One Thing I Know

by Kara Isaac

  Grace nodded seriously. “I think that’s a very good idea. Why don’t you go see what Nelson is up to?”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before Joey was off skidding down the hallway and calling for his dog.

  Lucas took one look at them and knew there was no chance he was going to escape the house without giving them something. “I’m just going to grab a Coke.”

  The two of them followed him into the kitchen like they thought he might be planning to bolt out the back door. Pulling open the fridge, he palmed a can of Coke and then pressed it to his face for a second.

  Synchronized scraping chairs told him the inquisition awaited at the dining table. Pulling out a seat next to Scott, he propped his elbows on his knees and took his time cracking open the can. This was new territory. It had been years since he’d even insinuated he might have met someone, let alone let them meet her.

  Not that today was that. No, as far as they were supposed to know, Rachel was just Donna’s assistant, nothing more and nothing less. How could he have been so stupid as to forget about the big bay window in the kitchen that overlooked the yard? What a great show that must have been! No wonder Scott was grinning like he’d won best calf at show. Lucas resisted the urge to slap himself upside the head. What a mess!

  “Just to clarify,” he said, running a finger up the side of the can, leaving a snail trail in its wake, “there was no kissing.”

  “Really.” Scott quirked an eyebrow.

  “No, we um . . .” Lucas took a slug of his Coke. “It was just a moment. So fast I don’t think it even qualifies as a kiss.”

  Scott took a draw of his Sprite. “Is there something I’m not seeing here, little bro? She’s a great gal. Even before the cutesy little romance scene, it was obvious to everyone that you two have a connection. So where’s the problem? Lord knows we’ve been waiting for you to find someone you like enough to sneak a smooch in our kitchen.”

  “And feel free to bring her around as often as you like if it means the dishes get done as a bonus.” Grace was positively giddy. Possibly at the prospect of a future life where she wasn’t outnumbered three to one.

  How was he going to explain this without looking like a total cad? “It’s . . .” His top teeth found his bottom lip. “More complicated than that.”

  “Actually, it’s not; it’s pretty simple. You like her, she likes you—everything else can be worked out.”

  “I live in Wisconsin; she lives in Colorado.”

  “Gah, details.” Scott flicked a thousand miles away with the wave of his hand.

  What could he say? Since he’d decided in that split second to do the book with Donna, Brad was out of the picture. And surely a book with her would bring in enough money to help out Scott and Grace. The woman did spend her life on the bestseller charts. That had to mean she sold a lot of books.

  “Is this about Dad?”

  Lucas just looked at Scott. He chose now to bring up their old man?

  Silence smothered the room.

  “I’m just going to check on Joey.” Grace stood up and pushed her chair out. “This kind of quiet usually means trouble.” She scuttled out of the room like a sand crab chasing a wave.

  Their father. The King of Liars. He hadn’t served any use in twenty-odd years, but he might just provide Lucas with the escape hatch he needed. How ironic, the one person he refused to talk about now being the preferred subject.

  “Luc, you look like Dad but you are nothing like him. You will never be anything like him.”

  “You don’t know that. Dad wasn’t anything like him either, until he was.” The words landed hard, a harsh reminder of the fact that their family had lived a pretty good life before their father blew their world apart. Sure, he drank a bit too much, but it was the nineties. Almost everyone’s dad came home and had a few too many beers.

  Only half an hour ago he’d stood in this very kitchen and told Rachel he was nothing like his dad. He looked at his Coke. A scotch or a whiskey would be good right now. Conversations about their father always triggered the desire for a hard drink. As if some burning liquor could wipe away that taste of abandonment that still lingered in his throat almost twenty years on. Bitterness overtook the taste of the sugary soda in his mouth.

  “Yeah well, little bro, you never have to worry about that, do you. Unable to let yourself love one woman, I’d say that makes you a hundred percent safe from ever keeping two.” Scott’s soft words whistled through the air like a knife. He leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of his knees. “The ironic thing, Luc, is that in your attempt to be nothing like him, you could end up exactly like him.”

  “Well I guess you’d know. The two of you being so buddy-buddy and all.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Luc. I’ve seen him all of twice and I’m not going to apologize for that. And do you know what he is? An old man, lonely, estranged from both of his families, filled with regrets that choke him every day. That will be you too in thirty years if you let what he did stop you from letting yourself fall in love.”

  A lonely old man filled with regrets. The words bounced around Lucas’s brain like an out-of-control pinball. Rachel’s eyes filled his mind, her laugh, the breathless look on her face when he had her cornered. What would it be like to come home to that every night?

  Speaking of which. “You told Grace yet?” He nodded toward the doorway she’d exited through.

  His brother’s face seemed to collapse. “I can’t. Not right now. She’s already struggling to accept that another round just isn’t financially viable. If I told her how bad things were . . .” His explanation trailed off as he studied his tented fingers.

  Lucas took a sip of his soda. Scott had no idea the unpaid vet bills, power, land taxes, and insurance Lucas had finally gotten him to own up to had cleaned him out of almost all his savings.

  He’d talk to Donna tonight. See how fast they could get him a contract and a check.

  - 27 -

  This was it. The last night on Lucas’s show. Standing at the studio window, looking up and over Madison’s jagged skyline, Rachel drew in a ragged breath, trying to get her scattered emotions under control.

  Donna hadn’t said a word the entire way back to the hotel. Just smiled smugly to herself. Rachel put her fingers to her lips. Who would’ve guessed a few short weeks ago she would fall in love with Lucas Grant?

  In love. The words screeched through Rachel’s brain like a needle across a record. No. She wasn’t. Couldn’t be. She didn’t love Lucas. It was ridiculous. She barely knew him. But if he did do the book, then they would see a lot more of each other.

  It seemed too crazy to wish for. That all the things that had kept her up at night might have been solved in one afternoon.

  The worst part of deceiving Lucas was over. No more calling in to his show pretending to be someone else. No more trying to remember what he’d told her as Donna and what he’d told her as Rachel.

  She was done with that game. No more pretending to be Donna. She turned around to face inside Studio 1. “I’m only going to be your assistant from now on. No more subbing in for publicity stuff.”

  “Okay.” Donna barely even glanced up from her phone, not looking in the least bit worried.

  The clock above Donna’s head ticked over to seven thirty, making Lucas officially late for pre-brief. Where was he?

  Back to Denver. Then Kansas City. Then Tulsa. Three stops. This time next week, Lucas’s place in the tour would be finished. He’d be back here while Max ironed out a deal with Randolph. Which shouldn’t take very long, but still. What if something went wrong? What if he backed out of doing the book? What if he’d second-guessed everything in the last few hours?

  The door opened and he walked in. His grin filled his face when he saw her and she felt her lungs infuse with hope.

  “Hey.” Lucas was so close, the word wafted down the side of her face like a feather. She felt the strength of his presence right behind her.

  “I’m just g
oing to find the bathroom. I might be a while,” Donna announced loudly as she opened the studio door. The woman had all the subtlety of a machine gun.

  “Hey.” Rachel couldn’t stop her smile. “How was the rest of your afternoon?”

  “About what you’d expect when your older brother catches you making out in his kitchen.”

  Rachel raised her eyebrows. “We made out? Why do I feel like I missed that part.”

  Lucas leaned in. “We could make up for that. Your aunt did say she might be a while and we do have, like,” he glanced over his shoulder, “a good twenty minutes before the show starts.”

  “I’m not making out in front of your producer.”

  “Ethan!” Lucas lifted his voice and looked toward the sound booth. “I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to go find something else to do for twenty minutes.”

  Rachel raised her voice too. “Ignore him, Ethan.” She leaned against the window ledge. “We’ve got plenty of time. Especially if you do the book.”

  Lucas propped himself next to her, his arm brushing hers. “About that. What’s the process for getting that done? How long will it take?”

  “It depends. We have a great literary agent.” Rachel almost choked as she realized she’d said “we,” but Lucas didn’t appear to notice. “I’m sure he’d be happy to talk to Randolph about renegotiating the deal to bring you on board given how successful the Feelings and Football events have been. Unless you want to get your own agent and they can work together on the renegotiation.”

  “Nope. I’m happy with whoever Donna has. Then what?”

  “Well, it depends. The original deadline is only a couple of months away, so Max will need to negotiate getting that extended. Agree on who your collaborative writer will be. Negotiate you an advance.”

  “How does that work? The advance.” Lucas shifted slightly as he turned toward her, his hand brushing across hers as he did.

  Rachel tried to focus on his questions. “You get half up front when you sign the contract and half when they accept the book for publication.”

  “And how long will it take? To negotiate the contract?”

  Rachel shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. It depends on so many things. Randolph will want to sort it quickly, since there’s already a deadline in play in Donna’s contract.”

  “What if they don’t go for it? Randolph, I mean?”

  Rachel laughed. “They would let Donna cowrite a book with Kermit the Frog if that was what she wanted. You don’t have anything to worry about there.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.” There was something unsettled in his expression, but maybe that was to be expected. A couple of months ago he hadn’t been involved in any of this, and now suddenly he was about to cowrite a book.

  “Oh, I have something else. I found you a present for her.” She crossed the room and opened her tote, pulling out a square box a little larger than a tennis ball. Turning, she held it up, the gold wrapping catching the studio lights. “Ta-da!”

  A slow smile inched across his face. “You are wonderful.”

  “I know.”

  “Am I allowed to ask what it is?”

  “Donna likes to collect a Christmas decoration from every city she visits. She doesn’t have one for Madison.”

  His eyes boggled. “You spent two hundred bucks on a Christmas decoration.”

  “Have you ever tried to find one in June? Scratch that. Have you tried to find a classy one ever?”

  His right cheek rose. “Point taken.”

  “And no, of course I didn’t. Where do you think I shop? Tiffany’s? It was fifty, plus five for the wrapping stuff.”

  He closed the gap between them and lifted the box from her hand. “And she’ll like it?”

  “She’ll love it,” she promised.

  He lowered his hand, ocean eyes staring into hers. “Thanks. Really, I know it must have taken time to find this for me.”

  It had actually been pretty straightforward once she’d thought of the Christmas decoration idea, but no need to tell him that.

  “You’re welcome.” She tried to unhook her eyes from his. To come up with a neutral topic of conversation.

  “Sooooooo.” He drew out the word, his eyes locked on hers. The atmosphere was suddenly charged, her emotions flying in all directions. “Denver’s next.”

  “It is.” She could barely get the words out.

  He launched an easy smile at her like a missile, the corners of his eyes folding like rumpled sheets. His breath floated across her face, minty and fresh. “I was thinking . . .” He left it hanging, the sound of a question unspoken.

  “Yes?” Her voice wasn’t even hers. Breathless, eager.

  “I’ve never been to Denver before. Do you want to head out tomorrow night after the show? You could show me all the cool hangouts.” His words were casual, but his eyes and the way he now worried his bottom lip between his teeth said his intention was not.

  Don’t run away because you’re scared. Her aunt’s words appeared, as if written across the canvas of her mind. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to take a chance. She was so tired of being alone. And this guy standing in front of her, for once he made it seem like the impossible might not be.

  She wanted to say yes, but fear caused the simple three-letter word to jam in her throat. “Can I think about it?”

  • • •

  COULD SHE think about it? Could she think about it? Lucas struggled to keep his attention on whatever soothing advice Donna was caressing her latest caller with. It was hardly a difficult question. Either she wanted to go to dinner with him or she didn’t. Why did women always have to make everything so complicated? What was there to think about? Call him arrogant, but he’d thought a date was a sure thing.

  Hopefully he had managed not to convey his shock in his attempt at a casual shrug and “of course.” Good thing Donna had chosen that moment to walk in, saving them from having to try to pretend the situation wasn’t as awkward as it was.

  He put his fingers to his temples, gave them a circular rub. How could he have misread Rachel so badly? It wasn’t like he was some guy who thought every woman he met was into him. In fact he’d been accused of being too oblivious in the past. He’d thought a blind man could’ve seen there was a spark between them, but clearly the blind man was him.

  Except that made no sense with everything that had happened between them the last few days. The conversation in the kitchen. Had she already changed her mind?

  “Lucas, honey, you okay?” Donna’s voice cut through his pity party. She tugged her lilac-colored wrap around her shoulders and peered at him with knowing eyes.

  “Fine. Why?” An ad for a cleaning service was playing. Had he just missed a whole call?

  “Well, this is your show and all, but you wouldn’t know it. You haven’t uttered a word to the last three callers and you haven’t even tried to get in a sports update in the last half hour.”

  He groaned. “I’m sorry, Doc, I must’ve gotten distracted.”

  She shot him a knowing look. “You’re not the only one.” She tilted her head sideways and he glanced over to the sofa. Rachel sat, legs crossed underneath her, nibbling her bottom lip and staring into space.

  “Back on in five.” Ethan’s voice echoed into their headphones.

  Lucas’s eyes found the clock. Ten to twelve. A couple more calls and they were done. No more Dr. Donna on Sports with Lucas. He should be relieved, but it felt a bit weird coming to an end. He’d started enjoying the advice-to-the-lovelorn thing much more than he’d expected. Maybe the book would be a fun thing to do. Not just a good moneymaker.

  A sharp elbow in his side jolted him back out of his musings.

  “So Lucas, what do you reckon? Should Annie take back her boyfriend who cheated on her?” Donna pinned him with a “get it together” look and shook her head with a vengeance, in case he’d missed the first time what his answer should be.

  Ten minutes later he’d rescued the Annie call from disaster
, managed to stick it out through two others, and presented Donna with her Christmas decoration on air. The glass globe, decorated with some kind of sparkly silhouette, had gotten the rapt reaction Rachel had promised.

  Lucas flipped off the various switches at the console. Donna had disappeared off to the ladies’ room and Ethan had mumbled something indecipherable under his breath and fled after her. Leaving him and Rachel alone. At least they’d saved him from being officially denied in front of an audience.

  To buy more time, he tapped the keyboard and pretended to be engrossed in important radio-show business, when he was only reading what songs Ethan had lined up for the next twenty minutes until the graveyard host arrived.

  “Lucas?”

  He turned and looked up. Rachel was just behind him. He stood. He was at least going to be standing like a man for the pronouncement. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” His pride jumped in, preempting her words.

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “I just thought it could be fun to go out together. Sorry, I didn’t mean to place you in an awkward position.” His words were terse, clipped.

  Rachel’s eyes narrowed, snapped. “Lucas Grant, want to stop being such a jerk and let a girl give you her answer?”

  Had she just called him a jerk? “Go ahead.” He turned back to the console, flicked another few switches.

  A tug on his elbow swung him around.

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  She started to laugh. “How on earth did you get to be who you are when you don’t have a clue? Yes, you idiot, I’d like to go out with you tomorrow night.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded, her smile lighting up her face. “Really.”

  He needed to make sure they were clear before his heart raced away into the distance and he never got it back. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, I, Lucas Grant, am asking you, Rachel Somers, on a date. A proper one, where I pick you up and take you somewhere nice for a late dinner and pay the tab and, in return, you bat your eyelashes at me and simper and tell me how wonderful I am. Is that what you’re saying yes to?”