His Brown-Eyed Girl Read online

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Think I’ll just go, too,” Chris said, slinking past his uncle, rolling his bike toward the entrance.

  “Wait,” Lucas said.

  The boy stopped and looked at his uncle with frightened eyes. Addy watched as the man forced himself to relax.

  “You need to help Miss—” He struggled for her name.

  “Toussant,” Addy said.

  “—Toussant clean up. And then we’ll arrange a time for you to help repair the damage you’ve done.”

  “A boy can’t fix this.” Addy’s gaze roved over the rubble. “I have to replace some beams and most of the sheeting. Plus several of the shelves are broken. And pots. And several plants will need replacing…” Her voice faded as the enormity of the task set in.

  “I’m going to help, too,” Lucas said, his dark eyes sweeping her from foot to crown, but not in a skeevy way. No hair raised on her neck. The look was appreciative, but not harmful. There was something else—a tingly awareness that made her swallow the misery of the situation and avert her eyes from the broad shoulders and hard jaw. Her thoughts needed to stay away from the overt maleness of Uncle Lucas.

  “I’m sure you don’t have the time what with taking care of the children.”

  “I need to help.” His eyes relented in hardness, giving her a glimpse of something else within the depths. Was it desperation? “In fact, I’ll get Michael to help, too. We can make short work of the cleanup.”

  “He’s not going to like it,” Chris muttered. “He doesn’t like helping with anything. He’s lazy.”

  Addy smiled. Most thirteen-year-old boys were lazy when it came to chores. Michael was not lazy, however, when it came to lacrosse. The boy tossed balls all over his yard. And Addy’s and Mr. Linnert’s and every house within a one-hundred-yard radius. “I don’t care what he likes or doesn’t,” Lucas said, toeing a piece of wood hanging haphazardly from the metal framework of the shelves. “He’s helping us rebuild Miss Toussant’s shed.”

  “Greenhouse,” Addy said, accepting the fact she’d have three males and a sometimes pantless toddler invading her world…whether she wished it or not. Lucas didn’t seem the sort to take no for an answer, which was somewhat alarming. But Addy couldn’t deny it would be good for Chris to learn how to right the wrong he’d created. And something about the pleading in the man’s voice had her conceding to what would likely be more trouble than aid. “And you might as well call me Addy since we’re embarking upon a project together.”

  “And I’m Lucas.”

  “Lucas,” she repeated, holding out her hand again.

  This time he took hold of her small hand with something roughly the size of a grizzly paw. But his grasp was warm, friendly even, for a man who seemed made of hard corners.

  No zaps of attraction.

  No weird tingly crap like in all those movies. Just heartfelt and firm. She inhaled slowly and exhaled with a smile.

  Something about his handshake allowed for respite, for some measure of conviction. She knew Courtney and Ben Finlay well enough to know they wouldn’t leave their children with anyone who wasn’t trustworthy. She pulled her hand from his. “I don’t have time this week to rebuild the greenhouse, but I work only until noon on Saturdays. Should be home by one o’clock. I’ll make a list of materials, and if you can get them from a home improvement store…”

  Lucas’s eyes traveled over her again. “I can and will. I’m sorry this happened to your greenhouse. I should have made sure he didn’t get on the bike. From here on out, until his mother returns he will not be terrorizing the neighborhood because the bike will be in the garage.”

  “But I gotta ride in the Nola Classic in a couple of weeks. I gotta practice.”

  Lucas gave the boy a look that should have been hard, but somehow looked sympathetic. “Not while I’m here. Take that up with your—”

  “Like that’s going to happen. Why won’t Mom come home? Why won’t you tell us where she is?”

  “That’s not my call, kid. My job is to make sure you don’t kill yourself before she gets back…something in which I’m obviously close to failing. Take up complaints with her when she calls.”

  “All she does is ask how our day was. She don’t say nothin’ about nothin’,” Chris grumbled.

  The whole conversation sounded tense and personal, so Addy bent and started stacking shards of pottery in the plastic rolling bin she used for compost. Her action directed the attention of both males to the task at hand.

  Chris carefully set down the bike outside the greenhouse while Lucas shifted unbroken pots of delicate blooms to a concentric area in the one sturdy corner of the house. Wordlessly he picked up broken boards and handed them to Chris, jerking his head toward the two empty trash cans sitting behind her house. He moved elegantly for such a large man and the trepidation Addy had felt earlier returned. She didn’t like being penned inside with him.

  “Better get moving. Sun’s about to set.” He moved the cans beside the rent plastic and got to work in a businesslike manner that chased away her fear. She pulled a rake from the small cupboard on which part of the damaged greenhouse rested and did as he suggested.

  After so many words spoken, silence was welcome, allowing each to his or her own thoughts. They worked easily together to clear away the mess and restore some order to the broken greenhouse.

  “Luckily we’re not expecting frost,” Addy commented, placing the final ruffled pink-and-green orchid in the rows sitting shiva over the pile of poor unsalvageable plants.

  Lucas agreed, picking up her ring of keys that held the small canister of pepper spray. He eyed it before passing it to her.

  “I’m a single woman.” Her declaration wasn’t an invitation. Wasn’t a status update. It was explanation—she protected herself. Lucas was damn lucky she hadn’t had the keys in hand when he’d burst through the plastic earlier.

  “Smart,” he said.

  Chris sighed, obviously bored with the adult talk. “Can I take my bike home now?”

  Lucas nodded. “I’ll take this pile out to the bin.”

  A disturbance at the torn entrance drew Addy’s eye. Blond curls followed by one blue-green eye studied her.

  “And then we can have chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Don’t both—” Lucas turned as he saw Charlotte emerging in the opening. Her big eyes were fastened on Addy and she looked hungry…maybe for more than chocolate chip cookies.

  Addy was accustomed to being around kids—she had a dozen nieces and nephews—but she’d hardly said “boo” to the kids next door, though her aunt Flora liked to chat them up occasionally. Charlotte looked a little lost under her uncle’s care, and an invisible string inside her heart plinked at the girl in her juice-stained T-shirt and mismatched pants.

  Holding out a hand, Addy beckoned the girl. “You ready for some cookies?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Charlotte nodded, reaching small grubby fingers toward Addy. “I wike cookies.”

  The adorable speech impediment cemented the intent in Addy’s heart. Lucas needed help. “I like cookies, too.”

  “Uncle Wucas don’t wike cookies. He wikes beer.”

  Addy couldn’t stop the smile. She heard Lucas grunt as he bent to scoop the discarded plants into the rolling bin. “Please don’t tell Sister Regina Maria. She already thinks I’m the very devil,” he said, pushing the bin out into the encroaching darkness. Michael stood at the end of Addy’s drive, tapping on his cell phone, but casting glances toward where Lucas tugged the plastic sheeting closed.

  “Sister Regina Maria is my principal,” Charlotte said, looking at Addy with eyes the color of sea glass. Clear blue mottled with bottle green. Beautiful and trusting. But not when she looked at Lucas. Something about the big man scared the girl. Normally, Addy would agree. As a former victim of violence, she avoided large men. Even though she knew it was wrong to judge a man on his size, she couldn’t seem to help herself. Lucas was an oak tree.

  “S
ister Regina Maria sounds like a good principal. Is she nice?”

  Michael joined them. “If dragons are nice.”

  “She’s not a dragon,” Charlotte admonished, her plump lips straightening in a line, her brow wrinkling into thunderclouds. “You a fart head. Chris said so.”

  Michael laughed. “He’d know.”

  Charlotte didn’t seem to know what to say. But Lucas did. “Michael, did you finish your schoolwork?”

  The boy gave his uncle a withering look.

  “Did you?”

  The boy still didn’t answer, but instead tugged Charlotte’s hand. “Let’s go home, Lottie.”

  “Nooo,” the toddler screeched, pulling away from Michael. “I want cookies.”

  “We got cookies.” The boy leaned over and picked his sister up, shooting Lucas a funny look. “If you don’t come with me, I’ll leave you with Uncle Lucas all by yourself.”

  The little girl froze and slid her gaze to her towering uncle. “Nooo! He eats little kids’ fingers. Did he eat Mommy?”

  Michael’s eyes sparked. “Probably. He hates Mom and Dad.”

  Charlotte started crying, but her older brother didn’t seem to care. He charged toward the gap in the camellia bushes, not bothering to listen as his uncle shouted “Stop!”

  “That little—” Lucas bit down on the expletive sure to explode from his mouth. He shoved the rolling bin to the side and started toward the gap.

  But Addy did something unexpected.

  She reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

  And Lucas stopped, turned to her and arched a dark eyebrow. “What?”

  “Let him go.”

  The man shrugged off her touch. “He’s being—”

  “Lucas Whatever Your Name Is, I think you need to tell me what’s really going on.”

  Chapter Two

  LUCAS FINLAY LOOKED at the small woman staring expectantly at him with eyes the color of aged wheat—not quite golden but not wholly brown—and stilled himself.

  What was really going on?

  How about total incompetency in dealing with kids?

  Or helplessness?

  Or guilt?

  Or all of the above?

  All those would likely cover the past forty-eight hours spent in the company of three kids he knew nothing about, a house that creaked and moaned and had weak pipes, and pets that needed constant feeding and walking. He’d encountered more poop in the past two days than in his entire lifetime…and he raised cattle on his ranch.

  Not to mention, Michael had been correct.

  Not about eating small children. Lucas might be tall, but he’d given up devouring tiny tots long ago…when he’d sold the golden-egg-laying goose. But the boy had been right about him hating his brother and sister-in-law. Unequivocally correct.

  “It’s a long story.”

  Addy hooked a dramatic eyebrow. “Yeah?”

  “I need to go.”

  “Where are Ben and Courtney?”

  For a moment, he didn’t answer. Was it any of her business? She was a neighbor. Neighbors carried tales and Lucas wasn’t sure what Courtney wanted to reveal about Ben’s injuries…about the fact Lucas’s younger brother lay in a hospital bed miles away, knocking on death’s door. “They’re in Virginia.”

  Not a lie. Walter Reed Army Hospital was in Virginia.

  “Ben’s deployed to Afghanistan. Was he injured?”

  Lucas didn’t move a muscle. “I can’t give out information without their permission.”

  “What about your parents? Why aren’t they here instead of you?”

  “Mom and Dad are in Europe, trying to get back so they can meet Courtney in Virginia. There was no one else to stay with the kids on such short notice.”

  The woman didn’t say anything. Just studied him, which made him uncomfortable. This is what he didn’t like about being back in New Orleans. People lurked around every corner and there were so many things in his way—trees, bushes, grass, lushness. Yes, everything was so damn plush and suffocating.

  Not like West Texas where a man could breathe. Where a man could stretch out and see for days what came toward him. There were no corners…and very few people. And those very few people left him the hell alone. Just as he wished.

  Here in New Orleans, he drowned in all the stuff surrounding him.

  Mostly in dog piss because Kermit the golden retriever had bladder issues. The vet was on the list for tomorrow, but if he had to go to Home Depot…

  She cleared her throat.

  He glanced at her again. She hadn’t warmed up to him, but most people didn’t. There was something hard in his demeanor, something off-putting that sent people away from him rather than toward him. Probably his size. He stretched six foot four inches and filled up most doorways with his breadth. He wasn’t fat, but neither was he slim. Solid. Thick. And unlikely to smile. Charm was his antonym.

  But he liked the look of her. Petite but not mousy. Brown hair that caught in the waning sunlight. Pleasant heart-shaped face. Very natural—no caked-on makeup or weirdly patterned shirts with spiky high heels. Just simplicity. Yeah, this woman looked simple. His fingers itched to photograph her. He’d use the new Nikon and catch the natural light falling soft against her golden skin.

  Then he remembered where he was.

  “Look, I don’t feel comfortable talking about the situation. Courtney hasn’t told the kids what issues she and Ben are facing.” Damn. Even that was too much to say. He could tell Addy knew the situation wasn’t good, but he couldn’t take back his words. Yet, somehow he knew this woman wouldn’t spread them around.

  She nodded, mink hair falling over slim shoulders. He wondered what she’d do if he reached over and felt it between his thumb and finger. Scream?

  Then he remembered the pepper spray on her key ring and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “Okay, I’m smart enough to realize it’s something bad otherwise you wouldn’t be here. I’ve never seen you before so that means you’re not close to your brother. The children seem scared of you, likely perpetuated by Michael who is locked in a power struggle with you. So I’d say—”

  “You a counselor?”

  She smiled and her face transformed into beauty. Not an overblown, sexy beauty, but the kind a person observes as a swan glides over the water on a still morn, the kind reflected in a pool sitting taciturn beneath a towering mountain pass. Serene beauty. Peaceful beauty. “I’m a floral designer.”

  His expression must have betrayed the question.

  “Fine. It’s a fancy way of saying I’m a florist.”

  At this he gave a rare smile. “So you arrange things. Pull apart, reassemble and create something that makes sense…just as you’re doing now?”

  She made a face. “I don’t think anyone has ever put it in such a way, but I suppose that’s accurate.”

  A scream erupted from the house. Chris or Charlotte? He couldn’t tell.

  “That’s my cue. Need to go, but I’ll send over whichever child’s not bleeding for your list.” His strides ate up the distance between her drive and the gap in the bushes. For some odd reason he didn’t want to leave her just yet.

  Or maybe he merely tried to avoid the slap of reality awaiting him. He’d learned kids were fantastic at delivering those particular slaps.

  Before he disappeared, Lucas turned and held up his hand. “Good to meet you and sorry about—”

  Another scream.

  Addy jerked her gaze to the blue house. “Go.”

  So he did.

  Of course when he saw what awaited him when he stepped through the front door, he wished he’d stayed awhile longer basking in the serenity that was his brother’s next-door neighbor.

  Charlotte stood in the living room screeching like a parrot, pointing at a huge puddle of something.

  “What?” he shouted, stomping onto the area rug.

  Charlotte froze.

  “Where are your brothers?”

  She didn’t say anyt
hing. Just looked at him like he had horns. Like he might be looking over the plumpest parts of her for his nighttime meal.

  “Michael!” He called up the stairs.

  No answer.

  Kermit, the ancient golden retriever, slunk past, quickstepping it toward the kitchen and back door.

  “Oh, no,” Lucas muttered, glancing at Charlotte. “Is that dog pee?”

  She slowly nodded. “I stepped in it. Gross.”

  Chris came in holding a large plastic storage bag filled with ice, sank into the leather recliner and propped his ankle up, plunking the ice on his bare foot and grabbing the remote control. “Looks like Kermit the Dog peed again.”

  Lucas closed his eyes and counted, throwing in a Hail Mary and the Serenity prayer for good measure. When he opened his eyes, the things he couldn’t change were still there. Dog pee, three-year-old and a ten-year-old watching Cinemax.

  “Hey, turn that to a kid’s channel or something,” he said, giving Chris the same eyeball job his father had given him when he sneaked off to watch shoot ’em up movies.

  “But it’s PG-13. No sex or nothin’.”

  “You’re not thirteen. You’re barely ten. Turn the channel. Now.” Lucas skirted the pond of pee and looked at his niece who balanced on one foot.

  “It gotted on me,” she said by way of explanation.

  “Of course. It’s nearly time for your bath, so we’ll take one early, okay?”

  “’Kay. Can I have frooty-ohs for dinner?” she asked, allowing him to lift her. She didn’t even shudder, but she didn’t hold on to him, either. Maybe they were making progress. “You weally ain’t a monster, are you?”

  “No. I’m your uncle. Your daddy’s older brother. I’m just big.”

  Her blue eyes didn’t blink.

  “You’re little. Does that make you a fairy?”

  She smiled and something near the rock that was his heart stirred. Felt like gas but not as sharp. “Like Tinkerbell?”

  “Who’s Tinkerbell?”

  The little girl relaxed against him as he climbed the stairs. “You don’t even know who Tinkerbell is?”

  Music blasted from behind Michael’s closed door. Lucas knocked but got no response, so he kept moving toward the kids’ bathroom. Courtney had obviously taken pains to make it bright and kidlike, but the boys seemed to care little, tossing their socks, undies and wet towels on the floor and leaving streaks of toothpaste in the sink.