Drew had told Mackenzie about the dam’s history as they’d launched at Big Eddy’s Marina. Backing the Hummer to the water’s edge, the boat trailer’s tires rolling underwater, he’d unhooked the cable, and on impulse, told Mackenzie to get behind the wheel and pull forward.
Seeing his slight daughter gunning the big engine of the four-wheel drive SUV had made him smile. But at the same time, made him sad. He’d missed being there for her driver’s training classes, the day at the DMV when she got her license…and a boatload of other milestones in her life.
When she’d talked about Bobby Wilder being her daddy, there was nothing Drew could do but listen and curse himself for the jerk he’d been. The only saving grace was the fact that maybe, in time, he could make things up to her.
They had the whole summer, and he was going to do his damn best to get things right, to take his time, to listen to her, to be there for her if she needed him.
Sharing his world was top on his list, which was why he’d wanted to bring her to Overlook today. This was where his friends gathered, where good times were always had. He had a feeling she’d like it, and so far, she’d been laughing and smiling. A lot.
He noticed she took an interest in Jason Carpenter. At this point, Drew wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Mackenzie might’ve had a boyfriend before. She was seventeen, beautiful, an easy personality to be around. Then again, maybe Caroline had frowned on that sort of thing. Caroline had been fairly strict, yet loving.
Hell. Drew didn’t know diddly about Mackenzie’s love life. Didn’t want to. He’d have to give Lynette a call. There were certain things he’d always asked about—if Mackenzie were doing well in school; if she’d been sick; if she needed any extra money or wanted to buy a special something. But his daughter’s dating habits had never been one of the things he’d inquired about.
“Good Lord, you couldn’t get me in that water for anything,” Lucy said, her voice breaking into Drew’s thoughts.
While the outside temperature had to be in the high seventies, the water was still holding residual winter runoff from the snow. It was damn cold.
Drew leaned his butt against the side of the driver’s chair, his arms folded over his chest. “You want something to drink?”
“Do you have any bottled water?”
“Yep.” Drew pulled up the lid to the cooler and grabbed two.
Water from the cooler’s melting ice dripped from the plastic bottles. Lucy gave a throaty gasp when droplets ran down her bare, tan legs. Drew’s gaze slid across the smooth expanse of her thighs, knees and ankles.
She had on a pair of lower-riding knit shorts and her bathing suit top. Her skin looked soft and his fingers ached to run over the hollow of her throat and trace her collarbone. The shade of brown in her eyes was like caramel-chocolate, the lashes sweeping upward with a light coverage of mascara. Probably waterproof. Until he’d read Seventeen magazine, he hadn’t known something like that even existed. She’d put clear lip gloss or balm on her lips. They were shiny and very tempting.
He admired the shape of her sexy mouth, the top and bottom lip almost a mirror of the other. She didn’t have a noticeable bow to her upper lip, but rather, a fuller mouth—like Julia Roberts. Actually, now that he thought about it, in some ways Lucy did kind of look like the actress. Same hairstyle, same mouth. But the eyes were very different. So was the nose.
Telling himself to stay away from her had been good in theory, so what was she doing on his boat, long legs stretched out in front of her, butt up against the hull, and sneaking looks at him as if he were the best thing since a pair of four inch heels?
The boys on the dock were horsing around, showing off for his daughter. Nutter pushed Brownie into the water, then Brownie laid his palm on the surface and fanned them with a wide arc of spray. Matt did a cannonball and almost landed on top of Brownie.
Mackenzie stood here, laughing and basking in the attention. Her smile went straight to Drew’s heart. The flush on her cheeks was proof she was shy—to a degree. He was glad about that. There was so much he didn’t know about her. Wanted to know. Sometimes he got shortsighted, frustrated with himself and the situation. He wanted to know everything, and to know it yesterday.
“She’s very pretty,” Lucy said, putting the mouth of the water bottle to her lips. “I see the family resemblance. Who’s she related to?”
Drew swallowed, glad the next song on the CD player was loud and kick-ass. “You like KISS?” he asked, ignoring her question.
“I remember them,” she replied, giving him a sidelong glance. A hint of a question lingered in her eyes. She was just going to have to wait. He had nothing else to add. What could he say?
He and Mackenzie hadn’t thought that far in advance. He was an only child, so saying Mackenzie was his sister’s kid wouldn’t work. Maybe a cousin on his father’s side. That sounded good. But right now, he wasn’t sure if he could work out enough of the details to make it all sound credible.
The corners of Drew’s mouth pulled upward in amusement. “Of course you do, sugar. You’re only a year younger than me,” he drawled, cranking up the volume and enjoying the beat of the song.
Music drifted across the water, catching on the sun-ripened ripples, and the day was good. Drew liked simplicity, and this was one of those times.
“You’re a complicated man,” Lucy said, coming closer and looking him directly in the eyes.
“No, darlin’. I’m just the Tolman-ater.”
“You hide behind that, but there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“Is there now?”
The pink-painted toes on her bare feet were so close to his, he could step on her foot and caress it if he wanted to. And he wanted to. But with Mackenzie and her sons, and the other boys right there, that was something he wasn’t going to do. But he could think it.
He could even fantasize about it.
“You have a scandalous past.”
Drew laughed. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I don’t.”
“None that you’ve ever let me see. Maybe you do, sugar, only I just haven’t figured out that part about you yet.” Drew inched his bare foot toward hers, his big toe meeting her pinkie.
To her credit, she didn’t flinch or move away. She held strong and kept her chin up, brows raised. He thought she might be a little skittish after that kiss in his kitchen…and then Jacquie showing up.
Not something he wanted to think about. Damn awkward.
“Don’t play with me, Drew.”
“Well, hell, you got me.” He lowered his voice. The cleavage from her bikini top was full and round. She had nice breasts, perfectly shaped for a man’s hand. “That’s exactly what I wanted to do.”
“Funny.”
She smelled like body splash, sweet and inviting. Her hair was pulled back in a green tie, silken brown strands having fallen out in a messy caress at her cheeks, tugged by the wind as he’d opened up the twin diesel engines. He wanted to tuck her hair behind her ear, kiss the shell and trace her lobe, slowly lick the side of her neck.
The fire in his eyes must have been blazing because she stood back, took a step away. She turned, gazed at the dock and refocused her attention. Probably more to get him out of her mind than to see what her boys were up to.
Absently, her hands rose to her hair and she pulled the tie out to redo it. As her slender fingers worked her hair into a ponytail, he came up behind her, knitted his hands with hers and said against her cheek, “I got that.”
She went ramrod still, but didn’t knock his hands away.
The texture of her hair was soft, and strands sifted through his fingers like sugar. He used his fingers to comb it back, then pulled the scarf around and knotted it.
“You want a bow?”
“Do I look like a bow girl?”
He smiled silently, made the bow. Her shapely body shivered, most likely out of control from his soft touch as he pulled the ends of the scarf. Then he grazed his career-sc
arred knuckles down the back of her bare neck.
Lingering, he fought the strongest urge to kiss her shoulder.
The bareness of her back aroused him, the thin band of her bikini top more sensual to him than if she’d stood there without it on. The idea of unhooking it teased far more.
So he stayed close, close enough that he could feel the heat off her body like a gym sauna, and feel their jumping heartbeats pulsing in the air around them.
“This Tuesday,” he said softly, leaning closer, “when you come over to cook…I want you to…”
He let the sentence trail, let her think what she wanted. And he hoped it was the same thing he wanted.
Long seconds played out. He inwardly smiled.
“What?” she finally said, the word a breathy sound.
“I want you to…cook for two. I’ve got a houseguest for the summer.”
Lucy’s shoulders relaxed, a soft snort left her lungs. “Sure. I can do that.”
She ducked away from him, stepped up onto the dock and did a quick pivot on her feet. A cool pink blush worked across her face, her cheeks.
He grinned.
Indignant sparks flew from her eyes, and he knew damn well he’d yanked her chain and gotten her pissed.
“You know what?” she declared in a tone edged with sass. “I never did like KISS. I always thought that group was for immature men who had tongue envy and complexes about their drumsticks.” Then she strode to the kids, her hips swaying hotly. The shape of her back was sexy as all hell.
Rather than being annoyed with her, he wanted to take that luscious body of hers and show her just how good his tongue would be in all the right places.
“Dude, there’s an ATV at Bomber’s that has snow tracks on it,” Ryan said. “You can spin donuts on it.”
Drew had driven them around the reservoir in his badass boat, and now they were back with everyone on the main dock. The group of boys congregated at the corner, talking about nothing and junk; but all of them were looking at Mackenzie when they were talking. She stayed on other side of the dock, laughing with some girls.
“I spun donuts in my mom’s car.” Brownie shoved a handful of pork rinds into his mouth, some getting stuck on his braces.
“Dude!” Ryan exclaimed. “I did that once on the ice, pulled the e-brake. I about lost it and took out our mailbox.”
The boys laughed.
“I was lifting weights in my garage,” Nutter stated, “and there was this time that I almost dropped a barbell on my dad’s Suburban. He would have freakin’ freaked out.”
“How much do you weigh, Nutter?” Jason asked, dipping into the conversation.
“A hundred and forty.”
“You’re a hundred and forty?” Ryan challenged, grabbing the bag of rinds. “I’m one-sixty. I can bench-press two hundred.”
“You’re full of shit.” Nutter grabbed the bag back.
Jason sat on his towel, the sun in his eyes, but he was just as interested in Mackenzie as the other boys. They’d all been horsing around, trying to get her attention at the dock by the dam.
Mackenzie had smiled at all of them, been friendly, but Jason thought she was looking at him the most. So he’d tried to play it cool.
Mackenzie was real pretty, and he liked how she sounded when she talked. He’d never heard anyone say “ya’ll” before unless it was in the movies. When she said “dinner” it sounded like “dinnah.” She told him his momma was making her supper. He didn’t know what supper was, and she said, “Ya’ll don’t call the evenin’ meal supper? Oh, then I’m meanin’ dinnah.”
Thinking about the quality of her voice gave Jason a flush on his warm, summer skin. He found himself extremely conscious of every move she made and every word out of her mouth. He could listen to her talk forever.
She was by Drew, sitting on a chair and talking to another girl on the dock. They were laughing about something, and Jason felt a little like toeing the rubber—showing off.
Effing A.
Jason never did anything stupid like this—have a head-banger over a girl. But Mackenzie wasn’t just any girl.
She was like one of those magnolia tree flowers that bloomed in the park by the Boise zoo. She was different. And all of the boys making jokes, talking big and staring at her—they all knew it, too.
Nineteen
“Clyde, you are just downright wrong.” Opal’s insistent voice carried loudly enough to give a brass band a run for its money. “It was Burt Gunderson who had the affair with Betty-Lay, that waitress at the Timberline Lodge.” Opal was adamant in her argument with the deputy. She remembered things like a womanizer, and Burt had been a real hands-all-over-you guy.
“Beverly wasn’t doing no two-step with Dirty Burty. You’ve got it all wrong. That was Blanche who worked at the ski lodge. Them broads both have names that start with the letter B.” Deputy Cooper gave a snort-laugh. “Though Beverly earned her nickname, I won’t argue that. I recall Roger almost calling her Betty-Lay to her face. I-gad, now that would have been something.”
Opal dragged a chip through the gooey nacho cheese sauce, ate it with a jalapeño and a green onion, then took a sip of her margarita. The coarse salt on the rim puckered her lips, but the tequila went down smooth. It was Wednesday—“Olé Night” at the High Country Lounge—and the drinks and appetizers had a Mexican theme.
“I’m telling you,” Opal insisted sharply. “It was Beverly.”
“I saw Betty-Lay suntanning at the dam last week. Holy God a’mighty, she’s got to be in her mid-seventies now.” Clyde pursed his lips in remembrance. “That tattoo she had on her breast has become a long stemmed rose, if you get my meaning.”
“Unfortunately, I do.” Opal was glad she’d never taken to any body art. It was bad enough her girls were drooping without having an artist’s ink to accent nature’s deficit.
Raul grimaced as he ate a nacho, then looked as if he was going to spit the chip out. “This cheez isn’t real cheez. It’s that piss-whiz from a can. Jess the taste of it insults my tongue.”
“Raul, this is all-American Mexican food. You just haven’t developed the right taste buds.”
“The Raul has an excellent palate.”
“Then go paint a mural.” Clyde cracked himself up.
Raul didn’t see the humor.
Sheriff Lewis came in through the doors, felt hat cocked at an angle and determination in his gaze. “Raul, you’re parked over the line in the parking lot, gawdammit. I couldn’t find a single space for my Blazer, so I’m double-parked in back of Opal’s Ford. Go out there and move your car, Raul, or I’m going to slap a ticket on it right after I order my beer.”
“C’hew can’t ticket me if you’re off duty.” Raul’s dark hair was a perfect black wing, parted and combed on the side. “And if you’re on duty, c’hew can’t be drinking no beers.”
“I’ll call it in to Dispatch and the sheriff on duty can come on over and tow you.”
“How do you know it’s my car?”
“For the love of Pete,” Roger said, sidling up to the bar. “Who else drives a 1985 Cadillac DeVille with CHEF4U personal plates?”
“He’s got you there, Raul,” Clyde laughed.
“That issa classic automobile,” Raul intoned with indignance. “In La Puente, that cherry DeVille was borrowed for weddings and funerals.”
“Well, go bury it in its own parking slot and free one up for me.”
Raul muttered, fishing through his pockets for his car keys. “I don’ like this town sometimes. Everyone knows everyone’s business and it makes me sick.”
“Speaking of business,” Clyde offered, sliding the nachos down the sheriff’s way, “you find out anything more on that young gal who Drew Tolman has staying with him? She really a family friend?”
“Far as I can tell, his story hasn’t deviated.” Roger Lewis took a long drink of his Coors. “I think she is.”
“I cannot believe what I’m hearing,” Opal said. “You boys are actually
thinking Drew would have some underage girl in his home and she ain’t family? I’m shocked.”
“Oh, hell, Opal, stop with the indignant look. Nothing shocks you.” The teasing mirth in Roger’s handsome eyes pulled at Opal’s heartbeat like the choke on her old Ford Falcon.
“Now, Roger, you know I’m not a prude. But I think it’s bad of you to talk like that about that young lady. Drew’s brought her into the diner, and I think she’s sweet as can be. If you put your glasses on, you’d see the family resemblance between him and Mackenzie. She’s peach pie fresh and quite charming.”
Stef Ann Holm Page 21