Lucky in Love

by Brockmeyer, Kristen

  Chance was already running with blood from a dozen shallow cuts and Dominick was about to sink the buzzing jigsaw blade deep into his flesh. Chance yelled hoarsely, but the blade kept coming closer until it touched his skin and a garnet-colored drop of blood welled up, shiny and bright. I couldn't look away from it.

  And then, right in my ear, someone laughed, jerking me awake.

  I woke from the nightmare flailing, twisted up in the blankets, and choking on a guttural moan, tears running down my cheeks. It wasn't the first time I'd had the dream in the last few weeks, but each time, it progressed further. Chance sat up and reached for me in the dim moonlight filtering in the window.

  "Sssh," he hushed me as I buried my face in his chest, breathing hard.

  "I'm going crazy, aren't I? I just feel like it's not over yet."

  "No," he replied soothingly. "I know it's bad. I get these dreams, too. It takes time, but eventually they'll get further and further between until you hardly think of it." His broad palm rubbed calming circles on my back.

  I shivered, and he leaned back, propping himself against the headboard and pulling me down so I was laying on him. I traced the shiny, healing skin of his scars, one by one.

  "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "No. I think that's what brought it on tonight—telling Lily what happened."

  "Speaking of Lily, did I remember to tell you thank you today?" he joked, and I appreciated the distraction. After he'd come in from talking to Breanna and Lily had left, he'd apologized about four dozen times before I finally let him off the hook.

  "For what? Not getting mad that you had some beautifully tragic gypsy horse whisperer squirreled away here and forgot to mention it?" He groaned. "You did thank me, but another apology wouldn't hurt my feelings."

  He leaned down and touched his lips to mine. "I'm sorry." He nibbled at my earlobe. "Really sorry." Traced his tongue across my collarbone. "So sorry." Gently bit my bottom lip.

  I grabbed his head, stilling the teasing torment, and kissed him heatedly. "You're forgiven. You may now show the proper gratitude."

  His wicked smile gleamed in the dark, and he proceeded to show me just how grateful he was.

  Chapter 46

  The next couple of weeks were idyllic. I'd completely fallen in love with my new life, which had settled into a comfortable rhythm of warm afternoons spent in the barn, acquainting myself with the chickens and learning about the huge, oddly-delicate horses Chance loved so much, puttering in the kitchen with an extensive collection of vintage cookbooks, or running the old Singer sewing machine through some of the stash of fabric I'd found in the back bedroom. There were a lot of things to keep me busy, and I kept finding reasons to put off going back to Michigan. I missed Mom, Louie, Julian and everyone else, but after everything we'd been through, the peace and calm were like a drug. I didn't want to leave, even temporarily.

  Breanna was still standoffish, glaring at me sullenly on the few occasions we ran into each other, but I had hopes of winning her over and a good idea of how to do it. I was just waiting for the right moment. Her mom and I, however, had a lot in common and were already on our way to being good friends. She was a treasure trove of invaluable advice and her calm rationality mostly balanced out my chaotic nature.

  Chance and I spent endless hours together working with the horses (well, him working and me watching the muscles in his backside flex in the dirt-streaked Levis he wore) and walking the trails in the woods. He showed me streams bubbling over rocks, freezing cold since they welled up from higher up in the mountain. We even started to do the naughty under the towering branches of an oak tree deep in the forest one afternoon. We were so caught up, we didn't hear the thrashing in the nearby underbrush until a small black bear appeared about ten feet away. I was halfway back to the house before I even slowed down long enough to pull on my shirt.

  Eventually, though, the outside world found us. I was drinking a glass of iced mint tea on the porch, rereading the chapter in What to Expect when You're Expecting about first OB appointments, since mine was the next day, when a car started up the winding dirt driveway. It was a newer Subaru Outback, and I didn't recognize it. Chance popped his head out of the barn at the sound of tires crunching gravel.

  I squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight, and squealed when I finally identified the driver.

  "Mom!" I took off down the steps.

  Satisfied that our little world was still safe, Chance yelled at me to quit running and that he'd be out when he got done picking Dandelion's hooves.

  Mom met me halfway up the front walk, her blonde hair and her broomstick skirt flittering in the brisk wind. "How's my married girl?" she asked, hugging me fiercely. Her hair smelled like coconut.

  "Doing good," I sniffled, hugging her back. "Really good."

  Pregnancy hormones would be the death of me. Cheerios commercials made me weepy. The smell of my mom's hair and the feel of her skinny little arms around my waist was about to throw me into a sob-fest. She pulled back and focused on my face. "You're really doing okay after... all the trouble?"

  "I get some bad dreams, but I'm doing all right."

  She studied my face for another moment before nodding, apparently satisfied.

  "Nice car," I teased her. "Were they out of Ferraris?"

  Mom chuckled. "The old Toyota finally gave out on me. I figured it was a good time to treat myself to something dependable with the money my darling millionaire daughter gave me. And now I have a present for you."

  She returned from the car, lugging a pet carrier that looked like it weighed about forty pounds.

  "That's not—"

  "Give me a hand here, dear," she huffed, and I took hold of one of the handles.

  "Holy cow," I gasped, stunned by the weight of the thing. From inside came a demonic part-growl, part-moan. "Louie!"

  We wrestled the carrier into the house. Inside, the growl-moan had escalated to yowling, and Tripod came trotting up to investigate, sniffing and wagging his tail wildly. Setting the carrier down in relief, I rubbed my aching arm.

  "Please tell me there are two other cats in there with him."

  Mom ducked her head, looking up through her eyelashes sheepishly. "Now, Lucky, I've been taking wonderful care of him. It's just that, well, he's put on a few pounds."

  "What have you been feeding him? Rocks?"

  I shooed Tripod out to the porch and pulled the screen door shut behind him. I figured it was probably a good idea to let Louie settle in a little first before he met his new roomie. Leaning down, I unhinged the door and quickly stepped back.

  "C'mon, sweetheart," I coaxed. The moan intensified and Mom edged toward the door. After a few moments, whiskers bristled from the opening of the carrier. "Louie-baby, come on out."

  If it weren't for the growl, I wouldn't have recognized him. Louie was literally twice the size he'd been the last time I'd seen him. He was now a two-ton tomcat that looked perfectly capable of taking on a pack of black bears—if he could move fast enough. He slumped in a multicolored lump of flab and fur in the center of the kitchen floor, lashing his tail, looking disapprovingly around the room.

  "Mom," I said sternly. "What did you do to my cat?"

  "Lucky, that is not a cat." She pointed an accusing finger at Louie. "That is a monster. He hates me. I had to bribe him with cans of Fancy Feast just to let me out of my bedroom in the morning. He'd just sit there stare with those evil green eyes and hiss at me whenever I got too close."

  I shook my head. "Louie, you're a jerk. I can't believe you'd terrorize Mom like that. You should be grateful she didn't kick you out." Louie mrowed in agreement and finally consented to approach me for some love. He rubbed his face on my knee, but I almost yelped when he planted one paw on my foot.

  "Dude," I crouched down to nuzzle his fuzzy ears. "You're going to have to go on a diet."

  Suddenly, there was an excited bark from outside the screen. Tripod had spotted our new guest.

  Things happe
ned in a blur after that. A screen was ripped. By whom, I had no clue. My mom was up on a kitchen chair, shrieking. Tripod was doing a terrified three-legged doggie dance around the kitchen. Louie was setting up a racket loud enough to be heard in the next county. Brie opened the door, coming to check out all the noise, and Tripod bowled her over, streaking for the barn with fat-ass Louie in hot pursuit.

  We looked out in the yard just in time to hear a startled masculine yell. A chicken came tearing out of the barn, squawking crazily. Breanna looked up at me, mouth agape.

  I reached down to help her up off the floor. Too stunned to consider her grudge, she took it. "That was my cat, Louie," I explained cheerfully. "Do you like cats?"

  When a scowling Chance stalked out of the barn a few seconds later, picking straw from his hair, and brushing at dirt on his butt and back, Breanna smiled. I giggled. When Louie came racing back out of the barn with Beelzebub, the big red rooster, hot on his furry heels, the two of them heading straight for Chance, our amusement tipped us over into a full-scale fit of helpless glee.

  Chapter 47

  We invited Mom to stay, but she confessed that she'd booked a reservation on the Summer Oasis—a singles cruise that was departing from Miami in a few days.

  "Way to go, Mom!"

  She blushed and Chance grinning widely. "Make sure none of those men are after your money. Tell any guy that comes onto you that you've got a former Marine for a son-in-law and he's a crack shot."

  "Oh, you two knock it off," she scolded through a delighted smile. "I figure since all my kids are married and safely out from underfoot, it's time for me to have some fun."

  "Good for you." I meant it sincerely. My mom had stayed single after my dad had died, and I hated the thought of her all alone. She was a pretty woman, barely 50. It definitely wasn't too late for her to meet someone and I wanted her to be as happy as I was.

  We agreed to follow Mom across the state line into Nashville and grab some dinner before she left. Eager to get on with her trip, she said her goodbyes early that evening, wanting to make it further into Tennessee before she stopped for the night. Chance and I stayed in town, booking a hotel room, since it was almost an hour-long drive back to the farm and I had my OB appointment the next morning anyway.

  I took advantage of our temporary truce to call Brie and ask her to watch out for Louie. He had taken up residence in the hayloft, but Brie had shown patience that few 9 year-olds could claim by sitting quietly for nearly two hours with a can of Fancy Feast and some tuna treats until Louie finally emerged from a pile of straw and grudgingly accepted her attentions. He still refused to leave the hayloft, but Brie had cajoled her mom into letting her camp out in the barn for the night so he didn't get lonely.

  Knowing Lily, she'd probably end up bunking down there, too, but she assured me that it wouldn't be the first time they'd slept in the barn. They did it when any of the horses foaled, and there was a small office out there with a fold-out couch.

  When I hung up, I found Chance watching me with a speculative look on his face.

  "What?" I asked him, flustered. He gave me a come-here gesture and a lazy half-smile.

  "Oh, is that how this goes? We're married now, so all you have to do is crook your finger and I'm supposed to jump?" Completely contradiction myself, I was already moving toward where he was stretched across the bed.

  "Hey, whatever works." He caught my hand and pulled me down so I was lying on top of him, my breasts pillowed against the solid wall of his chest. I gave him a mock scowl, but couldn't resist running my fingers through his silky dark hair. It was already growing out of its military severity, the slight curl of it making him look boyish. But the twinkle in his eyes was all grown-up male appreciation as he glanced down to get a better look at my cleavage.

  I scooted up further, enticingly, and he planted a kiss on the swell of my breasts. "As much as I'd like to flip you over and blow your mind right now," he growled, "I think it's about time we did something different for a change, Mrs. Atkins."

  "What's that?" My breathing quickened, and sudden, colorful images popped into my fertile imagination.

  He stretched upward to take my lips briefly and possessively, letting his hands run down my sides and curve around my hips to cup my behind.

  "We're going out on a date."

  I was distracted and it took me a second to process his statement. "Wait, what?"

  "You've heard of dates, I'm sure." He playfully nipped my bottom lip. "As a matter of fact, we've been on a couple. Just not since we were kids, making out in the back row of the Kalamazoo 10."

  "Now that you mention it, I do seem to remember a late-night showing of The Shining." The buttery smell of theater popcorn. The slick way Chance had yawned and stretched his lanky arm over the back of my seat. The rich chocolaty Sno-Caps and the thrill of teenage hormones that I'd enjoyed even more than the shiver I always got from the scene with the creepy girls in the elevator.

  "Things have moved so fast the last couple of months that we skipped over the whole dating thing. So I want to take you out. How about dancing?"

  Dancing. My heart flip-flopped. My goodness, how I loved this man.

  I felt a little out of place in my lemon-bright, citrus-print halter dress and orange strappy heels, but Chance blended with the Nashville locals in his faded jeans, a grey t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and scuffed work boots. The battered cowboy hat he wore completed the picture, but he took it off and set it on the seat next to him when the waitress seated us in a corner booth. We'd eaten not too long before, but I was still hungry, ordering cheese sticks and hot wings to go with the unsweetened tea that marked me even more as an outsider than my outfit. Chance got a beer and sipped it slowly as we watched the dancers on the floor boot scoot and boogie.

  I'd never listened to much country music and the band onstage was just firing up a song I didn't know, but it had a catchy beat. I gawked, fascinated, as everyone lined up and started doing complicated dips and sidesteps and slides in perfect unison to the thumping beat of the song. It wasn't swing dancing, but it looked fun as hell if the random whoops and hollers were anything to go by.

  Chance was watching me with a smile. "I know it's not your thing, but you are a Southern girl now, and there's no other kind of music here down but country. Wanna give it a shot?"

  "I might as well adapt, right?" I answered happily, sliding out of the booth. We took a spot near the end of the back line and I intently studied the girl in front of me, trying to copy her steps. Next to me, Chance was moving smoothly and confidently, like he knew exactly what he was doing and enjoyed doing it well. I stomped on his foot twice and bumped into the giggly blond next to me once before I started to get the hang of things. Just when I started feeling like I wasn't a total moron, though, the music segued into a slow song and Chance pulled me into his arms without missing a beat.

  "I thought you took dance classes," he teased, lowering his forehead to rest on mine.

  "Different kind," I retorted, deliberately stepping on his foot. "I'd like to see you try your hand at some West Coast Swing."

  "Oh, I expect I'll learn. If you can line dance with me, the least I can do is jitterbug with you." To illustrate his point, he spun me around in a complicated twist and dip before pulling back up against his chest and giving me a wink.

  Laughing breathlessly, I rested my head on his chest, breathing in his intoxicatingly male scent of sweat and soap, feeling the warmth of his broad palm against my bare back. Dreamily, I watched the couples around us sway in time to the song. But suddenly, a sound cut through the noise of the crowd, ripping into my senses and sending goosebumps chasing down my arms.

  It was the laugh from my dream.

  I stiffened and stopped, looking around wildly. A drunk couple reeled into us and went spinning off the other way. The noise in the crowd was abruptly jarring, and there were too many faces in the swirling around to pick out a single familiar one. I struggled to get air into my panicked lung
s.

  "What is it?"

  "We need to leave. We need to go, now."

  Without a word, Chance steered me back to our table to grab my purse and his hat. I searched every face we passed on the way to the exit but none jumped out at me. Still, I knew I wasn't crazy. I'd heard that before.

  I gulped in the night air greedily in the parking lot. "It sounds ridiculous, but someone in there was laughing. It was just like the one in my dream."

  Chance put a protective arm around my shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "Let's get back to the hotel. You can tell me about it in the car."

  When we got to his Jeep, the back window was shattered and all four tires were slashed.

  In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't devastating. The police had come and taken notes and promised to follow up, but seemed to think it was just a case of vandalism. They'd check to see if the bar had security cameras, but unless someone saw something, the chances of catching anyone were slim. A cab had picked us up and whisked us back to the hotel. A few phone calls and we had arrangements made for the Jeep to be sitting out front, new tires and back window, by ten the next morning, so we could leave in time to get to my doctor's appointment. It was amazing how easy having money smoothed over inconveniences.

  But back in our room, huddled up next to Chance in the king-sized bed, under a down comforter, I was still cold.

  Chapter 48

  The next morning dawned bright and beautiful, and as promised, the Jeep was ready to go when we were. Karma seemed to be smiling on us, since there was a Starbucks drive-thru just down the street from the hotel and my outlook was vastly improved with a decaf iced mocha in my hand. Still, I stewed the whole way into Franklin. When we pulled into the parking lot of the doctor's office, though, my brain shifted fully back into gear and my palms started to sweat.

  "Are you nervous?"

  Chance had been getting ready to open his car door, but stopped and looked at me in surprise. "No, are you?"