"Oh, you know," she said, her voice wobbling. She tried to pull back, but he just held her tighter.
"Have dinner with me tomorrow," he murmured, his lips so close to her ear. "I promise not to break your heart."
Her heart thudded fast and hard. He smelled so good. Felt so right. Tasted so-- Down, girl, she told herself, resisting the urge to bite his neck. "I can't tomorrow. It's the party. The Petrosinsky thing."
He pulled back, his eyes so dark and liquid and beautiful, those soulful Latin eyes. "Then soon."
Rufus came bounding into the front, Savannah right behind, and crashed against them, practically dislocating Colleen's knee. "Oh, my God, are you guys kissing?" her sister asked.
"Not quite," Lucas said, letting her go, and Colleen took a shaky step back. "Not yet."
"You slay me, Spaniard," she whispered.
"I do my best." He smiled, and that just about sealed the deal.
She was in serious trouble.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
COLLEEN HAD FELT that Bryce needed to see Paulie on her own turf, where, one hoped, she'd feel more confident and secure.
The Petrosinsky home looked gorgeous in a French surrealism, circusy kind of way...the chicken statues loomed large and ominously cheerful around a yellow-and-red-striped tent on the lawn, and dozens and dozens of chickens were roasting over a huge barbecue pit. There was a table full of salads and summery foods a lemonade stand, a full bar. A band played the grotto--yes, there was a grotto--and the Crooked Lake shimmered in the distance.
Colleen had picked out a dress for Paulie to wear, part of the "I'm a Girl" campaign, and then done her makeup (subtly, just some mascara and lip gloss to give her strong features a little more femininity) and hair, which was a bit of a challenge. But the dress was really cute--yellow and cheery, a full skirt that swished and swirled and showed off Paulie's chiseled legs. It seemed to be working; Bryce had ambled up to Paulie right away, and, as instructed, she'd led him off on a tour of the many chicken statues that dotted the grounds, her adopted dogs following joyfully.
The sound of a rooster cut through the air; right. Ronnie Petrosinsky was having a crowing contest.
Lucas didn't seem to be here yet. Should she be having dinner with him at all? Would they end up in bed? Just the thought made her knees buckle.
It didn't help that every spot in town seemed to hold some wicked-hot memories. Wicked being the operative word. The first time she'd let Lucas put his hand up her shirt. The first time she'd taken his off. The first time, period, when she'd told him she loved him, and it seemed like his heart might break at those words.
She sighed, either with longing or frustration or nostalgia or lust or all of the above. Her special parts needed attention. This was a problem.
She needed a drink. Some wine would be nice.
"Sangria?"
"Connor, just when I'm ready to auction you off to a home for unwed mothers, here you are, redeeming yourself." She took the glass, glancing around at the other guests.
"Looking for Lucas?" Connor asked. "Because you're stupid and want your heart broken all over again?"
"Nice weather, isn't it?"
"Coll..."
"I don't want my heart broken, Connor. No."
"Stay away from him, in that case."
"Where's your date, brother mine?"
"She's not here. Are you kidding? With you and Mom here? Not to mention Dad and Gail."
Sure enough, there was Mother Dear, tossing back a white Zinfandel and 7-Up, her signature cocktail. "You think she drinks that just to punish us?"
"I do, yes," Connor answered.
Colleen took a sip of the sangria. "So this mystery woman, Con, she must be dying to meet your beloved twin."
"Not really."
"She is. Admit it."
"We've been on three dates, Colleen."
"Sex?"
"No comment. And you'd better not be sleeping with Lucas."
"Really! So you're doing it. Good. Is she blonde? I bet she is. She is, isn't she? Lovely. You know, Con, for a while, I thought you were gay. Figured you and Jeremy would make a great couple--"
"Okay, fine. I'll shut up about Lucas if you'll shut up about everything else."
She smiled over the rim of her glass. "Deal."
"Just don't come crying to me when he--"
"You know what? I'm gonna go talk to Mom. It's come to that." She walked over to their mother. "Hi," she said with a dutiful kiss.
"There's your father and That Whore."
"Yes." Savannah was somewhere, then; Colleen scanned for her sister. Hopefully, she'd be off playing with some other kids; but more likely, she was hiding inside, eating in secret so Gail wouldn't chastise her, poor kid.
Stan, Stan the Hairy Man was nowhere in sight. "No date for you, Mom?" Colleen asked.
"No," Mom said, not taking her eyes off Dad and Gail. "That Stan was quite unappealing, it turns out. A little too fascinated with his work. All he could talk about was infected bowels and intestinal parasites."
"And that put you off, did it?"
Her mother still stared at Dad, who was excellent at not seeing his ex-wife. His hand was on Gail's back, just above the legendary ass.
Poor Mom.
"Here's the thing, Colleen," Mom said slowly, and Colleen braced for bitterness. "I never got over him. I should have, I wanted to, I know he cheated on me and I know he's completely over me, but I still love him."
There was no bitterness. And no false naivete, either, no "lapse in judgment" excuse. It was, horribly, just a fact.
"I'm sorry, Mommy," she whispered, squeezing her mother's hand.
"I'm a laughingstock."
"No, you're not! You're great. They love you at Blue Heron, and you have a lot of friends, and--"
"No. I'm a laughingstock, a menopausal idiot who didn't know her husband was cheating and made every excuse in the book for him."
Mom's eyes were full of tears, which made Colleen's eyes fill, too, because if there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was her mother crying. "You deserve better than Dad."
"Well, where is better? I'm ready for better! That hairy colon doctor wasn't exactly better, asking me about how many times a day I--"
"Hey, Jeanette, how's it going?" It was Bryce. He leaned in and kissed her mother. "You look as gorgeous as always. We're just bringing out the watermelon."
We seemed to mean Paulie, who held a giant watermelon in each arm. And for some reason, she'd donned a yellow Thneed.
"How's it hanging?" Paulie asked, jerking her chin at Mom.
"I thought we talked about wardrobe," Colleen murmured as Bryce continued to flirt with her mother.
"It got chilly," Paulie said.
"Fine." Those watermelons had to weigh fifteen pounds each. "Let him carry one of those and feel manly and stuff," Colleen suggested in a whisper.
"Manly, right. I get it. But his hand is really hurt."
Sure enough, Bryce's hand was still bandaged to boxing-glove proportions. "He can hold a watermelon, Paulie. Give him a chance to be strong and helpful. Right? Remember? Girl/boy stuff?"
"You're gonna dance with me later on, right, Jeanette?" Bryce was saying. "I've had a crush on you for ages."
"You're adorable, you know that?" Mom said, much cheered. "Oh, there's Mrs. Johnson, probably gloating about Faith being pregnant. There's Carol, too. She has eleven grandchildren, Colleen. Eleven." She leveled the famed Catholic martyr look over her shoulder. Colleen merely raised an eyebrow.
"Bryce," she said, turning back to the project at hand, "help Paulie out, okay? What a champ you are, Paulie, but heck, those must be getting heavy."
"No, they're fine," Paulie said. "Oh! Wait, I mean yeah, they're pretty heavy. Really heavy. So heavy. Uh, Bryce maybe you could hold one of my watermelons?"
"You bet."
Perfect. Colleen smiled as Bryce fumbled for a watermelon, Paulie's face practically bubbling as her blushing took hold. All good, Bryce groping
in the general area of Paulie's chest.
She left the young lovers and headed inside to look for Savannah. The sound of her father's fake laugh floated over on the breeze, and Colleen looked in his direction. He saw her...but instead of a smile or a nod, he gave her the drive-by glance, his eyes passing over her but not acknowledging her in any meaningful way.
Her chest felt hollow.
When she was little, Colleen had been prone to stomach bugs, and Dad would sit on the edge of her bed and read to her. Mom would get the sympathy pukes if she was too nearby, so it was just Dad and his good smell, his starched shirt and steady voice that marked those nights, making them almost fun, the vomiting aside.
Dad laughed again.
She couldn't remember the last time they'd had a real conversation.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she headed inside. The house was quiet; everyone was outside, and who could blame them? It was a beautiful night.
She heard a voice. The voice, as it were. Impossibly deep, with that rumble that scraped her special places in a most satisfying and yearnful way.
Lucas and Savannah were sitting on a curved-back sofa. He was reading to her...The Wind in the Willows, a book Colleen had read over and over as a kid. Lucas had on a pair of glasses; that was new. And hot. He looked sinfully well-educated, like a professorial Lucifer. And she felt like the slutty college girl who was about to offer whatever it took for that B to become an A.
"'But Mole stood still a moment, held in thought. As one wakened suddenly from a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, but can recapture nothing but a dim sense of the beauty in it, the beauty!'"
Lucifer--er, Lucas--was a good reader. Savannah was pressed against his arm, looking at the pictures. She could read to herself, of course. Then again, if Lucas had offered to read Colleen something...anything...the instructions on how to use her three-in-one remote, for example...she'd fall over herself saying yes. Especially if she could cuddle with him on the couch. Naked.
"Hi, Collie!" Savannah said, catching sight of her.
Colleen jumped guiltily, then feigned surprise. "Hey, you two," she said.
"Want to see the secret room I found?" Savannah asked, wriggling off the couch.
"Um, maybe we shouldn't--"
Savannah was already running up the stairs.
Lucas stood and slipped his glasses into his shirt pocket. "After you," he said.
"Right," she breathed. She went up the stairs, Lucas close behind her. Could he see up her dress? Was she wearing nice underwear? Well, of course she was, she was Colleen Margaret Mary O'Rourke, after all, but--
"Up here!" Savannah called. There was another staircase, this one not so ornate as the first, going to the third floor.
At the top of the stairs was a little hallway. "Sweetheart, we probably shouldn't be sneaking around the house," Colleen began.
"Oh, come on," Lucas said. "It's fun. Where's your sense of adventure, mia?"
"I guess I'm a grown-up now," she said, cocking an eyebrow.
"So? Grown-ups can have a sense of adventure," Savannah said, opening a door. "Look! You can see everything from up here! We can be like Harriet the Spy."
The room's ceilings slanted down; though it was finished, it was still the attic, and hot and musty in this weather, too. It held a few cardboard boxes; otherwise, nothing except for two small dormered windows.
But yeah, the view was great. Especially for spying. The picnic guests seemed to be having a blast, and why not? The band was playing, smoke rose up from the chicken pit and Keuka glittered in the distance, white sails sharp against the cobalt water.
Colleen felt Lucas behind her, and she had to resist the urge to back into him, feel his arms around her, pressing against his--
You really are trashy, said her brother's voice in her head.
She focused on the crowd below. There was Faith, distinguishable by her red hair. Rufus and Faith's dog were romping joyfully around, making toddlers scream with joy (or terror, maybe). And oh, nice. Bryce was pushing a youngster on a swing--looked like Cole Richards, one of her namesakes. Paulie was there, too, visible thanks to the yellow Thneed. The band started playing in earnest now--"Devil with a Blue Dress On." Mr. Petrosinsky had spared no expense. Hopefully, it'd pay off for Paulie.
"It smells so good down there," Savannah said wistfully.
"Are you hungry, honey? Want to eat with me?"
"Hi, baby!" As if summoned by those words, Gail appeared in the doorway. "There you are! What are you doing? Spying?" She walked over. High heels, even though it was a picnic.
"Hi, Gail," Colleen said.
"Colleen." She gave Lucas a big, bleached smile. "Hi there. I don't think we've met."
"We have," Lucas said. He didn't offer more.
"Mommy, I'm hungry," Savannah said, tugging Gail's hand. "Please let me get a hamburger. Please? And potato salad? I love potato salad."
"Sure, baby. No bun, though, okay, and maybe a green salad instead of potato. Carbs, remember?" She flashed the teeth at Lucas again. "We have to watch our figures, especially if we're going to be cheerleaders!"
"I don't think we're going to be cheerleaders, Gail," Colleen said. "I mean, I just don't see Lucas doing all those flips. I'm past thirty, and you're what, forty-two now?"
"Hardly, Colleen," Gail said sharply. "I'm thirty-five."
"Really? They're doing great things with Botox these days. You should check it out."
"Mom," Savannah said, whining now.
"Don't pull on me, Savvi!" Gail sang, batting the two-inch eyelash extensions that sat like tarantulas on the end of her eyelids. "You know how it is, Lucas. Kids."
She turned, smoothed her dress over her ass and sashayed to the door, swinging her hips so violently that Colleen was surprised she didn't fall over.
"Thanks for reading to me," Savannah said over her shoulder.
"My pleasure," he answered, his voice all rumbly.
Gail and Savannah left, the door closing behind them.
It was hot up here. Also, she was here with the Prince of Darkness, which made it hotter still.
Maybe it was having her mom admit her feelings, seeing her still hung up on the guy who'd left her for someone else. Like mother, like daughter, after all. Falling for Lucas again...hell, she already was. And if she wasn't careful, soon she'd be just like Mom, drawing hairy naked men in order to fill up her days.
Lucas was looking at her, doing the fallen angel thing.
She took a deep breath, the air close and dry. "Thanks for being sweet to my sister."
"She was hiding under the couch when I came in."
Colleen's heart pulled. "Really?"
"Yeah. Eating cookies."
Damn. "Gail's had her on a diet for years already. She has food issues."
Lucas made a noncommittal noise.
"How could she not? To Gail, everything is about how you look. Savannah's a little pudgy. Big deal. She'll outgrow it. I was pudgy when I was a kid."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Well, I was. A little. Not really. Fine, I wasn't. So what? What's it to you?"
His mouth pulled up in one corner. "Nervous, Colleen?"
Damn it! That dark, scraping voice. He used to call her from college and talk dirty once in a while, and my! God! The things that voice did to her!
"I'm not nervous. I'm just...irritable. I love Savannah, and I don't want to see her either obese or anorexic or hating the way she looks because she's got Gail for a mother."
"Good thing she has you, then."
She looked at him sharply. "Are you being sarcastic?"
"No."
He just looked at her, saying nothing more, and a breeze drifted through the window, rustling the maple leaves across from them, ruffling his beautiful, thick hair. His eyes always held so much more than what he managed to say.
Well. That's what she'd always thought, anyway, and look where that got her. A woman who was the town flirt, who was probably unhealthi
ly attached to her brother and still didn't trust men, who hadn't had a real relationship in ten years.
"Wow, look at the time! I'm starving," she said, reaching for the doorknob. It stuck, so she tugged it, and the damn thing came off in her hand. Huh.
She tried to put it back, but it was one of those old glass things, and the metal rod was still stuck inside. She shoved it in again, but it fell off immediately. Tried again. Wiggled it. Nothing. "Lucas, can you fix this, please?"
He came over--did he stand this close to everyone? Glanced down at the doorknob in her hand and said, "You broke it."
"No, I didn't. It slipped out. Just put it back."
"It's broken, Colleen."
"Can you please just try to fix it, Lucas?"
"Yes, mia. I'll try, just for you."
He knelt on the floor and you know, sigh. He was kneeling at her feet, and if she didn't knock it off with these thoughts, she was going to slap herself. Hard. Lucas pushed the doorknob onto the, uh, shaft, gave it a shove, then tried to turn it. Once again, the doorknob fell to the floor with a thud. "See?" he said.
"Yeah, yeah." She banged on the door. "Hello? We're stuck in here. Can you open the door?"
They waited. Nothing. Lucas smiled, as if she'd just agreed to sign over her soul.
He stood in one graceful move. "This gives us a chance to talk."
"We're not going to talk."
"I thought we needed to talk."
"So talk to yourself, then! Talk away, Lucas! Jeesh! It's too hot in here. It's like one of those Swedish saunas where they kill people. Who can talk?"
It's hard to believe you were once so good with men, because you are now officially a babbling idiot. She went to the window. Great, plenty of people down there, and a little cooler.
"Hello! Hi! We're stuck up here! Hello!" Nope. Apparently, the band was too loud--"Let's Spend the Night Together," perfect--and not one person looked up. Connor, get your ass up here, she thought, hoping the psychic twin thing would work this time.
Twilight was falling softly over the party, the sky a beautiful shade of slate blue.
"Sit, Colleen," Lucas said. He was already on the floor, his back against the wall, long legs crossed. Jeans. White shirt. That skin, that beautiful olive skin.
She sighed again and obeyed, crossing her arms grumpily. She sat kitty-corner from him. The better to see you, my dear.
A faint smile played on his mouth. He had a perfect mouth. Full and perfectly shaped and just a little sulky.
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