by Leger, Lori
Red glared at his sisters, thinking he’d like to throttle every last one of them the first chance he got. He shook his head in disgust, and started up a quick paced tune by a popular country artist. It was a safe tune about a guy with no commitments, and it was something with no female vocalization, so he wouldn’t have to hear Tiffany sing.
Afterwards, Jackson sang a favorite of his wife’s then he and Giselle performed a duet by Josh Turner and Trisha Yearwood, prompting a standing ovation.
“What else?” His heart clenched in dread as his mom raised a hand, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Red, I’d like to hear something Christmassy to ring in the season.”
He could feel the tension ease from his shoulders, so relieved at her request. He knew her favorite Christmas carol and it was safe, to say the least. His relief was short lived as his mother voiced her request.
“I’d love to hear a duet. Baby, It’s Cold Outside. Please?”
“I thought The Little Drummer Boy was your favorite Christmas song.” A distinct uneasiness crept into his bones.
“It is, but your dad and I watched that Elf movie last night and the duet those two characters sang was lovely.”
He watched his mother weave her way through the crowd, stopping in front of Tiffany, just as he suspected she would.
Here it comes—the ultimate act of treachery—betrayal by the one person he thought would never throw him under the figurative bus. His sisters came by it honestly.
“Do you know it, Tiffany?” Vivienne McAllister’s question seemed innocent enough.
Tiffany nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I surely do.”
Red was already shaking his head no as Vivienne turned to him. “Mom, are you sure you wouldn’t rather hear The Little Drummer Boy?”
“No, I’m sure I’d rather hear this one, dear.” She sounded convincingly innocent to everyone but him.
“He looks too scared to sing that with Tiffany.” Annie’s comment had everyone in the room snickering.
“Probably thinks he can’t keep up with her. She’s that good.” Bailey sent him a wicked grin.
He shook his head. Traitors—every last one of them. Red glared at his sister then chanced a cautious glance in Tiffany’s direction. She stood beside his chair, arms crossed, her face a study of smug amusement.
“Bok. Bok.”
Red stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I said Bok—Bok—Ba-cawk!” Soon, everyone in the room had joined in with their own poultry imitations.
Red snorted then shook his head as he cursed under his breath. He looked back at Tiffany. “Are you ready to sing?”
The roomful of clucking and crowing sounds were immediately replaced by whistles and applause.
Tiffany’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “I don’t know, McAllister—did I pass your test?”
“Your. Ass.” He turned to his family. “And you all are nothing but a bunch of turncoats! Now, get on up here—Tiffy.”
Tiffany approached and poked her finger into his chest. “Keep it up, chicken man.”
Red repositioned himself and started playing the mellow guitar opening as Brandon and the rest of the musicians joined along. Tiffany sang the first lines of each stanza with Red picking up the back-up lines. During the guitar solos she entertained both him and their audience by placing a finger on the top of his head as she pirouetted playfully around him. As their voices blended, ending the song in perfect harmony the room exploded in cat calls and cheering.
Red laid down his guitar and stood. He grabbed hold of his duet partner’s hand and together, they took their bows. Tiffany’s delighted laughter reached him and he couldn’t help but pull her close for a big hug. He released her and leaned forward. “Are you having fun yet, Doc?”
She gave him an enthusiastic nod. “I haven’t had this much fun since college.”
Almost immediately, Tanner’s telltale ringtone rang out in the room. Red groaned, wondering if that son of a bitch could somehow sense the subtle lift of Tiffany’s spirits.
Melissa stepped forward, her head cocked curiously. “Why am I hearing Linda Ronstadt?”
Red snorted, but resisted revealing the ringtone’s owner as he caught Tiffany’s glare of warning.
She hit the answer button. “Yes?” It took all of three seconds for her to end the call and turn to Red. “Do you have a landline here, Red?”
“I sure do.”
“Would you mind if I gave it to the hospital? I’m on call, but if I leave my cell phone on, he’ll just keep calling.”
“He knows you caught him in the lie?” he whispered.
“Of course, and he’s crawfishing—trying to get out of it. I don’t have the stomach for it today.”
Red fought the urge to smile at the sound of pure disgust in her voice. Instead, he handed her one of his business cards with his number on it.
“Thanks.” She disappeared through the patio door.
He watched her from the window, turning when he heard Jackson’s voice at his elbow.
“What the hell was that about?”
“She’s giving the hospital this number so she doesn’t have to hear any more of Tanner’s lies. Apparently he’s not where he’s supposed to be.”
“Imagine that,” Jackson said. “I think someone needs to tell that prick he’s about to be replaced.”
Red shook his head. “I don’t know about all that.”
“Are you up for it—are you willing?”
“I’m not sure,” Red murmured. He caught sight of Tiffany outside on his patio and suddenly knew nothing was further from the truth. “Yeah, I am.”
Jackson gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Tread carefully, my friend. Your mom’s gonna kill you if you screw this up. You know that, right?”
Red grinned at Jackson. “Failure is not an option.”
Tiffany hugged herself, wishing she’d grabbed her jacket before coming outside. She heard the door open, but didn’t bother to turn around. She’d expected Red to follow her out here. She thanked him with a smile as he slipped her jacket over her shoulders.
“You okay, Doc?”
She turned back to stare out at a pasture, knee deep with winter grass. “It’s so beautiful out here. So peaceful. The condo Tanner and I live in is … well … not like this.”
“That’s an easy fix,” he said. “Just move.”
“I’d never get Tanner to move out to the country. He loves being in the middle of things.”
“Don’t you have any say?”
“Sure I do. I tell him I hate it and he says we’re staying put.”
“Why does he have to be the one to get his way? Have you ever heard of compromising?”
“I have, but Tanner hasn’t.” She shrugged and turned, mentally bracing herself for the sight of him. Even though, her breath caught, as it always did when he appeared in her line of vision. Red always stood tall and straight backed, confident masculinity pouring off of him, with no trace of pompousness.
When, if ever, was the last time Tanner had this effect on her?
“It doesn’t matter. I let it happen, and it’s just like your mom said; why should he stop if I don’t make him?”
He shoved his hands into his pocket and looked down, scuffing his boots on the brick pavers. “My mom?”
“Yeah, we had a talk in your pool house earlier.”
“What about?”
“Me, Tanner,” after a pause she added, “—my parents.” She blinked several times and cleared her throat. “You’re a very gifted musician—nice singing voice.”
“Thanks, but yours is better. Who does it come from?”
She answered with a careless lift of shoulder.
“Don’t you know? It must come from one of your parents.”
“We didn’t hear any singing in my family. I honestly don’t know where it comes from,” she said.
He ran his right thumb and fingers lightly over his five o’clock shadow and seemed to contemplate her a
nswer. “Do you play any kind of instrument?”
“Mother forced me to take piano lessons, but I never took to it. I can play enough to bang out a few Christmas carols in the children’s ward for parties but that’s about it. Now my brother, Drake, on the other hand, is truly gifted. I guess he still plays.” She finished in a low murmur.
“Don’t you know?”
“I see him twice a year, when we go to our parents for the two parties they require us to attend. One is for Christmas and the other is an annual fundraiser.”
“So, you’ll be in Houston for Christmas,” Red commented.
“The Christmas party is always the weekend before.” She crossed her arms and looked down at her shoes. “God, we both hate it.”
“Then don’t go.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Good or bad, they’re still my parents.”
“Will you be disinherited if you don’t go, or something?”
She turned to him. “Now, why would you ask that?”
He readjusted his stance under her scrutiny. “I’m wondering how important money is to you.”
Her brow furrowed in annoyance. “I don’t need an inheritance. I make out well enough on my own.”
He shrugged. “Me too.”
“What exactly do you do?”
“I’ve owned a string of businesses over the years, but I currently own a club in Lafayette. I’ve got another one in the works here in Lake Coburn.”
“What club?”
“Oh, you may have difficulty remembering the name.” He grinned. “It’s called Red’s.”
She stared up at him, unable to hide her shock. “You’re that Red?”
He laughed. “I believe I’m the same Red I’ve always been.”
“Some co-workers are regulars. They’re always going on about how nice it is. No smoking right?”
“That’s right.”
“What made you do that when Louisiana still hasn’t banned it from clubs?”
Red walked over to a flower bed and bent over to pull a stray weed. “My Uncle Ben, dad’s brother, died from lung cancer due to smoking. It’s the one thing I can do.”
Tiffany followed him to the bed of pansies and leaned over to pluck some winter grass from between the bright purple and gold blooms. “Doesn’t it hurt business?”
“There are a lot more non-smokers out there than smokers. I have four rules. No cigarettes, no drugs, no fighting, and no drunk drivers—we’ll call them a cab. We ask for a decent sized cover charge, and in return people have a nice time. So far, we have a lot of repeat customers.”
“You said you went to LSU, right?”
“Yes. I had a baseball scholarship and got my business degree.”
“Bachelors?”
“Initially—I got my degree summa cum laude. I got a job after graduation and went to night school for my Masters.”
“Top honors while playing Tiger baseball?”
“You sound skeptical.” He flashed that devilishly handsome grin of his. “Would you like to see my degree? It’s framed and everything.”
“How would I know it’s real?” she teased.
He grinned down at her. “I’ve got the documentation to back it up. We had several Magna cum Laude graduates in my family, but you are looking at the one and only Summa cum Laude of the McAllister family, honey, and don’t think my mom wasn’t above throwing that around at the Garden Club meetings.”
Tiffany smiled, imagining Mrs. Vivienne doing just that. “Did you study harder? Did you do less partying than the rest of your siblings?” She found herself curious to know more about this man.
He chuckled. “I partied plenty—the truth is I have this ability to retain and recall information. Facts, numbers, notes, quotes, music, and lyrics, it all comes easily to me. If I read or hear something once, I remember it.”
She snorted. “That’s the kind of thing that can annoy the living hell out of a roommate.”
“Yeah, it used to irk the crap out of Jackson. We bunked together during my sophomore year when he was a freshman. Then he got hurt and transferred out of the athletic dorm. You know about the shoulder injury, right?” When she nodded, he continued. “It didn’t matter though. By then we were best friends.” He looked down at his watch. “You know we missed the kick-off, right?”
Not wanting to end the conversation with him, she met his gaze. “You ready to go inside?” The slight shift of his head let her know he felt the same way.
“So …” he said, walking casually toward the pool house. “Did mom give you any advice you could live with?”
“She absolutely did. You and your siblings are lucky, you know.”
“We realize that.”
Tiffany turned toward the patio doors. “I was watching your parents in there and I realized that I don’t have one single memory of mine showing affection for each other. Their marriage was always more like a business arrangement. My dad has always had his mistresses and mother has her men.”
Red’s voice betrayed genuine sadness at her confession. “I’m sorry for you.”
She met his gaze again, letting him know with a look instead of words that she appreciated his concern. She started to say something then thought better of it.
“What?”
She smiled, wondering why she wasn’t surprised that he could tell she was holding back. “It’s just that it worries me—maybe they warped Drake and me. That’s one reason I’ve stayed with Tanner. If I hook up with someone decent, I’m afraid I wouldn’t know how to act. I’d probably scare him off.” Red emitted a low chuckle that caused a fluttering in her stomach.
“I seriously doubt you could scare me off, Doc.”
Tiffany cleared her throat and turned, hoping he’d miss her reaction.
She turned away from him, but not before he caught the slight flush of her skin. He smiled, pleased that his statement had that effect on her. “Besides, look at Jackson. Fifteen years with Chloe, the wife from hell, only made him appreciate Giselle more.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“But, you’ll never know unless you cut him loose. It’s not likely Tanner will make as sudden an exit as Chloe did.”
“I should hope not,” she said, tapping the heel of her boot on the pavers.
“Hey, if you want to keep talking and watch some TV got a big screen in the pool house. Interested?”
She rocked back and forth balancing on her heels, and gave him a brief nod. “I’d like that.”
He led her inside to two chairs and a table in front of the large screen set hanging on the wall. “Do you want a soft drink or a beer?”
“I’ll take water since I’m on call.” She rubbed her belly and grimaced. “Besides, if I drink a beer after all that food I’ll be down for the count.”
Red turned the set on and found the game. “So, did my mom reveal any family secrets?”
“She told me the sweetest story about when your dad rescued her and her sore toes.”
He handed her a bottle of water and sat next to her. “Ah, the Everly Brothers. My old man could work it, couldn’t he?”
“Your maternal grandfather helped him out a little.”
“Yeah, gave him the all clear. Did she tell you about how my dad’s parents met?”
“No, were they both Irish?”
“We’re Scottish. My grandfather came over from Scotland after World War II, but my grandmother was an Hebert (A-bear) from Gardiner. My mom was a Broussard (Broo-sard) and she was from there, also. Those names are common in south Louisiana. So, I’ve got strong Cajun roots with a Scottish last name.”
“How’d your grandfather end up in Gardiner?”
Red sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “He came to the states looking for a place to work as a farm hand. Gardiner, being a huge exporter of rice at the time, was the ideal place for him. He didn’t know anything about rice farming, but he told the man who hired him that he was a quick learner.”
“She and her sisters had gone to a dance and she saw him standing alone in a corner. My grandmother decided to be polite and introduced herself. Pops had been in town less than a week, and spoke with a Scottish accent so thick my Maw Maw could barely understand him. But they danced together all night long. She taught him all the Cajun dances, and by the end of the night he was an expert.”
“Now I know where you get your dancing skills,” she teased.
“Maw Maw told me when she got home, her older sister asked if she didn’t mind all of that carrot red hair. Maw Maw told her she’d never noticed the color of his hair—all she’d seen were his blue eyes. She called him her red-haired, blue-eyed devil from Scotland—said he had just enough mischief in him to make life interesting. That’s who we have to blame for the red hair and freckles.”
Tiffany’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “Don’t forget to give him credit for those beautiful blue eyes of yours. Besides, I don’t see any freckles on you.”
Red groaned. “I outgrew them, thank God.”
“Do you remember your grandparents?”
“I remember my grandfather a little—he died when I was four. Maw Maw Bess was the sweetest lady. She passed away just after I graduated from college.” Red’s eyes misted over at the memory. “She missed that old man until the day she died.”
“Is that possible anymore, Red? Do people still have marriages like that?”
“Sure they do. Look at my parents.”
“I mean people who get married today. Are there any marriages like that for couples just starting out?”
Red leveled a serious gaze on her. “Mine will be—I’m counting on it.”
“Good luck with that. It doesn’t seem possible with today’s lifestyle and divorce rate,” she added.
“That’s because too many people settle.” He laughed at her smirk. “What? It’s true. People today always settle for less than what they think they deserve.” He crossed his arms. “Case in point—you, settling for Tanner.”
She nodded. “I’ll give you that one, but I’ve already explained my warped family. So what’s your excuse? You’re a thirty-eight year old bachelor.”
He shrugged again. “I don’t want to settle.”
“Maybe you’re afraid of commitment.”