by Terri Osburn
Lucas Dempsey, I need to hire you.”
Not again. He turned to see the Ledbetters charging up the front steps of the restaurant.
“I told you, I’m not for hire.”
“You can tell her that all you want,” Mr. Ledbetter said, following his wife—ex-wife rather—who looked much more put out this time. “She don’t listen worth a flip, and no matter what she tells you, she doesn’t have a case anyway.”
“Let my lawyer be the judge of that.” Gladys’s blue eyes were not dancing this time, and her brown hair looked as windblown as the trees covering the island. “This good-for-nothing’s hammock is up on my roof, and he won’t get it off. I told him to tie it down, but as usual, he wouldn’t listen.”
“There’s a hammock on your roof?” Lucas asked. This story might be worth hearing.
“His hammock!” she yelled, pointing to the hammock-owning offender. “Not like we didn’t know a hurricane was coming. I told him three times to strap that contraption to the porch.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? We’re not married anymore.” Mr. Ledbetter smiled when he said those words. “I don’t have to listen to your damn orders, woman.”
Meaty hands landed on rounded hips. “That thing could have killed someone.”
Frank chuckled. “That would have been an interesting headline in the paper. ‘Woman killed by flying hammock; assumed she didn’t duck fast enough.’”
Lucas stifled the laugh. “I think tragic is the word you’re looking for, Mr. Ledbetter.” He turned to Gladys. “Other than finding someone to help get the hammock off the roof, there isn’t much I can do for you, Mrs. Ledbetter.”
“That’s Ms.”
“Yes. Right.” Lucas wondered if he could render himself unconscious with one good hammer blow to the head. “Have you considered moving?”
“Tell him to get that damn hammock off my roof,” she demanded, ignoring Lucas’s question. “Before the thing slides off and kills me.”
“Heh,” Frank said, stretching his considerable girth along a bench on the porch. “That puppy’s clamped onto the chimney good and tight. It’s not sliding anywhere any time soon.” In a lower tone, he added, “More’s the pity.”
“What’s the ruckus out here?” Tom asked, exiting the restaurant with a beer in his hand.
“Are you drinking that?” Lucas asked, knowing his mother would skin him alive for letting his dad have alcohol.
Tom shot him a look that said Don’t be an idiot and joined Frank at the bench. “Thought I heard your voice. Here.” He handed over the beer, then waited for the man to move over before dropping onto the bench beside him. “Now, what’s the problem?”
“Lucas won’t tell Frank to get his hammock off my roof,” Gladys said, speaking more calmly. “He handled that tree thing for us. He needs to settle this one.”
“You handled a tree case?” Tom’s tone reminded Lucas of a judge instilling order from the bench.
“I … They … Ah, hell.”
“I lost that one,” Frank said. “But I’m not losing this one.”
“Is your hammock on her roof?” Lucas asked.
“Lucas Dempsey, are you calling me a liar?” Gladys charged forward. “You think I’d come all the way over here and make up some cockamamie story about a hammock on my roof?”
Lucas would need something stronger than a beer when this was over. “I’m not calling you a liar, Ms. Ledbetter. I’m just trying to get Mr. Ledbetter’s side of the story.” Addressing the bench again, he asked, “Mr. Ledbetter, is she telling the truth?”
The defendant looked down at his shoes. “It’s up there. But it ain’t hurting anything right now. I’ll get it down … eventually.”
“Get the damn thing off her roof, Frank.” Tom said. “We all know you just make her mad so she’ll talk to you. She’s talking, now go on and do the right thing.”
Lucas looked back and forth between the bickering Ledbetters. Gladys looked flattered and Frank was blushing. This couple gave new meaning to the word “dysfunctional.”
“Alright,” Frank finally said, easing off the bench. He tipped the longneck up, drained its contents, then handed the bottle to Tom. “Let’s go, Gladys. I’ll get it down.”
To Lucas’s utter amazement, the pair walked off toward a rusted-out green pickup, arm in arm. Turning to his dad, he said, “They’re nuts.”
“Nah,” Tom said. “They’ve been in love since high school. Just stubborn is all.” Pushing off the bench, he headed back inside. “They wouldn’t make you much money.” He watched the pickup drive away. “But they’d make sure you weren’t bored.”
“I wasn’t bored at what?” Lucas asked, bristling at the not-so-subtle implication. How many ways could he say he was not moving back to Anchor?
Tom met his gaze, then shrugged. “I just meant any lawyer around here. Didn’t mean to imply that lawyer might be you.” As he jerked open the door of the restaurant, he mumbled, “Heaven for-fucking-bid.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
By five o’clock, Sid was tired, covered in sweat, and teetering between pissed off and pitiful. The high of sex with Lucas, followed by sharing the dream she was determined to make a reality, fizzled quickly after Will showed up at the fitness center.
She’d tried to cling to Will’s words. The call was just an inquiry. No offer was on the table, and no sane person, especially a non-islander, would make an offer after seeing the building in person. But what if they only wanted the land? The building could be demolished for little expense. Someone with plenty of money could build something new.
The future she’d set for herself could be wiped out with one phone call.
So much for staying positive.
By seven, Sid had showered, slipped into pajamas, and killed half a six-pack. She hadn’t stopped at Dempsey’s because she didn’t want to seem too needy, and in her present mood she wouldn’t have been good company anyway.
They hadn’t made plans. Didn’t say when they’d see each other again. While she’d been working with Randy, Manny had asked if she and Lucas were an item. Sid hadn’t been sure how to answer. Did having a casual fling make them an item? Were they exclusive, or free to fling with anyone they wanted?
Sid didn’t want anyone else, but couldn’t think of a casual sounding way to tell Lucas that. He might bolt then, and losing both him and the garage in the same day would suck way more than she wanted to think about.
With that thought, a knock sounded at the door along with the words, “Anyone home?”
Lucas. Sid hopped up, catching her toe on the leg of the coffee table.
“Shitgoddamnsonofabitch,” was followed by every other curse word she knew as Sid bounced around on one foot. The pain subsided before the profanity ran out. Hobbling, she bent over and checked her hair in the TV. Still wet from the shower, the black mass was pulled into a clip on the back of her head with several wisps falling around her face.
Guys liked that, right? With a huff, she blew a lock off her forehead and headed for the door. “Screw it. If I’m lucky he won’t be looking at my hair.”
“Hey,” she said, opening the screen door. “Come on in.”
Lucas stepped through, and a hint of cologne filled her senses. Just having him close sent her temperature up several degrees. His hair looked damp, as if he’d recently showered, too. Standing just inside the door, he held out an envelope.
“Today was payday. Since you didn’t come by the restaurant, I thought I’d bring this over.”
She’d forgotten all about the paycheck. Now that the target was gone, there wasn’t much point in saving. “Thanks.”
An awkward silence fell between them. Lucas looked uncomfortable, leading Sid to assume he was afraid she’d expect him to stay. Sid didn’t know what she expected anymore.
Common sense told her not to make a fool of herself, but she asked anyway. “You want something to drink? I’ve got beer, soda, wine.”
“Soda’s good,” he
said. Of course. If he intended to drive home, he shouldn’t have alcohol.
Worried he’d see the disappointment on her face, Sid headed for the kitchen. Not until she reached the fridge did she realize Lucas had followed. After sliding the cold can across the Formica, she popped a top on another beer for herself.
“Sid?” Lucas said, choosing to remain silent until she met his eyes. “If I don’t touch you soon I might spontaneously combust.”
To her own credit, Sid didn’t react. At least not where Lucas would be able to tell. She gently set the bottle on the counter. A tilt of the head was added to give the effect she was debating her response.
With what she hoped was a sexy grin, Sid said, “So what’s stopping you?”
Lucas exhaled for the first time since stepping out of his car. He had to be flashing the goofiest smile, but didn’t care. The only thing that mattered in that moment was the adorable pixie standing before him in oversized pajamas that covered every inch of the delectable curves he knew lurked beneath the cotton.
Taking those things off was going to be more fun than he could stand. But first things first. With one step forward, he cupped her face, tilting her head back and staring into milk chocolate eyes.
“Hi,” he said, enjoying the slide of silky curls along his knuckles. Feeling her heartbeat steady against his fingertips.
“Hi,” she answered. Her voice, low and breathy, vibrated through his whole body.
Slowly he leaned in, taking his time, enjoying making her wait. He knew from the night before Sid was not the most patient woman. A soft nip, then another before he pulled back. Her lips moved forward, trying to follow. Another nip and her hands slid up his arms as her body melted into his.
His own patience waned and he took her mouth full on. Heat spiked through him as her hands jammed into his hair. Wrapping his arms around her back, he lifted her off the floor as they tasted each other. This is what he’d been longing to do all day. Where he’d longed to be.
With Sid. Beside her. Touching her. Teasing her.
This was heaven, and he never wanted to be without it. The thought jarred him like a punch to the temple. He broke contact but continued to hold Sid off the floor. Staring into dark brown pools of lust, Lucas set her down gently. This was too much. Too fast.
He couldn’t think straight, and the blood flow headed south wasn’t helping. Putting air between them should have been his next move, but his arms were ignoring the messages coming from his brain. Bottom line, the organ upstairs was no longer in control.
“That was a pretty good greeting,” Sid said, sounding more girly than he’d ever heard her. She shifted against him and he went hard. Or rather, harder.
“How was your day?” he asked, taking her by the hand and heading for the couch. Talking. Talking should help. Casual talking.
“Oh,” Sid said, struggling to keep up. “It could have been better.” Lucas sat down, pulling her onto the cushion beside him. How he managed not to pull her into his lap, he didn’t know. “How about yours? When will Dempsey’s be ready to reopen?”
“If the delivery Vinnie put in to replace the lost meat comes through on Sunday, we should be up and running on Monday. Distributor said Highway 12 through Hatteras held up, so we should be good.”
He wanted boring talk and this was definitely it. Then Sid’s words sank in. “Did you say your day could have been better? What happened?”
“Just something I might have to deal with later.” Sid threw a gray pajama-clad leg over his knee. “Did you come all the way over here to discuss our days?”
Grasping for a distraction, he asked. “Are those … flying piggy banks on your pants?”
Sid shrugged. “Yeah. I thought they were cool. And the message on my shirt is not intended for you, of course.”
The shirt read, “I’m not antisocial, I just don’t like you.”
“Good to know.” Had someone kicked on the heat? Lucas turned his body until Sid’s leg dropped off, then draped an arm across the back of the couch. “What do you know about Willow?”
Sid froze. “Will? What about her?”
“She’s been on the island for a while, right? Works at O’Hagan’s, I think she said?”
“Among other places.” Sid scooted away and crossed her arms. “But I don’t think Will is looking for a man.”
What did that mean? “I’m not trying to give her a man, I want to give her a job.”
The sudden cold front coming across the couch thawed. “You want Will to work at Dempsey’s? Is this your way of telling me you’re going back to Richmond before your dad recovers?”
The thought I’m not going anywhere sprang to mind. He shoved it down with the other unwelcome thoughts and stuck to his purpose. “I’m talking about when dad is recovered. He can’t run that bar by himself anymore. It’s too much. I haven’t talked to Willow—”
“Will,” Sid corrected. Seemed like an odd thing to be a stickler about.
“Right. Will. If she tends bar at O’Hagan’s, then she knows what she’s doing and is used to handling the tourists and crowds. Do you think she’d be qualified as an assistant manager?”
Sid relaxed, pulled her legs up and squeezed them to her chest. “I don’t know. Will is like the island temp, bouncing around nearly every business on Anchor. Except for Randy’s. She doesn’t like Randy, for some reason.”
“Why not?”
“She has this weird phobia about big guys or something. But she might like having one full-time position instead of hopping around to half a dozen shops.” Sid hugged her knees tighter. “Just to be clear. You’re only interested in giving her a job, right? Not slipping her anything else?”
Not slipping … Lucas took a full five seconds to catch on. Where did she get these ideas?
“Sid. Where was I last night?”
She tilted her head. “Is that a trick question?”
“And where am I right now?”
“Have you been drinking?”
“Are you going to stop asking stupid questions?”
She huffed and dropped her gaze. “It’s not so stupid. I mean, we’re not committed or anything. Not exclusive.” Scratching a spot on her PJs, she mumbled, “You can do whatever you want.”
Unnerved by her lack of confidence, Lucas didn’t know what to do with Sid’s vulnerable side. Surely she knew how desirable she was. Challenging. Driven. Flat-out hot.
Maybe she didn’t.
With one finger under Sid’s chin, Lucas brought her eyes back to his. “Do you plan on sleeping with anyone else in the next few weeks?”
She shook her head.
“Good. Me neither.” He tucked a wayward lock behind her ear. “Come here, Sidney.” He caved and pulled her onto his lap. “Do you think I should ask Will if she’d take the job?”
“I do.” Her smile created a knot in his chest before she switched to pensive again. “Shouldn’t you talk to your parents first though? Would they want someone else helping run the place? Someone who isn’t family?”
“I don’t know. Dad came to the restaurant with me today, and I’ve never seen him so mean. Mom said it’s a side effect of the heart attack. All I know is he can’t go back to running the bar on his own.” He flattened his hands on her thighs, then tilted his head back on the couch. “Mom’s worried about losing him, and so am I. I think they both need a break.” He brought his head back up. “Will is your friend, so that tells me we can trust her.”
“You get that through me?” she asked, absently running circles on his stomach with one finger. Sending more heat down to lower regions.
“I trust you, and you trust her, so I trust her.” That sentence probably didn’t make sense, but brain function was deteriorating by the second. “Before I forget, do you care if I check my e-mail from here?”
“No, but I’d have to turn the computer on.” As if they weren’t having a mundane conversation, Sid leaned in and dropped a moist kiss at the base of his neck. “I’d rather turn something else
on.” Another kiss and her hands slid beneath his shirt.
“It’s okay,” he practically moaned. “My iPad is in my bag in the car.”
Sid stopped the kissing and sat up. “You have a bag in the car? Like an overnight bag?”
“Yeah.” Time to see if his presumptions were wrong. If her body language was any indication, he didn’t think so. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me over, so I didn’t bring it in.”
The rare occasions Sid hit him with a full-on smile had felt like getting punched in the gut. This one, which he would forever deem her sex-kitten look, felt like getting hit by a train. And he’d gladly jump in front of this locomotive any time.
“I definitely want you over.” Sid purred. “And under and any other way I can get you.”
Lucas rose to his feet, taking Sid with him. She yelped and threw her arms around his neck. “You’re going to get tired of carrying me around.”
“Never,” he answered, then stopped in the middle of the floor. The look on her face reflected the same shock spiking through his system. Where had that answer come from?
Tightening her grip, Sid ground against his stomach. “Didn’t you want to check your e-mail?” One hand slid into his hair as she trailed kisses along his jawline.
“E-mail can wait,” he growled, taking her mouth with all the passion he’d been holding in check. Without breaking contact, he moved them both to the bedroom, where, as he’d predicted, removing Sid’s funky pajamas was the most fun he’d had all day.
Hours later, as the clock turned over to midnight, Lucas got around to checking his e-mail. Of the dozen or so messages, one caught his eye first. Davis Holcomb, the partner who had suggested he take some time off, didn’t e-mail often. This had to be important.
Opening the message, Lucas found the words he least expected.
We need you for a case. When are you coming back?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Summers on Anchor could never be considered scorchers, but by mid-August the humidity had spiked, making eighty-five feel more like ninety-five. In the shade. After tossing two large garbage bags into the Dumpster behind Dempsey’s, Sid caught a drop of sweat headed for her chin and stretched out the muscles in her back.
