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

by Liz Talley

  “Maybe it’s time I stop carrying Robbie around with me. I’m tired of him, tired of worry. I love my friends in SOV but steeping myself in memories of being a victim holds me back. I’m no longer wounded. Cautious? Yes. Crippled? No.”

  “So you feel worse when you’re with your group now?”

  “No, but I don’t feel like I have to be there twice a week. Maybe not even once a week.”

  “Since when?”

  Addy shook her head. “Since two days ago when I decided to stop overthinking my life.”

  “And this has to do with this Lucas fellow?” her mother asked, reaching out to touch Addy again but then catching herself and tucking her hand back into her lap.

  Maybe it did. Addy wasn’t sure. All she knew is she felt as if she’d been walking through her life with her eyes closed. Sure, she’d told herself a million times she was free of Robbie, but she’d been lying. The fear he’d given her was still there, despite SOV. She used that fear conveniently, driving away people who got close enough to hurt her. But with Lucas, she wanted to say to hell with being afraid, to hell with protecting her heart.

  “No, it’s not him as much as it is me, Mom. I need to let go before it’s too late.”

  Addy’s father had chatted up Shelia, ranting about the LSU baseball team’s ranking in the top twenty, but now he ambled over to where Addy stood scrubbing the counters like a demon possessed. “Let go of what? And who’s this guy you mentioned? Is he Catholic?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t asked.”

  Neither of her parents said anything.

  “That’s your biggest concern?” Addy gave a wry laugh. Jeez, her parents were a piece of work, but she did love them. “He’s Ben Finlay’s brother and he’s taking care of their children while they deal with some personal issues. He’s a bit overloaded with three kids, so Aunt Flora and I have been helping out a bit.”

  Her mother’s shoulders sank. “So just friends, huh?”

  “At the very least. He’s a great guy, but he’ll be going back to Texas soon.”

  “Texas?” Her dad snorted, with a disgusted expression. “Figures.”

  Addy bit her lip. Her father thought anyone north of Baton Rouge and west of Lake Charles not worthy of spit. Born in the Irish Channel, raised on shrimp boats in the swamps around Lake Pontchartrain, and returned back to New Orleans East to rebuild what Katrina had destroyed, her father was a proud Y’at. Louisiana born and bred, with a decidedly snobbish tendency to think the world existed only around New Orleans. “Yeah, it’s a big ol’ state you run into if you get on I-10 and drive west. Eventually, you’ll hit a little town called Houston.”

  “Watch it, smarty pants,” her dad drawled.

  “I know you’re here to check on me, but I’m doing fine. I can’t control Robbie or what he does once he gets out, and I’m not spending my life-”

  “Shoot us because we worry about you,” her mother interrupted, standing and pressing her hands down her bright red skinny jeans. “We’re only doing our job which never stops no matter how old you are.”

  “I know, Mom. But you can’t control the world any more than I can.” Addy reached for the hand her mother had clasped behind her back and gave it a squeeze.

  “I’ve decided we’re paying for an alarm system for Flora’s house,” her father said.

  “Dad, you can’t just decide that.”

  “I can and it will be done. Your mother’s already talked to Flora, and we’ve scheduled the guy to come out on Monday. Flora’s going to meet with him because I’m going to the hearing.”

  “Dad, you don’t have to-”

  “I know I don’t, but you and a frail old woman are all alone in that big house. Hell, you just admitted your neighbors are out of pocket, and that weasel weirdo on the other side is never home.”

  “Troy? He owns a bar and keeps odd hours is all. And he’s a nice guy. Tattoos don’t make you a weasel weirdo, Dad.”

  “All the same.”

  Addy crossed her arms. “I don’t like to be managed.”

  “I know you don’t, sugar,” her mother said, “and that’s not what we’re doing. Your father won’t sleep once that man is out, and if, God grant our wish, he’s not, it’s not a bad idea to have added security. Should have been done long ago.”

  “It’s too much money for y’all. Let me cover it.”

  Her father wagged his graying head and crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “I ain’t rich, but I got enough to cover it, cher. Now no more arguments, or I’ll turn you over my knee.”

  Addy opened her mouth, but her father’s soft, “I need to do this, darlin’” stopped her.

  “Fine. Put in an alarm system if it makes you feel any better.”

  “It does. If you had a husband like Gigi and Caro, I wouldn’t worry as much, but what can Flora do? Scare a robber off with her crazy-looking clothes? Do some”—he glanced at her mother—“what’s that crap she does called?”

  “Zumba.”

  “Yeah, zumber. Latin dancing for exercise? Jeez, what will they think of next? Polka golf or two-step boxing? I saw a show on how women are doing roller derby for exercise. And one woman took up pole dancing like hoochie girl just to lose weight. I tell ya, what’s wrong with the world?”

  “Now, now, Don. Let that kind of thing go. Flora has always liked different things.”

  Her father leveled his eyes at her mother and gave her the look. He always gave Phylis the look when they talked about Flora being different. Her father was convinced Flora was a lesbian, which both amused and aggravated Addy. Like choosing not to marry and have kids automatically put you playing for the other team. He’d never understood Flora’s unrequited love for Mr. Millard O’Boyle—thought the whole thing was a beard for liking other women.

  “Flora’s not gay, Dad. And if she were, what would that matter?”

  “Harrumph, I’m Catholic,” Don said, glancing away and refusing to discuss the issue.

  “Okay, honey, we need to be off to the doctor’s office.” Phylis knew how to head off an argument. “The parking is horrible at that place, and your father refuses to park the Cadillac in the sun so we go round and round that parking garage.”

  “Like I want the sun to fade the paint? I paid over fifty thousand dollars for that thing, and it’s gotta last till I’m in the grave.”

  Phylis rolled her eyes and pulled Addy into a quick hug, patting her on the bottom like a four-year-old. “Be good, sweet girl, and don’t mess around with that Texas man too much. You need you a good New Orleans boy. I want some grandchildren from you one day.”

  …and the clock ticked.

  Yeah, that was mentioned every time she saw her mother. What was with mothers? They all wanted babies to bounce on their knees. And Phylis already had seven grandchildren. Besides Phylis should have already figured out warning her away from Lucas only made her want to run toward him.

  Same ol’ Addy. Rebellious streak a mile wide and doubly deep.

  Her dad engulfed her with a hug and kiss on each cheek. “Don’t forget to remind Flora about Monday. East Jefferson Security. Ten o’clock. On second thought maybe I better make it for the afternoon.”

  “Whatever you want, Dad.” Addy sighed.

  Her parents finally made their way to the door, only after hugging Shelia and her dad sneaking three pieces of candy from the candy jar that still sat by the register just the way Millard O’Boyle had left it thirty-six years ago when he’d sold the store to Flora.

  “Whew,” Addy said, breathing a deep sigh. “My parents wear me out.”

  “They love you.”

  “Well, yeah, but they’re always trying to manage me the way they’ve done all my life.”

  “So tell the security guy to get lost… though I do believe your father is right. It would be comforting to press that button every night and know you have one more layer of protection. I know mine gives me comfort.”

  “If you say so, but we both know from experience a dete
rmined man can get around security systems, gated neighborhoods, and even safe houses. How many tales have we heard of failed security?”

  “Too many to name, but I’ll stick by feeling a little bit easier when I put my head on my pillow.”

  Addy didn’t say anything else, just moved to her station and focused on losing herself in her work for the next few hours. She didn’t want to think about Robbie and the way the thought of him roaming the streets, hers in particular, made her stomach curdle. Fear was a powerful motivator, and it was damn near impossible to subdue when allowed to rear its head within her.

  “I won’t be a victim,” she said out loud after several minutes of dwelling on alarms and things outside of her control.

  What had she said to Michael? Control what you can control.

  So what could she control?

  Not her feelings for her Texas cowboy.

  At that moment, her inner rebel ripped through the barrier she’d erected long ago and claimed Addy. Lucas wasn’t forever, but he might give her something she needed in her life—an opportunity to feel normal with a man who turned her on and flipped everything sideways.

  Addy needed Lucas… if only for a weekend.

  Excitement and happiness over the upcoming “date” welled up in the empty places fear tried to inhabit. This weekend was hers to laugh, smile, and feel good about being desirable to Lucas. Monday would come with alarms, parole hearings, and the possibility of Lucas leaving, but tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday belonged to her.

  She was in control of that at the very least.

  “Know what?” she asked, glancing at Shelia who held a roll of floral tape between her lips and glared at an arrangement that obviously wouldn’t behave.

  “Huh?” she mumbled.

  “I’m going shopping.”

  “For what?”

  “Something sexy to wear this weekend.”

  The tape dropped to the table and rolled off onto the floor. “I thought y’all were taking the kids with you.”

  “I’m not planning on looking like I charge by the hour, but I wouldn’t mind ditching my spinster librarian vibe.”

  “I know some kinky librarians.”

  Addy laughed and it felt good. “Touché.”

  “I do love when you get sassy,” Shelia said, with a twinkle in her dark eyes. “I’m about sick to death of looking at a walkin’ funeral around here.”

  “Maybe I could wear gladiolas in my hair?”

  Shelia snorted.

  “I’m taking an early lunch and walking over to that cute boutique a few doors down.”

  “Good girl.”

  Addy grabbed her purse, double-checking she had her phone and key ring with the pepper spray.

  She might feel bold, but she wasn’t stupid.

  She might take a chance, but she couldn’t deny her past.

  Addy would always be Addy.

  That wouldn’t change.

  Saturday dawned partly cloudy and warm. Lucas couldn’t have dialed it up any better.

  Finally, something going right for him. He and the kids had been cooped up in the sick house for so long, he felt like a shaky colt emerging from the barn for his first romp in the yard. The sun felt almost too bright when it peeked out from behind fluffy clouds and the breeze was almost fresh.

  “I’m gonna go get Addy,” Chris yelled running toward the camellia bushes and ducking between.

  “Sure,” Lucas muttered tugging the bow he’d tried to attach to Charlotte’s ponytail. It had taken him a good thirty minutes to wash and comb the snarls from the tight curls. He’d done the best he could and once it dried, he’d pulled it up with a weird-looking plastic clear rubberband thing. Michael had taken the matching bow off a ribbon hanging in the girl’s closet and clipped it in, but it looked crooked to Lucas.

  Charlotte was dressed in a bright pink dress and something called tights that had little hearts on them. Little girl clothing confused the hell out of him.

  Grabbing his cameras, he escorted a finally happy Charlotte to the truck. Michael lagged behind tapping on his phone. The boy had been eerily helpful over the last few days. Maybe Lucas saving him from Joe the Toad and seeing him barf his guts up had a way of mellowing the fury within the boy at the uncle who’d ignored him.

  Lucas could hope.

  “Hey, sport,” he said over his shoulder as he settled Charlotte in her car seat. “How about we leave the phones at home?”

  “Why?” Michael didn’t look up.

  “Because we’re going to interact with the world around us… not the world on our phone,” he said.

  “What if we get separated? It’s a safety precaution.”

  “We won’t get separated.” He looked for the plastic piece that snapped between Charlotte legs. Where was the stupid thing? “Tell you what. If you leave the phone, I’ll let you use my Canon.”

  “Your what?”

  “It’s a camera.”

  “I have a camera on my iPhone.”

  Lucas found the fastener and clicked Charlotte in, handing her both a sippy cup and a book about that Creampie kitten. “Seriously? I’m talking about a real camera. The kind I use for my work.”

  Michael held up his phone. “How about I turn this off, but keep it in my back pocket, and then you show me this camera of yours.”

  Lucas nodded. “Deal.”

  “Morning,” Addy called from the other side of the truck.

  Chris hustled by Lucas in order to move the scooter he’d left in the drive from behind the truck. “Wait till you see Addy,” he commented as he loped by.

  Lucas walked around to the other side to get the door from Addy and nearly tripped when he saw her.

  “Wow,” Lucas breathed, stifling a wolf whistle.

  “What?” she blushed, giving a somewhat breathless laugh.

  She wore a soft peach-looking sweater with a square neckline that showed those delicious collarbones. It fit her like a second skin, covering almost every inch of skin but somehow looking incredibly sexy. Her hair was in a soft braid that reminded him of the one Meg Ryan had worn in Sleepless in Seattle, one of his favorite movies—not that he’d admit to it. And her jeans were trim all the way down to supple gold ballet flats. Small pearl earrings dangled in her ears, and she wore just enough makeup to look ravishing, but not enough to be overt. Turns out shiny peach lips were his lighthouse.

  Guide him home.

  He couldn’t help himself. He lowered his head and gave her a soft, quick kiss.

  “Ooh,” Chris said, rubbing his fingers together in that ancient naughty-naughty signal. “Shame, shame.”

  “Oh, hush. You’d kiss her too if you were tall enough,” Lucas said.

  Chris grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “You know it, brother.”

  Addy laughed, ducking down toward Chris making kissing sound. “Come on then, Chris.”

  Chris ran.

  Both he and Addy laughed until Michael stepped around holding Lucas’s camera bag on his shoulder. “Are y’all gonna stand around all day?”

  Addy’s smile was the invitation he’d been waiting for. This was an Addy determined to live… and perhaps love if only for the weekend.

  “We could, but I’m pretty sure the kids would get bored. And you know what happens when kids get bored,” she said.

  He gave an exaggerated sigh but started back around the front of the truck.

  “Saddle up,” Lucas yelled, before sending a glance heavenward and whispering. “Thank you.”

  Addy had no clue where Lucas was taking them, but it was definitely away from the heart of the city. She’d sort of expected to go to the French Quarter or maybe City Park. “Where the devil are you taking us?”

  His look was a little too lustful for a man with a truck full of kids. “You’ll see.”

  “You said we were visiting your favorite places as a kid in New Orleans. This is Metairie,” Michael said.

  “Well, not every favorite place is in the Quarter, though I do love the his
tory there. I wanted to take you to your dad and my favorite spots when we were your age. I hope some of them are still around.”

  “Oh,” the boy said.

  She caught sight of Michael in the mirror on the visor. He studied a camera. “Do you like to take pictures, too?”

  The boy looked up, lowering the camera. “I’ve never used a camera like this. My iPhone works pretty good.”

  Lucas nodded. “It’s crazy how good some of those phones can be, but it’s not the sort you build a career with. The one you’re holding is the first good camera I ever bought. A Canon EOS 1V, loaded with Fugi Velvia film that will still take damn good pictures. I still use it sometimes because I like the feel of the click, the sound of the camera rewinding and waiting on the images in the darkroom. Nothing wrong with a little old school photography.”

  “How did you learn?” Addy asked.

  “By doing. I dropped out of law school when, well, I decided it wasn’t something I wanted to do—more like an expectation. Suddenly my world shifted and I didn’t know what I wanted. I packed up my Chevy Blazer and headed west where I figured adventure lay. As I drove through a countryside so different than the one I knew, I felt a tug. I’d always loved drawing as a kid, and I used my grandmother’s Polaroid one summer when we rented a house on the lake. But it wasn’t some divine revelation out of the blue.”

  “So you just decided to become a photographer?”

  “No, I became a waiter. In Phoenix.”

  Addy smiled. “That’s a way different career choice than being an attorney.”

  “Wasn’t a waiter for long. I saved up and took a photography class at a local community college because someone told me I could get a gig taking school photos for some company.”

  “We just had some weird guy take our spring pictures last week. I forgot to tell you and I wore my Saints T-shirt with the hole on the sleeve. Mrs. Creech made a face when she saw me,” Chris said, lowering his iPad.