Home Is Where the Heart Is (Welcome To Redemption) (3 page)

“Thank you, Hannah, it smells wonderful.”

Silence stretched as they ate their food. Hannah had been right on the money, Lindy realized as she quickly devoured the best burger she’d ever eaten. She chanced a glance at Drew who had wolfed down his food with equal enthusiasm—or maybe he just couldn’t wait to get away from her. The man frustrated her on so many levels it wasn’t funny. She wanted to smack him; she wanted to wring his neck. And at certain weak moments she wanted to kiss him. The admission, even if only in her own mind, was enough to bring on a wicked case of heartburn.

Suddenly, a huge smile transformed Drew’s face, and she craned her neck in time to see Matt’s girlfriend, Carrie, enter the diner. She strolled up to the table and slid in next to Drew, who looked all too happy to see the buxom brunette.
Ass.

Carrie cocked a brow at Drew, and then grinned at Lindy. “Matt called and asked me to come save you from Drew’s evil influence.”

“Hell, I’m the one in need of saving.” He met Lindy’s gaze, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “She’s mean to me, Care. I’m not sure my masculine pride can take much more.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“See?”

Carrie chuckled. Lindy dug a fifty out of her wallet, tossed it on the table, and met Drew’s teasing gaze. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

His smile faded. He flipped the money back at her. “I don’t need your charity, lady. I only did what anyone would’ve done.”

“Fine, then the rest is a tip for Hannah.”

“Hannah doesn’t need your charity either.”

Impossible man! “It’s not charity, it’s a tip. Waitresses earn tips; it’s how they make the majority of their money.”

“As if you would know anything about it.”

Lindy shot to her feet and jammed her hands on her hips. “About what? Earning money? I’ll have you know I work damn hard for my paycheck.”

Drew gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, I’m sure filing your nails all day must get extremely tiresome. That and ordering some poor schmuck to fetch coffee must be worth, what—”

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” Carrie tweaked the hair at the nape of Drew’s neck, earning a yelp, before sliding out of the booth. “Goodbye Drew. Lindy, Matt says you need to do a little shopping, so just tell me where you’d like to go.”

* * *

Frustrated, Drew watched his longtime friend and the most infuriating woman he’d ever met stroll out the door. Carrie and Lindy couldn’t be more different, yet Matt adored them both. And they seemed to get along fine...although Drew knew firsthand that wasn’t always the case. Hot Stuff wasn’t famous for making good first impressions.

Hannah approached the table with teasing trepidation. “Well, you still have your skin, I guess that’s something.”

“Funny.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a twenty, then nodded toward the fifty Lindy had left for her. “Miss Money Bags left you a tip.”

“Cool.” She snatched it up. “I’ll have to remember to thank her.”

“Sure, suck up to her. Money makes the world go `round, right?”

Hannah frowned and plopped down across from him. “You’ve got it bad, big brother. Not that I blame you. Rich
and
beautiful. Not a bad combo by anyone’s standards.”

“Yeah, well you can get that idea out of your head right now. I like my women with a little less vinegar.”

She let out an unladylike snort. “Please. You like women,
period
. And Miss Melinda Spalding is one very attractive woman.”

Damn if that wasn’t the truth. Though the snooty blonde was definitely more trouble than she was worth. “Can we change the subject, please?”

Hannah smirked, but her expression sobered as her eyes focused on something by the entrance. Drew followed the direction of her gaze and scowled when he recognized the cause of her distress—Jimmy Swan. “Thought you quit seeing that asshole.”

“I did, but...he’s having a little trouble letting go.”

“Guarantee he’ll get the message when I’m through with him.” Drew shot to his feet and started forward.

Hannah grabbed his arm. “Drew, no! Please. Let me talk to him. I don’t want to cause a scene, and I doubt Hutch would appreciate it, either.”

Torn between wanting to put that loser in his place and not wanting to upset his sister, Drew dropped back down with a growl of frustration. He knew Hutch would understand if Drew pitched the bastard back out into the snow, but if Drew caused a scene he’d only succeed in embarrassing Hannah.

“Fine. But if he doesn’t leave within five minutes, he’s getting personally escorted out by my booted foot. Goddamn thief. I still think he snatched my autographed Donald Driver rookie card.”

Drew watched in frustration as she headed over to speak with the little bastard. He never did understand what she saw in the guy. Jimmy Swan was short, lanky, and shifty-looking. Drew had been suspicious of him from the moment Hannah introduced them. But he’d only had his gut-instinct to go by and knew it wasn’t fair to make snap judgments of people.

Unfortunately, he’d been right. The guy was a total loser. He couldn’t keep a job, and he couldn’t keep Mr. Happy in his pants. Drew only knew the latter because he’d found Hannah crying her heart out one night, curled up in the fetal position on the back porch swing. He’d wanted to kick Swan’s ass into the next century for daring to disrespect his sister, but Hannah had begged him not to. His baby sister abhorred violence of any kind; she was the gentlest soul he knew. She’d forgiven the idiot twice for cheating on her, but this last time had been the final straw. Or so Drew hoped.

Jimmy finally left after giving her a peck on the forehead that would’ve looked sweet to anyone else. But Drew knew what a pig the guy was and could only pray someone more deserving of Hannah would come along soon.

* * *

“Come on, man, there has to be someone else in Redemption who owns a pickup—the Packers are playing in the Super Bowl! What about Caleb?”

In just a few hours, Drew would be hosting his annual Super Bowl party, and only the third in his lifetime featuring the Packers. The
last
thing he had time for was a trip into Green Bay for a mattress. Christ, what happened to,
“I’ll be perfectly fine on the floor, thank you very much”?
Yeah, right, Princess.

“He’s out on an emergency call, and Lauren isn’t sure when he’ll be back. Look, I know this is bad timing, but Carrie and Lauren are making most of the food anyway, and I can start grilling if you’re not back in time.”

The last thing Drew wanted to do was spend more time with Hot Stuff than he had to. She infuriated him like no woman ever had...she also excited him like no woman ever had, which was half the problem. Hell, who was he kidding, it was the majority of the problem. The urge to spank her warred with the need to kiss her breathless, and he knew he’d be a goner if he ever gave in to either urge.

“Fine, I’ll do it. Tell her I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“You’re the best.”

Drew could hear the humor in his friend’s voice. “Yeah, well you’re gonna owe me big time for this one.”

“That I will. Thanks, man.”

As soon as Drew pulled into Lindy’s driveway, he regretted agreeing to play chauffeur. She stood on the porch with her arms crossed, her annoyance unmistakable. She dropped her arms and strode toward the truck, then stopped to glare at him through the windshield for a couple heartbeats before continuing on toward the passenger side door. Drew suddenly wished he’d brought Bo along to sit between them.

She yanked open the door and climbed in, slamming it closed with both hands. Drew was hard pressed not to laugh at her silent little tantrum.

“You’re late.”

He avoided her gaze as he backed out of the driveway. Damn, it was going to be a long ride into Green Bay. “Fifteen minutes. Get over it.”

She buckled her seat belt and crossed her legs, one foot bouncing angrily as steam erupted from her ears. Thankfully, she ignored him for most of the ride, staring straight ahead while silently fuming. Finally, she started looking around at the scenery. A small smile even touched her lips.

“Pretty, ain’t it?”

Her smile faded. It dawned on Drew that she was still angry with him from yesterday. So Hot Stuff was a grudge holder. Perfect. He let out a long, drawn out sigh as he took the 41 exit south. “We’ll be there in about ten minutes. Think you can handle my company that long?”

“If only it ended there,” she muttered.

“Look, you don’t like me, fine. I’ll drop you off at the furniture store and you can take a taxi home. Maybe if you offer the driver enough money he’ll strap your mattress to the roof of the cab.”

At long last, she looked at him, and Drew was taken aback by the hurt glimmering in her eyes. “You think I’m just some useless fluff ball who doesn’t do anything but file my nails and buy new clothes.”

“Since when do you care what I think?”

She swung her gaze away and stared back out the windshield. “I don’t.”

Drew came up to a stoplight and took the opportunity to study her face. He reached out and cupped her chin. “Liar. I think you care more about my opinion than you want to admit.”

She jerked her chin from his grasp and pinned him with her most haughty glare. He heaved a silent sigh. How nice it would be if she just quit this whole Paris Hilton act and joined him back on planet Earth. Little Miss Silver Spoon was buried so deep in her privileged world he doubted it was possible to draw her out. And hell, who cared? She wasn’t even worth the effort.

Now who’s the liar, pal?

“Get over yourself,
Lou
, I couldn’t care less what you think. You’re nobody to me.”

“You know damn well what my name is, lady, so say it. Call me by my name or you can take a goddamn taxi back to Redemption.”

Chapter 3

Lindy’s pulse quickened at the intensity in Drew’s tone, of his stare, so in contrast with his normal carefree attitude. Although she could hardly blame him. She’d been acting the bitch since the moment he’d pulled into her driveway. And since the reason for her annoyance had more to do with her ungodly attraction to the man than anything he’d actually done, she supposed the least she could do was quit antagonizing him.

“Fine.
Drew.
Happy?”

A slow smile curved his lips. Those very nicely-shaped lips that looked oh-so soft and—

“Deliriously.”

Lindy breathed a sigh of relief when they finally pulled into the parking lot of the furniture store. Besides the mattress, she had several odds and ends she hoped to pick up today, so she planned to hustle through the store. A salesman approached as soon as they cleared the automatic doors. He couldn’t have been any older than Hannah, but had that used car salesman smile down to a tee.

“Good afternoon, folks. Are you looking for something specific?”

“The lady needs a mattress. Can you lead us in the right direction?”

“I’d be happy to. Follow me.”

He led them toward the left wing of the humongous store. Lindy stopped twice on the way; first for a polished brass lamp that would be perfect for her bedroom, and then a gorgeous small area rug that would look fabulous in front of the fireplace.

“Come on, Hot Stuff, I have a Super Bowl party to get home to.”

“Relax, you have like three hours before the game starts. Even I can’t take that long.”

Two hours and forty-five minutes later, Drew and two store workers carried her new king-size mattress, box springs, and other items out to Drew’s truck. Lindy tipped each man a twenty, but when she tried to give Drew some cash once they were seated inside, the ungrateful man growled at her.

“Keep your damn money. I just want to get home. As it is I’m gonna miss the first half hour of the game.
Even I can’t take that long
,” he mimicked, turning his key in the ignition.

“Well, you don’t have to be so nasty. It’s not like much happens in the first thirty minutes anyway. I mean, what? They prance out onto the field and slap each other’s butts.”

“Don’t test me, lady,” he advised, shooting her an evil glare. “I’ll drop you off on the side of the road, and you can call a damn cab. Or better yet, your brother. I swear, I’m going to kick his sorry ass—”

“Don’t you dare threaten Matt. This isn’t his fault. I just...well, I tend to be choosy and—”

He snorted. “Now there’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back against the headrest. “Well, don’t expect me to apologize for having discerning tastes.”

“How `bout apologizing for making me late to my own Super Bowl party? Think you can manage that?”

“I can’t believe you’re making such a big deal over this. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t try to pay you for your time.”

Drew gave a disbelieving shake of his head. “You really think that’s all that matters, don’t you? Give the poor dumb schmuck a twenty dollar bill and he should grovel at your feet.”

“I never said any such thing, nor do I think that way.” Hurt and angry, she turned to face him. “Why are you being such a jerk? I’m sorry we’re running late, but my God, you’re acting as if I made you late to your own wedding or something.”