by Maddie James
Lucki turned to the voice. J.J. was grinning from ear to ear.
“You're heading down the wrong path, J.J.” Lucki glanced to the smiling child and then threw Sam a warning look.
“Sam had to dig a BB out of Lucki's butt on Mama's kitchen table.”
Missy Hawkin's penciled eyebrows rose. Sam's eyes narrowed. Reverend Halcomb was all ears.
“Spud shot her with his BB gun.”
“That's enough, J.J.” Sam's expression was stern.
“We watched him take it out. We peeked through the kitchen window.” He turned to Lucki. “It looked like Sam had to go in deep. He was poking in around back there for a long time.”
Sam groaned. Lucki gritted her teeth and spoke out of the corner of her mouth. “You're dead meat, kid.”
“Of course Sam being a doctor and everything, he had every right to feel around on your rear end while you were laying there over the table. Sam was only trying to get the darned thing out. I bet it hurt a little, didn't it, Lucki?”
She gritted her teeth tighter. “Not as much as you're gonna hurt when—”
“Of course, you did have on that skimpy bathing suit. It was kind of natural that when you bent over to pick up that sponge that me and Spud would think about shooting you. It was too tempting. Of course, it was Sam that gave us the idea.”
Lucki's gaze lifted to Sam. Now his eyes were big as Aunt Emma’s Sunday saucers and Missy's were narrowed to slits. Reverend Halcomb was still all ears.
“What do you mean Sam gave you the idea?” she bit out.
Reverend Halcomb stepped back two steps as Lucki strode toward Sam.
“Lucki, it was just a joke.”
“What did you say?”
“They misunderstood me.”
“What did he say, J.J.?” Her glare was still connected with Sam's. “J.J., so help me, if you ever want to bite into another fried chicken leg at Buddy's, you'll tell me this very instant what your brother said.”
There was a brief pause. Lucki watched Sam's Adam's apple move up and down, then J.J. spoke up. “He said you ought to be shot for wearing a bathing suit like the one you were wearing. He said it showed too much T and A, whatever that is. And he said if you didn't stop parading around all over your back yard dressed like that, he might not be responsible for his actions. That's when he went inside and said he was going to take a cold shower. He was all grumbling and everything when he said it, too.”
J.J. grinned from ear to ear.
Lucki's mouth dropped open.
Sam threw Lucki a sheepish grin.
The next instant Missy Hawkins slapped Sam square across the face, right there on the church steps, and told him before she stomped off, in front of the good Reverend Halcomb, God, and everybody, that she hoped his slimy carcass rotted in hell. She even suggested that his mother wasn't married when she'd given birth to him.
Sam simply rubbed his cheek and watched her walk away.
Lucki suppressed a bewildered grin.
Chapter Two
Sam wiped his mouth on a paper napkin and placed it in the center of his plate. Then he opened up the wet-wipe packet and washed the remainder of Buddy's fried chicken grease from his fingers. Buddy's Famous Fried Chicken might be greasy, but that's what made it so good. He'd hate to take a cholesterol reading at the moment. Sitting back, he heaved a pretty big sigh and looked across the table to Lucki while she finished the last of her strawberry cheesecake.
How the girl could eat so many sweets and stay so thin was beyond him. He guessed she burned it all off as she worked. Being the athletics director for the neighboring city of Peabody's parks department kept her hopping, he knew, but it was the perfect career choice for Lucki. She'd been the biggest tomboy around Freedom when they were growing up. And the only girl to ever climb to the top of Freedom's water tower. Sam smiled as he watched Lucki lick the last of the strawberry glaze from her fork, then glanced out the large pane window toward that same water tower. It was something he did quickly, not wanting to think about the shape of Lucki's tongue and how it had flicked out over the fork. He squirmed in his seat. Damn. This has got to stop.
He studied the water tower. If he looked close enough, he could still see a faint outline of where Lucki had spray-painted in neon pink the fact that Sandra Parker was a slut. He chuckled thinking about it. He was fourteen then, Lucki thirteen, and he was in love with fifteen-year-old Sandra Parker. Lucki had hated her.
“What are you chuckling about?”
Sam looked back at Lucki and smiled. “Nothing.” He didn't care to drag up the Sandra-slut incident. Lucki could still get fired up about her. If she knew what Sandra had taught him, she'd probably spontaneously combust. She'd always been too protective of him.
He watched Lucki slide her plate toward the center of the table and glance to her left where the boys were eating, two tables away. “Spud and J.J. are on their second helpings from the ice cream bar.”
Sam looked their way. “They'll burn it off this afternoon.” He watched J.J. spoon a glob of hot fudge into his mouth. “The kid has an iron stomach.”
“Just like you.”
“Used to, anyway.” Sam grinned and turned back to look at her. “But no different from you.”
“Hey!” Lucki countered, “I never ate jalapeno and butterscotch ice cream sundaes!”
Sam's stomach turned just thinking about it. “Oh, hell, Lucki. Why did you have to bring that up? I'll never forget how that tasted coming back up.”
“Didn’t your dog eat some of it, too?”
He nodded. “Sorry to say.”
“I felt more sorry for the dog than I did for you.”
Grimacing, he added, “Yeah, poor old Sooner had the runs for a week. If I recall, that was the last time we played Truth or Dare.”
Lucki nodded and glanced off again. He watched her eyes as they played over the crowded restaurant. There was something different about them, something about the color. Or was it?
“You know, J.J. is getting a little out of hand, Sam.”
Immediately, Sam bristled. Lucki had hummed that tune before. He didn't know why she thought J.J. was out of control. “He's fine, Lucki. He's a normal, twelve-year-old kid.”
She turned and faced him. “Sam, I've worked with a lot of kids. J.J. is screaming out for attention. You've got to put aside some time for him.”
“I care for him, Lucki. He's got everything he wants, a roof over his head, food to eat. What more does a boy require?”
“He needs his big brother. He doesn't have his parents.”
This was ridiculous. “He has me Lucki. But I've also got a medical practice to run. I've got to earn a living. I'm doing what I can.”
Lucki crossed her arms in front of her and leaned into the table. After studying him a minute, she continued. “Okay, why don't you and I and J.J., Spud too, if his mother says it's okay, ride out to the lake, rent a boat for the afternoon, and go fishing.”
Sam sat straight up in his chair. He knew what she was doing and he wouldn't be manipulated. Raising J.J. was his responsibility and he would do it as he saw fit. “I have medical records to go over this afternoon and some research I want to do for a patient. I can't, not this afternoon. Besides, I'm not too sure J.J. needs to go anywhere special today.”
Throwing back her shoulders, Lucki sat up and picked up her iced tea glass. Half way to her mouth she stopped, the glass frozen in mid-air. “Good. You and J.J. need to talk about what happened at church.”
“We already did. On the way here. I told him how inappropriate his comments were in front of the Reverend.”
“They were inappropriate anywhere.”
“Okay, fine.”
“So what is his punishment?”
“I didn't punish him.”
“What?”
“No.”
“What about the BB thing? Are you going to do anything about that.”
Sam felt his cheeks heat up. He wasn't about to open that can of worms. It wa
s hard enough watching her parade around her back yard yesterday in the damned strap of fabric she called a bathing suit, and then having to act in a professional manner when she'd come to him to remove the BB—not to mention when J.J. blurted the whole thing out not less than an hour earlier to half the congregation. But to have to sit here, across from her, when he knew that she sometime was going to ask him about that comment J.J. made about him taking a cold shower…it was almost more than he could stand. What was happening to him, anyway?
He swallowed. Hard. “I'm handling the BB thing.”
“How?”
“I'm going to talk to him.”
“Talk to him? Is that all? Don't you think you should maybe take the gun away from him or something?”
Her voice had pitched higher and she was leaning forward again.
Sam stood and motioned to J.J. Spud was already heading toward his mother. Then he turned back to Lucki. “I'm handling it, Lucki. Me. My problem. I'll handle it.”
She rose and her tall frame nearly matched his. Looking him square in the eyes, she waited a second or two longer before speaking. “Sam,” she began softly, “you better handle it because the problem will only get worse.”
Blue. Her eyes were definitely bluer. Colored contacts?
“You understand me, Sam? Are you listening to what I'm saying?”
Sam shook himself and, after a minute, nodded. “Okay, Lucki. I'm listening. I'll handle it.”
She threw a half-cocked smile his way then shook her head. Turning, she walked toward the restaurant's exit and he caught himself watching the sway of her hips as she left. Then it dawned on him: When had Lucki Stevenson, the tom-boy next door, grown hips?
The second question that entered his mind startled him more than the first. He was twenty-nine years old, Lucki was twenty-eight. She'd obviously grown hips long ago.
Why was he just now noticing? And why was their tantalizing sway rocking him to the core?
* * * *
“Hey, Lucki, have you checked on that pitching machine yet? Guy Powers said it was throwing a little cockeyed the other night.”
Lucki tossed a bag of baseball equipment on the floor next to her desk then turned to Rick Littleton, Peabody's parks director. “I haven't had a chance yet this morning,” she shouted out over the hum of the air conditioner. “I called the company we bought it from Friday afternoon, though. The rep there said he didn't think we needed a new wheel, just that it needed some minor adjustments. He told me what to do. I plan to go out to the ball field before noon and take a look at it.”
Rick scratched his balding head then replaced his Atlanta Braves ball cap. “Whatever you say. If you need any help, just holler.”
Lucki nodded at Rick's back as he retreated from the cubicle she called an office. It was nothing more than an old supply closet with a desk. On the walls hung various sports equipment and tacked-up reminders and notices of upcoming athletic events. Sign-up posters for fall soccer were already pinned to her bulletin board on the inside of her door.
“Pinky?” Lucki called out the office secretary's name, whose desk sat around the corner from her cubicle. They all shared Pinky: she, Rick, and Matt Farmer. Matt was in charge of the city swimming pools, picnic grounds, and the playground equipment at the three city parks. Lucki was in charge of all athletics in season: soccer, baseball and fast-pitch softball, basketball, football, wrestling, and even cheerleading, which she detested. If she ever had a daughter who picked up a pom pom, she'd disown her. Rick, of course, oversaw everything. Pinky kept the office running. She was an absolute necessity to their sanity.
Besides the various umpires, referees, lifeguards, grounds maintenance, and sundry others employed by the parks department, the only other semi-full time employee was Hazel Green. She ran the afterschool/summer care program. During the summer months, Lucki took the older kids off her hands and involved them in athletic activities.
“Pinky?”
“What?”
“Have you got a second?”
Lucki waited. She sat behind her desk and rummaged through some paperwork. Where was that damned accident report from the other night? She had to call the insurance company.
“Pinky?”
“I said, what!” This time the voice was in her doorway.
Lucki glanced up at the neon rose-colored tank top that adorned Pinky's ample chest. Her gaze slid down to the apple green pants stretched over Pinky's skinny legs. She looked like a lollipop. “Nice outfit.”
“Like it? I decided over the weekend to spice up my image.”
Lucki rose, trying not to wrinkle her nose. “That ought to do it. Have you done something different with your hair? Oh, and the ladybug earrings really add to the effect.”
Pinky's hand went to her poofed, highlighted ponytail. “Really?”
“Well, sort of. Pinky, why are you doing this?”
Pinky's face fell. Lucki rounded her desk.
“You don't like it.”
“I like it just fine, Pinky, it's just that I thought your other image was okay.”
She frowned. “My other image was boring. Plain. Not exciting.”
Lucki eyed her friend. Pinky was an attractive woman, not yet twenty-five, good figure, great hooters as she'd heard the maintenance men attest on more than one occasion. It just didn't seem that she could keep a man interested for long. “Who says you're not exciting?”
“Me. I do.” She sidled one hip onto the corner of Lucki's desk. “If I was exciting, I'd have a date for the annual picnic by now.”
Ah-ha! The plot thickens. “Oh, pooh, Pinky. You and I can go together. You don't need a date.”
Pinky grimaced. “No offense, Lucki, but I really don't want to run the two-man, cheek-to-cheek egg race with you.”
Lucki blew out a breath and leaned back on the desk. The picnic. She'd all but forgotten about it. Oh, hell.
“Well, can't say as I blame you. I'm really not sure I can make it anyway.”
Rising, she turned back to her desk, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction. “You don't happen to know where that insurance paper on the Hardin kid is, do you? I thought I filled it out last Friday and put it on my desk. I've got to call the insurance company this morning.”
“Oh, they already called. I found the paper and faxed it to them. Everything seems all right. By the way, it was just a broken arm.”
Good. Lucki breathed a sigh of relief. That night at the field they were afraid he'd broken a shoulder.
“Well, that's a relief.”
“About the picnic, Lucki—”
“What about the picnic?”
Lucki turned at the familiar male voice as Matt Farmer entered her cubicle. It suddenly seemed as though all the air was sucked out of the room.
“Lucki's not going to the picnic,” Pinky offered.
“She has to.” Matt turned a smile her way.
“I didn't say I wasn't going, Pinky.” Did I? “I just said you could go with me.”
“No, you didn't. You said you weren't going.”
“She's going, Pinky. She's an employee. An administrator. She has to be there.” Matt stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder. “Right, Lucki?”
Sometimes Matt Farmer made her want to throw up. He could be a pretty nice guy but most of the time he stood too close. He was a smiler. All teeth and hair. He was a winker and she hated winkers. A touchyfeeling kind of guy. Touchy-feely guys made her uncomfortable. He smelled too much of Stetson aftershave. Way too much. And she enormously disliked the fact that he was. .well, that he was always coming on to her, in a nice sort of way.
Too nice. So nice, in fact, that it was damned difficult to tell him to go to hell. To tell him to give her some space. To tell him that he was definitely barking up the wrong tree. He wasn't her type. Period.
She just didn't have the heart to tell him straight off that he was a great guy to work with, but on a personal level, he made her queasy and half-sick to her stomach.
<
br /> “I'll be there, Matt.”
“Good!” He put his arm around her shoulder. Lucki stifled a shiver. “You know,” he bent to whisper in her ear, “I'd bet we'd make a good team in that cheek-to-cheek egg race. Or possibly the chest-to-chest balloon pass. Or even the three-legged relay. What do you think?”
Lucki cleared her throat and stepped back. Matt's arm fell to her waist. Lucki nervously glanced at Pinky who was grimacing for her. She knew how Lucki felt about Matt. Pinky felt the same way. “Well, actually, Matt.. ” she managed to look him square in the eyes, “actually, I. .I already have a partner. A date. My. .my boyfriend.”
Matt stepped back and pulled his arm away. “Oh! Well, I understand, Lucki. I just assumed that you were still unattached.”
Lucki glanced from Matt to Pinky then swallowed the dry lump in her throat. Unattached. That's exactly what she was. And would stay. Except for the weekend of the Fourth of July Peabody Parks Department Annual Employee Picnic.
“Uh, no, Matt. Actually, I'm not.”
Lucki didn't know why she felt like a heel. Obviously lying had accomplished the one thing she'd been putting off for quite some time now—putting Matt at a distance. There was just one problem. Now she really had to go to the picnic. And she really had to show up there with a date.
* * * *
Later that afternoon Lucki swerved her truck into a parking space in front of Sam's office. She glanced left to his shiny new, red Corvette. The doctor's life must not be too shabby, she thought as she slammed the door to her four-year-old, mid-sized, Chevy pick-up. Sam's practice obviously was taking off. Actually, Sam's return to Freedom to open up a general medical practice was a godsend. There wasn't another doctor within a thirty mile radius, unless you went into Peabody. Most folks in the surrounding area were glad to throw their business Sam's way. And she knew it was all Sam could do to keep his head above water. He was even thinking of recruiting another doctor to join him, and it probably wouldn't be a bad idea. It would definitely give him more time with J.J.
First chance she got, she was going to mention it to him. Again.
Pushing open the clinic door, Lucki entered and glanced about the waiting room. Muffled coughs, an occasional moan, and an antiseptic smell greeted her. As usual, there was a full house and she'd forgotten to make an appointment. She approached the window where one of her former classmates sat; the woman who was Sam's receptionist, and who knew everyone and everything that happened in Freedom. To say Kathleen Conner was the town gossip, was an understatement. But she was efficient as hell, Sam had told Lucki. And at least, she was discriminate when it came to his patients. Her lips were sealed there. So, Lucki felt fairly certain the news of her recent.. injury. .wouldn’t be broadcast all over Freedom. Unless, of course, J.J. and Spud hadn’t already see to that.
