His Brown-Eyed Girl Page 10

“My uncle. I can see you like him.”

  Addy blinked. Well, she hadn’t thought it was that obvious. “I suppose so. I have to give him credit for showing up. He’s a bachelor, you know? Not use to kids and animals and noise. This is a shock to his system, yet he’s still here. He stepped up when no one else did.”

  “Why, though? He and my dad have been mad at each other for a long time.”

  “Not sure. Maybe because your mother asked him. Maybe he needed a reason to connect with you and your family. I don’t know, because I don’t know the background between Lucas and your parents. But that doesn’t change the fact he’s here.”

  “Yeah, he’s here, telling me how to live and think. He doesn’t have the right to tell me anything.”

  “Have you talked to him about the way you feel? Not just complained?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Because Lucas can’t change something he doesn’t know about.”

  Michael slid his gaze to her and in those chocolate depths she saw a tiny crack, a sort of “maybe she’s not totally stupid” fissure in his wall of mistrust. It was about as much of a thank-you as she’d get from the kid.

  Addy rose and stretched. “Why don’t we go inside and get a bag of frozen veggies for your cheek? You might turn a shiner out of this one.”

  “’Kay. In a minute.”

  Addy left him, sending up a silent prayer of thanks for the words she’d managed. All those hours of sitting in therapy group noshing on doughnuts and sipping weak coffee had paid off. Of course, she hadn’t fixed anything between Michael and his uncle, but she had given the kid something to chew on. An old proverb her aunt Flora used to say sprang to mind—“Wish in one hand and spit in the other and see which one fills up the fastest.”

  Addy had held plenty of spit in life and she knew more than most that complaining about how life deals you a shitty hand doesn’t take the spit away.

  Chapter Eight

  MONDAY MORNING CAME with unsigned school papers and a glass of spilled milk, but otherwise, Lucas made it. After navigating New Orleans traffic and hitting two different schools for drop-off, he needed something stronger than PJ’s coffee but he took a large cup anyhow. Then he would head back to the blissfully silent house. He was nearly giddy with the thought of being alone, even if it was in a house that needed three maids to give it a good scrub down.

  He’d never been good at dealing with clutter. His ranch house back in Texas was remarkably well organized. In Lucas’s world every item had its place. In his brother’s world, Lucas had concluded every item had to be handy, which meant things were rarely in their places.

  It drove Lucas crazy.

  But he had only a few more days to live within chaos.

  Courtney had said she’d make other arrangements for the kids, and then he’d be free to head back to West Texas and his open spaces. He thought about Addy and something that felt like regret pinged within his chest. But that was likely for the best. Wasn’t like he had a future here in New Orleans. Everything was messy here and he no longer fit in this world of crooked streets, tropical plants and ornate architecture. He needed clean lines and open space. He took a deep breath, angled his truck toward Orchard Street just as his cell phone trilled.

  His sister-in-law.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Hey,” she said, sounding even more tired than she had the day before. “How are the kids?”

  “Still alive.”

  “Don’t joke about that.”

  “Sorry. They’re fine. Just dropped Charlotte by preschool and I managed to not offend any clergy this morning.”

  “God, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t said yes.”

  He hooked a U-turn and made a right onto Claiborne and said, “You keep saying that, but you would have figured something out. You’re resourceful and tough.”

  “I don’t feel that way. I feel defeated, like God is punishing me for all my past mistakes.”

  He couldn’t respond to that comment so silence pulsed between them for a good ten seconds or so. Finally he asked the inevitable. “So, how is Ben?”

  “Not good. His body stopped responding to the antibiotics. New drugs today and he’ll undergo some tests so they’ll know more about what course to try next. I don’t know why he’s doing so poorly—everything went well during the surgeries in Germany. He was fine, so I don’t understand this.” She sighed and he could hear her swallowing. “Luke, his body is starting to shut down.”

  He couldn’t respond to that, either. Something grabbed him by the throat, sunk its teeth in him.

  “I’m so scared.”

  “I know you are, but have faith. Ben’s a fighter.”

  “I hope so,” she said, tears in her voice choking her. Again regret or sympathy or some emotion he hadn’t felt in a while moved in his chest. “I hate putting you out like this.”

  “No worries,” he said, immediately wondering why he’d said that. Hadn’t he wanted to escape since he drove past that New Orleans city limit sign a week ago? “I’m able to work from your house and I have a manager for the ranch so there’s no rush.”

  “I’m getting you out and back to your life.”

  “Look, I can’t say I’m good at this, but it’s not a war zone. You don’t have to medevac me out. I have help.”

  “Who?”

  “Flora made gumbo for us and Addy paid the boys to wash her car yesterday while I took Charlotte to the Spring Fling. By the way, I let Charlotte have two snoballs and we were up until ten o’clock. Lesson learned.”

  He could hear Courtney’s smile. “Thank you for taking her to the fling. She’d been looking forward to it.”

  “You’re welcome.” And he meant it. He’d actually enjoyed seeing the joy Charlotte took in playing “Fishin’ with Barney” and walking on the cakewalk. Strange, but true.

  “Hey, Luke, why did you say yes?”

  He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. “To going to the fling or coming here?”

  “Watching the kids. I never expected you to accept.”

  He hadn’t expected to say yes either, but the desperation in her voice paired with the sharp jab of learning his brother was on the brink of death urged him to agree to the madcap adventure. He still wasn’t sure why he’d agreed…why he’d even answered a call from a woman he’d spent years hating. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I know you’ve got a ranch and a business that need you. My cousin DeeAnn should get there by Thursday afternoon. Took me a while to get in touch with her and agree to a fee, but she—”

  “Agree to a fee?”

  “Well, yeah. Dee’s in cosmetology school on the West Bank and will have to miss a few days of work in order to watch them.”

  He didn’t like the sound of Dee. What kind of person charged a relative for helping out? “How old is she?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “Is she married?”

  Courtney sighed. “Why the tenth degree? She’s available, of age and can come on Thursday. I’m sure the kids will be fine.”

  “I’m not.”

  “She’s responsible,” Courtney said, but she didn’t sound convinced. That made him nervous.

  “If you say so. They’re your children.”

  “So I’ll call later tonight to talk to the kids.”

  “Fine.”

  Lucas hung up, pulled into the driveway and climbed from his truck, wondering if he believed her when she said this DeeAnn character was trustworthy.

  But he didn’t have a say-so. Besides there was that getting back to normalcy thing he desired. He wanted to get back to Texas. Needed to brush his horse Cisco and eat chili and steaks and food that didn’t have crawfish in it. Time to rewind and go back to being Lucas, photographer and part-time rancher. Not Lucas, poor substitute for Mr. Mom.

  He hadn’t seen Courtney in almost fourteen years, but the family pictures scattere
d throughout the house proved she was still pretty even with the smile lines around her eyes and rounder body. He’d once imagined himself standing next to her in those photographs…not his brother.

  Lucas shook the sourness from his head.

  No sense in crying over spilled love.

  “Morning.”

  He turned to find Addy walking toward her car. He could barely see her through the waxy leaves of the camellia bushes, but he saw she carried coffee and wore a navy jumper-dress thing.

  “Hey,” he called back ducking between two bushes and coming out in her driveway. “On your way to work?”

  She held up her travel mug in a mock toast. “Have to pay the bills.”

  “I’m about to pull out my laptop myself. Hey, I talked to Courtney and she’s having her cousin come stay with the kids on Thursday. This DeeAnn woman will probably be more competent than I am, so…”

  Something in Addy’s face fell a little and hope fluttered in his gut…even if he told himself it shouldn’t. “Oh, so you’re leaving that soon?”

  “I guess.”

  “You’ll be happy to get back to Texas, back to normal,” she said.

  “I guess.”

  Addy licked her lips and he saw her grab hold of her emotions. “Well, then.” She turned toward her car before spinning back around, a determined smile on her face. “By the way, Aunt Flora has bridge club this afternoon. They’re making martinis so don’t call the cops if it gets rowdy.”

  Addy paused, waiting for him to respond, as if at a loss…as if she didn’t want him to go so soon.

  “Hell, I’m so bored I might join them. Do they drink gin?”

  “Oh, heavens, maybe I should stay home and supervise.”

  “Maybe you should,” he said, giving her a wink. “I’ll let you wear the lamp shade.” Flirting again—something he rarely did. But something about her sadness made him want to flip her. He was someone different with Addy, that was for sure.

  “I look terrible in hats. Just promise me you won’t strip for them. The last guy who took off his clothes at one of their bridge games needed therapy afterward.”

  Lucas laughed. Which hardly ever happened. “Ah, Addy girl, you do make me smile.”

  She stilled, her brown eyes growing sad. “Another time, another place, huh?”

  “Yeah. It’s too bad I’m leaving.” He wanted to walk to her and take her in his arms. He wanted to kiss her, let her feel how much he wanted her. And, God help him, he wanted to stay a little bit longer.

  “’Bye,” she said, pulling the car door open. She stood a moment as if she wanted to say something more before giving her head a little shake and sliding into the car. Her sleek brown hair fell into a silk curtain as she ducked inside, and Lucas immediately wondered how it would feel tangled in his hand. He would tug her head back gently so he could taste her throat, slide his mouth against the pulse there, taste her, inhale her.

  Addy lifted her hand to him in a small wave as she backed her VW out. A regretful smile curved those pink lips, lips he longed to cover with his, and for a moment he almost called out to her to stay.

  Maybe invite her to spend the morning in bed with him.

  But that was insanity.

  He’d already decided not to venture into those waters. Wouldn’t be fair to a woman who’d endured as much as Addy had…but that didn’t change the fact he wanted her with a strange hunger he’d never felt before.

  The car paused and the window lowered. Addy tilted her head toward him. “I meant to tell you I’d take Charlotte to her gymnastics class at five o’clock so you can take Chris to karate.”

  “Thanks. If you can drop her, I’ll pick her up. Michael is riding home with the lacrosse instructor who lives a few streets over. His is the last class.”

  “Sure,” Addy said, before pressing the accelerator and shooting out of the drive.

  Lucas lowered his hand. This was it—all there was between him and Addy. Business only.

  Shit.

  He climbed the back steps and pulled out the key to the back door, not quite so happy to be alone in the rambling house. Somehow the thought of Addy being out of his reach was depressing.

  *

  ADDY PLACED a tiger lily in the bouquet before plucking it out again. The bold yellow distracted from the soft pink of the orchids. She tossed it down with a sigh.

  “Ain’t nothing satisfying you today.” Shelia tsked, shaking her head, making her large hoop earrings dance. “That man got you wound up?”

  “What man?”

  Shelia looked at her with flat black eyes. “The one you had plans with on Saturday.”

  “Oh, well, dinner never happened. Charlotte threw up in the irises and ended any thoughts of more than work with the uncle. Probably for the best, though. He’s leaving in a few days.”

  “Mmm,” was all her friend said.

  “He’s not anything to me. I’ve been helping out with the kids. Being neighborly is all.”

  “That’s too bad. I could tell you liked him, and usually it takes you a while to warm up to a man especially after the flower on your windshield.”

  True on all accounts. “You can tell that from one conversation about him?”

  “I read body language. That’s our thing, right?”

  Yeah, it was their thing. Women who’d been victims of violence learned to anticipate a fist, sense a harmful presence. Reading body language saved lives and allowed women to live in a world they felt was against them. Addy learned how to recognize a threat and protect herself. Actually, she felt better prepared than the average person—she recognized evil because she’d met it. “Yeah, it’s our thing. Lucas is a good man, but that doesn’t mean he’s the right man.”

  “Maybe it don’t but you’re too young to give up on love. Me? I’m past my prime and happy doing what I’m doing. What Alfred did to me didn’t defeat me, but it made me awfully content to be alone. But you is just a child.”

  “Tell that to gravity,” Addy quipped, grabbing a blue freesia to nestle into the arrangement. She affixed some moss to the base and added some small toadstools. Whimsical and fairylike. Perfect for the Sweet Sixteen dance.

  “I’m serious. I know things didn’t work out with that Stephen, but I couldn’t have told you right up front he was too much of a weenie.”

  Addy laughed at Shelia’s description of the last guy Addy had been serious about. “He screamed when that spider jumped on him and tried to climb in my arms. It was funny but telling. Not to mention he was so small I could easily cradle him.”

  “That’s why this big one’s such a departure. You usually like them manageable.”

  “That’s not true. Stephen wasn’t that small. And he made really good waffles.”

  “Baby, if you can bench-press them…”

  “I don’t choose guys based on…” Addy trailed off because in thinking about her last few relationships, she realized Shelia was right. The last three guys she’d dated were slight, nerdy and about as threatening as a puppy.

  Shelia guffawed. “Yeah. You know what I mean.”

  “Okay. Fine. I’ve chosen guys who are a little less masculine than the Incredible Hulk living at the Finlay house. So what? Makes sense in a weird way. My subconscious probably overrode my brain, making me think on some level I could better fight them off if there was a threat.”

  “That psychology degree comes in handy sometimes, don’t it?”

  Addy shook her head and lifted the arrangement, placing it in the cooler sitting across from her workspace. The Mortillaros were coming in later that afternoon to look at Addy’s design for the Fairies and Moonlight Sweet Sixteen Extravaganza centerpieces. The mock-up looked good, but who knew what sixteen-year-old girls liked these days.

  Teenage girls—she’d been one of those. Cocksure, swaggering, glossed and moussed. She’d worn her hair permed, her makeup thick and her skirts short. She’d been on top of the world—a good girl who craved a little bad in her life.

  Her se
venteen-year-old self could not see what her thirty-two-year-old self could now see plain as day—Robbie Guidry was a stereotypical stalker type.

  But to Addy, Robbie had been danger and desire.

  Everything her parents would refuse her.

  So many girls like her out there. She touched the charm of the Patron Saint Raphael at her wrist and made a mental note to call the archdiocese. She wanted her advocacy group to talk to the health classes at parish schools about recognizing dangerous relationships.

  She turned to start on another order when the shop phone rang. Addy scooped the old-fashioned corded phone from its cradle. “Fleur de Lis.”

  “Why didn’t you answer your cell phone?”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “I’ve been calling you all morning, and now you’re forcing me to use your business line. If you’re going to carry a cell, shouldn’t you answer it?” Don Toussant’s temperament was almost as bristly as his graying mustache.

  Addy glanced at the locked cabinet housing her purse. “Yeah, I forgot to pull it out this morning.”

  Her father’s silence was answer enough. Addy never forgot her phone. She kept it in a pocket or sitting nearby at all times…part of her process.

  “Hate to tell you this, baby, but on top of what went down last week, the parole hearing for Robbie is next Monday.”

  Addy felt her stomach drop to the floor. The escalated threats now made sense. Robbie thought he was getting out and wanted her to remember he’d not forgotten her. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Not good, but I wanted you to know I talked to Andre and he talked to someone down at the parole board and he thinks they’ll grant parole this go around. Too much overcrowding and Robbie has been a good boy.” There was anger in her father’s voice, maybe a little of it leftover for her. He’d never gotten over the fact his good Catholic girl had conducted a secret affair with a creep.

  “I knew this day would come, Dad,” Addy said, her heart pounding at the thought Robbie would be out, able to contact her, able to cause trouble. She’d hoped after all the years he’d spent behind bars he would reform and want to move on, but the occasional reminders he sent to her told her differently. “I’m going to keep living my life. I refuse to live scared.”