“You gonna dance like a robot all night, or just with me?” He cocked his head and peered into her face, where doubt disappeared and desire took over as her gaze softened. Brogan liked that look as he slightly bent his knees, pulling her closer. “I won’t bite unless you want me to,” he whispered next to her ear.
“Good to know.” She heaved a shaky sigh. “Well, I guess you’re better than Clancy Perry over there, looking like he wants to cut in.” Looping her left arm around his neck, she rocked her hips to the beat. Brogan swallowed a groan. Right now nothing else mattered. All he cared about was luscious Lucy filling his arms.
“Let’s look like we mean it so Clancy or his brother, Clinton, won’t get any ideas.” He bent as if to kiss her.
“You don’t mind if I start singing, do you?” she said, smiling as she moved away from his lips.
Brogan’s head jerked back. “Oh, hell no. My ears haven’t recovered from this morning.”
“I know all the words.” Tossing him a saucy look, she started to hum…loudly.
“Shut up and dance.” Brogan tucked her back under his chin and shook with laughter.
Chapter 13
Lucy had lots of dreams. Mostly her dreams starred Brogan, always smiling at her with adoration, running the gauntlet of long-legged models and even a teary-eyed Julia without so much as a glance…his entire focus on reaching Lucy at the end of the line. But in all these dreams, they never kissed. Inevitably, they’d get nose to nose…just about to kiss when—poof!—she’d wake up. When that happened, Lucy would bury her head in her pillow and squeeze her eyes shut, willing herself back to sleep to pick up where the glorious dream had left off, but alas, she never got there.
On the dance floor, wrapped in Brogan’s arms, Lucy’s dreams paled in comparison. She lost her own battle on not melting and nestled against his hard, wonderful chest. Clean soap and sexy Brogan swamped her senses. His yumminess ranked up there with her daily intake of Hershey’s milk chocolate nuggets…and that was really saying something.
Comforted by the rapid beat of his thumping heart against her ear, she sighed. The song had changed to a slow country ballad, which matched her dreamy state. When Clancy Perry tapped Brogan’s shoulder, Lucy couldn’t help but feel a big-ass cranky irritation. Couldn’t he see he was disrupting fantasyland?
“Hey, Brogan. You don’t mind if I cut in, do ya?” Clancy asked as Brogan stopped swaying but continued to hold Lucy close. Whatever you do, don’t give me up to Clancy.
“Actually, I do. This is the first chance I’ve had to dance with Lucy all night. We’re kinda on a date…” Yay! You tell him. Brogan gave Clancy the don’t-bother-me-I’m-trying-to-score look. But Clancy and his older brother, Clinton, weren’t the sharpest pencils in the holder, and Clancy pushed up the brim of his ratty straw cowboy hat and stood his ground.
“Yeah, but you’ve been dancing with her for the last two songs and now it’s my turn.”
“Uh, we’re not taking turns here, Clancy. Lucy is my date.” Brogan’s annoyance rang loud and clear. He gave Lucy a firm but gentle shove against his side as if to protect her. You go, Bro-man.
“You’re not on a date. She came in with Wanda and Fiona. I saw her drive up.” Clancy splayed his hands against the worn Levi’s on his hips.
Clancy had Brogan on a technicality, but Lucy had no intention of siding with either Perry brother…ever. She nodded. “That’s true, Clancy, but Brogan’s a little rusty on the whole dating thing. He’s been living up North and has forgotten how Southern gentlemen behave. Wanda and I are giving him lessons.” Clancy blinked and scratched his head beneath his straw hat.
“Yeah. I need all the help I can get.” Brogan wrapped his arm back around her waist, just where Lucy liked it, and blocked Clancy with his broad back as he danced her back a few steps. However, everyone in Harmony knew that Clancy and Clinton were short on brains but long on stubborn. Clancy tapped Brogan’s shoulder so hard that Lucy felt the reverberation through his thick chest.
“Sorry, Clancy. Not. Going. To. Happen,” Brogan said in a low voice.
Clancy snorted. “You think youse some kind of celebrity, with your fancy car and that sissy-ass store, selling high-priced sawdust!”
“He’s got you there,” Lucy mumbled to Brogan as she gripped his starched, white, delicious-smelling, cotton button-down and tugged. “Don’t—”
A sea of Calvin Klein’s Obsession and a blur of orange whooshed past Lucy. “Clancy, you devil. I’ve been waiting all night for you to ask me to dance.” Wanda wedged herself between Brogan and Clancy, taking Clancy by surprise as she wriggled against him.
From the left corner of the bar, Dottie Duncan stomped toward Brogan. She wore a pink denim dress with long fringe running down the sides and a determined look on her heavily made-up face. “Come on, Yankee boy. It’s about time you asked me to dance, and then you can buy me a drink.” Dottie wrapped her sparkly, jeweled left hand around Brogan’s neck and nudged his foot with her powder-blue cowboy clog. Brogan looked as if he wanted to argue as his frustrated gaze landed on Lucy over Dottie’s bleached-blond beehive hairdo. And just when Lucy thought he’d refuse to take Dottie up on her offer, Javier laced his hand with Lucy’s and drew her deeper onto the dance floor.
“One of us had to dance with you…and I lost.” Javier laughed at Brogan’s scowl as he twirled Lucy around the floor.
* * *
Brogan tried to focus on Dottie Duncan and her red lips as she talked about the crispy skin on the Rolling Pin’s fried chicken and how she wondered if they soaked the chicken in buttermilk, but he could give her only half his attention. The other half stayed riveted on Javier, his best friend and business partner. The one person he trusted more than anyone in the entire world. But at this moment, he trusted him like he trusted used-car salesmen, and he wanted to tear him limb from limb because he was dancing with Lucy…a little too close. No, make that a lot too close.
“…you thinking about selling fried chicken at BetterBites?”
Brogan glanced at Dottie’s narrowed, piercing blue eyes. “Excuse me…I’m sorry—”
“You can say that again. You’re about as sorry as they come. You haven’t heard one word because you keep mooning over that Doolan gal. When you going to start thinking with the right head?”
“What? I’m not doing anything—”
“That’s right, you’re not. Ever since you came back to town five months ago, you’ve done nothing but mope, acting like a turd on a log, as if the weight of the world rested on your shoulders.” She gave his world-weary shoulder a pinch, causing him to flinch. “You listen here, city slicker. I knew your mama. She was one of my best friends, and I miss her like there’s no tomorrow.”
That made two of them. His throat dried up, and he tried to arrange his face into a neutral expression.
“But she would’ve been mighty disappointed in watching her only son screw up his life by not getting past the hurt or anger or whatever you got all bottled up inside you. She taught you to grab life by the balls and make the most of it.”
“What do you think I’m doing? I happen to know my mother was very proud of my success. She encouraged me to pursue my dreams. I’m not unhappy.”
“Horseshit. You don’t know what happiness is. But I’ll give you a hint…it’s not another gourmet food store. And it’s not worrying yourself sick over a failed marriage that should’ve never happened in the first place. And it’s certainly not living life half-assed because you can’t forgive that deadbeat dad of yours.” Brogan had stopped dancing and was staring at Dottie. “Buy me a drink.” Dottie turned and marched toward the bar, making the fringe on her dress swing from the boom of her hips.
He followed, wondering how the conversation had skipped the tracks, gone over the cliff, and plunged into the deep sea. What the hell did Dottie know about his happiness? She didn’t know anything about his l
ife…or did she?
“Two longneck beers,” Dottie ordered from the bartender. “You planning on staying in Harmony and raising a family?”
Raising a family? Living in Harmony? She was talking crazier than a rabid coyote. “Er, Miz Duncan, I really—”
“You can call me Marilyn Monroe, Madonna, or your mama, but don’t call me Miz Duncan. Told you…reminds me of my mother-in-law, that nosy, opinionated old battle-ax.”
“Right. Sorry about that. Dottie, I’m not sure how this all came about, but I’m only here temporarily, until BetterBites is running smoothly.”
Dottie half tsked, half snorted, before tipping the beer to her lips. “You’re denser than a box of pet rocks. I guess that fancy school didn’t teach you anything after all.”
The attitude slapping him in the face was starting to piss Brogan off. He didn’t recall ever doing anything to Dottie in the past that would make her mad. He’d always been polite and used his best manners whenever she’d come by the house to visit his mom.
He rolled his stiff neck. “What lesson exactly did I miss at my fancy school?” Not bothering to control the irritation coloring his tone.
“The one on what’s really important in life.”
“You’re right. I don’t remember that one being offered in the course catalog.”
“Don’t get flip with me. I swatted your three-year-old butt with a switch when you fed my cat Lester bananas and he left a trail of vomit from the kitchen to my bedroom door. And I’ll swat your butt again.” She shifted on the cracked red-vinyl barstool, tapping her long, painted nails on the wood bar. Brogan had forgotten all about the cat incident. He guessed he’d pissed her off after all. “You’ve been given a second chance to make things right. But you’re so busy focusing on what’s not important that you’re gonna blow it.”
He pinned Dottie with a sharp look. “What?” Frustration boiled inside him until he thought he’d crack the beer bottle with his bare hand. “Spit it out. What wrong am I supposed to right? My mom died peacefully. I should know. I was by her side. She never intimated that—”
“I’m not talking about your mama.” Dottie’s statement made him pause. “I’m talking about your love life.”
Sheee-it. Here we go again. Brogan took a pull of his icy beer, hoping to cool his hot head. “Miz…er, Dottie, my relationship with Julia is ancient history. We broke up, and I’ve moved on, and Julia has too. There’s nothing—”
“I know that. And if you’d get your head out of your ass, you’d know it too.”
“Jesus H. Christ. What the hell are you going on about?” he practically bellowed.
Dottie didn’t flinch at his outburst. Savoring a taste of beer and grabbing a fistful of nuts, she finally said, “Not Julia, you numbnuts.” She swiveled the barstool until she faced the dance floor. “Her sister…Lucy.”
* * *
Back at the table, Lucy glanced over her shoulder and saw Brogan scowling at Dottie Duncan. Happy would not be the word she’d use to describe him at the moment. Lucy checked her cell. Still no text from Parker. She’d been texting him the last half hour to make sure he’d gone to bed on time. He probably had his phone off or something. The “or something” had Lucy worried.
“Wanda, we need to go. I have to check on Parker.”
“It’s not even eleven yet,” Wanda said, reaching for her drink.
Lucy snuck another peek over her shoulder at Brogan still talking with Dottie at the bar and still not looking happy.
“Um, yeah, I know, but he’s not answering my texts or calls. And quite frankly, I don’t trust him. Not after last night.”
“Give the kid a break. What can he possibly do? He lives in Harmony…with Julia. Don’t you think he has suffered enough?”
“Parker’s my responsibility now, and I don’t want anything happening on my watch. Javier, would you mind giving Wanda a lift home?”
“Not at all,” Javier said, his eyes lighting up.
“I want to dance some more.” Wanda pressed her hot, glistening flesh into Javier’s arm and gazed adoringly into his dark eyes. “Maybe you can teach me to salsa.”
“I think I’m going to vomit…inside my mouth,” Lucy said.
“I’d appreciate more gratitude coming from you, missy. If I hadn’t distracted Clancy with my spectacular cleavage”—she hefted the spectacular cleavage in question with her hands—“your lover boy and the Perry brothers would be knocking heads and busting up the Rolling Pin right about now.”
“Lover boy? That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all night. Brogan is not my lover boy!” Just as Lucy yelled that statement, the band stopped playing, and the Rolling Pin had a brief moment of complete quiet. And Brogan Reese stood right behind her. Gah! Lucy ducked her head as heat flamed her cheeks.
Brogan dropped into his chair and threw his arm over Lucy’s shoulder. “Wanda, I owe you a debt of gratitude.” He spoke as if he hadn’t heard Lucy’s embarrassing declaration. “For distracting Clancy.”
Wanda tossed her hair and said, “Finally, someone who appreciates me.”
Javier scooted forward. “I appreciate you, mi cielo…mi amor,” he murmured.
Brogan gathered Lucy close with his arm on her shoulder and chuckled next to her ear. “Are they for real?”
“I don’t know.” Lucy pushed her chair back. “But I’ve got to go and check on Parker before Wanda turns into a bad Spanish soap opera right before my eyes.”
Wanda jumped up and stepped over a sleeping Fiona. “Luce, you forgot about Fiona. I’ll drive Julia’s minivan home with her. Brogan, you can drive Lucy home. Come on, Javier,” she ordered. “Teach me the salsa.” Wanda left Lucy no choice as she plastered herself to the front of Javier.
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Brogan asked, confused, watching Wanda and Javier ooze around the dance floor.
“Well…” Lucy tapped her fingers across her lips. “I think they’re planning to salsa all night…or something.”
“Let’s go. I’ll take you home,” Brogan said.
“No, really. I can wait… Maybe not.” Lucy spied a battered straw hat heading her way. Clancy Perry was trolling the dance floor again. Scrambling for her yellow cross-body bag, she said, “Let’s pay fast before Clancy works his way over here.”
“Leave your keys on the table.” Brogan fished for his wallet and threw a bunch of bills down. Standing, he helped Lucy with her chair.
Her heart stammered in her chest. There was nothing sexier than a man with good manners. Lucy slipped the strap to her handbag across her chest, and Brogan pressed his palm to the small of her back as he led her away from the table. Again, her heart somersaulted over his simple touch, warming her insides like homemade chocolate sauce.
Outside next to his Jag, she said, “Hope you’re not upset Wanda’s hooking up with Javier.” Brogan opened her door, and she slid into the buttery, leather bucket seat.
“Javier can take care of himself. They’re just blowing off steam and having fun. Wanda isn’t gonna do anything foolish to lose Russell.” She relaxed for a moment as he rounded the hood of the car. Checking the blank screen on her cell again, she hoped it meant Parker was sound asleep, dreaming about football and video games. Not cruising Main and picking up chicks.
Brogan started the car. “Before we head back, I need to ask you a question.”
He sounded serious. Maybe it had something to do with his heated conversation with Dottie Duncan. Or maybe he wanted Lucy’s help to get back together with Julia. Please be option number one. “Um, sure.” She shifted in her seat, tucking her skirt under her leg.
Brogan flashed a naughty grin. “What’s this about us being lovers?”
Chapter 14
The look of shock on Lucy’s face, and the way she recoiled from his question, gave Brogan great enjoyment.
“
Oooo! So you heard me?”
“The whole restaurant heard you,” he said in a calm voice, fiddling with the AC vents.
“Well, you heard incorrectly. I didn’t say anything about us being l-lovers.” The interior of the car shook as Lucy wiggled around, trying to get comfortable. “I said we were not…you know…that.” The vague gesture of her hand matched the vagueness of her comment.
Brogan’s lips twitched, trying to hide his smile. “Would that be so bad…if we were? You make it sound like the possibility is worse than contracting the Ebola virus.”
“So, you heard correctly.” Her tone was accusing. “Hopefully, everyone at the Rolling Pin realized the same thing. The very idea is not only preposterous, but downright icky.”
Okay, now he was pissed. He’d been teasing Lucy because she was fun to tease, and well, he liked her…a lot. But the fact that she thought sex with him was icky was bullshit.
“Are you implying that sex in general is icky or only sex with me is icky?” The outside lights from the Rolling Pin slashed across Lucy’s face, and she appeared startled by the question.
“Uh…er, I’m not saying with you”—she used air quotes around you—“meaning you. You know, like you.”
He scowled. “I get the picture.”
“What I mean is. Hmm, how do I put this?” She rolled her fingers over her plump lower lip.
“I’ve got all night.” He crossed his arms over his chest and relaxed against his seat.
“I mean, sex with you would be icky because of Julia.”
He quirked a brow. What did Julia have to do with this?
Not So New in Town Page 11
