His Brown-Eyed Girl

by Liz Talley

  The boy sneered. “Yeah, because that would have made this all better. Me getting a card from you.”

  Okay, humor wasn’t going to work on the iceman.

  Lucas cast a glance to where Addy lugged a bag of soil to the patio, liking the way she looked in her faded jeans. Her aunt helped Chris to gently tuck the roots of a plant into the terra-cotta pot. “You don’t understand the big picture, kid. There’s a lot of choppy water under a bridge that burned years ago. I had my reasons for staying away from New Orleans.”

  Michael set the box at his feet. “I’m sure those reasons are comforting to Grammy and Grampy when you’re not here at Christmas…or for anything else. I’m sure it’s totally cool to ignore the family you have.”

  A punch to the stomach would have had the same effect. Lucas tried not to react to the guilt. His mother had always said she understood—he didn’t have to come for Thanksgiving, for his father’s heart catheterization, for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. So Lucas had stayed away…selfishly. “That’s not what I was doing.”

  Michael glared at him before giving him a familiar sardonic Ben smile. “Okay. Sure.”

  Something broke in Lucas and anger flooded him. How dare this brat accuse him of being the bad guy? Did he know what his mother and father had done? Did he know the hurt that had fishhooked his heart and festered there for years? This wasn’t just a pride thing—he’d hurt, damn it.

  The kid didn’t know shit about him.

  But Michael obviously didn’t care because he continued. “Chris, Lottie and I had nothing to do with whatever happened between you and Mom and Dad, so I don’t give a flip. I’m going to help Addy. I’ll send Chris over to fix his mistake.”

  Lucas’s fist curled, so he gave his idle hand work, stooping and picking up the shelves. He didn’t know how to handle the smart-ass Michael. He’d given the kid a pass on his rudeness for the first couple of days because Courtney had left without telling them goodbye and told them diddly-poop about their father, but his patience flagged.

  But part of him knew Michael was correct. The rift between Lucas and Ben wasn’t the kids’ fault. Lucas shouldn’t have spent the past thirteen years pretending the children didn’t exist. He’d been at a loss for how to reach out to them when he still simmered with anger at their parents.

  Or maybe it hadn’t been anger as much as wounded pride. Like a sucking wound, the injury done to him had chafed and poisoned him against children who had nothing to do with what had happened all those years ago.

  “Michael said I have to help you.” Chris rubbed at the smears of soil on his forehead. “What you want me to do?”

  “Just hold the boards in place while I use the drill.”

  “Can I use the drill?”

  “We’ll see.”

  Chris pulled on the small gloves Lucas had bought him at the home improvement store. “That means no. Every kid knows that.”

  “Fine. I’ll show you how to use it and let you try.”

  “Really? ’Cause Dad never lets me around power tools and stuff.” Chris grinned and reached for the orange drill sitting on the board resting on two sawhorses.

  Lucas beat him to it. “Probably with good reason. First, let’s take a break, okay?”

  Lucas had caught sight of Aunt Flora emerging from the house balancing a tray with lemonade and what looked to be a plate of cookies. Chris caught sight of food and all thought of drills flew out of his mind. He disappeared faster than beer at Oktoberfest.

  Lucas watched as the kids surrounded Aunt Flora. Addy unwound from her seated position and stretched. She’d changed into an old T-shirt with a Mardi Gras 10K run on the front and a pair of jeans that fit her nicely even with the hole in the knee. She pointed her worn tennis shoes toward him and he got a warm feeling that had nothing to do with the sun bearing down.

  “You’re making good progress. We’ll finish today,” she said as she wiped perspiration from her forehead. “Whew, it’s warm for a change.”

  “That’s New Orleans for you.”

  For a moment they watched Aunt Flora tease the children while refilling their cups. He liked the way Addy felt beside him. Small enough to fit under his arm, but she had a presence that made her feel so solid. Maybe it was because he now knew what she’d faced, how brave she had to be every day.

  “Hey, walk with me a minute,” he said, motioning her toward Ben and Courtney’s house.

  She followed. They slipped between the large camellia bushes and walked onto the covered patio scattered with toys and outdoor furniture that needed a good scrubbing. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve been thinking about what you told me earlier, and I want you to know you can trust me.”

  Addy made a face. “That’s what you wanted to tell me? You could have done that back there.”

  “You seem private, and those kids are nosy. Well, Chris is.”

  “He is a little nosy. When I told him I’d pay him for washing my car tomorrow, he asked how much money I had in my checking account.”

  “Dear Lord. He’s—”

  “Precocious?” she said, lifting her eyebrows in an endearing way. Heck, everything she did was endearing.

  “I was going to say cheeky.” Lucas watched the smile playing about her lips and thought about how much he wanted to taste her. He wanted to touch her smooth skin, maybe trace her bottom lip with his thumb as he cradled her head in his hands. He wanted to soak her in, feel her against him, make love in the cool grass out back in the moonlight. This woman stroked the poetry in his soul. She made him feel lighter, younger and really horny.

  But Addy’s confession changed things. Oh, he still wanted her, but he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Obviously she needed time to trust a man, and that was something he didn’t have. No need to pursue something he couldn’t finish.

  “Is that all you wanted?” she asked.

  Hell, no. He wanted more and maybe that was why he’d pulled her away from the others.

  “Yeah. I needed a break.” Or just wanted you to myself.

  “You definitely need a break.” Addy smiled and her gaze lowered to his sweaty chest. In those pretty brown eyes he thought he saw interest and it struck something in him. Maybe…

  No. Even if she were interested, it wasn’t a good idea to start anything. Even flirtation felt as if it could get out of hand quickly. Better to maintain friendship.

  “Yeah, I’m seeing single mothers in a whole new light. How do they manage showers or going to the bathroom? Charlotte walked in on me in the shower last night. It was traumatizing.”

  Something devilish danced in Addy’s eyes. “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah, I screamed like a little girl.”

  She gave a snort of laughter. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”

  He moved a little closer, not able to resist a smidgeon of flirting. “Oh, yeah. What did you think I’d scare her with?”

  “What a flirt you are, Lucas Finlay. Very unexpected from a man who looks like he could tangle with the devil and come out without a single burn.”

  Lucas tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Addy inhaled and suddenly the air crackled with tension. Desire flared like diesel fuel poured on a small flicker of fire.

  Screw keeping his distance. He had to kiss her. Had to.

  “I have my moments of weakness, times where I show the gooey center beneath the…the…” He inched closer.

  “Leather?”

  “Leather?” He made a face.

  “Uh, steel?”

  “I like that better. Man of steel,” he murmured, studying her pink lips. He loved her full bottom lip and the way it contrasted against the slight bow of the top one. Not balanced, but definitely kissable. Her skin glowed, not pale and pasty like so many women, but with warmth and vitality. Her warm brown eyes sparked beneath brows that reminded him of that chick in that sappy love movie from the ’70s his mom was crazy about. Sad movie with Ryan O’Neal. Ali somebody. Yeah, Addy looked like that actr
ess. Serene, calm with that same jaunty smile.

  Addy studied him, not seeming alarmed as he moved closer, but not necessarily welcoming. “So beneath the machismo you’re a nerdy, soft-spoken beta boy?”

  “Maybe I am. Maybe you need to find out for your—”

  “Uncle Lucas!” The voice cried from their right.

  “Of course,” he whispered at the shrieking voice of reason interrupting a weak moment, a moment he really, really wanted to have with Addy despite his admonitions to himself seconds earlier.

  Lucas stepped back and gave Addy a regretful smile.

  “Hey,” Chris shouted, loping toward them with cookie crumbs stuck to his chin. “Michael pushed me down and made me break one of the pots. I didn’t do nothing but ask him about—”

  “Shut up already,” Michael said, climbing the three steps to the back porch, studying them with some extra-perceptive knowledge that he’d interrupted something intense.

  “You two boys are at it again, huh?” Lucas asked.

  “He’s overdramatizing,” Michael said. Quick as a cat, he disappeared, the click of the back door the only sound on the porch besides Chris hitting the toe of his sneaker against the step.

  “He’s a butt head. And mean. I wish mom would come home. He’d be grounded for acting like that,” Chris said, turning his gaze upon them.

  “Won’t be too long, Chris.”

  The boy grew quiet, still for once. “Is my dad okay, Uncle Lucas? I know he got hurt in Afghanistan, but Mom won’t tell us nothing. She said he was coming home, but he didn’t.”

  Lucas didn’t want to lie, nor did he want to let on how badly Ben fared. The actual IED explosion had happened three weeks ago and Ben had done well with the surgeries. But no one had seen the vicious infection winging in from left field. “Your mother is with your father, and that’s the most important thing.”

  Chris nodded and resumed kicking the step.

  Addy rubbed her hands on her jeans before heading toward her house. “I better get back. We’ll talk about the kids’ schedules later—I think Aunt Flora’s got something in the oven, so we’ll do dinner tonight for y’all. And I should be able to help this upcoming week. Picking up or dropping off. Whatever you need.”

  Whatever he needed, but not what he wanted.

  But that was for the best. He truly believed it.

  “Well, Charlotte has her school Spring Fling tomorrow. Someone’s gotta take her to that,” Michael said, reappearing with a backpack slung over his shoulder and a football. He tossed the ball into the air, flicking it toward his brother who snatched it out of the air with one hand. Impressive.

  “I don’t want to go to Spring Fling. It’s lame,” Chris said, tossing the ball to Michael who missed it. It clattered onto the glass table knocking over a cup of red juice. “Oops.”

  Lucas frowned, wondering how much more of the whining, bickering and just plain-out difficulty he could handle. A departing Addy noticed. “Hey, why not let the boys stay here with me? I have some things I need some strong men to help with. I’ll pay, too.”

  Chris’s eyes grew big. “More money than just washing the car?”

  “Sure, after you wash the car, you can help me rake out the flower beds.”

  Michael nodded. “I can do that.”

  “Me, too,” Chris shouted.

  “Guess you’re Charlotte’s date to the Spring Fling,” Addy said, smiling as she sauntered away like a sexy vixen. Okay, so she didn’t exactly saunter, but the sexy part was dead on. There was something deliciously sexy about her subtleness.

  But he’d think about kissing Addy later.

  Maybe that evening over whatever Flora served for dinner.

  Or the next day.

  Or…

  Addy hurried toward him. “Charlotte just threw up.”

  *

  LUCAS CLIMBED OUT and jogged around to the passenger side of the extended cab truck. Opening the rear door, he found Charlotte already out of her car seat. Rather than giving him a mistrustful look, she held out her arms and allowed him to lift her and place her on the ground in the school’s parking lot.

  “Do you wike snoballs, Uncle Wucas? ’Cause Sister Tewesa said they was gonna have ’em here.”

  He looked at her and nodded. “I loved snoballs when I was little. Your daddy and I once had a contest to see who could eat theirs the fastest. Gave us both horrible headaches. But since your tummy was upset, maybe we’ll skip snoballs today.”

  “But I want one.”

  “We’ll see.” He surveyed the scene for a moment, wondering how one proceeded at a school fair.

  “Come on,” his niece said, tugging the tail of his shirt toward the field where the Preschool Spring Fling had been set up. The brightly colored tents and milling laughing families made him feel a bit lonely…and sad for Charlotte that she had to experience the event with an uncle she didn’t know rather than her parents.

  Ben.

  If he survived, he’d face many obstacles with the loss of his leg. Ben had always taken great pride in being active—running in marathons, training for triathlons and hiking in the Ozarks—or so Lucas had gleaned from their mother. But even navigating a small school fair would be a challenge until Ben adjusted to a prosthetic.

  That thought made Lucas’s sadness over his brother more pronounced.

  There was a gulf between them wide enough to make Lucas doubt it could ever be bridged. It still hurt to think about how sick his brother was, about how unsettled he’d feel if Ben died without either of them extending the olive branch.

  If Ben continued to worsen, Lucas might never have a chance to find forgiveness. If he recovered, there was no guarantee it would matter. Lucas wasn’t ready to forgive Ben or Courtney. Or maybe he was. He couldn’t sift through his feelings fast enough. Things felt too cluttered in his life at the moment. It was enough to survive until the next day.

  “Hey, Charlotte’s uncle,” a voice called.

  He turned to find the blonde who had offered to buy him a coffee that first morning he’d attempted carpool and found himself on the receiving end of nun fury. It wasn’t Shannon, the bored housewife—she had red hair—but he couldn’t remember a name for this one. “Yeah?”

  “Just saying hello. I’m Tara Lindsay, Sheldon’s mom. Remember?”

  He nodded, but didn’t want to encourage chitchat with the woman who wore tottering heels and carried a big purse he’d be willing to bet cost more than his monthly truck payment. Yet he didn’t want to be a total ass. He held out a hand. “Lucas, and, of course, I remember. So I’m guessing I’m supposed to, what, let Charlotte play all the games? Never been to a Spring Fling with a three-year-old.”

  “I’m about to be four,” Charlotte piped up.

  “I bet you haven’t,” Tara drawled, ignoring Charlotte, her voice flirtatious, her gaze likely illegal in three states. He squelched the inclination to wriggle in jeans that felt too tight under her perusal.

  “I wanna get my face painted,” Charlotte said, pointing toward a tent where teenage girls swiped paintbrushes against the cheeks of preschoolers. Maybe he should have brought Michael after all. The boy might find someone who made him smile. It could be a miracle at St. George’s.

  “The tickets are over there.” Tara pointed a long manicured finger toward a small red booth. “I’ll walk with you. My ex is taking Sheldon around and I’m waiting for father-and-son time to wind down. I’m sure Sam will be out of here as quickly as possible.”

  Lucas didn’t have anything to say to that very personal revelation.

  “Maybe seeing me with tall, dark and cowboy will rub salt in a wound or something,” she continued, snaking a hand through the crook of his arm and steering him toward the ticket booth.

  He took Charlotte’s hand. “Let’s get some tickets, then I’ll take you to the face-painting tent, okay?”

  Charlotte didn’t pull away, though her blue eyes did dart to Tara tottering beside him. For some reason, he gathered Charlotte d
idn’t like the woman latching onto them. Maybe his niece was coming around to having him in her life. She’d even let him hold her after she’d gotten sick yesterday afternoon. Seemed that many cookies and two glasses of milk was a bit too much for a child her age.

  “I want Addy,” Charlotte said as they stopped in the short line. “Why wouldn’t she come?”

  “She wanted to finish planting the flowers. Flowers have to be put in soil or they’ll die.”

  “And you gotta water ’em.” Charlotte nodded in a serious manner. “I’m gonna feed my worms when I get home. Addy said she’d find out what they wike to eat.”

  “Oh, my gosh, she’s just so cute,” Tara trilled, refusing to let go of his arm even though they’d arrived at their destination. He really wanted her to let go. Looked weird to have her cuddled up to him when he barely knew her.

  Lucas pulled his arm from Tara’s so he could remove his wallet from his back pocket. Ten seconds later and twenty dollars lighter, he had a strip of blue tickets and his arm back.

  “I wanna a butterfly with sparkles,” Charlotte said, dropping his hand and running toward the tents.

  Lucas sighed and followed. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to spend his Sunday afternoon at the Spring Fling for Charlotte’s preschool, especially when the Spurs were playing on TV. And with Tara tagging along touching him and cooing over Charlotte, he really longed for the recliner, a remote and some Michelob time. Not that he’d likely get it in that particular household.

  “So how is everything going? You seem to be doing okay with the kids…outside of the carpool incident.”

  “It’s going okay. Taking care of three children isn’t for the weakhearted.”

  “No shit.” Tara shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jewel-encrusted jeans, making her breasts tighten against the small animal-print T-shirt she wore. He noticed only because she had a pretty nice rack, and even though he wasn’t interested in Tara, he wasn’t dead.

  To his right, he spied a concession stand offering beer and wine. Silver lining.

  “If you’ll keep an eye on Charlotte, I’ll buy you a drink.”