadn’t changed that.

  Okay, maybe a little.

  “I’m not asking you to climb into bed with me…though that idea has merit,” Lucas said, charming grin back in place.

  She shoved her doubts to the back burner. “You have power in that grin.”

  He made a face.

  Addy nodded. “I’ll go. And if my delivery guy comes back this week, I’ll take Saturday morning off.”

  “Good.” Lucas nodded, glancing back at the Finlay house. “I should get back.”

  “Yeah, I promised to watch TV with Aunt Flora. She didn’t have a good day today. Missed her turn for the library and ended up lost. She found her way back eventually, but it upset her more than normal.”

  “A kiss before I go?”

  Addy stepped back and eyed him. Dear Gussie he was gorgeous. All hard planes, broad shoulders and hewn oak. Chocolate eyes, crooked nose and sensuous mouth. She wanted to kiss him till the cows came home—whatever that meant. But her voice of reason was being awfully forceful that night.

  Lucas quirked an eyebrow.

  “I’m thinking about it,” she said.

  “Ah, hell, Addy girl, if you gotta think that hard, I’ll say good-night.”

  “You know my history. You know why I’m cautious.”

  “You told me I didn’t scare you.”

  I lied.

  Addy shook her head. “You don’t. But I’m not sure we should repeat last night.”

  He stepped back, inching off the porch stoop, stepping down one, two, three steps. “Fine. I respect your decision. I didn’t come to seduce you.”

  His words tore a little at her heart. She wanted him to want her…so why was she hiding behind fear? Again, her past clutched at her, preventing her from reacting as a normal woman would.

  Damn it. She wasn’t a victim and she wouldn’t be controlled by fear.

  Jogging down the steps so she was eye level with him, she leaned in, planting a kiss on his lips.

  It was a soft kiss that turned hot in the blink of an eye.

  Lucas cupped her head and made her kiss worth his while. What felt like minutes later, he pulled back and studied her in the dim porch light. “Don’t be afraid, Addy.”

  “I’m always afraid,” she whispered.

  “Ah, Addy, you break my heart,” he said.

  She tapped his chest. “Good to know you got one, tough guy.”

  He smiled. “It’s in there somewhere.”

  Addy brushed his jaw with the back of her hand, liking the way the rasp of his emerging beard felt. “I fight fear every day, and I win. Just sometimes my rational voice overshadows the voice that had me straddling you last night.”

  His eyes grew softer. “I like the voice you listened to last night. I like the woman you are in my arms.” He ducked and gave her a quick kiss before turning toward the house ablaze with lights.

  “Me, too,” she said quietly. Her admission wafted in the night air. “But she’s the girl who gets me hurt. Been there. Done that.”

  He turned. “You chose the wrong guy, that’s all.”

  And then he turned again, his footfalls soft on the winter-weary ground. Addy watched, a silent shadow, her mind wrapping around his words. She knew Robbie Guidry had been the wrong man for her. As a seventeen-year-old his only appeal was in how wrong he was for her. Having a secret affair with the older man down the street was forbidden…exciting…rebellious.

  Until it was not.

  But that didn’t mean Lucas was the right man even if from the start she’d been attracted to him. That atypical response didn’t mean anything. So it usually took weeks or months for her to feel comfortable around a guy? Just because it happened within a couple of days signified nothing.

  But she knew it did…even if on paper Lucas was all wrong for her. In the long run, he was inaccessible—didn’t live in New Orleans, had a life elsewhere. New Orleans was a pit stop for him, and all she could ever be was a nice memory.

  Was that enough to take a risk?

  Especially when Robbie might be paroled in less than a week? Did she really want to let down her guard when danger lurked around the corner?

  “Addy?” Aunt Flora’s voice boomed from the innards of the house.

  “Coming,” she shouted, trotting up the porch steps, shutting the door and twisting the lock before setting the kettle on the stove.

  “What’s taking you so long?” Aunt Flora asked, schlepping into the kitchen with Bugs Bunny slippers and a wildly patterned caftan.

  “Lucas stopped by,” she said, grabbing two cups and the tin of chamomile. Both she and Flora needed something to calm their nerves.

  “I tell you what, I wouldn’t be talking with that man around. I’d be doing.” Aunt Flora folded herself into a chair and watched Addy. “No tea for me tonight, dear. I’m having vodka.”

  “Vodka?”

  “Diane found a wonderful cotton candy vodka. It’s delish to sip.”

  Addy wrinkled her nose but slid her aunt’s cup back into the cupboard. Aunt Flora wasn’t supposed to mix alcohol with her medications, but Addy figured she shouldn’t point that out tonight. Aunt Flora finally acted more like herself. The jittery shell of a woman who had met her when she had arrived home had scared her. A teary Aunt Flora was like eating week-old meat loaf…not fun to experience the blowback. “Fine, but I’m not going dancing with you later when the booze kicks in.”

  Flora laughed. “When is the last time you danced, Addy? You used to love it.”

  Addy stiffened. “I don’t have time to dance.”

  Her aunt tsked and shook her head sadly. “Honey, you gotta start dancing.”

  “I’m assuming you’re talking about more than actual footwork?”

  Aunt Flora tilted her head, her silvery hair dropping against the bold red, yellow and orange silk, and gave her a bemused smile. “I used to dance with Millard every Saturday.”

  “Mr. O’Boyle? The guy you bought Fleur de Lis from?”

  “Millard was a fine dancer, so light on his feet. He always hummed as we danced, holding me so close as we circled the potted plants and waltzed past the cut stems. Best end to a workweek ever.”

  “He was married with four children, Aunt Flora.”

  Her aunt narrowed her eyes. “I know, but what’s the harm in a dance?”

  The kettle whistled and Addy poured steaming water into her cup and swirled the tea ball, releasing the aroma. She inhaled deeply. “Were you in love with him?”

  “Of course. There was much to love about M
illard. He had a deep laugh that nearly shook his entire body and a neat mustache he liked to stroke when he contemplated his designs. And he was always so sweet to children, giving little girls flowers and young boys a sweet from his candy jar.”

  Addy contemplated Flora sitting in her kitchen, staring out into her past, a half smile on her face. After several seconds of silence, Flora glanced at Addy. “If only we’d met in another time and place. He was too good a man to hurt his wife. The only leave he gave himself to be another man was when we danced. Still today I can hardly stand the sound of the ‘Tennessee Waltz.’”

  Addy didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.” Her voice held sorrow and regret.

  “Bah, years ago, but the heart does remember.” Flora straightened and then pointed a finger at Addy. “My point is don’t miss the dance, honey. Anyone with eyes in her head can see the man next door wants to be your partner. Don’t deny yourself because there’s no forever in it. Sometimes you have to settle for one dance a week to get you through a lifetime.”

  “I’m not avoiding the potential for something between us. Things just aren’t ideal for romance.”

  “When are they ever ideal? There is no such thing. It’s like saying you’ll have kids when you can afford them. Or saying you’ll do the things you dreamed of when you retire.” Aunt Flora gave her a look that made Addy want to cry. “Look what that got me.”

  Silence reigned and Addy busied herself by putting away the tea and tossing the spoon into the sink. Mostly so she wouldn’t cry in front of Flora.

  “But I’ll tell you what was worthwhile—dancing with Millard. I don’t regret locking the door, pulling down the shade and losing myself in a man who was mine…if only for thirty minutes. Sometimes I wonder if I should have…” Aunt Flora’s voice trailed off. “Know what? I wanna get out of here and sip some more of that vodka.”

  “Your wish is…” Addy turned off the kitchen light, and in the glow of the night-light sitting above the counter she extended a hand to her aunt, seeing she couldn’t handle the memories of a love unfulfilled.

  “My command,” Aunt Flora finished, winding her arm around Addy pulling her into a hug. “Your father called earlier and wanted you to give him a ring.”

  Addy’s heart sank.

  Robbie Guidry. Her father had gone to talk to the assistant D.A. who had prosecuted Robbie, taking all the evidence tagged by Lieutenant Andre. But Addy didn’t want to talk about parole boards and safety issues at the moment. Nor did she want to talk any further about taking risks with big, sexy men living temporarily next door.

  She wanted to lose herself in a world somewhere far away, and maybe later find out what Sheriff Cade and Sophie were up to.

  Ha! As if she didn’t know.

  *

  THE PHONE WOKE LUCAS from where he dozed in the recliner. All the lights were still on and ESPN blared on the TV. One of the announcers mentioned a trade deal between Philly and the Texas Rangers for a pitcher, but the incessant ringing kept him from hearing what player it was.

  “Hello,” he said, trying to sound awake and read the closed-captioning at the same time.

  “Lucas?” It was Courtney.

  “Hey.”

  “Sorry I’m calling so late. I’d meant to call earlier but got tied up.” She paused. “Luke, he’s awake.”

  “Ben?”

  Courtney laughed. “No, the Easter Bunny.”

  “Of course I know what you meant. How is he?”

  “He’s still weak and a little confused. He thought at first he was still in Germany and wanted to know how I got a passport so quickly. Oh, and your parents arrived this evening. It’s been crazy.”

  Relief blanketed Lucas. Until that moment he hadn’t realized how much he wanted his brother to pull through. The betrayal was still there, but somehow lessened.

  He didn’t know if he wanted it to lessen. He’d held on to his anger, his pride, for so long it had become like a favorite sweatshirt, easy to pull on.

  “Lucas?”

  “I’m here. Sorry, I had fallen asleep and was a bit disoriented. Still surprised to wake up somewhere other than my own bed. I’m glad to hear he’s awake.”

  “Are you?”

  He stiffened. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You haven’t cared in years.” Her voice was solemn, not the least bit flippant. He figured she’d been thinking about him and their past. Being alone with fear gave a person plenty of time to examine and reexamine life.

  “Did you think I wanted my brother to die? Jesus, Court. I’ve been angry a long time, but I never wished harm on either of you.” Lucas stood, outrage coursing his blood. She thought him that sort of monster? Had she ever really known him?

  “We haven’t seen you since the night we told you we had fallen in love. You disappeared and blocked us out of existence. What do you think we were supposed to think?”

  “That you broke my heart, that my brother betrayed me.”

  Silence reigned on the other end.

  “You know, this is a bad time to bring up the past. Ben’s awake. That’s what matters. Be happy and don’t jab old wounds,” he said.

  Courtney inhaled and exhaled. “Yes, that’s the most important thing, but I’ve been thinking about you and about Ben. What happened to you both doesn’t seem fair. That was my fault. I’m the one who ruined everything. I shouldn’t have… I should have resisted him.”

  “And been untrue to your feelings for Ben? Pretended to love me when you didn’t? How would that have been better? It wouldn’t. What happened happened, Courtney. From the looks of things around here, I’d say it worked for the best.”

  “But not for you.”

  He couldn’t deny that. Or maybe he could. If he hadn’t left New Orleans, he never would have picked up a camera, he never would have taken the chance on a new career. Never would have seen the beauty of the Hill Country in Texas or tasted Angela Verra’s tamales or climbed through the canyons of New Mexico. His life would have been lesser if he’d stayed in New Orleans with a woman who didn’t love him. “I’m fine. I’ve made a life I’m proud of.”

  “Your pictures?”

  “Yes, and I have a home, a place I find peace and acceptance.”

  “But no family.”

  He didn’t have words for her. He had his parents, but rarely saw them. An occasional cousin passed through and an aunt and uncle who sent him cards on his birthday. But he’d never been lonely. Not really. “Get some rest, take care of Ben and call tomorrow. The kids will want to know their father is okay.”

  “Not yet. Ben’s better tonight. The doctors are cautiously optimistic. It’s the cautiously that scares me.”

  “But soon.”

  “Soon.”

  Lucus hung up and turned out the lights downstairs before trudging up to the bedroom his brother shared with Courtney. When he’d first arrived, he’d balked at sleeping in their bed. Didn’t sit right with him. But there were no other beds to be had, and Lucas’s frame didn’t fit on the sofa. So he’d begrudgingly accepted he’d have to sleep in their bed.

  He tried not to think about the irony of sleeping in the place where they’d made love, made the family that should have been his.

  But he was a practical man. Mostly. So he sucked it up and laid his head on their pillows, trying not to think about how much it bothered him.

  Of course, Lucas didn’t love Courtney anymore. Maybe he never had. She’d been his shadow during his childhood, then suddenly she was beside him. It was a natural progression, almost comfortable, to concede spending the rest of his life with her.

  As he tugged off his clothes, he looked hard at the room his brother and sister-in-law shared. A collection of photos of their children cluttered the simple oak dresser. Hand-painted pictures drawn with little fingers were framed on the wall. Worn quilts he recognized from his mother’s house. The gun cabinet with the rifle his great-grandfather had used, locked and sitting in a corner. A rocking chair to nurse babies. All these
things represented a life built between a husband and wife.

  And then there was the photograph in a simple silver frame stretching across nearly an entire wall. Sunset at Havasu Falls. He’d taken it the year after he’d graduated from art school. Rich orange and sun-baked yellow stretched by the shadows of the canyon where the clear waters poured into blue depths. It was an original piece sold in his gallery in Manhattan. Probably cost at least ten grand. Not an easy sum for an insurance salesman who was a National Guardsman and a Realtor with three kids and a hefty mortgage.

  Lucas snapped off the bedside lamp and slid beneath the sheets, determined to shut his mind off and not think about his brother and the resentment he still held against him nor the trembling in his gut when he thought about facing Ben again. Nor did he want to think about Addy and her silky hair and reticent smile and the fact that she skirted around something more with him.

  He wanted to think about nothing.

  Darkness and quiet.

  And then he heard footsteps…and a horrible noise.

  He’d heard the same noise days ago when Charlotte had tossed her cookies in Addy’s flower bed.

  Dear Lord, no.

  Chapter Thirteen

  WHEN FRIDAY MORNING ARRIVED, Lucas rolled over and blinked at the alarm clock. Six o’clock. He pressed the snooze and contemplated going back to sleep, but then thought better of it and struggled from the bed, marveling he’d actually been able to sleep the whole night through.

  Tuesday night after Lucas had switched the lamp off, preparing to block his mind and catch some z’s, Chris had thrown up all over the hall floor. And then he’d been up all night sick. When morning had come, Michael joined his brother, clinging to the porcelain throne between the boys’ bedrooms.

  The stomach virus had arrived for a spring visit.

  Wednesday evening Charlotte started throwing up and the misery had lasted until Thursday night.

  Lucas had never prepared for anything like three sick children, especially ones apt to launch their stomach contents all over carpet, bedding and, once, the cat. Mean Mittens probably deserved it, but Lucas hadn’t deserved bathing a cat. Hadn’t been pretty.