What kind of man did that to his best friend?
A no-good, worthless, selfish son of a bitch, that’s who.
For Chrissakes, Jimmy died saving him! The man had sacrificed precious years with his son, decades with the woman he loved, without hesitation. And knowing the kind of man Jimmy was, he’d probably do it again if given the opportunity. Randall figured the very least he could do was keep his hands to himself.
Rising from the couch, he quickly changed his clothes and brushed his teeth. He had to make this right. Lana needed to know she could count on him, that he wouldn’t take advantage of her like he had the night before. With a hasty step he moved outside, carefully loading the tools he’d need for the laborious job that lay ahead.
Randall was going to honor his promise to Jimmy, keeping his hands off Lana—even if it killed him. And now that he knew the texture of her soft lips, experienced the perfection of her body under his fingertips, tasted heaven in her kiss, he conceded that it just might.
Lana poured a splash of milk into the steaming bowl of cinnamon instant oatmeal she’d made for Connor and gently placed it in front of him on the kitchen table. “Be careful stirring that up; it’s really hot.”
“Thought you said we were havin’ French toast?” Connor whined.
“Don’t have time this morning. I woke up late. Maybe tomorrow, okay?” Lana stole a glance at Connor over her shoulder before pouring her coffee. She felt guilty about nixing the French toast menu this morning. But after spending most of the night tossing and turning, reliving every blessed moment of kissing Randall, then silently scolding herself for having enjoyed it, she’d been too tired to get moving this morning.
“I need to finish getting ready. We’re leaving in twenty minutes, okay?”
Connor never said a word, just kept shoveling spoonfuls of instant oatmeal in his mouth. The kid sure could lay the guilt on thick. As if she hadn’t had enough to feel guilty about already…
Moving into the master bath, Lana quickly pulled her long brown trusses into a loose bun and applied a thin layer of mineral foundation, paying particular attention to the dark circles under her weary eyes. After a few sweeps with her mascara wand and a light coat of nude lipstick, she selected a winter-white pant suit from her overstuffed closet.
She really needed to think about packing Jimmy’s stuff. It would solve the cramped conditions in her closet, giving her ample room to store her clothes and accessories. Funny how she’d often complained to Jimmy about sharing the small space. Lana couldn’t recall how many times she’d suggested he store his clothes in the guest room, and now that she was capable of acting on her frequent request, she wasn’t entirely certain if she still wanted to.
Refusing to allow her thoughts to travel down that road this morning, she stepped into a pair of taupe heels, surveying the ensemble in the mirror while she fastened a pair of simple pearl studs to her ears.
To her relief, she looked the same.
Good.
Because on the inside she felt…different. She wasn’t entirely sure whether different was a good thing or a bad thing just yet, she was still trying to figure that out. But at least there were no scarlet letters adorned to her blazer; no outward visible signs illustrating the scene that’d unfolded last night between her and Randall.
Satisfied with her overall appearance, she headed to the living room where Connor sat watching cartoons. “Did you brush your teeth?”
“Yeah.”
Lana grabbed her purse on the entry table and flung the strap over her shoulder. “All right, turn the TV off. It’s time to go.” Connor begrudgingly did as she asked, then joined her at the front door.
After days of overcast skies and misty rain, she was delighted to find the golden sun beginning its climb over the horizon. And as she scaled down the porch steps, she was shocked to find something—or rather, someone—else: Randall kneeling in her flower bed, tossing weeds into a neat pile beside him.
Her body froze in mid-step as her eyes drank him in. The thin cotton t-shirt clung to his broad back, brawny muscle rippling underneath. Oh boy…
“Whatcha doin’?” Connor asked excitedly as he zoomed down the steps.
So much for being discreet.
Randall’s head snapped up at the sound of Connor’s voice. His eyes quickly averted to Lana before returning to Connor. “Just a little bit of yard work for your mom. Careful”, he warned when Connor reached down to pull a nearby weed, “I don’t want you to get your nice clothes dirty.”
“Can I help?” Connor asked hopefully.
Lana finally unfroze and found her voice. “You have to go to day camp, remember?”
“I think I’m gonna just stay here with Randall.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Randall don’t care, do ya?” he uttered confidently as he turned to him.
Lana didn’t give Randall an opportunity to answer before interrupting, “I paid a lot of money for this two-week program, Connor. You’re going.”
“But you let me hang out with him last night” he whined.
She could feel Randall’s eyes boring into her, assessing the extent of the damage he’d inflicted last night. Feeling as though she needed to kill two birds with one stone, she chose her response carefully, leaving Randall to sort the hidden meaning as she returned his inquisitive gaze. “Last night was…a one-time deal.”
Lana glanced at her watch, then back at Connor. “Go get in the car, okay? I don’t want to be late.” Shoulders slumped and head hung low, Connor shuffled to the driveway.
Glancing over his shoulder, Randall called out, “I’ll stop by on Sunday. Maybe we can head to the beach and throw the Frisbee around, if it’s okay with your mom.”
Connor turned on a dime, searching Lana’s pretty face with hopeful eyes. And when she nodded, the boy threw his hands in the air in celebration before sprinting to the car.
With her son out of earshot, Lana turned her attention back to Randall. “What are you doing?”
“Pulling weeds”, he answered as he stood, dusting his dirty hands on the side of his legs. “Told you I was paying attention last night.”
She tried to suppress her grin, but the corners of her mouth disobeyed. She was relieved he wasn’t angry with her for leading him on, then kicking him out. But then, that was Randall: flexible, always friendly, and forgiving. “I stand corrected; guess you can multi-task. A little.
“Among other things”, he remarked with a wry grin.
Lana’s cheeks took on a rosy hue, recalling the other things they’d done last night.
“Thought I’d even trim your hedges while I’m here too.”
“You don’t have to do this, Randall, really—any of this”, she kindly emphasized as she swept her hand in the air.
“It’s okay. I want to…”
Seconds ticked by as they both silently dared one another to be the first to acknowledge the kiss. Shifting his weight, Randall finally cleared his throat. “Look, I’m, uh… I’m sorry about last night. I crossed the line and I shouldn’t have. It won’t happen again.”
Lana’s eye’s quickly found her feet. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. That kiss had knocked her completely off her axis. “You’re forgiven. It was…a crazy, one-time incident, you know? No need to dwell on it.”
“Yeah…” He wasn’t entirely sure who she was trying to convince at the moment, but either way she was right. It couldn’t happen again; he needn’t forget that.
Chapter 13
Winter’s grip loosened on the Florida Panhandle by early March, high temperatures rising into the low eighties for the first time since late November. Spring was Randall’s favorite time of year. Mild daytime temperatures and refreshing Gulf winds made favorable conditions for boating, and a breath of chill was still detectable upon nightfall.
His life had settled into an almost predictable routine, consisting of work, restoring his boat, and quality time with Jimmy’s family. And at nigh
t when he returned to his quiet, empty house, he turned to an old trusted friend: Jack Daniels. The amber liquid had become his M.O., a fundamental part of who he was. Guess he was more like his old man than he wanted to admit.
Nearly two months had passed since he’d thoughtlessly kissed Jimmy’s widow. So far he’d managed to keep his hands—and lips—off Lana Phillips.
Barely.
There were times he’d clench his fists so hard to keep from touching her, he feared he’d shatter the bones in his hands. He wondered if maybe the allure had to do more with hungering for something he couldn’t have, rather than…
Ah, shit, who the hell was he trying to fool?
He wanted her. Wanted to hear his name fleeing her luscious lips as he buried himself deep in her beautiful body; learn all the places she liked to be touched and kissed…
But just because a person wanted, didn’t mean they had a right to have. Most folks wanted to be a millionaire. That didn’t give them the prerogative to enter a bank and demand a slew of cash. It was the nature of our species: always wanting something more, something extraordinary.
And extraordinary didn’t even begin to describe Lana Phillips.
Randall parked his truck along the narrow street. He reached for the wrapped gift on the passenger seat, then strolled up the path, up three porch steps, until he came upon a familiar red door. He let himself in, something he’d been told to do on numerous occasions over the last month or so, and gently nudged the door closed behind him.
He was immediately accosted with the sound of rambunctious shrills likely emanating from the backyard. With a cautious gait, he followed the squeals and laughter into the kitchen, stumbling upon a pretty woman with long, light brown locks and graceful curves even the great Michelangelo couldn’t recreate.
She hadn’t detected his presence yet, and like a deer caught in a blinding beam of headlights, he froze, too stunned to move. Too stunned to do anything other than watch as she swayed and sang quietly to herself while clearing paper plates from the kitchen table.
The stressful portion of Connor’s birthday party was now complete. The kids had devoured the cake, watched excitedly as Connor ripped into his presents, and were now all outside beating the life out of a Spiderman piñata. Needing a break away from the mounting chaos caused by an overdose of sugar, no doubt, she’d put Grant and Ty in charge of the affair, and Olivia and Kendall in charge of photographing the event.
It’d been a rather tough day celebrating her son’s sixth birthday without the man that had aided in his creation. There wasn’t a day that went by she didn’t think of Jimmy, but the piercing anguish she’d experienced immediately following his death had lessoned into more of a steady ache. Most days.
At least once a month there was a special day that would remind Lana of her late husband. Last month she’d encountered her very first St Valentine’s Day without a valentine since she was fifteen. That day had been spent painting her newly decorated living room—anything to keep her mind busy. Holidays and milestones like these were particularly difficult to endure. Days like these—like today—Jimmy’s absence was ironically palpable…
Refusing to allow her mind to be sucked into a vortex of sorrow and despair, she shifted gears, humming the melody of a Katy Perry song she’d heard earlier in the day on the radio. She tossed paper cups printed with spider webs in the trash, and began stacking used paper plates on top of one another.
“Let’s go all the way tonight
No regrets, just love...”
Lana twirled around, then nearly fell when she realized Randall was leaning his shoulder against the wall, watching her.
“Omigod!” she gasped as she smacked her free hand against her chest, soothing her racing heart. “You scared the daylights out of me! How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to be serenaded by your pretty voice”, he responded with a wry grin. “Sorry I’m late. Got carried away workin’ on the boat and lost track of time.”
Obviously Randall was amused by her performance. She wasn’t so much embarrassed by the fact he’d stumbled upon her dancing and singing in her kitchen as she was about the lyrics she’d mouthed. Those lyrics had been sung with him in mind, something she was afraid he’d detect if she didn’t regain the upper hand.
And quickly. “Hmm, unable to glance at his watch and sand his boat at the same time”, she uttered as she stroked her chin. “Guess you’re not as good at multi-tasking as you once thought.”
Randall shook his head at her witty remark, feeling the corners of his mouth rise once again. The woman was determined to prove to him that men were pretty much incapable of dividing their focus amongst more than one thing at any given time—which was often true, but not always. He could think of one activity in particular he excelled at.
Exploring the female form…
“I take it I missed the cake and presents?”
“Don’t worry about it; he can open your gift later once everyone leaves. Which”—Lana glanced at her watch—“should be in about thirty minutes, thank goodness.”
“Rough day?” He asked as he placed Connor’s gift on the counter.
Lana chuckled under her breath. “I think rough is a bit of an understatement.”
“Too much of a good thing never hurt anyone.”
She tossed the last paper plate into the trash, then crossed her arms. “Define ‘good’, because there are currently ten six-year-olds’ in the backyard that have probably binged on two pounds of sugar a piece, beating the crap out of a Spiderman piñata. Go ahead”, she gestured with a tilt of her head, “see for yourself.”
Ambling toward the small window he peered through the glass at the pandemonium unfolding several feet from the back fence. Grant and Ty were doing their best to curb the mass disorder while Kendall and Olivia documented the sugar-induced debacle with their clicking cameras. “I might need a beer for this”, he mumbled under his breath.
Lana laughed as she gathered the plastic Spiderman tablecloth in her hands. “I bought you some Miller Lite. It’s in the fridge.”
Randall walked several paces to the refrigerator, trying to convince himself that Lana’s thoughtful gesture didn’t mean anything. That keeping his favorite beer on hand, even though she couldn’t stand the stuff, was of no consequence. Opening the fridge he reached for the bottle, twisting the cap as he moved toward the back door. “If I’m not back in twenty minutes, come rescue me.”
The sound of Lana’s laughter echoed in his ears as he closed the door behind him and began the fearless trek across the yard. Well, maybe fearless was a stretch; ten six-year-olds’ cracked-out on sugar was a pretty scary thing to be walking into.
He was roughly halfway when Kendall spotted him. “I was wondering if you were going to show!” She called out, coming toward him.
Randall pulled her in for a hug, surprised when he didn’t feel that familiar jolt of unease. He’d fallen for Kendall two years ago—had even spent one night loving on her body—but she hadn’t felt the same way about him. She’d wanted to remain friends. He’d gone along with it for a while, hoping she’d change her mind, but as soon as Ty had come into the picture Randall hadn’t stood a chance. “Where’s Tenley?”
“With my mom. We’re heading over there as soon as the party’s over to pick her up. You should stop over some time and visit. She’s three months already; you wouldn’t believe how big she’s grown since the last time you saw her a few weeks ago.”
Kendall slipped from his embrace. Hmm, that was odd… He didn’t get that empty feeling, the one where his chest ached where his heart used to sit when she’d stepped away. “Yeah… I’ll come by soon.”
“Hey, you gonna stand there and paw at my wife, or are you gonna help us?” Ty shouted teasingly.
“Ignore him”, Kendall mumbled, cupping her hand to cover her mouth. “This is his first glimpse into what we’re in store for in a few years. At this rate, I think Tenley might be an only child.”
> Randall laughed and then swung his arm over her shoulders. “C’mon, Babe, guess we’d better get back over there, then.”
This was ridiculous, ludicrous, and just about every other synonym that ended in o-u-s, Lana conceded as she peered through the kitchen window at Kendall and Randall. So they were hugging—big deal. Kendall was married to Ty, head-over-heels in love with her husband, she might add. And Randall…? Well, Lana had no claim on Randall; he wasn’t hers.
Then why are you spying through your kitchen window like a jealous girlfriend?
Lana began picking at her lilac nail polish, suddenly overwhelmed with where her thoughts were taking her.
Randall had been there for her and Connor—maybe not at first—but he’d certainly made up for his five-month absence in stride. He’d call to check on them at least once a day, and stop over four or five days out of the week to play with Connor, giving her a break. He’d sort of stepped into the role of man of the house, becoming the primary male influence in Connor’s life, even though Randall didn’t live here.
She was becoming fond of his regular presence—maybe too fond. And that was both exciting and frightening. Because she wasn’t supposed to feel this way about the man that’d been almost like a brother to her late husband. She wasn’t supposed to stock his favorite beer in her fridge, look forward to the sound of his work boots thumping across her wood floor, nor search for him in a crowded room.
She wasn’t supposed to want the one man she couldn’t have.
With a frustrated sigh she pushed off the counter, poured a glass of sweet tea, then willed her feet to take her to the backyard. She needed to get over these… these…feelings she was having. Stuff it down until later when she’d be alone. Because right now she needed to brave the rest of the party, as well as the quality time she’d spend with Connor and Randall after the celebration ended.
Rescue Me (Butler Island) Page 10
