Not So New in Town

by Michele Summers

  Sounded swanky. Lucy’s mind scrambled, cataloging the clothes in her closet. No appropriate outfit came to mind. “Oh. Nice.”

  “That’s right. A nice date, like I promised. I want a good meal, and I want to drink champagne…preferably from your belly button.”

  The belly in question quivered from his suggestion, and she laughed to cover her nervousness. “Sounds scandalous. Remember, I’m not easy.”

  “I’ve taken the cold showers to remind me.”

  “Not sure I have anything to wear.” She smiled, whipping the hot baseball hat off her head.

  “A dress would be nice. Panties are optional.”

  “Thought your idea of a date was getting me out of my panties.”

  “Hoping you’d save me the trouble.”

  She snorted. “Don’t count on it.”

  “A man can dream,” he said around a chuckle. “See you at five. Need to go burn my clothes that smell like grandma’s talcum powder. FYI, if you wear fake eyelashes or fill in wrinkles with spackle cream, please, don’t tell me. Some things should remain a mystery.”

  “Got it. How do you feel about the smell of Clorox?”

  “For bleaching, it’s the best. For perfume…not so much. Why?”

  “It’s a good dinner story. Gotta go, so I can locate my granny girdle from Walmart.” Lucy burst out laughing as Brogan dropped the f-bomb before ending the call.

  A silly smile played around her lips as she opened the back door and walked into the kitchen, trying not to panic and do cartwheels at the same time. She still had a date. With candlelight, linen napkins, waiters in tuxes, maybe even bananas Foster flambéed at their table.

  “What’s for lunch?” Poof! Her daydream was killed instantly by Parker’s incessant question regarding food. Lucy started pulling out containers of organic salads and turkey wraps, courtesy of BetterBites.

  * * *

  “Stop fidgeting.” Wanda tugged on the straps of the plunging V-neck dress she’d wrestled Lucy into. Lucy had rushed over to Wanda’s for a wardrobe makeover. Not that she was making a huge deal about this date, but okay, yeah, she was making a huge deal. She wanted to be that girl…for once. The one that turned guys’ heads and made them stumble or lose track of their thoughts. She wanted to be someone Brogan would date.

  “This looks perfect,” Wanda said, stepping back, head tilted to admire her handiwork. “Take a look.” She moved away from the full-length mirror in her bedroom.

  Lucy’s eyes bugged out. She tugged on the hem that barely covered her thighs and slapped her hand to her breasts, threatening to spill from the purple-and-white animal-print dress painted on her body. She looked like a hooker ready for Hollywood Boulevard, not a pretty girl ready for a nice steak restaurant in conservative Raleigh.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Lucy tried yanking up the neckline. “I’m going on a dinner date…not staking a corner with my pimp. I’m wearing the black-and-silver number over there.” Lucy pointed to the dress she’d tried on earlier.

  Wanda sniffed. “I thought you were trying to reel in a hot lover, not respectability at the Conways’ Bible study,” Wanda said, peeling the skintight dress over Lucy’s head. “Stop wiggling,” she groused.

  “The black-and-silver dress is plenty sexy. I’m not trying to start a riot.” Or get hauled in for indecent exposure. Wanda’s idea of sexy, when it came to appropriate date outfits, could make a stripper blush. Lucy stepped into the more sophisticated black-and-silver dress with a muted swirled pattern, and Wanda zipped up the back. Slipping into her new Michael Kors sandals, Lucy smiled at her image in the mirror. “This is very pretty and dinner appropriate.”

  “Yes. You look very pretty… But I thought you wanted a Bro-mance.” Wanda hung the discarded dresses back in her closet. “Your fear of intimacy will dry up your ovaries. You know, I read online that sex on a regular basis can extend your life.”

  Lucy laughed. “That’s rich. Then you should outlive Styrofoam.”

  Wanda suddenly scooped up her cell phone to read a text. “Hmph. Not on your life, Buck-o,” she grumbled as she tapped an answer.

  Lucy knew that look. Wanda was probably torturing poor Russell Upton. “What?”

  Wanda tossed her phone on the purple velvet chaise. “Nothing. Russell is begging again. Speaking of pigs, I need to feed Fiona, and then I’ll help you with your makeup.”

  Lucy started combing the hot iron through her hair to flatten the frizzies when the doorbell rang.

  “Luce, will you get that?” Wanda called from the back of the house.

  “Sure.” Unplugging the flatiron, she headed for the front door, passing through Wanda’s colorful TV room along the way. She pulled the door open to Russell standing on the front porch, wearing worn jeans, blue chambray shirt, work boots, and a sexy smile. He carried a large grocery bag from the Piggly Wiggly in one hand and a bouquet of colorful tiger lilies in the other.

  Russell blinked. “Oh. Thought you were Wanda.” He lowered his chin and shuffled his feet to hide his discomfort. “Is she here?” His gaze searched past the entry into the sitting room as he stepped over the threshold.

  “She’s around back, feeding Fiona.” Lucy indicated with her hand.

  “Come on, Lucy. We need to finish your makeup.” Wanda stopped and crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  Russell’s cheeks pinkened under his tanned complexion. “I came to see you, honey-bunny. And I brought fresh scraps for Fiona.”

  “I thought I told you to go drown yourself in a septic tank.” Wanda’s lips formed a thin line of displeasure. When she didn’t move to take the offerings from his hands, Lucy grabbed them instead and started back-pedaling from the tension-filled foyer.

  “Stop,” Wanda commanded. “Give me those.” She snatched the flowers and bag from Lucy’s grasp.

  “Tiger lilies…your favorite,” Russell said, pointing to the flowers Wanda had shoved under her nose. “Do you think somewhere in your generous heart you can forgive me? I swear, honey-bunny, no one means more to me than you,” Russell pleaded.

  Ruh-roe. Lucy had no idea what Russell had done this time to ask for forgiveness, and she didn’t want to know, but her heart tripped at the pleading in his tone and the sincerity written on his face.

  “June-Belle Evans? Really, Russell?”

  “That was only once, Wanda. And I wouldn’t have gone near June-Belle if I hadn’t seen you riding high in that fancy exterminator’s truck, looking pleased as pickled turnips. And I saw pictures of you with that new Latin guy.” Russell’s stance became more aggressive as he splayed his large, work-worn hands on his hips.

  “Javier, my new Latin lover,” Wanda said with exaggerated flourish, as if she were the latest Hollywood diva.

  “Javier is just a friend,” Lucy said to an outraged Russell.

  “Wanda, you and me are gonna have it out. Right here. Right now,” Russell gritted out through clenched teeth. “I’m tired of this game, and I want my woman back!” he roared.

  Surprise and anger flashed across Wanda’s face before a look of satisfaction settled there.

  Wanda dumped the flowers and grocery bag on the small red-painted table next to the sitting room. “He’s just gonna try and sweet-talk his way into my boudoir without apologizing or even—”

  “Horse manure! I’ve apologized every way imaginable, and even invented a few new ones. And today, I’m gonna confess everything and bare my soul. You can either stomp on it with your fancy gold stilettos or gather it close to your bodacious bosom and never let it go. Your choice.”

  Russell grabbed Wanda’s wrist and hauled her into the sitting room, pushing her down on the red-and-yellow-floral sofa.

  Wanda, who tried to hide a silly, pleased smile, shot Lucy a wink.

  “Oh. Look at the time,” Lucy said, checking her watch. “Gotta go
. Good seeing you, Russell. Wanda, I’ll text you later.” She pivoted on her new sandals and practically ran from the room.

  * * *

  Lucy paced the length of her bedroom. Brogan had said to be ready by five, and it was already ten after. She glanced in the mirror and slicked the rosy gloss on her lips. She adjusted the silver chain around her neck, squeezing the silver heart charm in her palm to keep her fingers from twirling her hair.

  “Breathe, Luce. It’s just a date. Nothing to get worked up over.” She scooped up her silver clutch and headed downstairs.

  In the kitchen, Lucy filled a glass with Julia’s special water and grabbed a prepared salad from the fridge for her dinner. She’d arranged everything on a tray and walked down the hall to Julia’s room when the bedroom door flew open and out stepped Brogan.

  “Whoa.” He steadied the tray that wobbled in her hands. “Here, let me.” He turned with the tray and disappeared into Julia’s room.

  Lucy stood paralyzed. What the hoot? How long had he been here, and why was he in Julia’s room? Brogan scooted back out, closing the door quietly. “Shhh, she wants to rest. I left the tray on her nightstand,” he whispered. He picked up Lucy’s cold hand, holding it out to the side as his gaze traveled her body and warmed with approval. “Wow. You look amazing.” His head lowered as if to kiss her when Lucy snapped out of her stupor.

  “Back up there, Bro,” she whispered furiously, yanking her hand away. “What the…where…how long…” Furious, her mind wouldn’t allow her mouth to speak coherently.

  “Let’s go. I’ll explain in the car. We don’t want to be late for the scrimmage,” he said, ushering her down the hall and out of the house.

  Fuming, Lucy crossed her arms in the car, hating that Brogan had been in Julia’s room. Wild scenarios ran rampant through her mind, all of them ending with Brogan cradling Julia in his arms while they cooed their undying love for each other. Bleh. The beef burrito from Taco Bell she’d eaten for lunch sat like a rock in her stomach.

  “You going to talk to me or sit there and pout?” he had the nerve to ask as he drove down her street toward the high school. She shot him one of Julia’s bitchy glare-downs (a weak imitation at best).

  “Aw, come on, Little Lucy.” He unknotted her arms and threaded his fingers through her hand. “Now I can see you better, and I have to say…you’re a knockout.” And with that, her heart skipped several beats, and her hand tingled in his.

  “You clean up nice too.” She admired his pressed lavender-and-white pin-stripe dress shirt tucked into creased navy slacks with tan leather belt. He squeezed her hand, distracting her with his crooked smile. “Why were you in Julia’s room just now?” She wanted to sound like the best bodyguard and sister nurse possible, because Julia’s welfare was her utmost concern. (Hey, which it was!) But she also couldn’t disguise the leaky jealous tone.

  He shrugged, pushing his aviator sunglasses up his nose. “I brought some flowers to cheer her up, and we discussed the listing on my house.” More flowers…sheesh. Sounded innocent. So why did Lucy feel like a chump?

  “What about us? Did you tell her about our…er, date?”

  Brogan kept his eyes glued to the road. “Um, no. Didn’t want to upset her.”

  Of course not. Neither had Lucy. But substitute girlfriend still had an unpleasant ring. “Julia knows we’re watching Parker’s scrimmage, and I told her we were working afterward,” he said. Working. So, that’s what we’re calling it these days. Hmmm.

  “You ready for some football?” He turned into the high school parking lot.

  “Sure.” And dinner, along with a side of Brogan. Think of anything else, like Fiona wearing her stupid purple tutu.

  “We are going out to dinner, aren’t we?” Lucy gave the beach towel and small cooler inside Brogan’s open trunk a dubious look.

  “Absolutely. This is only to tide us over.” Holding the cooler, he tucked the towel under his arm and placed his hand on the small of her back. He led her across the parking lot and around the track to the metal bleachers. Brogan held her steady as she climbed halfway up in her new favorite heels. Lucy sat on the towel he’d spread and glanced around at the other parents. Some watched the warm-up, but most of them watched the famous couple with avid curiosity.

  “Hey, Lucy and Brogan!”

  “Saw your pictures, dancing at Rock ’n’ Bowl.”

  “You two set a date?”

  Lucy’s cheeks caught fire, and her mouth dried up.

  Brogan waved. “No wedding yet. Let’s see how our first date goes.” He settled next to Lucy, ducking his head.

  “Don’t you break her heart, Brogan Reese.”

  Lucy groaned and dug her elbow into Brogan’s side as he shook with laughter. “Stop it. You’re only making it worse,” she hissed under her breath.

  “Maybe if we don’t make any more eye contact, they’ll forget we’re here.” Brogan opened the cooler and handed her a clear container with cheese, crackers, cut-up fresh fruit, and stuffed olives. He twisted the top off two light raspberry beers. “Cheers. To first dates.” His green eyes twinkled as he tapped the neck of her beer.

  “Mmm, that’s good.” A hint of raspberry fizzled on her tongue. “Should we be drinking alcohol on school property?” Lucy whispered from the corner of her mouth, glancing to see if any wacky Harmony residents noticed.

  “Probably not. But we’re toasting our first date…they’ll cut us some slack. Unless you get falling-down drunk.” His grin was wicked. “Not that I’d mind, but Miss Sue’s probably lurking, documenting—”

  “Takes more than one flavored beer to get me drunk.”

  “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “What do you mean?” She popped a green grape in her mouth.

  “Getting to know you. I have a list of questions.” He patted the pocket over his left breast.

  Lucy’s brow furrowed. “Is this like speed dating…you ask ten questions, and then we jump in the sack together?”

  “Of course not. Unless you like that idea, and then I’m all for it. Especially the part about jumping in the sack,” he whispered close to her ear, frying the remainder of her brain cells.

  A loud cheer broke out on the field, catching their attention. “Look, there’s Parker.” Lucy waved. “Hey, Parks. Have fun!” Parker held his helmet against his hip and seemed surprised to see her. He stood rooted in his tracks until one of his teammates shoved him toward the bench.

  Brogan stood and clapped. “Let’s go, boys! Hustle!” Players rushed on the field and started to line up. Parker stood with his foot on the bench and his helmet on his knee when a coach motioned him forward. Scrambling, he shoved his helmet on his head, stopped to listen to his coach, and then trotted out to the field.

  “All right. Good job.” Brogan clapped. Lucy sipped her beer and nibbled on cheese as Brogan stood with his arms crossed. He mumbled as if coaching Parker in his head. Glancing down, he asked, “You doing okay?”

  “I’m great.” She stood and patted him on the back. “Know what would be awesome?”

  “Hmm? That’s it! Drop back in the pocket!” he yelled at the field, clapping loudly. “Did you see Parker’s pass?” Pride filled his voice, but his eyes never wavered from the game. The connection between Parker and Brogan, from bleachers to field, was almost tangible. Lucy’s heart skipped in a happy way. This was exactly what Parker needed. A man helping and cheering him on.

  “See those guys down there?” She pointed to a group of young dads hanging outside the low chain-link fence, fixated on the game. “Why don’t you join them? I’ll be fine,” she said to his startled face.

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. “Go. You can coach better from down there.” She’d barely finished speaking when a feather-like peck brushed her lips and Brogan bolted down the bleachers. Bursting with pride, Lucy watched him jog to whe
re the men stood. Brogan shook hands with the group of dads before planting his legs shoulder-width apart and folding his arms, concentrating on the game. If he’d had a team cap, clipboard, and whistle, he could’ve been on the field, barking orders.

  Lucy tipped the beer to her lips and glanced at the container of healthy snacks. What a nice guy. So thoughtful. Sighing, if only he’d packed Little Debbies…she’d be in heaven. Brogan may not know it yet, but he was turning into a darn good surrogate dad.

  Chapter 22

  At seven, Parker filed off the field, dirty, tired, but excited that Brogan had shown up. Brogan couldn’t stop the grin splitting his face as he congratulated Parker and the other boys. Parker introduced Brogan to his friends, with a ring of pride in his voice, and Brogan’s gut clenched in a tight ball. Maybe all those workouts and small talks had actually made a difference. He couldn’t be certain, but his pride overflowed watching Parker play during the scrimmage. He’d shown poise under pressure, glancing in Brogan’s direction every now and then, checking to see if he was watching. Brogan remembered playing on this exact field, always hoping his own dad would be somewhere in the stands, cheering. After the third game his senior year, Brogan had stopped hoping and never looked for his dad in the crowd again.

  “Congratulations, Parker. You were awesome,” Lucy said, walking in their direction. Jesus. He’d left Lucy the entire game sitting by herself. What a crappy date. He deserved whatever shit she chose to throw at him. Shame burned his face, but Lucy winked and shook her head to indicate she was good.

  “Aunt Lucy, can I sleep over at Jason’s house? His dad said it was okay.”

  “Why don’t you text your mom and ask her.”

  “Hey, Lucy, I’m Tom Martin, Jason’s dad.” Brogan had already met him with the other dads. He’d been two years ahead of Brogan in high school. Lucy shook his hand, and Tom continued to talk. “We’d love to have Parker spend the night, and I’ll make sure the boys get to practice in the morning.”

  “Oh, okay,” Lucy said. Brogan almost laughed out loud as her face broadcasted relief at not having to wake up early.