An hour later, he'd drawn a rough plan and given her a ballpark estimate. He and Bryce got into the pickup truck Lucas had rented for the duration.
Joe would be glad about this. It was a start, at the very least, and hopefully Bryce would have some kind of aptitude for construction.
They passed a dirt road. He and Colleen had parked there one night, before they'd both gone off to college. He could still remember the impossible silkiness of her skin, the way her eyes went so big and soft when she--
"Did you see my dad yesterday?" Bryce asked. "He's feeling a lot better."
Lucas glanced over at his cousin. "Glad to hear that." Yes, he'd seen Joe yesterday. He'd been asleep, looking smaller somehow.
Bryce had had a cat when they were teenagers, a scruffy old thing he'd found abandoned near the school. He brought it home and kept it in the spare room over the garage, an unfinished space that held only some boxes of old toys. Didi hated cats. But eventually, Bryce had worn her down; the woman didn't refuse him much, and the cat was no exception. It was old and battered, but it had a rusty purr that rattled in its throat. Bryce named it Harley, and the cat loved Bryce. Slept on his bed every night. If Bryce wasn't around, the cat might give Lucas a few head butts, but it was clear he knew where his bread was buttered.
Unfortunately, Harley was old and riddled with health problems, which was probably why someone had dumped him in the first place. Despite the myriad pills Bryce coaxed down Harley's throat each day, despite the vet warning him that the cat wouldn't see Christmas, despite the fact that the cat slept more and more and ate less and less, Bryce just didn't believe the cat was sick. "He wouldn't purr like this if he didn't feel good," he'd say, petting the cat's head, and it seemed almost true.
Until the day the boys had come home from school and found Harley dead, curled up on Bryce's bed.
Bryce had been utterly stunned. Lucas had heard him crying at night, despite his advanced age of sixteen.
It didn't look as if things were going to be much different with Joe. And far, far worse.
"You should spend as much time with him as you can, Bryce," Lucas said now.
"I already do. I mean, I live there, right?"
"Make sure it's time well spent. That's all."
It would've been nice to have been able to do the same with his own father. To have said goodbye, to have held his hand in the last minutes.
But this time, he could be there for Joe. And Bryce, too.
*
ON WEDNESDAY, COLLEEN stopped by her mother's house.
Mom had called last night to say she was having Dad's study redone, and thank the baby Jesus. The tenth anniversary of Dad leaving had really lit a fire under her. First the nude modeling, now redecorating.
Colleen pulled her car onto the street. There was a pickup truck in the driveway and a stack of lumber piled alongside the house, as well as a Dumpster. Carol Robinson's white Prius was parked on the street, too; Colleen recognized it from the many open houses she'd been to. Mrs. Johnson's car, too, a monstrous Buick that Mrs. J. (pina colada) tended to drive down the middle of the street, striking fear into the hearts of every living thing.
"Hey, Mom!" Colleen yelled, going into the house. The sound of a power saw ripped through the air, then faded.
"We're out back!" Mom called.
Colleen pushed through the door to the backyard. Carol, Mom and Mrs. Johnson--she was Mrs. Holland, technically, though no one called her that--sat in lawn chairs and were sipping something pink.
"Hey, ladies!" she said, bending to kiss each one. "What's going on here?"
"Just a little healthy observation, Colleen dear," Mrs. J. said. "We're not dead yet."
"Grab a chair," Carol said.
Colleen obeyed. Looked up at the roof. "Is that Bryce?" she asked.
"And Lucas. His cousin," Carol said. "Joe's dying, you know. He has maybe six weeks left. Didn't you used to date him?"
"I never dated Joe Campbell," Colleen murmured.
"Hey, Coll," Bryce yelled.
"Hi, Bryce."
Lucas came into view.
Oh, wow. Wow. He wore carpenter shorts and work boots and a white T-shirt that made his skin seem darker. Blue-collar man and his big, strong...um...hammer. Wasn't there a porno about this? There should be. Someone should make one. Now.
Seeing her, he gave a nod. Maybe a smile.
"That's right," Carol said. "You did date Lucas. But he married someone else, right? Lucas! Are you still married?" she yelled.
"Not anymore, Mrs. Robinson."
"I could be single in a few hours," she called. "You like older women?"
"I love older women," he answered, getting a chorus of giggles from Team Menopause. Colleen just swallowed drily.
"You gonna tap that, Colleen?" Carol asked. "Because I sure would if I was your age. Even if I was sixty again."
"I'll tell him that," Colleen said. "But personally, I think I'll pass. And where do you get off saying 'tap that'?"
"He's the only boy Colleen ever really fell for," Mom said.
Colleen closed her eyes. "Is there alcohol in those glasses?"
"Not in mine, my dear," Mrs. Johnson said. "Though when the clock strikes five, there'd better be. But yes, these two are drinking."
"Just a little white Zin and 7-Up," Mom said.
"That's right. Stab me in the heart. Ladies, have some dignity. At least let me make you mojitos," Colleen said.
"All right," Carol said. "But oh, wait, Bryce is taking off his shirt. Do it, Bryce! Do it!" She giggled most adorably.
"I feel dirty," Colleen said.
"Me, too," Mom said. "Bryce, you make me feel dirty!"
"Jeez!" Colleen squeaked. "Come on, ladies! A little decorum."
But she watched as Bryce took off his shirt, sure. She wasn't dead, after all. He was pretty, no doubt about it. Washboard abs, nice muscles, she'd seen it all before.
"I'd give that an eight and a half," Mrs. Johnson said.
"Nine," Carol said.
"Nine," Mom echoed. "Colleen, I think you and Lucas should get together again. Why not?"
"Hail Mary, full of grace, please make my mom stop talking."
"I heard he kissed you in the bar the other night."
"Blessed art thou who can change the subject, and blessed--"
"Oh, come on," Mom said, slurping down the rest of her hideous drink. "Don't be coy. Before you know it, you'll be old and your ovaries will be turning to stone, and still I won't have a grandchild." She began fanning herself. "Phew! Is it getting hotter out here? My God. I'm sweating. Colleen, have you ever had a bikini wax? I'm thinking of getting one."
"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us, now and as we contemplate matricide."
"Quiet, you two," Carol ordered. "Lucas! Take off your shirt! Your cousin did! You should, too."
Carol had a point. And it was pretty hot.
Lucas looked down at them. His white teeth flashed among that incredibly sexy razor stubble, and Colleen gave what she hoped was a casual wave and not a boneless flop of the hand, as she suspected.
He pulled off his shirt in one smooth move. Colleen stopped feeling her legs.
"Ten," Mrs. Johnson said.
"Ten," Carol and Mom echoed.
Maybe it was his swarthy skin. The muscles in his shoulders and across his chest. His hard, sweaty, delicious torso, not ripped like Bryce's gym-perfect boy-toy body, just...just complete, utter masculine alpha perfection.
"Colleen?" her mother asked.
She closed her mouth. "Nine," she said faintly. "Who wants a mojito?"
They all did. And Colleen could use one, too. Or she could stick her head in the freezer for a few minutes.
So Lucas would be around. She shouldn't be surprised; Mom was hardly a master of subtlety. Bryce was a bar fixture, so sure, Lucas would be there, too. It was okay. She could handle it.
On lust-numbed legs, she stumbled into the kitchen. Checked Mom's fridge, which was filled with fresh veg
etables that, if history served, would melt into one big vegetable which would then be thrown away, but not before Mom called to complain about the price of fresh vegetables. But there was mint, and lime, and of course Colleen kept her stocked up with good quality booze.
She poured some sugar and water into a pan and heated it, since Mom didn't have any simple syrup. Took out the white rum, squeezed the limes and rinsed the mint. From outside, she could hear the women laughing and the power saw screeching again.
Seemed as though any minute now, Lucas would come down and see her.
Sure enough, she heard the clump of his boots coming down the stairs.
He'd pulled his shirt back on. Good thing, too, because he looked like sin begging for a taker as it was. A bead of sweat ran from his temple down his cheek, then down his neck. She remembered how it felt to be held in those arms, to lie on top of him and look into those dark, lonely eyes that only ever seemed happy when they were alone together.
Yeah, right. She'd bet Ellen Forbes had made him look happy, too.
"Hey," he said, and her knees went weak. She really had to get a grip.
His voice had always been a wicked weapon in his arsenal, deep and holding a scrape that made her special places throb with every word. "Do you have--"
"Okay, listen," she interrupted briskly, pouring the syrup over the crushed ice. "Before you say something adorable, like, 'How can I get that nine to a ten?' let's be frank here."
"Colleen."
"We had a thing once, it was very lovely, and then it ended when you married someone else after saying you didn't want to marry me. Maybe it was her money, maybe you found out what love really was, I don't care, Lucas. Water under the bridge."
"Colleen." His voice was more forceful now, but she kept talking, grinding the mint leaves with slightly more force than needed. "Yes, I find you attractive. I have a heartbeat, after all, and you're frickin' gorgeous. Yes, you find me attractive, because I am. Even so, I think it would be stupid for us to--"
"Colleen, Bryce shot a nail through his hand."
She looked up abruptly. "Uh...what?"
"Do you have a first aid kit?"
"Dude," Bryce said cheerfully, coming into the kitchen, his hand held aloft. "Total Jesus moment, right?"
The nail went through the webbing of his hand between his thumb and forefinger, and blood streamed down his wrist.
"Oh," she said. "Uh, yes, we do."
Then she fainted.
*
WHEN HE SAW Colleen's eyes roll, Lucas did try to catch her. Didn't quite make it, unfortunately, not before she cracked her head on the counter. "Jeanette!" he called. "We need you!" He glanced at his cousin. "Bryce, you're dripping blood on the floor. Grab some paper towels and hang on a sec, okay?"
He cradled Colleen from behind. Very uncool to be thinking lustful thoughts, but she smelled like fresh mint and sunshine, and her hair brushed his face. "Mia," he said, pushing her head forward a bit to get some blood flow there. "Time to wake up."
"Connor, why did you punch me?" she muttered, reaching for her head.
He smiled into her hair. "Colleen. You okay, sweetheart?" She sat up straighter and gave him a confused look. "You fainted," he said. "Bumped your head on the way down, too."
"I never faint. Also, you're supposed to catch me. Haven't you ever been to a movie?"
"I broke your fall."
"Not good enough."
"Did she faint?" Carol Robinson asked as the three women bustled into the kitchen like a flock of purposeful chickens. "My daughter fainted once. She hadn't eaten breakfast, it was hot, and I said, 'Beth, why didn't you eat breakfast?' but no one ever listens to me."
"Bryce Campbell, whatever did you do to your hand?" Mrs. Johnson said. "Come here, child."
"Don't you two look adorable sitting there," Jeanette said. "Is it wrong to hope for grandchildren?"
"Mom, I'm injured. Be nice to me."
Jeanette sighed and rustled around in the freezer for a minute, then handed Colleen a pack of frozen Brussels sprouts. Coll went to hold it against her head, but Lucas took it out of her hand and did it for her. She started to protest, but he made that little tsk noise that worked with his nieces, and she settled back against him.
He pushed her hair to one side--she had a lot of hair. And it smelled really good. And she felt...perfect. His arms were around her, his back to the cabinet, his woman in his arms.
Dangerous thinking, that. Especially after her little speech.
"What do I have to do to get that nine to a ten?" he whispered against her ear, and she shivered.
"You always hit on injured women?"
"You're the first." He smiled.
"They're adorable together," Carol said. "Are you Spanish, Lucas? You look like a pirate."
"I'm half-Puerto Rican."
"Ooh. That's so exotic," Carol said, and he had to smile. Manningsport wasn't exactly a melting pot.
Mrs. O'Rourke was standing in front of the freezer, flapping her shirt. "Colleen, you didn't turn on the heat, did you?"
"No, Mom. I didn't turn on the heat." She sighed, the movement sweet against his chest.
"Now hold still, Bryce my darling," Mrs. Johnson said, grabbing his hand.
"What are you gonna do?" he asked. "Oh, dude! A little warning next time."
Mrs. Johnson held up the nail. "You children today. So careless. Now hold on, this might sting a little." They watched as she poured hydrogen peroxide on Bryce's hand. He took it like a man.
"You're brave, Bryce," Colleen said, earning a smile from his cousin.
"He has a high pain tolerance," Lucas murmured against the sweet spot just behind her ear. "Comes from being dropped on his head as a baby."
"You know who else has a high pain tolerance?" she asked, still talking to Bryce. "Paulie Petrosinsky. She's totally badass."
"Oh, yeah?" Bryce said. "Did you know she can pick up a car?"
"I do know," Colleen said. "That is hot, my friend."
"Stop matchmaking," Lucas whispered, his lips touching her soft little earlobe. Good enough to bite.
She turned her head a little. "Can you stop nuzzling me?" she whispered. "I realize you don't get this close to many women, but it's getting pervy. You, me, the Brussels sprouts, Team Menopause watching."
He nuzzled her again, smiling as her breath hitched.
Mrs. Johnson wrapped up Bryce's hand in gauze. "Is your tetanus shot up to date?" she asked. "You don't want to come down with lockjaw."
Actually, Lucas wouldn't mind Bryce coming down with lockjaw. His cousin had not once paused for breath this entire day. Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from Colleen and stood up, then offered his hand and pulled her to her feet. "You good?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she said. Her cheeks were pink.
"Eat something," he said. "Come on, Bryce, let me take you to the doctor. I'll be back tomorrow, Mrs. O'Rourke."
"Jeanette," she said, rubbing an ice cube on her chest. "Bye, boys."
Colleen walked them to the front door, the Brussels sprouts still in place. "See you, Coll!" Bryce said happily, loping to the pickup truck.
Lucas turned to Colleen. "See you around, hotshot."
"Don't play with me, Lucas," she said tightly.
His smile evaporated.
"You're not back in Manningsport for me, and I'm betting that as soon as Joe dies, you'll be back to your life in Chicago. And that's fine. But the kissing and the flirting and the nuzzling...it has to stop. I don't have a problem with you, I really don't. You're a good guy. I know that. You're very welcome at O'Rourke's. You're welcome at my mom's house. But you left me."
"Actually, you left me, mia."
"Yeah, right. I didn't marry someone two months after our first fight. And don't call me mia." She seemed to realize she still had the bag of vegetables on her head and lowered her arm. "You broke my heart, Lucas," she said. "It was a long time ago. But I'm not dumb enough to let history repeat itself. So don't mess with me. Are
we clear?"
He looked at her a long minute, the noise of the chattering women in the background, the birds twittering in the bushes outside. And as much as he would've liked to tell her yes, sure, he'd leave her alone, he couldn't.
Colleen had a pull on him. That same sense he had when he first laid eyes on her in that classroom so long ago, that locked-in feeling, as if he'd waited all his life to see her...that still pulsed between them.
She felt it, too. She licked her lips, and the pink stained her cheeks again. He could swear he heard her heart beating.
"What seems clear," he murmured, stepping a little closer so that they were almost touching, "is that this is going to happen. You and me. It's just a question of when."
She looked at him a long minute. Then she pressed her forefinger into the hollow at the base of his throat, gently, forcing him to take a step back.
Closed the door in his face. Didn't slam it; just closed it.
Lucas found he was smiling all the way to the truck.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IN THE THREE weeks he'd been in Manningsport, Lucas had had no success in pinning Bryce down on his hopes and aspirations, careerwise. Nope. That was a black hole. Lucas, on the other hand, was acting as project manager for the public safety building, had been asked to consult on a new wing for the senior citizen community and was putting on a new room for Colleen's mother. A couple had asked him about building a superdeluxe chicken coop for their free-range chickens, and while Lucas didn't particularly want to be building that sort of structure, he'd sketched out a plan for them nonetheless.
It had always been that way. Work found him.
Work cowered from Bryce. And his cousin, let's be honest, excelled at laziness. Bryce had been rather thrilled with his injury, and while it had been a little on the gruesome side, it really was something that he could've taken care of with a couple of Band-Aids, rather than the wad of gauze he was currently sporting.
Since construction was clearly not going to work (Bryce had knocked a pallet of shingles off the roof, lost his hammer seven times and dropped his phone into the roofing tar before mishandling the nail gun), Lucas had talked to a few people, studied Craigslist and had gone over to Didi's to rouse Bryce out of bed for a little swing through town.
First stop, the firehouse.
Lucas had become friendly with Gerard Chartier, winning the man's loyalty when he agreed that fire services outranked the other two. (Lucas had also told Levi that police services were the most important, and agreed with Kelly Matthews that EMS clearly came first. Hey. It made everyone happy.) At any rate, Gerard told Lucas they were hiring five new people; apparently there'd been a big house fire up at Blue Heron, and the good people of Manningsport had agreed to fund a paid department.
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