Getting Lucky (A Nugget Romance Book 5) (12 page)

“There you go again. What’s out there that’s so damned important?” Raylene demanded. “We’re trying to have a conversation.”

Trying
was the key word. Lately, they didn’t have much to talk about. Unless it was about how Butch was screwing her out of the Hawaii timeshare. Mostly she just liked to drink.

“Just keeping an eye on my ranch, because instead of being out there, pulling my share, I’m in here with you.”

“Then I’ll just go, Lucky. God forbid I should keep you from something important.”

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down on top of him. “Shush. I love you, Raylene, but you’re a goddamned handful.”

“You used to like that about me.” She pouted. “You used to like everything about me.”

“And I still do. Mostly. But this Butch thing is pissing me off. Shit or get off the pot, Raylene. I’m not here so you can make your ex jealous, you hear me?”

“Will you stop going over to Tawny’s all the time then?”

“No! My daughter lives there. Don’t you get it? I go there to see her, not Tawny.” Which was mostly true. “Anyway, you’re the one who told me she was seeing Brady. I thought one night we could all go out and have dinner together. If the man’s going to be spending time around my daughter, I should get to know him.”

“I don’t want to go out with them. I don’t know Brady and I can tell Thelma doesn’t like me.”

“We’re not going out with them so the four of us can become bosom buddies. For the sake of my daughter, I’d just like to get to know Brady. Plus, it wouldn’t kill you to be pleasant to the mother of my child.”

“All right,” Raylene reluctantly agreed, but Lucky could tell she was put out.

“Your dad still planning on pressing charges?” Jake thought it could hurt the investigation. If John and Gus got wind that Ray was making allegations, they might shut down their operation until things cooled down.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think I talked him out of it, but who can tell with Dad.”

“Should I apologize?” Lucky asked, gritting his teeth at the thought of it.

“It might help,” she said, but sounded doubtful. “If you did, he’d want it to be all public and everything. After all, you did accuse him of being a wife beater.”

“Well, he is.”

“If you could get Tawny to make him boots, he might forgive you. He doesn’t like the idea that she makes them for Clay McCreedy but not him.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen. Tawny has her hands full right now with Katie. We’re just waiting on the results of my blood test and then we’re going full speed ahead on this transplant.”

“Ohhh.” Raylene held up her hands. “God forbid your precious girlfriend should make my father’s boots, which, by the way, he would pay a butt-load for.”

Lucky shook his head. “Do you not get how sick my daughter is? Jesus, Raylene, sometimes I think you’re heartless.”

She reached out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to make light of it. You may not believe this, but I’m very worried about Katie. The whole town is.”

He exhaled. “I’ve got to get to work. You coming over tonight?”

“If you still want me to.”

“Ah, baby, of course I do. Come here.” He got out of bed and wrapped her in his arms, but a part of him felt like a phony, like this lovey-dovey thing they did was perfunctory.

“I love you, Lucky.”

He was working the top button on her jeans when the phone rang. “Ah hell.” On the floor he found his pants, dug through the pocket for his phone, and looked at the caller ID. “It’s Katie’s doctor.”

T
awny thumbed through the magazines on the table. All of them were about five months old and none of them held her interest. How could they at a time like this?

“What’s taking so long?” she muttered.

“We’re early.” Lucky reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. They were warm and strong and callused and made her feel like they were in this together. A month ago it had only been her shouldering Katie’s cancer. For once she didn’t feel so alone.

Lucky had gotten the call yesterday. This morning, they’d left at sunrise and made the five-hour drive to Stanford. Cecilia would get Katie after school and keep her overnight if need be.

“What exactly did Dr. Laurence tell you again?” Tawny gazed up at the clock. She could almost hear it ticking away the time.

“We’ve been over this five hundred times, Tawny. He said I’m a match, but they need to run a few more tests before moving forward.”

“But you’re a match?”

“Honey, I don’t know how many different ways to tell you the same thing.”

“What kind of tests?” she wanted to know. Dr. Laurence had never said there would be more tests. Just the one to see if Lucky was a match.

“That’s why we’re here. To find out.” He squeezed her hand a little tighter. “You want me to go in search of coffee?”

“No, don’t leave.” She held on to his hand as if it were a lifeline.

“Okay.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Try to relax. I think this is good. They’re just being really careful, which is what we want.”

“You’re right.”

“Take some deep breaths.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close.

God, he felt solid—and safe. Someone to lean on. The only person she’d ever had like that had been her father, and he was gone.

“You smell good.” Lucky sniffed her hair, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Is that perfume?”

“Just shampoo.”

“You warm enough? You seem cold.” Why they always cranked up the air-conditioning in medical waiting rooms, Tawny would never know.

“It was warm when we got here, so I left my coat in the truck.” October in the Bay Area was balmy compared to Nugget.

He took his denim jacket off and slipped it over her shoulders. She pulled it around her like a security blanket. It was warm from Lucky’s body heat and smelled like him—aftershave, man, and the outdoors.

“Thanks. You’re not cold?”

“Nah,” he said, and put his arm back around her.

Eventually, Dr. Laurence came out and called them back into his office.

“I’m glad we could do this so quickly,” he said. “I know it’s a haul for both of you, but I think we’re getting closer. Lucky is indeed a tissue match. Now we’d like to determine how many of his major HLA antigens match Katie’s. Ideally, we’d like to have all six, which reduces the risk of graft rejection and serious infection.”

“Doc, you lost me. What if I don’t have all six of . . . whatever you called it?”

“Human leukocyte antigen. They’re proteins found on the surface of most cells. We inherit some of them from our parents and pass some of them to our children. But to answer your question, sometimes we’ll do the transplant with less than a six-out-of-six match.”

“But it’s better if there is?” Tawny asked, her stomach in knots.

“Yes.” The doctor nodded.

“What’s the likelihood of the six out of six?” Lucky asked.

“We’re going to test you and find out.”

It did not go over Tawny’s head that Dr. Laurence hadn’t exactly answered the question. “Lucky’s mother, Katie’s paternal grandmother, might work better if Lucky doesn’t.”

“That’s certainly an option we can explore,” the doctor said. “In the meantime, I’d like to send Lucky to the lab, let the techs do their thing, and we should know something later this week, or by early next week at the latest. Lucky, we’d also like you to have a physical. Given your profession, I’m guessing you’ll pass with flying colors or Professional Bull Riders Inc. wouldn’t let you ride. But we’re not taking any chances.”

The doctor scrawled something on a pad, ripped off the page, and handed it to Lucky. “I’ll have Delores call the lab to let them know you’re coming. It’s just four floors down.” Lucky had taken the original blood test at the hospital lab in Quincy, so they paid close attention.

“Will it hurt?” Tawny asked the doctor before they left.

Dr. Laurence laughed. “I don’t figure much hurts this man—not from what I’ve seen on television.” He turned to Lucky. “How much does one of those bulls weigh?”

“About two thousand pounds,” Lucky said.

“Wow.” Dr. Laurence shook his head. “To answer your question, Tawny, it’s no different than what he did before—a simple blood test. We just want to look at the genetic markers on Lucky’s white blood cells. And it’s better if we do that here.”

“Couldn’t you look at the genetic markers from the first test?” Tawny asked.

“We did,” he said. “But we want to do it again. Here.”

“It seems like there is something you’re not telling us.” Tawny looked at the doctor sternly.

“The results we got back from Labport in Quincy were inconclusive. I know how anxious you are, but we want to do this right—dot all our i’s and cross all our t’s.” He squeezed Tawny’s shoulder. “We want to do everything we can to make Katie healthy.”

They thanked him and headed for the lab, Tawny brimming with frustration.
Inconclusive
. What the hell did that mean?

“You seem to know a lot about this stuff,” Lucky said to Tawny. “I like the way you grilled him.”

“I’ve had to live it for four years. Do you think he was saying that Labport screwed up the test?”

“No. I think sometimes these tests have to be run multiple times for an accurate reading. He probably figures that since Stanford’s doing the transplant, Stanford should do the tests. Makes sense.” He put his arm around her again. “It’ll be okay, Tawny. We’ll get the test done today, grab some lunch, and be home in time to put Katie to bed. Sound good?”

“Yes,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder. On one level she knew the gesture was too intimate, but she needed the contact and connection, so she left her head there, sighing deeply. “Thank you.”

“We’re in this together.”

Lucky was in and out of the lab in less than thirty minutes, and they went to the mall across the way to eat a quick lunch in a small café he found. Tawny didn’t have much of an appetite. The anticipation of meeting with Dr. Laurence had left her stomach roiling most of the night. And today it wasn’t much better. She got a salad and pushed the lettuce around with her fork.

“Honey, eat!” Lucky tilted his head to look at her. “We just have to wait a little bit longer. That’s all.”

“I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. From the time she got sick I waited for the chemo results, the radiation results . . . I’m so sick of waiting.” She tried to blink back the tears, but they came anyway.

Lucky leaned over the table to hand her a napkin. “Let’s get out of here.”

He paid their bill, found his truck, and helped her into the cab. Next thing she knew, he’d flipped back the passenger seat.

“Get some shut-eye. You’re exhausted, Tawny. Everything will look better when you’ve gotten some sleep.”

He was right. She’d tossed and turned all night, playing scenario after scenario in her head. Stretching out on the bucket seat, Tawny closed her eyes. The last thing she remembered seeing were city streets and the entrance to Highway 101.

She came awake somewhere outside of Sacramento. Randy Travis played softly on the stereo and it had begun to drizzle.

“You should try to get another hour in,” Lucky said.

She put her seat upright. “I’m good. How long have we been driving?”

“About two-and-a-half hours. You snore.”

“I do not.”

“The hell you don’t.” He started imitating what sounded to Tawny like a pig.

“You’re making it up.”

“I’ll record you next time.” He gently slapped her leg. “You feel better?”

“I feel rested.” Not necessarily better.

“I talked to my mom. Katie is helping her make cookies.”

Tawny rubbed her eyes. “That’s nice. Hey, how was her trip with Jake?”

“Good, I guess.”

“What? You have a problem with them dating?”

“Not a problem. It’s just strange. And Jake . . . I’m not sure about him.”

“Why not? He’s incredibly kind, has a good job, and for a fifty-something, he’s gorgeous.”

Lucky tilted down his Ray-Bans and gave her a sideways glance. “He’s been married three times.”

“Maybe your mom’s the charm. You ever think of that?”

“I try to think of my mom and Jake Stryker, together, as little as possible. I like the guy just fine, but I don’t want to see my mother get hurt. She’s a good person and doesn’t need some smooth-talking dude breaking her heart.”

“I won’t say that she can’t get her heart broken, because it happens to the best of us. But I don’t see anyone putting anything over on Cecilia Rodriguez.”

“Amen to that.” Lucky turned down the music. “You ever have your heart broken?”

Tawny sat there a beat, contemplating how to answer that. “Yes,” she finally said.

“That park ranger guy?”

“I suppose he did, in a way. It wasn’t so much that he broke my heart, it was more that he could’ve been the one. But due to circumstances, we never got to find out.”

“Nah, he was an asshole.”

Tawny jerked her head back. “Why would you say that? You don’t even know him.”

“Because he should’ve stuck by you. Your daughter gets leukemia and he gets himself transferred to Southern California. That ain’t right.”

Okay. Tawny guessed that was one way of looking at it. “How about you? Who broke your heart?” Stupid question, since she already knew the answer. But she wanted to hear him say it so she could continue to remind herself of all the reasons Lucky Rodriguez was a great big toad.

“Raylene,” he said. “Not just that night at the Rock and River, but when she married Butch. They had the wedding at the ranch, and my mama spent three weeks sewing pearls on Raylene’s veil. I was at a rodeo in Winnsboro, Louisiana. Nearly drank myself to death.”

“I’m sorry, Lucky. But you’re together now.”

“Yep,” was all he said.

“So besides the park ranger, anyone else break your heart?”

She considered telling the truth, but what was the point, other than to make him feel guilty? Or feed his already gargantuan ego. “Nope. The upside of having Katie at eighteen is that I haven’t had time for men.”

“How’s Brady doing with Katie’s cancer?”

“Lucky, I know Raylene made it out that Brady and I are some big item, but that time you saw him at the house was only the second time we’ve ever talked.”

“Raylene said when she saw you the other day the two of you were all over each other.”

“Give me a break. We were in the Lumber Baron kitchen. How all over each other do you think we could’ve been?”

“Depends on how kinky you are,” Lucky said, and his lips curved up. “I think the four of us should go to dinner together. I’ll call him when we get back.”

“I would rather you didn’t do that.”

“Don’t you think it would be good for the four of us to get to know each other?”

“Do you not hear me? Brady and I just met. He doesn’t even know Katie.”

“All right.” He held his hands up. “Calm down. I won’t call him.”

“Steer, wouldya?”

“There you go, getting all bossy again.” He grinned, showing his pearly white teeth.

The man was way too sure of himself. And too sexy for his own good. She’d always known these things about him. And certainly becoming a big-time bull riding star had contributed to that large ego of his. But she also knew he was solid as cement, like with Katie and her illness. Or like fourteen years ago when Franklin couldn’t breathe and collapsed while he and Tawny shopped at the Nugget Market. She’d yelled for help and suddenly Lucky appeared. Ethel and Stu had hired him to sweep up the store on weekends. He’d been a few aisles over, dusting shelves.

He ran and got Stu, but insisted on waiting with Tawny until the paramedics came. As she stood there, fearing that her father would never get up again, Lucky had slipped his hand into hers. Tawny had never realized how much warmth and strength one hand could hold until she held Lucky’s. Eventually they were surrounded by medics and Lucky was hustled out of the way. He may have become her hero in middle school, but that day she fell in love with him.

 

When they got home, Lucky dropped Tawny at his mother’s and stayed long enough to kiss Katie goodbye. He had one stop to make before he headed to the ranch and wanted to get it over with.

He parked his truck on the square, next to the Lumber Baron, and walked across the green. A couple of the guys from the Nugget Mafia were sitting outside the barbershop and waved. He supposed they were taking advantage of what was left of the weather and the daylight. Soon it would be too cold and dark to enjoy the Nugget twilight outdoors. Donna Thurston was cleaning up the condiment bar at the Bun Boy. He waved to her too, but hoped she wouldn’t yak his ear off.

He had his hand on the knob of the police department door and was just about to walk inside when a surly voice told him to keep moving.

“The Ponderosa. Get a drink at the bar.”

Lucky did as he was told and grabbed a stool near the door, asking Mariah for a Jack, neat.

“Coming right up, bull-riding man.” She poured the whiskey into a lowball glass and placed it on a coaster in front of him. When he’d left Nugget ten years ago. the bowling alley/saloon had been a dump. Mariah and her partner, Sophie, had really classed up the joint. “How are you doing, Lucky? How’s the cowboy camp coming along?”