Not So New in Town (17 page)

“Amuse me. Give it your best shot. I bet you bowl better than you caterwaul, er…sing.”

Lucy narrowed her exotic gray eyes. “You know, you have not shown enough remorse for embarrassing me in front of the whole town. You should be kissing my patootie…not making me angry.”

“Don’t worry, I plan to kiss your sweet ass and a whole lot more,” he rumbled next to her ear, smiling at her flushed baby-doll cheeks. “But first, you need to knock down those pins.” The psychedelic strobe lights had been switched on, and the gutters glowed electric blue. Mirrored balls twirled, and “Layla” played through the speakers. Brogan pointed her down the lane. “Just picture my face, and I bet you hit all ten.”

“You can do it, Lucy. Show ’em you’re a true ball buster,” Dottie Duncan hollered above the music. Dottie and Arlene Tomlin had snagged Javier and Brogan to be on their team, along with Lucy.

“Come on, Luce,” Bertie yelled from the next lane, doing a boogie step. “Give it your best shot.”

Lucy elbowed Brogan in the gut. “Out of my way.” She lined up, feet together, with the ball tucked below her chin. Taking three steps, she bent, and his head got dizzy from the expanse of skin her short shorts revealed. Her right arm swung back and then forward, but instead of staying low and releasing the ball, Lucy stood too quickly, and the orange ball went flying through the air.

“Fore!” Brogan shouted before the ball landed in the next lane, where it hit the floor and wobbled to the gutter.

“Whoa. That was spectacular.” Javier burst out laughing.

“Duck crap goose. Girl, you need some practice,” Dottie said.

“Grr! I told you I can’t bowl.” Lucy whirled around into Brogan’s arms as he shook with laughter. She buried her face in his chest and mumbled something that he couldn’t quite catch but sounded a lot like “candy corn niblets and kill me now.”

“Hey, that’s why you’re a ball buster.”

“Dang, Lucy…you dented the lane.”

“Lucy, I’d be happy to give you private lessons,” Dipshit Clancy shouted from two lanes over.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ve got everything under control,” Brogan yelled back, hoping hardheaded Clancy picked up on the threat in his voice. Lucy shook, still hiding her face in his T-shirt. Shit. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her again. Twice in two days. “Lucy, honey, you okay?” He tilted his head, trying to see her face. “Little Lu-Lu…?” he said softly. The trembling intensified. “Are you crying?” His arms tightened around her, and he rubbed the shirt covering her soft back.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but before his heart froze, her lips twitched into a huge grin, and she vibrated with laughter. “I told you I sucked.” She hiccuped and laughed at the same time.

Brogan reached for some napkins on top of the scoring table. “Well, now, honey, that’s one way of putting it.” She mopped her wet face with the napkins. “Bowling probably isn’t your strong suit. But since tonight’s about fun and blowing off steam, I’d have to say, you excelled at that.”

She patted his front, trying to smooth the wrinkles. “Sorry I got your shirt all wet.”

“It’s all good.” He never knew anyone who inspired more smiles. “You wanna try again? Maybe if I helped—”

She flopped down on the U-shaped bench seats. A surge of emptiness drained his arms where he no longer held her. He was unable to describe the sensation, but
void
came to mind. What a difference from feeling whole, strong, and vibrant, with Lucy cradled in his arms. He gave his head a shake, warding off the weird notion before it took root.

“Nope.” Lucy picked up the pitcher of beer and poured some into a red Solo cup. “Carry on without me. I’m content to watch and sing along to the music.”

Brogan visibly winced. Lucy’s singing voice could strip paint. As he picked up his bowling ball, “Start Me Up” by the Rolling Stones poured through the speakers, and the sounds only a wounded animal could make reached his ears. Brogan shrugged at Javie’s shocked expression as they listened to Lucy singing at the top of her lungs. Brogan started to grin. Suddenly, the bowl in Rock ’n’ Bowl night was abandoned. Lucy hopped to her feet and started dancing, along with Dottie, Arlene, Wanda, and Bertie. Javier threw up his hands in surrender and joined the ladies, gyrating as they danced a circle around him. Brogan caught sight of Keith Morgan winding his way past the check-in counter, wearing tennis gear and a huge smile. Bertie shimmied over to Keith and wrapped her arms around his neck as they swayed to the music together. Russell Upton didn’t need an engraved invitation. He hurried from the bar, sloshing beer over his wrist to get to Wanda shaking her ta-tas in his direction.

Content to watch the show, Brogan folded his arms and leaned against the scoring table. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the Perry brothers weaving their way toward the dancing girls. Brogan moved to block their path when Lucy danced over and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the middle of the group. She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. Brogan stood confused, searching her face.

“I’m not interested in Clancy Perry’s fifty ways of fun. And you still owe me.” She tipped her pert nose. “You gonna dance like a robot all night or just with me?” Rocking her hips, she swayed. Brogan needed no further encouragement. Matching his hips to hers, he gathered Lucy close. The void was filled, and his arms no longer felt empty.

* * *

Brogan’s car sat idling in her driveway. They’d left the bowling alley together over an hour ago, but Lucy still hadn’t gone inside. She’d been too busy fogging up the inside of his Jag with lots of lips and tongues and hands and heavy panting. An animalistic sound rumbled in Brogan’s chest as his rough hands gripped her butt beneath her shorts. Brogan had released the seat into a horizontal position after he’d kissed her across the console and pulled her on top of him.

Chest heaving, Lucy pushed up into a sitting position, straddling his lap and bumping the steering wheel with her back. “We have to stop.”

Lust, hunger, need, and something she couldn’t quite name colored his face. With a deep guttural moan, he said, “God no. Not yet.” He slid his hands from her bottom to beneath her shirt. Lucy stopped his progress, grabbing his wrists, pressing his palms into her stomach. Her head felt hazy, and she couldn’t believe she had the strength to put an end to the best make-out session of her entire life. Brogan took kissing to an entirely new level and then hurled her over into a freefall of dizziness.

She sucked in a breath. “I need to get inside. Julia’s probably awake, and she’ll…” Julia would not be pleased to hear that Lucy had kissed Brogan like he was the only solid mass in a swaying, upside-down world. He made her limbs weak and sent tremors down her spine, evoking sensations she’d never experienced. Ever. “I…we…can’t—”

“Lucy.” His sleepy, sexy bedroom eyes traveled up her stomach, over the round swells of her breasts to her swollen lips. “You want to be with me.”

With every cell in her body. “We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Word will get out, and—”

With a mere crunching of his hard abs, Brogan sat up, shifting her bent leg over his lap and sliding his hands around her waist. “I need you.” He nuzzled the side of her neck with his hot mouth. In less than a heartbeat, he made her forget. Head flopping to one side, she bit her lip to keep from moaning.

Hateful reason knocked on her brain’s door. “You don’t even know me,” she managed to say, forcing her hand to push at his broad shoulder.

His head lifted. “What do you mean?”

“We barely know each other. And this…this…craze or lust or madness between us is nuts, because we’re practically strangers.” He gripped her chin, surveying her expression, and she looked into her favorite green eyes that made rational thought disappear as fast as Nestlé’s Toll House cookies at a sorority house.

“What are you talking about? I’ve known you since you were fifteen—”

His jumping pulse beneath her palm resting on his neck gave her a wake-up call. “You didn’t
know
me.”

He blinked as her sudden withdrawal became tangible. Her heart plummeted fifty feet down a dark well. In about five minutes, she would curse herself blue for not taking full advantage of his hot body and all the good stuff that went along with it, but she’d never been Fran-the-one-night-stand. When it came to relationships, she moved at a snail’s pace. Evident by the eight months she hung on with Anthony the webbed-neck weasel.

“I’m sure you’ve encountered many girls who have fantasized about you, and yes, I’m guilty of dreaming about you.” Only for seventeen short years. “But a summer fling seems risky.” And tawdry. “And since neither of us is staying, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

Brogan remained silent but looked as if he wanted to argue. Lucy started to move off his lap when a band of steel tightened around her hip, stopping her.

“I want to know you.” His voice was rough.

“You want to sleep with me.”

“That too. But I’m willing to wait.” But for how long? She shook her head. “Lucy, this thing between us…you’re right, I don’t know what it is, but I want to find out. Aren’t you the least bit curious? How it would be?” The caramel of his voice poured over her. “How it would feel?” His lips hovered over hers.

Great. Fantastic. Life altering. “I’d feel like a complete moron if I lost my job over it.”

His head reared back, and his brow furrowed. “That’s ridiculous. That’s not going to happen.”

“It could. I can’t afford—” She glanced down at the console, spying his phone chirping with a text message.

“Dammit.” His jaw locked as he read the screen.

“What?”

The warning in his eyes made Lucy nervous. “Look.” He turned the phone, and she read:
Hey, Bro! don’t b late for my party. Bubbly is chillin. xoxo Jo Ellen.

A laugh worked its way up from her belly and shook her shoulders. “Guess she’s excited about her Mary Kay party. Wow. Chilled champagne…sounds romantic. Watch out. Jo Ellen might open her door wearing nothing but Saran Wrap and a smile.” Lucy howled at his shocked expression.

Brogan threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her head hostage, and smirked. “You’re gonna pay for this. Now,
you
owe me.”

“Yeah? Says who?” Ruining the tough-act effect with her snickers.

“I do. Thursday night. Me and you. On a date.” At his serious suggestion, Lucy’s laughter dried up. “And Friday night we’re going to the lake.”

She scrunched her nose and tried to replicate Julia’s bitchy glare-down.

“For Parker’s team party. Not…sex.” He grinned, wagging his finger in her face. “You’ve got a dirty mind, Little Lucy.”

“No way.”

He swooped down for another sizzling kiss. All her feminine parts danced the hootchy-kootchy, but then he removed his lips much too soon. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the door.”

Laughing on the inside at his predicament, Lucy opened the front door and turned back to Brogan. “Do you own a pair of rip-away pants?”

“What?”

“For the entertainment at Jo Ellen’s party. If you need a thong, I have one you can borrow.” Slamming the door in Brogan’s stunned face didn’t silence the string of curse words spilling from his mouth.

For the next two days, Lucy sported a Braves baseball cap and dark sunglasses she’d found in her dad’s desk drawer as she ran Julia’s errands. Pictures of Mr. Neanderthal hauling her over his shoulder and dirty dancing with her at the bowling alley had hit Facebook and every other social media outlet with all sorts of captions like: Harmony’s Hottest Couple? Who Better to Bite Lucy than Brogan? Lucy breathed a prayer of thanks that no pictures popped up of the steamy make-out session in Brogan’s car afterward.

Focused on her job, Lucy had gotten busy downloading pictures of Brogan and Javier at the Harmony Huggers’ party hosted at the store. Miss Sue Percy led the pack, singing and drinking. And all the women were pictured hanging on the guys. The ones resembling a drunken, geriatric orgy Lucy purposely left off the Facebook page and website. But the tense lines bracketing Brogan’s mouth couldn’t be Photoshopped out. He still didn’t embrace being a sex symbol. Lucy wasn’t deterred and stuck to her marketing plan. Publicity was publicity. Customers trekked from Raleigh and beyond to check out the store and the Hotties of Harmony: Brogan, Javier, Keith Morgan, and even Vance Kerner, Harmony’s famous author.

It was Thursday, and the bucket of cleaning supplies rattling around in the backseat of the minivan reminded Lucy that Julia must’ve seen the pictures of her and Brogan online, because today’s errand list bordered on insanity. The scent of Clorox permeated Lucy’s skin and stank up the car’s interior. She hoped she could scrub the smell from her body before her date tonight. She’d just spent the last two hours scouring the kitchen and bathrooms of one of Julia’s listings. Julia’s assistant was taking another sick day, and the house needed cleaning per Julia’s instruction before it could be shown to prospective buyers. The glint of revenge in Julia’s eyes gave her away as she delighted in telling Lucy of the task this morning.

Lucy took a swig of her Cheerwine, coating her dry throat. Julia’s attempt to ruin her day had backfired, because she was smiling from ear to ear at the idea of a real date with Brogan. It had been a long time for Lucy.

Lucy pulled into the parking lot at the high school, and Parker stood on the sidewalk with his bag and gear at his feet, talking to some of the other players. As she eased to the curb, he grabbed his stuff and threw everything in the back. Sweat, dirt, grass, and stinky boy filled the car the minute Parker plopped in the front seat.

“Hey. How’d it go today?”

“Fine. Coach says I’ll get playing time in the scrimmage tonight. Hope Brogan is coming to watch.”

Tonight? Doodlebugs. “Uh, what do you mean by scrimmage?” She circled the lot and turned toward home.

Parker threw a you’re-too-dumb-to-live look at her. “It’s a football game, except we play against each other. For practice,” he said as if talking to the mentally challenged. “To prepare for our opponents.” Lucy knew what a scrimmage was, but did it have to be tonight?

“Thanks for clarifying…Peyton Manning.”

“Is Brogan coming?” he asked again with a tinge of hope in his half-man/half-boy voice.

How did one go about breaking it to her nephew that Brogan had asked her on a date so he could woo the pants off her? “Not sure. We’ve only talked about work.”

“I’ll text him.” Parker whipped out his phone and tapped his screen with lightning speed. Lucy’s heart thudded to a bumpy rhythm as her hopes of dressing up, applying makeup, wearing those kick-ass Michael Kors sandals Brogan had promised her (and had delivered) came to an unsatisfying end.

“I hope he can make it, because I want to show him the sneak play I learned.” How could she squelch the excitement Parker tried so hard to hide by insisting Brogan keep this date?

Parker jumped from the car and hauled his smelly equipment out as he clambered to the back door.

Lucy dragged her feet and the bucket of cleaning supplies from the backseat toward the house. Reeking of Clorox no longer presented a problem. She stopped when Toby Keith’s “Who’s Your Daddy?” sounded from her phone, indicating a call from Brogan. Lucy grinned at her appropriate choice of ringtones.

“Hey,” she answered, standing on the back porch, swiping her hand across the sweat on her forehead against another scorching August day.

“Lucy, if I had a dollar for every time someone squeezed my butt or rubbed her perfumed cleavage against my arm, I’d be a millionaire,” Brogan groused into the phone. Ah, Jo Ellen’s cosmetics’ party.

“You must’ve been a real success. Congratulations. Um, about tonight—”

The sound of a growling tiger hit her ear. “You’re not backing out. Not after what I suffered today.”

“Didn’t you get Parker’s text? He wants you to watch his scrimmage.”

“The scrimmage starts at five thirty. I’ll pick you up at five. Be ready.”

“For what? To watch high school football practice?”

“It won’t last more than an hour. Plenty of time to make it to dinner. I made reservations at Franklin’s, a really nice steak house in Raleigh.”

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.