Moonlight, Motorcycles, and Bad Boys

by Lynnette Austin

  “Why on earth would you subject yourself to that?”

  “I like to eat?”

  “Don’t sass me!”

  “Mother, we’re not going to agree on how I choose to live my life—”

  “We never have.”

  “No, we haven’t.” Katie Sara blew out a breath. “But that’s not why I called. It’s about Daddy.”

  “What about him?” Her mother’s voice sharpened.

  Katie Sara could almost see the barriers pop up between them.

  “You know I came home to bury him. It’s past time. I’ve decided to have a very small, very private memorial service, and I think it would be nice if you were here.” Katie Sara listened to the silence.

  “I’m not at all sure Hayden can get away. I don’t know if he’ll want—”

  “Mother, I’m not inviting Hayden. I’m inviting you. The woman who was married to Ralph McMichaels for twenty-two years. The woman who had his child. The woman who promised to love, honor—”

  “Enough, Katherine Sara.” Her mother’s voice shook.

  Katie Sara wasn’t sure if it was from anger or remembered emotion for a past life, a past love. Probably anger, she decided.

  “To be perfectly honest, I don’t want Hayden here, Mother. Can’t you for once in your life do something alone, without a man to hold you up?”

  “You’re being mean.”

  “Maybe I am.” She sighed. “Let me call the preacher and make the arrangements. When I get the times firmed up, I’ll call and leave a message for you. If you can make it, I’d really appreciate it. If you can’t, I’ll understand. Honestly.”

  “Sugar?”

  Oh, God. Her throat clogged. Her mother hadn’t called her that in ages. “Hmmm?”

  “I loved your daddy. I loved him more than I’ve ever loved any man. Before or after.”

  The line went dead.

  “I’d rather go to the fair with my friends tonight,” Felicity whined. “How come I have to tag along with you and Gina?”

  “Because you do,” Reiner snapped.

  “Oh. Well, guess you win this debate. You’ve stated your case so eloquently, I can’t think of a single rebuttal.”

  He glowered at her.

  “Are you afraid to be alone with her?”

  “Afraid? No, I’m not afraid to be alone with her! What’s wrong with you?” His hands started to sweat. How did the kid get to be so smart? How could she know? Did Gina suspect? He wiped a palm on his jeans and glanced over to see her grinning.

  He pointed a finger at her. “You behave.”

  She fluttered her lashes. “Of course, Uncle Reiner.”

  He was still growling at her when Gina opened the door, a sexy, come-get-me smile on her face that slid to the stoop when she spotted Felicity.

  Conservatively dressed in baggy black pants, a black tank top, and her clunky black boots, Felicity grinned, blew a gigantic bubble, and popped it with a turquoise nail. “Uncle Reiner couldn’t find a sitter, so I get to go to the fair with you! Isn’t this fun?”

  Reiner watched her through slitted eyes, half expecting her to do cartwheels across the front lawn. The imp was a real actress. He’d do well to keep that in mind next time she started working on him, trying to pull one of her con jobs.

  To her credit, Gina found a replacement smile, a little weak, but not bad. When she saw, though, that he’d traded vehicles with Tim, figuring the Jeep—not the chariot of her choice—would seat all three of them, she pouted the whole way to the fairgrounds.

  Just as well. The pouting saved him from having to listen to her endless chatter. Now, if it had been Ace— He turned up the radio and bored them all with the Dow Jones report.

  When he pulled into the dusty parking lot, a young ROTC recruit directed him to an empty space. Pocketing the keys, he sat still, breathed in the sweet scent of cotton candy, the heavy, too-many-times-used grease, and the unmistakable odor of livestock and hay.

  “Reiner? Going to sit there all night?” Gina stood beside his door, tapping an impatient, impractically sandaled foot, toenails painted the color of crushed strawberries. Kinda nice. Her fingernails were the same color. When he looked closer, her top had little flecks of the same crushed berry all through it. And plenty of cleavage!

  “You, ah, look real nice tonight, Gina.”

  “Gee, thanks, Reiner. You’re one smooth talker.” She softened the words with a smile. “Pretty hard to make moves with a rugrat around, isn’t it?”

  “Rugrat?”

  “The kid.” She jerked her head toward Felicity and moved in for the kill. “Maybe later tonight we can manage a little alone time.”

  “Hey, Uncle Reiner, let’s go.”

  Bless rugrats, every one of them.

  People of all shapes and sizes milled over the grounds. They laughed, they talked, and they enjoyed. Some had been in the hot sun far too long and needed to find a shower and a bar of soap; some had been too heavy-handed with the perfume bottle or the cologne; others smelled pretty darn good.

  All sweetness and sunshine now that they’d arrived and had an audience, Gina turned to Felicity. “You must be dyin’ to find some friends your age, honey. I’m sure your uncle won’t care if you run along on your own.”

  Gina threaded her arm through Reiner’s and hung on as tenaciously as any tackle he’d ever met on the field. Maybe he ought to send a scout to check her out.

  He felt like the main exhibit in an art show. It seemed the whole town was here tonight, and nearly all of them stopped to talk, to shake his hand, to ask him about a particular play or game. One couple even asked for an autograph. With each, Gina snuggled a little closer, branding him hers. Hell.

  And if that wasn’t bad enough, Felicity’d hit her stride. They hadn’t been there five minutes before he was well and truly sorry he’d brought her.

  She tagged several steps behind, aping everything Gina did and driving him crazy. She had Gina’s walk down to a T, swinging her hips and holding her arm and head at an angle. When Gina stopped to play an arcade game, Felicity, off to the side, mimicked her facial expressions, her eye flutters, her pouts.

  She’d definitely missed her calling. The girl belonged on a stage. But not tonight.

  “Can we ride the Tilt-a-Whirl?” Felicity asked.

  “Sure.” Reiner anteed up for three tickets, and they got in line.

  When the ride stopped, they scrambled along with the others for a car. Gina scooted in beside him, laying a hand far too high on his thigh.

  He half-stood, jammed Felicity between them. “Balance the weight. It’ll spin better.”

  The ride started before she could utter a word, and he and Felicity turned the wheel, setting their car spinning, laughing like two little kids. Gina’s head snapped back. She gripped the side, not amused.

  When they staggered off after their third ride, they traipsed as far as the bumper cars. Gina watched as he and Felicity slammed into each other and any other poor soul within spitting distance.

  They walked off the floor, arms around each other’s waist. He couldn’t remember when he’d had so much fun.

  Within seconds, Gina restaked her claim, her arm now around his waist, her head resting against his shoulder. “Honey, I sure would like an order of French fries.” Gina batted her lashes at him.

  So did Felicity, who watched them from several feet away by the rubber-ducky game.

  “I ran myself ragged at the shop today and never did stop to eat lunch. Would you mind?”

  “Oh, Uncle Reiner.” Felicity’s lashes fluttered so fast and furiously, he wondered she didn’t get dizzy and fall face down. “I’d just love some French fries, too. I was so busy with homework today that I didn’t eat lunch, either.”

  He knew better. They’d eaten an entire pizza. Together. At the little pizzeria Rocco’s parents still owned and operated. A Paradox institution.

  “Homework?” Gina asked. “On a Saturday? In the summer?”

  “You know Ms. McMi
chaels,” Felicity answered off-handedly. “High standards.”

  Reiner groaned, and Gina frowned.

  Felicity’s head swiveled from one to the other. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Reiner said.

  “So, can I have fries, too?”

  A smart man would have denied her. He didn’t and paid dearly for it. She waited, picked up a fry when Gina did, dangled it over her lips like Gina, caught it with her tongue, then drew it in slowly. Like Gina. And grinned each time.

  The more dirty looks he shot her, the more brazen she became.

  Yet he was the one who ended up in trouble. The third time Gina caught him scowling at Felicity, she chastised him for being too hard on her.

  “I don’t see her doin’ a thing wrong.” Gina’s strawberry-tipped fingers trailed up his arm. “For Heaven’s sake, Reiner. You remember what it’s like to be her age. It wasn’t that long ago. And some of the things you did...” She giggled.

  Behind her back, Felicity stuck her finger down her throat and made gagging motions.

  Reiner’s eyes widened, but he couldn’t say a word.

  “Thanks, Gina,” Felicity said. “Sometimes he just doesn’t get it. I guess it’s ’cause he’s a guy.”

  “That’s okay, honey.”

  Felicity smiled sweetly at both of them, obviously enjoying herself. He figured his blood pressure must be through the roof! It served him right for making a date with Miss-Nothing-Between-The-Ears, then dragging his niece along.

  His head snapped sideways so fast he wondered if he’d given himself whiplash. Son of a— What was Katie Sara doing here with Mr. Ivy-League and dressed in those little white shorts and another one of those gauzy tops that ought to be illegal? And where were all the buttons tonight, huh? The hundreds of thousands of buttons she always wore when she was with him. A mass of dark curls framed that incredible face and tumbled over her shoulders.

  He’d figured she’d be here. That’s why he’d showed up. But he thought she’d come with Rhonda and her girls, not some bozo! She was walking way too close to him!

  Who the heck was that guy? He had a body that looked like it could bench-press its own weight, and the tan! The guy was a walking Coppertone ad.

  What were they talking about? Why was she laughing like that, head thrown back, that long, beautiful neck begging to be kissed? She didn’t do that when she was with him. Not anymore.

  She stopped. Bozo stopped. Then he had the gall to raise her hand to his lips and kiss it!

  Damn it all to hell and back!

  “Uncle Reiner?”

  “Reiner!”

  He froze in his tracks and realized he’d hotfooted it halfway across the midway. Gina, arms folded across her chest, foot tapping a mile a minute, and a sharp-eyed Felicity stood right where he’d left them. He sure hoped Gina’d left all her sharp tools back at the shop.

  His head swung to Katie Sara. Gone. His breathing grew ragged. Had she left with him? Would they go back to her place or his? Neither, by damn! He kicked the sawdust underfoot, then sneezed at the dust and smell.

  He strode back to Felicity and Gina. “Who was that man?”

  “What man?” Gina asked.

  “Not you,” he groused. “Felicity, who was with Ms. McMichaels?”

  “Mr. Dennison. The chemistry teacher. Isn’t he cute? A lot of girls take chemistry just so they could look at him. . .and his great butt!”

  He scowled at her.

  “Uncle Reiner, what’s wrong? You look—”

  “Crazy!” Gina spat out. “Wild-assed crazy.”

  Several families pulled their children away, giving the threesome a wide berth. Reiner took hold of both their arms and tugged them off to the side where he hoped they’d be a little less conspicuous.

  “Still got the hots for her, don’t you?”

  Felicity’s mouth dropped open.

  “No!”

  “Bullshit!”

  “Watch your language,” he said.

  “Oh, you’re a good one to talk. Mr. Badass himself.”

  Felicity’s chin hit her chest.

  “Nobody in Paradox, Georgia, has ever raised more hell than you, Reiner Broderick. What? Now you want to pretend you’re lily-white?”

  “No, I just don’t think this is the place for—”

  “Hey, Felicity.”

  “Oh, boy.” Felicity sighed. “Hi, Ms. McMichaels. Mr. Dennison.”

  “Katie Sara,” Gina said. “We were just talkin’ ’bout you.”

  “Really?” She fought to keep her smile in place. When she’d seen Reiner across the way, Gina all but glued to his side, she’d wanted to run home and hide under the covers.

  Instead, she’d thrown herself into the moment, trying desperately to enjoy herself. Probably too desperately. In an instant, she’d gone from relaxed to keyed up. Though Dru hadn’t mentioned it, he had to have sensed the change.

  Picking up on the tension now, he tried to ease it. “Katie Sara and I were on our way to the barbecue pit to have something to eat. Want to join us?”

  “No!” Katie Sara said. “I mean, I’m sure they already have plans.”

  Gina laid her hand on Reiner’s arm. “Yes, we—”

  “That’d be great.” Freeing himself, Reiner grabbed Felicity’s hand and tipped his head at Gina. “Come on.”

  As they walked toward the tables, Dru leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Screwed up, didn’t I?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I don’t know. Something tells me I’ll regret this one.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She pointed to the kiddy car ride. “There’s Rhonda.”

  “Why don’t you ask her and her girls to join us? The more, the merrier at this point.” He hesitated. “I think.”

  She put a hand on his cheek and gave him a quick kiss, ignoring the feral growl behind her. “You’re a wonderful person, Dru Dennison.”

  Ten minutes later, orders taken, the eight sat like one big family around a scarred, lopsided picnic table. Problem was, Gina sulked like a teenager who’d lost her phone privileges, Dru dissected the group dynamics, and Reiner looked like he’d crawled into a barrel of dill pickles.

  Katie Sara sat quietly beside Rhonda, afraid to look at her for fear she’d either get the giggles or burst into tears. It was hard to say which. The only ones truly enjoying themselves were the kids. Felicity and Nicole, Rhonda’s eleven-year old daughter, hit it off famously and were doing a bang-up job entertaining young Krista.

  When their food came up and the cashier called their number, Katie Sara jumped to her feet. “You paid.” She patted Dru on the shoulder. “I’ll serve.”

  Reiner shot off his seat. “I’ll help.”

  At the food window, he nodded toward her date. “Don’t you think you’re overcompensating?” he whispered in her ear.

  “Go to hell,” she whispered back.

  “Oh, ho! Struck a nerve, did I?”

  “Constantly. A sore one! You’d better hurry back. I think your bimbo’s calling you.”

  Reiner shook his fingers as if burned. “Ouch.”

  Ouch, indeed. She hated this side of herself. Actually, she hadn’t known it existed till she’d come home to Paradox. What was it about Reiner that brought out the ugly in her?

  Juggling trays, napkins, and plastic utensils, they trooped back to their motley crew. Katie Sara had just started passing out food when Tim grabbed her from behind.

  “Hey, cuz. Got anything extra there for a starving bachelor?”

  She laughed and gave him a quick hug. “I think we have enough here to feed an army or two. Where are Hamlet and Macbeth?”

  “I left them home. Too many people here tonight.”

  “Well, sit down and grab a plate.”

  Dru frowned.

  Katie Sara smiled at him. “Dru Dennison, my cousin, Tim Reed.”

  Dru’s brow cleared, and the two shook hands.

  “I’m Reiner Broderick.”

  “Yeah,” Dru said.
“I saw you in a commercial. Or maybe a magazine ad.”

  “In a few football games, too, I’d guess,” Reiner muttered.

  “Yeah, a while back. But now, just in the ads.”

  Katie Sara swore she heard Reiner’s mood click from bad to worse. Tim scooped up a plate and moved to sit on the other side of Rhonda, out of the line of fire.

  “Well, it pays the bills,” Reiner bit back. “Sure beats bein’ a never-was.” He picked up his tray, stomped over to the trash, and dumped it. “You girls ready?”

  Obviously, Gina and Felicity both knew a brewing storm when they saw it. Even Gina had the good sense to run from this one. Both got to their feet, tossed their nearly untouched plates into the garbage, and, saying a hasty good-bye, hurried to catch up to Reiner.

  Katie Sara watched him go, thinking she should have been happy. He’d gotten his comeuppance. His sole purpose in introducing himself to Dru had been to lord it over him. The pro-football player versus the lowly chemistry teacher.

  Well, the king was dead. And she was grieving.

  Which really made her mad.

  Chapter Twelve

  Katie Sara shifted on the hard, wooden church pew and listened as Barnie spoke of her father, his lifelong friend. Ralph McMichaels, the twelve-year-old who flattened coins on the railroad tracks and, later, the high school senior with the hottest car. Try as she might to steel herself against the pain, hot tears welled.

  Through them, she focused on a spray of pink peonies and white roses, praying she’d make it through the day. When we’re born, she thought, we should come equipped with an indestructible, emotion-proof vault where we can dump the top ten worst days of our lives. Once there, the memory would stay locked away, unable to bother us ever again.

  Oh, if only it were that easy.

  Word had spread, and the simple memorial service she’d planned had swelled to fill the small church. More flowers than she could have imagined spilled along the front, obscured the altar rail, and scented the warm, humid air with their heavy perfume.

  Paradox was her father’s home; these were her father’s friends. They’d poured out today to say good-bye not to someone who’d made a mistake, but to a man they loved. Her daddy.