His Brown-Eyed Girl (A New Orleans Ladies Novel Book 2)

by Liz Talley

  “Makes you quite the catch.” He braced his hands on either side of the granite and tried to figure a way to slide out of the corner without being offensive.

  “Mmm,” Tara purred, reaching out and straightening the collar on his shirt. “I’m a talented woman. Be glad to prove it to you.”

  “Uh, here’s the thing, Tara. I’m leaving in a few days-”

  “I don’t want to marry you, Lucas,” she said with a drawl, her blue eyes twinkling with something he recognized as turned on woman. “I want to fu-”

  “Yoo hoo!” someone called at the back door.

  Tara snapped her mouth closed and looked at the back door slowing opening. Lucas almost sighed in relief as Flora popped her head in.

  “Hey, there tall drink of water,” the older woman said, elbowing the back door open while balancing a huge Dutch oven in her hands. The smell of something spicy wafted in with the night air. “Brought you some jambalaya, but it looks like someone beat me to the punch. Do I need to arm wrestle her?”

  Addy followed behind with a gallon of tea and a couple of sacks with French loaves peeking over the edge. Her brown eyes widened when she saw Tara standing beside him… close beside him.

  Lucas moved past Tara to help the older woman with the dish. “I’m not sure Tara here can get much traction in those heels so you’d have the advantage,” he joked.

  Tara flipped her hair. “Don’t be so sure, honey. Women can do more in these things than you think.”

  Addy didn’t seem to find it funny. She just lifted her dark brows and set the tea on the counter.

  Tara’s gaze darted to Addy, and he saw something fire in her eyes. “And don’t you just have women jumping to help you? Those dimples work magic.”

  Lucas hated his dimples.

  “I’m Tara,” the blonde said, stretching out an arm jingling with bangles toward Addy. The light caught the glowing flecks in her nail polish, and Addy reached out with her own small hands tipped with short, unpolished nails.

  “I’m Addy and this is my aunt Flora. We live next door.” Addy kept her gaze from him. He could tell her feelings were hurt though he doubted anyone else in that kitchen caught on. Somehow, some way he could read her.

  “This jambalaya will keep,” Flora said, lifting the lid. The smell made Lucas’s stomach growl.

  “I made chicken spaghetti,” Tara said, lifting the foil off her pan revealing golden cheesy goodness.

  All three women stared at him, silently asking him to choose.

  “I hit the jackpot, huh? Lucky for me I’m hungry enough to eat both,” he said as the door leading to the innards of the house swung open. In trooped Michael and Chris.

  “We smelled something good,” Chris said, rushing toward the stove. Michael hung back but grabbed a stack of paper plates sitting beside the fridge. Then he eyed the two dishes sitting on the stove hungrily.

  Addy pushed some school papers to the side and set the bread on the counter. “I’ll leave this here.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” Aunt Flora said, brushing her hands together. “We need to slice it. It will be perfect with that salad Ms. Tara made. The kids can choose whichever they want to eat, and we’ll put up the rest. I’m going back to my kitchen and grabbing some of those plastic disposable storage containers.”

  For an older lady, Flora moved fast. She was out before Chris had dropped his first spoonful of spaghetti on the floor. Luckily Kermit had come in with the kids and went right to work on clean up.

  “Where’s Charlotte?” Lucas asked Michael.

  The older boy shrugged. “Where you left her?”

  Lucas made a move toward the door, but Addy beat him to it. “I’ll get Charlotte. You have a guest.”

  The way she said “guest” almost made him cringe. It definitely made him feel guilty though he didn’t know why. He and Addy weren’t anything to each other. It was silly to feel guilty for being caught with a woman he didn’t want by a woman he did want… but couldn’t have.

  Kermit reared up on the stove.

  Tara shrieked.

  “Get down,” Lucas said, pulling Kermit by his collar. “Stupid dog.”

  “He’s not stupid,” Michael said, grabbing the bread and pulling a hunk from the loaf. “You forgot to feed him.”

  “That’s Chris’s job,” Lucas said, toeing the dog away from the stove and eyeballing the kid who had already wolfed down half his plate.

  “Mff?” the boy said, looking up with a greasy look of innocence.

  “When you finish eating, you need to feed your dog and cat. Where is the wicked cat of the west?” Lucas asked, wiping up a spill on the stove.

  “Curled up in your cowboy hat,” Michael said, with a touch of glee in his voice.

  Great. Cat hair on his Stetson.

  Tara grabbed a serrated knife and started slicing the bread, piling the slices onto a paper plate. The door swung open and Addy entered, holding a sleeping Charlotte. “She’s down for the count. You want me to put her to bed?”

  Lucas shook his head. “I’ll take her. I know where everything is, and I need to put out fresh water for Pickles and Fancy Nancy.”

  “Who?” Addy whispered.

  “The hamsters.” Lucas reached for Charlotte, sliding his hand between the child and the woman who haunted his thoughts. Addy had changed after work into a pair of jeans and a soft Beatles T-shirt and his hand brushed beneath her breasts. Inhaling her scent, he plucked the child from her grasp, wishing he could find a reason to touch her again. Her gaze flicked up to meet his, and in that brief glance he tried to convey how much he wanted her.

  She looked away, and he resettled the lightly snoring child against his shoulder, glanced around the near surreal scene unfolding in his brother’s kitchen and pushed out the swinging door.

  Five minutes later after tucking Charlotte into bed in her clothes, feeding the noisy hamsters, and ignoring the toothbrush Courtney had demanded he use every night, he made his way back into the kitchen where Addy sat chatting with Chris, Tara washed dishes, and Flora lifted pieces of pie from the depths of a tin pie plate.

  “One down, two to go,” Lucas said.

  “Poor little tuckered out angel,” Flora said, grabbing a fork from a drawer and taking Michael and Chris a slice of lemon meringue pie. “She’s about as cute as they come.”

  The domestic scene should have been comforting to Lucas—three women taking care of the Finlay children, coming to the aid of a helpless man, but it didn’t feel comforting. In fact, the glances Addy and Tara kept trading made him decidedly jumpy, so he grabbed a plate and heaped a spoonful of jambalaya and chicken spaghetti on the plate. Ignoring the salad, he grabbed some bread and settled in at the kitchen island, where Flora served the pie. The older woman looked up at him, a smile hovering at her lips as if she understood he was a coward.

  “Guess I better scoot,” Tara said without enthusiasm, after drying her hands on a clean dish towel. “Sheldon’s at my mother’s, and she goes to the casino on Monday nights with her gentleman friend. Walk me out, Lucas?”

  He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “Uh, sure.”

  Proud that he resisted glancing at Addy, he slid from the stool and waited on Tara to pass. The woman tossed a small wave over her shoulder. “Bye, everyone. Nice to meet you.”

  The women murmured a polite response while the boys, mouths full, waved.

  Lucas followed Tara out. Once they reached the front porch, she turned and pressed her hands against Lucas’s chest. “I’m sorry we got interrupted.”

  Lucas removed her hands, ignoring the narrowing of her eyes at his move. “Look, Tara, I’m leaving in a few days, and I don’t think it’s such a good idea to proceed with what you were about to suggest.”

  “Why not? I’m not asking you for anything but a good time. I’m too old and too busy to beat around the bush, Lucas. I want you… with no strings attached.”

  He curled his hands around hers, trying for friendly and not encouraging. “I appr
eciate your bluntness, but it’s not that easy.”

  She cocked her head. “Is this about that woman in there?”

  “In where?” He played dumb.

  “Don’t play dumb with me. That Abby woman. I saw you looking at her.”

  “Addy?”

  “Yeah, whatever. Addy. Surely you’re not into her?” Her voice sounded incredulous.

  “I’m not into anyone right now.” Now he out and out lied. He was “into” Addy. Even if nothing would happen.

  At that Tara smiled. “Are you gay?”

  “No.”

  “Then why would a healthy, single male turn down a little afternoon delight with a woman who wants nothing more than a ride on a cowboy. Unless you don’t find me attractive?” Her voice faded with the last question as if she feared the answer.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, and I’m sure most men would punch me in the face for being so stupid as to not take you up on your very appealing offer, but…” He tried to finish the sentence but couldn’t come up with a reason that didn’t sound, well, stupid. Maybe he should take her up on her offer. No strings attached sex with a hungry woman. It was most men’s dream. Hell, maybe a week ago, he’d already have her on her back, knees around his hips. But something inside him balked, and he listened to his gut on this one.

  “Look, I’m not begging,” Tara said, pushing back from him and lifting a shoulder. “Enjoy the spaghetti.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Tara turned, grabbed the front of his shirt, and tugged his head down to hers. “You should be.”

  It was a good kiss, soft then intense with a little tongue. Tara knew how to kiss and his body reacted, his mouth softening beneath hers, his body tightening in response.

  She broke the kiss and smiled, satisfaction gleaming in her blue eyes.

  “Thought you should know what you’re missing, cowboy. Bye.”

  Tara turned and tripped down the porch steps, her heels ratta-tatting a cadence of regret.

  Lucas swiped a hand over his mouth, opened the door, and walked back into the house, wishing it had been Addy who’d kissed him.

  A kiss from Addy would probably make the whole trip to New Orleans worthwhile.

  Addy laid the book across her chest and sighed. Sheriff Cade McGarrity was in the process of seducing uptight spinster Sophie, and Addy couldn’t stop picturing Lucas’s face on the tough façade of the fictional lawman.

  Insanity felt very real at that moment.

  She picked up the book, determined to put the man next door out of her mind so she could enjoy the new read. Glomming spicy romance was her secret addiction. Some women hid chocolate in their desk drawers, some wore lacy lingerie beneath their power suits, but Addy liked to read about brooding knights, race car drivers, and steamboat captains with wicked smiles and big packages to satisfy the trembling young heroine. Something about passion on the page allowed the wildness inside her to find a safe home. She had stacks of steamy romance in her bedside drawer and hundreds more in her Nook library.

  Her eyes refocused on the story of the injured sheriff taking refuge in the school marm’s clapboard house who was about to slip Miss Sophie out of her nightgown, but she couldn’t focus. Why did she keep imagining her and Lucas in place of Sophie and Cade? The past two nights it had been the same. She should have stuck with the damn king of the desert. No way the world of harems and forbidden love could evoke images of the big man stomping around in cowboy boots feeding hamsters and cradling a three-year-old. King Omar Asseff was dark and cunning, a veritable satyr with smooth words and a big manhood.

  So why had she traded dark and horny for a man in boots?

  Oh, she knew why.

  She was stupid.

  And if she were honest, she’d admit she wanted to unbutton her own nightgown, shuck it off, and show Lucas how much she wanted to act out all those scenes in the books she’d been reading. But she wouldn’t admit it. She didn’t want it to be real. It had been well over a year since she’d ended her last relationship. Wasn’t as if she didn’t want another, but not with a guy so wrong for her, a guy leaving in a few days’ time. She wasn’t the kind of girl to hook up with somebody for a booty call. She had never wanted the complication of being that girl, even if a little piece inside her wished she were. So maybe reading any erotic romance wasn’t a good idea with Lucas next door, distracting her from what was about to go down in her life.

  Stupid, Addy. You can’t afford to be distracted with threat looming on the horizon. Get a grip, sister.

  Addy snapped the cover closed.

  Setting the book on the nightstand, she slid out of bed, not bothering to shove her bare feet into the fuzzy slippers sitting by the rocking chair. Maybe some chamomile tea would help her nod off.

  Silently, she tiptoed past Aunt Flora’s room, where the flicker of the TV cast shadows on the wood floor, and down the creaking stairway to the kitchen. Five minutes later the kettle chirped, and then with a steaming cup of tea in hand, Addy tucked her toes beneath her nightgown hem at the kitchen table. Moonlight streamed through the café curtains above the breakfast nook, casting a quiet glow. Silence, offset by the settling house, blanketed Addy in calmness.

  Just what she needed.

  Blessed peace.

  Then heard whap, whap, whish coming from the side yard.

  Rising she peered over the curtains but couldn’t see. Climbing on the chair, she could just see over the black smudge of bushes Michael standing in his driveway tossing the basketball at the basket affixed to the detached garage.

  She should ignore him. Even if it was near midnight on a school night.

  None of her business. Never before had she cared about the kids next door, so why was she sliding the dead bolt and slipping out the back door?

  Without her pepper spray.

  The night was crisp and the stars winked at her above. She crossed her arms, tucking her hands over her breasts so they didn’t pucker against the thin cotton night gown. She glanced around, surveying the perimeter, but the night was calm and nonthreatening. Her inner safety alarm was silent.

  “Michael?”

  The boy turned, wiping tears from his cheeks. “Yeah?”

  “What are you doing out here so late?” She shifted on her bare feet because the concrete pavers were ice cold.

  “Shooting hoops.” He turned and bounced the ball once, twice, and then sent it arcing in the air. The accommodating swish had her lifting her brows. He might not be good at football, but he could hit a basket.

  “It’s after midnight.”

  “I know.”

  She didn’t know what else to say. Pretty obvious he wasn’t getting the message. “It’s too late for basketball. People are trying to sleep.”

  Two bounces and a swish later, he turned to her, taking in her long-sleeved gown and her chattering teeth. “Did I keep you awake?”

  No, images of your uncle naked kept me awake.

  “Uh, not really, but you have school tomorrow, and you shouldn’t be out here unsupervised.”

  Michael tucked the ball under his arm, his mouth downturned. “Yeah, because I’m a baby, right? I needed a nanny. A babysitter. Gotta make sure I don’t shit my diaper and spill my milk.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  His answer was to turn and resume his relentless bounce and shoot rhythm, blocking her out. Pretending she wasn’t there.

  “Michael.”

  He missed the shot. Lurching toward the bouncing ball, he snagged it and turned to her with a sour frown. “What?”

  “You need to go to bed.” She used her pissed off tone.

  His eyes narrowed, and she could tell he struggled with what to say.

  “No.”

  Addy’s feet were freezing, but no way was she letting him get away with that. “I know you’re upset, but you’re being a brat.”

  He turned from her, bouncing the ball, ignoring her.

  Now she was even more pissed. Uncrossing h
er arms, she lunged toward him and snatched the ball.

  “Hey!” He looked at her now, anger crackling in his eyes, before he tucked it away and stepped back. “Fine. Sorry, Addy.”

  Addy held the ball to her chest and raised her eyebrows. “You don’t sound all that sorry and you’re still carrying a huge grudge, kid. Don’t you know shit happens? You can’t control everything.”

  “Knowing and feeling are two different things. My life is sorta complicated.”

  “Everyone’s life is complicated, Michael.”

  “I know there are kids who have it worse than me, but I don’t even know how bad life is for me. No one will tell me anything. Don’t you understand? It’s hard to deal when you don’t even know what you’re dealing with.” He propped his hands on his hips, his breath puffing out into the cold.

  “I know how you feel.”

  “Do you? Really?” His voice was heavy with disbelief. “I feel like I’m about to explode inside and being in that house makes me feel like I can’t breathe.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Michael. I don’t know how to help you. I wish there was a magic button we could hit to make everything clear, but this is life, not a game show. There aren’t good things behind secret curtains and there’s no strategy. It just is what it is.”

  His shoulders sunk. “Yeah, it is what it is.”

  “Did you talk to your uncle?”

  Michael shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to him. I want to talk to my dad.” His voice trembled and Addy wanted to pull the boy into her arms but knew it would be inappropriate… and that Michael wouldn’t want her pity. Even at thirteen he seemed a rather proud boy.

  “I know you do, Mike. I get it. Life sucks right now, but it won’t always. When life ricochets out of my control and I can’t get a grip, Aunt Flora tells me ‘This, too, shall pass.’ And it will. Things will get better.”

  “Sure. I guess. Thanks, Addy,” he said, looking up and giving her a half smile, but she could see she hadn’t helped. He turned and Addy bounced the basketball toward him, tucking her hands back over her breasts. She watched him go, saw Lucas step out and place a hand on the boy’s shoulder.