Not So New in Town

by Michele Summers

  “I texted Mom. She said it was okay.” Parker looked up from his cell phone.

  “Let Aunt Lucy check your phone, bud.” Brogan clapped him on the shoulder. For once, Parker didn’t tense and pull on his sullen mask as he handed over his phone.

  “Jason, you played some real good defense out there tonight,” Brogan said to a stocky Jason Martin, who stood next to his dad.

  “Son, Brogan Reese played quarterback for Harmony.” Tom pointed at Brogan. “I remember coming home from college to watch him play. He had a strong arm and one of the quickest releases in the state. One time I saw him get sacked behind the line of scrimmage, but he still released the ball and nailed his receiver before hitting the ground. You remember that play, Brogan?”

  Brogan chuckled. “Yeah, my ribs are still recovering.” Lucy’s eyes widened at the embarrassment coloring his face.

  “A bunch of the boys and dads are getting together to play touch football tomorrow before the lake party. Can you join us?”

  He hesitated. A stack of papers two feet high waited for him on his desk. He should be preparing for New York. But when a huge grin cracked wide on Parker’s dirty face, he hated to disappoint.

  “That’d be awesome. Can you? Please?” Parker’s blue eyes shone bright with excitement.

  Little Lucy gave Brogan a reassuring pat on the back. “If I recall, your schedule’s all clear tomorrow. Why don’t you take the afternoon off and have some fun?”

  “The dads could use a good quarterback,” Tom added.

  What the hell. Playing mindless touch football might be the ticket. “Sounds great. I’ll be here.”

  “Awww-right!” Parker and Jason jumped and chest-bumped in the air.

  “See you tomorrow at five. Looking forward to it.” Tom shook Brogan’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Lucy. Come on, boys. Let’s get you both cleaned and fed.” Tom waved as he herded the excited boys toward the parking lot.

  “Bye, boys. Parker, I’ll pick you up after practice,” Lucy called to their backs. Parker nodded and waved.

  “Hey, Parker, is that your dad?” They both heard Jason ask.

  Jesus. Brogan held back a groan, feeling Lucy tense at his side.

  “Nah, he’s my uncle,” Parker said without missing a beat.

  * * *

  Brogan gathered up the cooler and towel. “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” he said to a shocked Lucy.

  “Did you hear what Parker said?” she whispered as he threw the cooler in the trunk. “Do you think he thinks we…um, we’re…the two of us…?”

  Brogan opened her door. “Look, the way I see it, anything’s an improvement. I’ll take uncle over dad any day.”

  Lucy stopped moving and stared at him. Brogan didn’t want to think about Parker and the ramifications of what he’d revealed. He didn’t want to think about his deadbeat dad or football or New York. He wanted to be with Lucy. More precisely, in bed. But he’d promised her a date, and he’d promised to get to know her, and dammit, he was going to do that or die trying.

  “But you’d make such a great dad. Don’t you want children?”

  No. Yes. He didn’t know. Not now. “Not tonight.” He pecked Lucy on the lips, because he couldn’t resist. “Hop in. I’m starved.”

  “You and Parker. Always hungry. If I didn’t know the truth, I’d think you’re related,” she mumbled as she slid into her seat.

  Brogan started to pull out when both their phones signaled text messages.

  Grabbing his phone, he exploded. “What the fuh…” He wanted to bang his head against a brick wall. This couldn’t be happening.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, reading her text. “Did you get Margo’s text about the problem tonight?”

  “Yeah, there’s been a mix-up. The Happy Hookers were on the schedule for tonight, but apparently the Bookworms and Historical Society showed up too.” Guilt ate at him. He should be helping Margo and Javier, but he’d promised Lucy a date and she’d gone to a lot of trouble. Dressing up. Applying makeup. Looking sexy as all hell.

  “I’ll call Javier and see what he thinks. Maybe he can rearrange and—”

  Lucy grabbed his wrist. “Stop. No one is going home unhappy. Not on my watch. Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “To BetterBites. This could be your biggest night ever. Let’s not lose our momentum.” Determination and dedication combined crossed her face as her gray eyes sparked beneath her thick lashes.

  “You sure? I promised you a nice dinner.”

  “You own a grocery store. There’s got to be something in there I can eat.” Lucy waved her hand. “What are you waiting for? Hit it.”

  Brogan cupped her flushed cheeks and gave her a hard kiss. “Have I told you that I love you?” he said to her stunned face. He put the car in gear and stepped on the gas.

  * * *

  He loved her. Stop it. He wasn’t serious, you lo mein noodle brain. He was merely expressing his gratitude with a toe-curling kiss and a meaningless declaration of love. It meant nothing…to him. It meant everything to her.

  The minute she walked through the back door, Margo hit her with an apron and handed over a batch of muffins to break up for sampling. Margo sent Brogan to the front of the house, holding a basket of three different types of breads, along with the tapas spreads being featured.

  “Work it, big guy. Don’t come back until all that bread is gone and your shirt has been ripped to shreds. Them some hungry cougars.” Brogan crammed a piece of bread in Margo’s mouth and told her to shove it.

  An hour later, Lucy finished mixing batter, when Margo handed her a cold beer.

  “Sorry about tonight. If I’d known Lover Boy had asked you out, I would’ve never bothered either of you.” She kneaded the dough with her flour-covered knuckles.

  Lucy coughed. “Don’t be sorry. The success of BetterBites is more important than some silly date.”

  Margo stopped kneading. “Silly date? He’s been nothing but a disaster on two legs these last couple of days. Every time your name comes up, he walks into walls.”

  “Thanks, but methinks you exaggerate,” Lucy said in a funny accent.

  Margo snorted. “Think what you want. But that boy has got it bad. I can spot a lovesick dog when I see one.”

  Love. Not that word. Lust maybe or like. They were definitely in like, but everyone needed to stop dropping the love-bomb. Lucy had witnessed Brogan in love. She’d watched him drool over Julia for two years. Wanting inside Lucy’s pants had nothing to do with love and everything to do with libido. Not that she blamed him. Blippity blip…she wanted the same thing. They both had this drugging need to do the crazy mattress mambo. Once they’d gotten it out of their systems, the urge would disappear, and they’d move on with their respective careers and lives. Untying her apron, Lucy straightened her dress and gave Margo a quick wave as she pushed through the door to the front of the house, where the party raged at warp speed.

  Standing behind the bin of homemade pita chips, she watched Brogan and Javier work the crowd. Lucy covered her mouth in shock as old Miz Cornwaddle patted Brogan on the butt. He laughed, skirting away from her gnarled hand, and then stopped, his attention riveted on Lucy.

  She sucked in a sharp breath. Her straight, ironed hair almost curled at the hot, sizzling look directed at her. A look that had nothing to do with healthy granola, old ladies crocheting doilies, or organic foods, but everything to do with wet, long kisses, heavy panting, and tearing at each other’s clothes.

  “Get a room, you two,” Miz Cornwaddle said with a loud snort. A knowing smile tipped Brogan’s lips as he winked at Lucy.

  Around ten, the partiers had dwindled, and Brogan gripped Lucy’s elbow as she tossed dirty plates and cups in the garbage. “Come on. Stop cleaning. You hungry?”

  Lucy’s stomach answered with a loud growl. “May
be a little.”

  “Yeah, I’m starved too.” Brogan brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Let me make it up to you.”

  Their gazes met, and Lucy’s head spun like a pinwheel. Yep. It had to be hunger. How else could she explain the shortness of breath, the hammering heart, and the urge to rip his clothes off with her teeth?

  She cleared her throat. “Did you sneak out and buy me a bucket of KFC with mashed potatoes and gravy?”

  “I’ve got something better in mind, my little garbage-eating rat.” He draped his arm over her shoulder and squeezed her tight into his side. She breathed in his perfect smell of clean soap and exotic coffee. He’d worked twice as hard as she had and still managed to look crisp and fresh. At some point her makeup had melted from her face. And poor Wanda’s dress would need a trip to the dry cleaners, due to a very Happy Hooker spilling a Prosecco cocktail down the back.

  “You guys saved the night,” Javier said, adding up the register receipts. “This was by far our most successful event to date.”

  “Great. I knew it,” Lucy said. “What are the numbers? I took lots of pictures to post and orders for two more parties.”

  “Get her out of here,” Margo said, handing Brogan a big shopper filled with food. “I’m getting a massive headache.”

  “Wait…I need to make notes and—”

  “Good night, Luce, night, Bro. Thanks again for all your help,” Javier called as Brogan tugged her toward the back door.

  “Come along, my little marketing maniac. It’s been a long night.”

  Eight minutes later, Brogan pulled into his driveway and killed the engine. “What are we doing here?” Her nerves jumped into hyper mode. The light from the outdoor sconces bathed the porch and front walk. Stacks of lumber sat on his front yard, along with construction ladders and buckets of paint.

  “The kitchen is almost finished, and the screened porch has comfortable seating. Since it’s not too hot, I thought we’d eat out there.”

  “Oh. Eating. Right. We’re eating food…food from the store.”

  Brogan lifted the shopper from the back and escorted her to the front door. “For starters. But I could think of other things besides food I’d like to eat right now.” His voice held all kinds of sexual promise. Holy marshmallows between two graham crackers! So could Lucy, but she’d be wise to squelch the naughty, delectable thoughts marauding her mind, and stick to plain chicken and cornbread on paper plates.

  He led her through a maze of boxes in the front entrance, housing new plumbing fixtures. She followed him to the newly renovated great room with its beautiful stacked stone fireplace and old repurposed beams on the pitched ceiling. Lucy’s feet skidded to a halt on the freshly stained pine floors to soak it all in.

  “This is beautiful.” Her gaze wandered from the custom wainscoting on the plastered walls to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the wooded lot. “Was this all your idea?” She turned in a wide circle.

  “Some. But really, Bertie had the vision, and she’s making it happen. This whole neighborhood is getting a facelift. Lots of new and renovated homes. By making these changes, I can ask a much higher price.” His hand pressed the small of her back as he ushered her from the great room to the connecting kitchen.

  “Killer. I love the combination of paint and stain.” She pointed to the soft gray upper cabinets and stained ebony lower cabinets.

  “Still waiting for the soapstone countertops, new appliances, and backsplash. But for now, this makeshift kitchen will do.” He placed the shopper on top of plywood acting as a countertop. “The bathroom is down the hall, if you’d like to freshen up.”

  “Great.” Lucy looked down at Wanda’s stained dress and sighed. “Could I borrow a T-shirt and some shorts?”

  Brogan’s throat worked. “Uh, sure. Follow me.” He guided her to the updated guest bathroom. “Use this one. The master is still under construction. Be back in a sec.” Lucy rubbed her palm across the smooth white marble vanity top as she admired the bronze fixtures and the large tiled shower with clear glass doors.

  “Here you go.” He returned with a soft Georgetown T-shirt and pair of navy nylon jogging shorts. “Make yourself at home. Towels are clean.” He gestured to the shower. “Soap, shampoo…whatever you need.”

  She nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be fast.” She closed the door on his handsome face, which sported a lopsided grin, and rested her forehead against the painted wood. Stop thinking about pulling him inside this luxurious bathroom and terrorizing his drop-dead body with soap lather and hot water.

  * * *

  Shee-it. Brogan tried not to picture Lucy naked in his shower, using his soap and his shampoo, but the longer the water ran, the wilder his thoughts ran. He uncorked a bottle of Pinot Noir with more force than necessary. He wondered what she’d do if he just happened to open the bathroom door, peel off his clothes, and join her inside the steamy shower. The same shower with swiveling showerheads and adjustable body sprays. Dammit. Get a grip. Lucy didn’t need bucking Brogan tapping on her door or anything else right now. He’d promised her a good meal, conversation, and to get to know her. Not hot, slippery, up-against-the-wall shower sex with a wet, soapy Lucy. Sweat beaded his forehead. He tore off a paper towel and swiped his brow, and got busy plating their food: creamy mac and cheese, a healthy, organic version; fresh salad with raspberry vinaigrette; and pork tenderloin with balsamic glaze. Not the Angus beef he’d been craving, but still tasty. He carried their plates to the screened-in back porch and set them on the table. He lit three candles and picked up the bottle of wine.

  Brogan’s thoughts tumbled around in his head, all centered on Lucy. He knew her better than she gave him credit for. She was hardworking, smart, and funny. She constantly brainstormed, but instead of dumping her ideas on someone else to execute, she took the initiative and put the ideas in motion. And beneath the snark beat a heart of gold that wanted to reconcile with her stepsister, even though Julia had stomped on Lucy’s heart more times than she could count. And despite his teenage attitude and disrespect, Lucy showered Parker with love and patience. Lucy offered more in one day than most people did in a lifetime. He truly believed that, but he didn’t think Lucy did. Her insecurities from her past kept her from believing and trusting in herself. Spending this time with her, Brogan hoped to change that before he shoved off to New York.

  As he picked up a wineglass, the sound of Lucy padding toward him, fresh from her shower, lifted his head. His hand wobbled, spilling wine on the table. She wore his large T-shirt that hit midthigh, and wet hair knotted on top of her head. Loose strands were already starting to curl around her face. Curls he remembered from back in high school. This side of Lucy was soft and lush and edible. His mouth watered, and he lost all interest in the food cooling on their plates.

  “Hope you don’t mind, but I used your shampoo.” She glanced down at her slim bare legs and small pink feet. “Sorry, I don’t look very nice for our date, but I couldn’t wear that stained dress a minute longer.” She looked incredible. Brogan had trouble swallowing what felt like a ball of steel wool. Pulling out her wicker chair, he tried hiding the painful erection straining the back of his zipper.

  “Mmm, this looks yummy.” She slipped into her seat and picked up the paper napkin with delicate fingers. Brogan gave his head a vicious shake. Be a gentleman.

  “Wow. You went to a lot of trouble. Little votives and clear plastic plates. I must be special,” she teased as she sipped the wine he managed to finish pouring without spilling another drop.

  “Only the best for my guest.” He grinned at her rosy cheeks and spiky eyelashes.

  “It’s delicious, and really perfect,” she said after tasting the pork. “I mean this piece of property.” She gestured to the back of his wooded lot. “Can you see the lake from here?”

  “Yeah, in the winter when the trees are bare.”

  “Too bad you’r
e selling. I’d be tempted to stay after all these beautiful renovations.”

  He’d be tempted to stay too, if—keep your eye on the ball, dumbass. You have a job to do in New York…not Harmony. “You could buy it. I’d give you a real good deal.”

  Lucy scrunched her pert nose. “If Julia’s handling the sale, believe me, I’ll be raked over the coals. Anyway, I’m leaving Harmony, just like you.” She spooned mac and cheese in her mouth and groaned, licking her lips. “I’m officially your slave for life.”

  He gulped more wine. He’d never survive watching Lucy get orgasmic over mac and cheese. Burning the retinas in his eyes held great appeal. Anything would be less painful than watching Lucy make love to a plate of noodles.

  Unaware of his sexual frustration, Lucy asked, “When you finally get married, where do you plan to settle down?”

  And that worked. Brogan would rather eat expired sushi from a gas station vending machine than think about marriage.

  “I’ve been married and have zero plans to repeat the performance.” Lucy choked, almost spewing wine. Brogan gave her clap on the back. “You okay?”

  She reached for her napkin and blotted her mouth. “You were married? I had no idea. When? How long?”

  He shrugged, trying to dislodge the stones burying his heart. “Several years ago. It didn’t last long. We separated after a few months.” Lucy drilled him with her undivided attention. He sighed and settled back in his seat. This was old news, and really, he’d made no secrets about his life. “During our separation, we tried working it out for about three years. But after the miscarriage, there didn’t seem to be much holding us together.”

  Concern softened her expression, and she whispered, “A baby. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” She covered his cold hand and squeezed. “You must’ve been devastated. Is that why you don’t want to be a dad? Because you lost your baby?”

  No. Yes. Maybe. Hell, he didn’t know. “Look, I won’t lie…having a baby scared the crap out of me. I would’ve stood by my child, but I wasn’t looking forward to fatherhood. I didn’t have a great role model.” His laugh sounded raw. “I had no role model, and from what little I know of my dad, I’m sorry his blood runs through my veins.”