Not So New in Town Page 7

  “I’m not sure. But I wasn’t about to let him start blaming you. And if he ever cusses at you, I will tear him apart.”

  “But…he’s just a kid. He doesn’t even know me. I don’t think—”

  “No excuses. You can’t let him talk to you like that, Luce. It’s disrespectful. You need to show him you’re in charge.” They held their whispered conversation over the convertible’s top.

  She pressed fingers into her forehead. “Remind me never to have kids.” She massaged her temples and then reached for the door handle.

  Brogan couldn’t agree more. He remembered how hard his mom had struggled to rein him in while working a full-time job.

  He slid behind the wheel into a tension-filled car. Lucy twirled her hair and gnawed her bottom lip, and Parker sat in stony silence in the back. The urge to smack his own forehead against the steering wheel overwhelmed Brogan as he wondered what he’d gotten himself into.

  Brogan backed up and pulled out of the parking lot, and Parker broke the uncomfortable silence. “Who are you anyway?”

  Lucy swiveled in her seat. “Parker, this is Brogan Reese, a good friend of your mom’s and…er, mine.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of him. So what’s he, like my dad? Decided to come home and play daddy all of a sudden?”

  Lucy gasped. “Parker, that is rude—”

  “This is bullshit!” Parker exploded. “I don’t need some long-lost daddy. I’m doing just fine.”

  Yeah? The kid’s attitude said differently. Brogan wasn’t Parker’s dad, but it was obvious the kid needed one, or someone to keep him in line. He’d heard enough. He hit the brakes in front of the school and stopped. Alarm widened Parker’s blue eyes as he caught Brogan’s expression in the rearview mirror. Brogan turned and blasted the little snot with his fiercest scowl.

  “Let’s get something straight. I’m not your daddy. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of gossip in this town, but none of it is true about me being your daddy. And if you don’t believe me, I’ll be happy to take a paternity test.” Parker crossed his arms over his skinny chest. “But I’m gonna be your worst nightmare if I ever hear you speak to your aunt Lucy or your mom like I’ve heard just now. Do you understand?” he growled.

  Parker stared out the window. “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Nope. Not good enough. Apologize to—”

  Lucy’s small hand gripped his wrist, pressing his nautical rope bracelet into his skin. “Brogan, it’s all right. He didn’t mean anything—”

  He didn’t give Lucy a chance to finish. “Apologize to your aunt…now.”

  Parker cut his sullen gaze to him and held it for a few beats, but when he looked at Lucy, he swallowed hard and lowered his lids. “Sorry, Aunt Lucy.”

  “Sure, Parks.”

  Brogan eased Lucy’s death grip on his wrist. “How many beers did you drink?” he asked Parker in a calm voice.

  “I didn’t—”

  “How many?”

  Parker shifted in his seat, turning his cell phone over in his hands. “One. Not even. I only had a few sips. Give me a Breathalyzer test if you don’t believe me.”

  Brogan waited. Parker lifted his stubborn chin. “I don’t even like the stuff. It’s kinda gross.”

  Brogan remembered that too. “Okay. I believe you.” He settled back in his seat, more than ready for this night to be over.

  Parker leaned forward, grabbing Lucy’s headrest. “Aunt Lucy, you gonna tell my mom?”

  “Um, well, I don’t know. She’s going to ask, and…”

  Pure panic replaced the tension as Parker spoke. “Don’t! I swear not to do it again. She doesn’t have to know. I’ll be real quiet when we get home and go straight to bed. Please, Aunt Lucy. It might upset her…and something might happen to…you know…her.” Parker’s voice trailed off as he struggled to tamp down his emotions. The impulse to shake his fist at the skies and howl at the moon came over Brogan. One more screwed-up boy trying to wrestle the world without the guidance of a father.

  Lucy glanced at Brogan, searching for answers. What the hell did he know? Maybe tonight was a wake-up call, and Parker really would behave from now on. And then again, maybe not. Brogan gave Lucy a pathetic shrug.

  Lucy blinked. “Okay, Parks. Just this once. But don’t test me again, understood?”

  Parker nodded. “Thanks, Aunt Lucy.”

  They drove the next five miles in silence, until Brogan pulled into their driveway, and before he’d put the car in park, Parker bolted.

  “Thanks again, Aunt Lucy,” he called as he raced toward the front door.

  “Shhh, you’ll wake your mom,” Lucy hissed.

  Parker disappeared inside without making a sound.

  “You think I’m doing the right thing?” A tiny frown creased her brow. Witnessing Lucy’s anxiety did something weird to his insides. Made him want to step up and take charge…set things right.

  “We’ll see. I think this isn’t the first time he’s slipped out.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Brogan opened her door and tugged on her hand. “Come on.” Pulling her behind him, he said, “I’ve got an idea that might work.”

  Lucy skipped in her Keds to keep up. “Good. Does it involve metal bars and one meal a day of stale bread and tepid water?”

  He stopped under the covered entrance and released her hand. “He’s going out for football, right?”

  Light from the outdoor sconces made her blond highlights shimmer. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “Practice starts Monday, why?”

  “Have him up and ready to leave tomorrow at six a.m.”

  “Like in tomorrow morning?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “I hate early-morning assignments. I’d rather be dragged around town by my tongue.”

  Brogan smiled and wondered how she’d look first thing in the morning, with sleepy eyes and mussed-up hair. Dangerous thoughts. He shook his head and refocused on the problem at hand.

  “This will be different. Make sure he’s dressed in workout clothes and running shoes. I’m taking him to the track at the school.”

  “No one should rise before six. It’s inhumane.” A small pout formed on her lips.

  Lips Brogan wanted to kiss. But kissing Lucy was still a bad idea…for tonight.

  “I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.” He smiled down at her flushed face and suspicious gray eyes.

  He watched as she seemed to wrestle with wanting to argue but instead weighed her next words. “Why are you doing this?” His brow lifted. “Why are you helping me?”

  Why indeed. He’d spent half the day wrestling his own demons about the dad he’d never known. He didn’t need to take on Lucy’s and Parker’s problems too. But something about Lucy felt like unfinished business. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but he sensed it. She intrigued him with her courage and honesty. Her willingness to open up. Rage had drummed through him, vibrating every cell, when she’d told him how Tony the dick Tiger had screwed her. He hated like hell that she’d been hurt. But he didn’t put voice to any of those thoughts. Instead, he simply said, “Because that’s what friends do. Help each other.”

  “If you say so.” The doubt written all over her face said she didn’t believe him. Tough. She didn’t have a choice.

  “You promise to have him ready? At six?” he asked as she reached for the doorknob.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. And when I open this door, there better be a box of hot Krispy Kreme doughnuts in your hands.”

  “Even better than that. A hot, homemade banana nut muffin.”

  “Hmmm. Krispy Kremes are hard to beat.” She paused. “Add a large latte.”

  “Deal.” He grinned, thrusting his hand out. She wavered before slipping hers into his. He squeezed with a gentle shake, savoring the feel of her small palm pres
sed against his.

  Reaching up, she gave his right shoulder an offhanded pat. “You look like a nice guy, but I know you’re up to no good.” She opened the front door. “That banana nut muffin better be worth it,” she said before slipping inside.

  * * *

  Brogan moved through his dark, empty house, dodging construction debris left over from the crews, until he settled in his bedroom, the only room still intact. Propped up in his queen bed, wearing only boxers and a goofy smile on his face, he cruised through sports channels on the ancient bulky TV still sitting on top of his dresser.

  Something about Lucy ate at him, making him want to help her. The huge chip on Parker’s shoulder would be hard to knock off, but he’d placed his money on Lucy. He didn’t doubt that she’d win Parker over, but there’d be some severe bruising and battering in the process. Taming a stubborn teenager with attitude had to be one tough job. He didn’t know anything about raising teenagers, but he remembered the hell his mother went through when he’d started to give her trouble.

  With the remote in one hand, he stretched his other arm behind his head. That had to be the reason he’d volunteered to train Parker at the crack of dawn. Atoning for his own sins against his mom. Brogan rolled his shoulders. Nothing like an early morning workout to knock the ’tude right out of a guy. It would be good preparation for Parker.

  Exercise had become an addiction to Brogan and had eased a lot of pain over the years. Like whenever he thought about his dad, who’d abandoned him when he was two. Or why his mom never spoke about it. Or the night he’d pulled the stupidest stunt of his life by having celebratory sex without protection. Didn’t get much dumber than that.

  Yep, he was a healthy guy, and so were his swimmers. After one night of not suiting up and what he thought had been no-strings-attached sex, he found himself two months later standing inside a small chapel along the Chesapeake Bay, pledging his love to Kathryn St. Johns, his biggest investor’s pregnant daughter. Brogan still winced, picturing his mom sitting in the first row, wearing a pale-yellow silk suit and a strained, worried look on her face. He hated that he’d been the one to put that look there. But that paled in comparison to what he really hated—the panic he’d felt at being trapped and how often he’d thought about running…just like his dad.

  Brogan pressed the Off button, plunging the room into darkness, and tossed the remote on his nightstand. He rolled to his side, punching his pillow beneath his head. The fear and anxiety he’d felt the day he’d married Kathryn made his chest constrict in terror, but the knife-stabbing pain to his heart twisted whenever he thought of the miscarriage two months after the wedding. He and Kathryn had stuck it out five long months after losing the baby before separating. And for three excruciating years, he’d swallowed the overwhelming urge to flee and struggled to work things out. The sharp edge of failing sliced his insides to ribbons. But in the end, the broken marriage won the fight. Too many holes in the bottom of the boat. He couldn’t save the sinking vessel. It never got easier. He still felt the pinching inside his skull, even after all this time.

  You didn’t build a marriage on one bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a night of drunken sex. There had been no real love—not even much lust. Just responsibility topped with a heavy dose of guilt. He’d paid for his mistake with a high-priced divorce, a very expensive buyout, and a lifelong distaste for whiskey. Now, permanent relationships remained crossed off his list, and he never traveled without a healthy supply of condoms.

  Tossing on his bed, he kicked his blue cotton quilt to the side. The irony in all this had to be, no matter how careful he’d become, he was still being accused of fathering someone’s child. His swimmers hadn’t been anywhere near Julia…ever. Sure, he and Julia had made out…a lot. And a few times they’d come pretty darn close, but for some unspoken reason, they’d always stopped.

  He flopped on his back, staring at the shadowed ceiling. A face-to-face talk with Julia was long overdue. By telling the truth, she could put a stop to all the nonsense and gossip Harmony thrived on. Not for one second did he believe Julia went around saying Parker was his kid, but it was what she didn’t say that fueled the rumor mills. Shutting that mill down and encouraging the town to support their golden boy was on top of his to-do list. An idea had been percolating since running into Lucy. She didn’t know it yet, but her temp days might be a thing of the past.

  Chapter 9

  Lucy stumbled downstairs, not because she wanted to be awake at 5:45 on a Saturday morning, but because her nose smelled coffee, and she always followed her nose when it picked up a delectable scent. Sitting at the round oak table in the kitchen was the reason for the bags under her eyes and her foggy head.

  Brogan.

  Again.

  Looking gorgeous and well rested. Not dog tired, wearing an oversized Georgia Tech T-shirt, one fuzzy green sock, and a pillow-creased face. Lucy had lain awake half the night, reprimanding her heart for pitter-pattering over Brogan. She’d certainly lost her fair share of sleepless nights over the heartbreaker of Harmony High. She didn’t want to spend her early thirties in a repeat performance. But every time he appeared interested or showed any sign of caring, Lucy’s heart went whirligig crazy, and she’d start to hope…again. And didn’t that add to her crankiness at this god-awful hour?

  “Why am I living in the nightmare on Daffodil Lane? And what is that green slime you’re drinking?” Lucy pointed to the large BetterBites tumbler in his hand. He jumped up with way too much energy and pulled out her chair.

  “Good morning, Little Lucy. As per your request”—he slid an extra-large cup from the Daily Grind toward her—“a piping-hot latte and the best banana nut muffins you’ll ever put in your mouth.” Lucy peeked inside a brown-and-green BetterBites bag and spied two jumbo, delicious-looking muffins. “Still warm. Just came out of the oven,” he said, using his rich voice designed to soothe cranky, non-morning persons.

  Lucy sipped her coffee, hoping to jostle her brain awake as she dug in the bag and pulled out a sticky muffin that smelled of bananas, nuts, and total deliciousness. “Do I have to share?” She broke a piece off and popped it in her mouth. Coconut, vanilla, and banana danced on her tongue. “Mmm, these are good.” Lucy sipped more coffee and broke off another piece.

  “Better than Krispy Kremes?” Brogan asked, his moss-green eyes twinkling as he dropped back into his chair and reached for his cup of slime.

  “Nothing is better than hot Krispy Kremes, but these aren’t bad.” She pointed with her coffee cup. “What is that green stuff? It looks vile.”

  “Energy smoothie. Made with kale, cucumber, honey dew, and protein powder.”

  She recoiled at the listed ingredients.

  “I made one for Parker too. Where is he?”

  At the mention of the runaway-teen-aunt-hater, Parker stumbled into the kitchen, wearing long Nike basketball shorts, running shoes, and a case of bedhead worse than Lucy’s.

  “Here’s my sweet, adorable, sneaky nephew. Good morning, Parker.”

  Through sleepy eyes, Parker still managed a pretty effective glare-down. Brogan jumped up again, making Lucy dizzy with all his morning energy. “Have a seat, Parker. Your smoothie is in the fridge.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out another cup of slime, handing it to Parker. “Drink up. You’re going to need the boost of energy.”

  “Why do I have to do this? Why am I being punished? I said I was sorry.” Parker eyed the drink with trepidation. Lucy didn’t quite blame him. “This looks like sheee…gross. I’m not drinking it.” On this, Lucy agreed with the kid. She gulped more coffee, hiding behind her cup.

  “Drink it. Or you’ll be sorry when you lose steam halfway through our run.” Brogan shot Parker a stern look. “Football takes a lot of hard physical work, and if you want to be any good, you have to be dedicated to getting in shape, eating right, and getting plenty of sleep.” Brogan leaned his forearms on the table.
“Sneaking out at night and drinking beer isn’t going to help you make the team. It will catch up with you. I know.”

  Lucy didn’t know anything about working out or trying out for football, but she knew Brogan had been an incredible athlete. And from the way his muscles bulged in his arms and the looks of his strong legs, she had no doubts he still knew what he was talking about. Slumped lower in his seat, Parker took a tentative sip of the nasty sludge. Lucy barely suppressed a shudder.

  “You almost done there, Lucy?” Brogan asked in an easy tone that didn’t match the calculated look behind his eyes.

  “Not exactly. Why?” she answered slowly.

  “You need to change. Unless you want to go in your”—he motioned at her ratty T-shirt—“tarp, or whatever you’re wearing.”

  “Go? I’m not going anywhere.” Alarm colored her voice. Parker perked up, sitting straighter as he continued to drink his smoothie.

  “We won’t make you run sprints, but you can walk the track while we exercise. Right, Parker?”

  “Yeah, sure. Why not? If I have to, then you should too. Don’t you want to set a good example?” What Lucy really wanted was to wash all that sarcasm out of her nephew’s beautiful mouth, starting with the green gunk.

  Brogan checked his electric-blue techno sports watch. “Parker, finish up. Go get changed, Lucy. We’re leaving in five.”

  Panic started to set in. “But I have to be here for Julia. She’s going to need—”

  “Mom won’t wake up before nine. We will be done before that.” Parker challenged Brogan with his look.

  “We’ll be back in plenty of time.” Brogan grabbed the bag with the remaining muffin and closed it up. “Take your coffee. I have water in the car.”

  This went beyond her job description. “What did I ever do to deserve this? I’d rather be clipping Mrs. Bunkins’s toenails than exercising at six in the freakin’ morning.” She headed for the stairs to the sound of Brogan’s laughter.

  * * *

  At the school track, Brogan and Parker warmed up their muscles by stretching. Brogan moved with the ease of a finely tuned athlete, and skinny, lanky Parker followed his examples. A spark of interest showed in how Parker listened at Brogan’s instructions, given in a low tone.