A Better Man

by Candis Terry

  The brochures set up in the tourist information center at the edge of town boasted the area to be a great place to raise wine and kids. But as Jordan turned the SUV up the winding road to the main house on the hill, he realized their corner of paradise needed some TLC. The big question for him was, why hadn’t anyone else noticed? Surely his mother could have seen the deterioration. Why wouldn’t she have done something about it, or at least said something?

  He parked in the driveway, then, feeling like a guest instead of a family member, he knocked on the front door of the large two-­story home. Footsteps could be heard on the hardwood floor from inside before the door swung open.

  The amber light above Aunt Pippy’s head intensified the fireball glow of her hair. Today’s outfit was a yellow and orange mini dress with a wide white vinyl belt that buckled at her hips. Earrings that looked like melon balls topped with Shriners’ fez hats swung from her ears. White vinyl ankle boots finished off the look that might have been better suited for American Bandstand in the 1960s than a home in a conventional wine town.

  “Jordy!” Aunt Pippy’s eyes, under bright blue eye shadow, popped wide with her surprise. “What are you doing knocking on the door?”

  Good question. He should feel free to come and go in the house as he pleased.

  He didn’t.

  And that was his own damn fault.

  “Is Nicole home?”

  “She sure is.” She waved him inside, where the aroma of spaghetti sauce tickled his nose and made his stomach growl. “She’s in the kitchen helping Riley with a school project.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  “Oh, sweetums.” She patted his arm. “Don’t get too excited. It’s a third-­grade diorama. Come on in. We were just about to eat. You can join us.”

  He glanced around the living room that now seemed cold. The eerie absence of his parents balled his stomach up in knots. “Where’s Ryan?”

  “Working late. He’s got Declan locked up in the office with him. I think they’re going over the financial reports.”

  Sounded like a ton of fun.

  “You doing okay?” he asked her. After all, she’d lost her sister, and everything had to be as hard on her as it was on the rest of them.

  “Just trying to get through one day at a time. Your mom and I went through a whole lot of sister stuff together. Being the oldest I always thought I’d go first.” Her chest lifted with a long stuttered sigh. “Guess you just never know.”

  “I’m so sorry.” He drew his aunt into his arms. “And I apologize. It’s easy to get wrapped up in your own grief and forget that others are suffering too.”

  She patted his back and leaned her head against his shoulder. In that moment he didn’t care if her makeup smeared all over his shirt, all he wanted to do was offer comfort.

  “Jordy? You can’t walk around your whole life apologizing for everything. At some point in time you just have to get on with getting on. We’re all here for each other and we’ll need each other in the coming days, weeks, and months. Don’t forget that.” She looked up, stroked his cheek with her long orange fingernails. “You’re home now. And if you need to leave, I know you’ll come back. When you do, we’ll all be here for you.”

  “I appreciate that, Aunt Pippy. But I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

  “Never say never. Some things in life you learn quick. Some things you learn slow. Doesn’t matter how long it takes, just that you’re open to interpretation. As this great loss just taught us all, make sure you always grab hold of life with both hands and hang on tight.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I know you will.” She patted his cheek. “Now how about some of that spaghetti before it gets all gummy? The rest of the boys went into town for dinner. Seems they weren’t too keen on the idea of chicken going into the spaghetti. Parker especially had a problem. Told me I was breaking the rules.”

  “Everyone knows I don’t follow the rules so chicken spaghetti sounds great to me. If you can spare a bowl I’m game.” Jordan had never pictured his aunt as a domestic goddess. Hell, he didn’t even know the woman could cook. All she’d ever made him when he’d been growing up were peanut butter, jelly, and potato chip sandwiches.

  “You’re such a sweet boy.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say that in front of my brothers.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” His aunt laughed. “Although seeing you boys all wrestling might be more fun than watching the distance that’s grown between you.”

  The truth hit him like a wicked cross-­check. The reminder that he had a lot of work to do to make things up to his family stung. But he acknowledged it and intended to keep the promise he’d made as he followed his aunt toward the kitchen. The heartbreak that had stolen his breath moments ago moved aside for an onslaught of nerves. Spaghetti that clucked was nothing compared to the baby dragon that roared.

  The murmurings and giggles stopped as soon as he entered the room, and Nicki’s head snapped up. The smile on her face dissolved into a scowl.

  Great.

  Looked like he was in for another fun evening.

  Yippee.

  “What are you girls up to?” He headed toward the long farm table where they sat, heads together, concentrating on the task at hand. Well, except for the why-­do-­you-­care? glare Nicki shot his way.

  “Hi, Uncle Jordy.” Riley’s bright blue eyes sparkled as she smiled. “Nicki’s helping me with my diorama.”

  At least Riley knew his name. That was a start. He smiled as he leaned over their heads to get a better look.

  The shoebox had been covered in blue paper. On the front of the box a sign read “Ocean Habitat.” Inside, the girls had carefully positioned seashells and colored cutouts of fish and coral.

  “That’s pretty clever to hang the fish from the top with string,” he said. “It looks like they’re swimming.”

  “That was Nicki’s idea,” Riley said, scrunching up her little button nose. “She’s a genius.”

  Nicki remained silent as she glued a tiger shark onto the string.

  “I think she’s pretty smart too.” For that comment he received a scoff that came out sounding more like a snort. “In fact,” he said, “I think she’s brilliant. Did you ever hear her story about Taffy Tickles?”

  Nicki’s head came up so fast he heard her neck crack. Her eyes narrowed as she shot another death glare in his direction.

  Oh good. At least now he had her attention.

  “How do you know about that?” she asked.

  “I read it.”

  Somehow she spoke through a clenched jaw. “Ms. Diamond isn’t supposed to share students’ work with anyone but a parent.”

  Losing your parents when you were a thirty-­three-­year-­old adult was hard enough. Losing your parents when you were only seventeen and vulnerable to the world had to be ten times worse. Jordan settled his hand over Nicki’s shoulder. “We don’t have that luxury anymore, sis.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Nicole jumped up and dashed from the room.

  Aunt Pippy and Riley gave him sympathetic puppy eyes.

  Wise beyond her years, Riley said, “Give her some time, Uncle Jordy. She’s sad and she feels all alone. It took me a while after my mama left to figure things out, but I’m okay now. Nicki will be too.”

  A million emotions flooded Jordan’s heart. With the exception of Ryan, he and his brothers liked to poke fun at the former Laura Kincade—­now Laura Landau—­toilet paper commercial queen. The one thing they often forgot was how Laura’s abandoning her family for Hollywood affected little Riley.

  Jordan leaned down and kissed the top of Riley’s silky hair. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll keep that in mind.” He tossed a look to his aunt. “Can you hold off dishing up that spaghetti for a few more minutes?”

  “Take
as long as you need.”

  “Might take a while.” He pushed a breath of clogged air from his lungs. “I don’t have all this figured out. But I’m working on it.”

  “Don’t forget,” Pippy said. “You’ve got four brothers who are all pretty smart. So don’t go thinking you have to do everything on your own.”

  His brothers already had their hands full. And lucky for him, Lucy would be by his side.

  “I know you believe you’ve got some making up to do,” Aunt Pippy said. “But that’s only from your side of seeing things.”

  He glanced up the stairs. “Pretty sure it’s the way Nicki sees things too.”

  “Just give her some time. Like Riley said, she’ll come around.”

  He hoped so, but he wasn’t willing to bet on it.

  With a nod, he curled his fingers around the bag in his hand, and went up to the baby dragon’s lair. Not surprisingly her door was closed. He’d expected her to slam it when she’d rushed up the stairs, but somehow she’d refrained.

  He knocked. Of course, she didn’t respond. He knocked again. And again. And again. Until finally she yanked the door open.

  “What’s it going to take for you to go away?” she ground out between clenched teeth. “I know you’re dying to.”

  He held out the white paper bag. “This is for you.”

  She eyed the bag curiously, somehow maintaining the stink-­eye in the process. Talent. Pure talent to do that. It had taken him years to perfect the stink-­eye on the ice. For him it had been no easy task—­like patting himself on the head and rubbing his stomach in circles at the same time.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “It’s a surprise.” He jiggled the bag. “For you.”

  She continued to eye him suspiciously.

  “Just some stuff I picked up that I thought you might like,” he explained. “I promise nothing will jump out and bite you.”

  While she continued to glare at him, he pushed past her and moved into her room.

  “You can’t just barge your way in here.”

  “Too late.” He set the bag down on her bed. On his way out the door he stopped where she stood in the center of her room with her arms crossed, tapping the toe of one pink Converse high-­top.

  “Keep it. Toss it. Doesn’t matter,” he said. “What does matter is that I’m not going anywhere. And I’ll be back tomorrow to piss you off some more.” As he made his way toward the stairs he heard her sputter an obscenity. Then her door closed and he heard the distinct rattle of the paper bag.

  A smile crossed his lips.

  He hoped the pink floral journal and set of colored gel pens would give her the inspiration to start writing down what was on her mind. The king-­sized Snickers bar had just been pure bribery. Whatever she chose to do with the contents of the bag tonight didn’t have any weight on his plans for tomorrow.

  He’d be back.

  Chapter 7

  Standing on the front porch of Lucy Diamond’s little two-­story Victorian cottage, Jordan realized he might be overstepping his bounds. Well, there was really no might in it. He was definitely breaking boundaries. She’d given him her phone number, not her address. He’d taken it upon himself to find out where she lived. He hoped she wouldn’t see him as a stalker. Then again, that’s exactly what he’d think, so he could hardly fault her if she did.

  The soft glow of the porch light provided enough illumination to see the surrounding rosebushes and the blue trim on the door frame and windowsills. A clean white picket fence bordered the yard. And from the large tree, an old wooden swing swayed in the gentle breeze, which made him wonder if Lucy had kids.

  He hadn’t thought of that.

  The house was the kind of place one would picture in a fairy tale, and it didn’t exactly fit Lucy’s straitlaced-­teacher, kickboxing-­tough-­girl image at all.

  Night had fallen hours ago and the air was crisp and cool as he knocked on the door. It took a minute, but then from behind the barrier, he heard the sound of scuffing footsteps approach. A long pause hinted that she might be peering at him through the peephole. Finally the door opened.

  “Jordan. What are you doing here?”

  The response tangled on his tongue as he looked her up and down.

  Lucy was dressed in a pair of baggy plaid pajama bottoms and a white tank top with straps so thin they looked like spaghetti noodles. By the sheerness of the fabric and the dusky hint of her nipples showing through, he knew she didn’t have on a bra.

  Not that he minded.

  Her hair was still pulled up in that sexy, messy bun on top of her head. Her dark framed glasses had slipped partway down her straight nose. And she wore a pair of fuzzy slippers on her feet. She held an open paperback book in her hand, and from somewhere in the house the sultry beat of JT’s “What Goes Around” played.

  “Hel-­lo?”

  He dragged his gaze up from her black and yellow bumblebee slippers. “Huh?”

  “I asked what you’re doing here.” The book in her hand snapped shut—­a romance judging by the couple kissing on the front cover—­and yanked his attention back to where it should be. “And how did you know where I live anyway?”

  “Which one do you want me to answer first?”

  She sighed, and he realized that for the most part, the females in his life seemed to constantly be frustrated with him.

  “Curiosity begs to know all of the above,” she said.

  Before she could close the door on him, he made the quickest, most ridiculous, and most desperate move of all time. He stuck his foot in the door. “I have something really important to tell you. And Google.”

  “People were so much safer before the age of the Internet.” She shook her head. “And this ‘something really important’ is . . . ?”

  “You’re trying not to smile.” He pointed at her luscious lips. “I can tell.”

  “Yes, well, we all have our moments.”

  “Mind if I come in?”

  “It’s late. This can’t wait until tomorrow?”

  “Yes, it’s late. Yes, I shouldn’t have just appeared on your doorstep. Yes, you should slam the door in my face.” He took a breath. “But I hope you won’t.”

  At that moment the gods of mercy took pity on him when a golden retriever ambled to the door. Jordan grabbed the opportunity.

  “Hey. Nice dog.” He moved past Lucy into the house, where the dog swept his tail from side to side. Jordan leaned down and gave the dog a nice rub over the top of his large head. “What’s his name?”

  “Ziggy. I’m thinking of getting a second dog.” Lucy closed the front door. “Probably a German shepherd or something with sharp teeth and a lot of bite.”

  Jordan looked up. “Wouldn’t do you any good where I’m concerned. Dogs love me.” He continued to pet the dog, who now wore a goofy doggy grin.

  “Apparently.” She crossed her arms. “And I don’t remember inviting you in.”

  “Oops.” He gave her a sheepish look.

  “Word to the wise, that look doesn’t work for you.”

  “I gave it my best effort.”

  “You might try to be more convincing.”

  He grinned. “If you let me stay, I promise I’ll work on it.”

  “Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf. I try not to put myself in the gullible category.”

  “Teasing, Lucy? That’s so unlike you.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. And if you’ll excuse me I have to go upstairs to get my twelve-­gauge.” She started toward the stairs and then turned back around to face him. The hint of a smile playing at her lips sent a tickle through his heart. “Don’t steal anything while I’m gone.”

  That smile convinced him she wasn’t all that mad he’d popped up on her doorstep.

  “No worries. I left my cat burg
lar bag at home,” he said.

  When Lucy disappeared up the stairs, her dog flopped down at his feet. Jordan took the opportunity to check out the nearly all white living space. Small pops of color came in the form of pale blue, pink, and yellow and made him feel like he’d stepped inside an Easter egg. The good news was that the ultra feminine décor told him a man didn’t live here. He hadn’t been one hundred percent sure before. He was now. Any man worth his weight in testosterone would destroy a place this immaculate within minutes.

  He had to laugh because everything he’d bought for his own apartment either came in leather so it could be wiped down, or in some kind of dark fabric that didn’t show the dirt. When the boys decided to come over for a night of poker he didn’t need to worry about the mess they’d leave behind.

  Yes, he had a housekeeper who took care of the cleaning and stocking his refrigerator. But when he’d brought in a local designer to make the place livable, he’d requested the place be a typical guy’s paradise—­big TV, ear-­splitting surround sound, and plenty of beer in the fridge.

  Lucy’s cozy house felt like a home.

  Minutes later when she came back downstairs she’d covered up with a fuzzy white robe she’d probably put on for protection against his wandering eyes. Too bad her efforts came a little too late. He had a great imagination. And because he’d already seen her in the skimpy top, all he could picture was what was under that robe and how he’d like to peel it off.

  As a teen back in high school he’d liked Lucy. Enjoyed her company. Appreciated the way her mind worked. But he’d never looked at her like he wanted to strip her down and mess her up.

  But he sure was looking now.

  Nothing seemed crazier than Jordan Kincade standing in the middle of her living room looking both incredibly out of place and amazingly hot in jeans that fit like a lover’s hand, a snug black T-­shirt, and his black leather jacket. Wickedness dripped off him like tempting dark chocolate.