Getting Lucky (A Nugget Romance Book 5) (20 page)

He needed to tell Tawny. Just as he started to press her number, Pat waved him over.

“See this,” Pat said. He’d climbed onto the top of one of the outbuildings and splintered off a piece of the shingle. “It’s rotted. We’ll have to replace the whole roof.”

He came down the ladder. “The good news is, what your old crew did do, they did well. The bad news is, they didn’t do much. It’ll take at least five months to finish this job, and that’s provided we don’t have any debilitating weather.” Which of course they would. It was the Sierra, where a couple of big storms were guaranteed every winter.

And here it was November and he needed the place done by April. If Pat could pull it off, he’d pay him and his entire crew a bonus. But right now the only thing he could think about was calling Tawny.

“Pat, I want you to do it. But Katie’s doctor just called and I’ve got to get ahold of Tawny. Can you work up some numbers in the next couple of days?”

“You got it,” Pat said. “Good news?” That was the thing about Nugget. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.

“I need to talk to Tawny.”

“I hear ya. That little girl of yours is in our prayers.” Hearing Pat say that was the very reason Lucky should’ve gone with the local guys in the first place. “I also want to talk to you about building a house. But I want Colin to be part of that.”

“When you’re ready to talk, we’ll all sit down.”

“Great,” Lucky said, and started backing away. “Sorry, man, but I’ve gotta run. Take your time looking around and measuring. Whatever you need to do.”

Lucky decided it would be better to tell Tawny in person. This news she shouldn’t hear over the phone. Katie was at school—scheduled to go to his mom’s afterward—so he and Tawny had time to discuss their next move in private. Then they’d have to tell Cecilia.

In Lucky’s hurry to get to his truck he nearly collided with Noah. “Can’t talk now, buddy.”

“Everything okay?”

“I’ll talk to you about it later,” Lucky said, and clicked his key fob. They’d promised to keep the reporter in the loop about the transplant. Lucky would keep his word. But not now. Not until Tawny had time to digest all that Dr. Laurence had told him.

 

He found Tawny in her studio, cutting a large piece of leather while listening to her music. Most of the people around here played classic country and western, but Tawny had what Lucky liked to call college-radio music taste—a lot of stuff he’d never heard of. She hadn’t seen him come in and was swaying her hips to the song blasting from a docking station jury-rigged to some electrical wiring. Apparently there weren’t enough outlets for all her equipment.

He took the time to watch her and appreciate how pretty she was. Today she had on another pair of those leggings she liked to wear with a form-fitting sweater that hugged her small curves. And boots that went all the way up to her knees. Black snakeskin.

“Those yours?” His voice made her jump. “Sorry I startled you.”

She turned down the music. “What?”

“You make those boots?” He pointed to her legs.

“No. My mentor made them for me.”

Lucky thought they were sexy as hell. “Dr. Laurence called.” He heard her take in a breath.

“What did he say?” She gripped the table.

Lucky pointed to the try-on bench. “Come over here and sit by me.”

She crossed the room to the bench and they both sat. Lucky could see her hands shaking and took them both in his. It suddenly felt too warm, like she had the heat cranked up to eighty. Yet her whole body trembled.

“I’m a perfect match,” he said. “All six antigens.”

Of all the possible reactions, Lucky didn’t expect her to break down sobbing. But that was exactly what she did.

“Don’t cry, honey.” Lucky kissed her face, wiping away her salty tears with his lips. “Why are you crying? I thought you would be happy.”

She buried her face in his neck and shuddered. He wrapped her in his arms and held tight while she wept, her whole body shaking, until she seemed to have exhausted herself and finally went limp.

“You okay?” he asked her, not letting go, and she started crying all over again. “Tawny, honey. Talk to me.”

“I’m relieved,” she said, the words hitching like a hiccup. “I’m just so, so relieved.”

She turned her face until her cheek pressed against his chest and he rubbed her back, trying to get some warmth into her. Even though it was stifling hot in the studio, she seemed cold.

“They want us to do a conference call so they can explain the procedure. I’ll need to have a physical and start getting injections that’ll help my bone marrow make and release stem cells. Then we’ll go to Stanford and they’ll begin harvesting—that’s what they call it—and transplant my stem cells into Katie.” Lucky knew none of it was a done deal. Katie’s body could still reject him as a donor. But it was something.

“When do they want to do the call?” Tawny asked.

“Tomorrow.”

She took in a couple of deep breaths and exhaled. “Your mom wants us to stay with her during the recovery. I think I’ll take her up on it.”

“It’ll be good,” he said. “She’ll take care of you.”

Tawny pulled back slightly. Lucky tugged her back in.

“Me? I’m not having the procedure.”

No, but Lucky knew that she, maybe more than anyone, needed TLC. “We’ll all need some R & R, Tawny.”

For once she didn’t argue, and stayed cocooned in his arms. “We’ll have to talk to Katie. She’s a good patient, but hospitals and treatments make her anxious. The poor girl has had so many.”

“We can do it here or at my mom’s. Whatever you want.”

“Lucky?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.” She was quiet for a long time and he felt his shirt get damp. “It’s just a relief not to have to do this all on my own.”

A part of him wanted to say that she’d made that choice, but he left it alone. He was here now and that’s all that mattered. “What would you think if we went out for dinner tonight—you, me, Katie, and my mom?”

“I guess word would get out that way and we wouldn’t have to tell everyone,” she said.

That’s sort of what he was thinking. And they deserved a celebration, even if they weren’t out of the woods yet.

“Call Cecilia,” she said. “I’ll go wash my face.”

She needed a bathroom in the studio, he thought as he dug his cell out of his jacket pocket and hit speed dial, perusing the shelves while he waited for his mother to pick up. There was an empty space where the boots with the bull riders used to be. He still wanted those boots with a vengeance. On Tawny’s drawing board sat the design for Brady’s boots. A knife and fork. Lucky rolled his eyes.

Looking at one of the clocks on the wall, he wondered why Cecilia didn’t answer. He suspected that she’d gone early to pick Katie up from school and had left her phone behind. Tawny and he would go over to the house together and tell them the news.

He continued to snoop around her studio. Clay’s boots appeared to be almost done. Nice looking. Lucky wouldn’t mind having a pair of those too. His phone pinged with a text. He checked the display, hoping for Cecilia. Instead it was Raylene.

“What did your mom say?” Tawny came up alongside him and Lucky quickly stuffed the phone in his jacket.

“I couldn’t reach her.”

“Jake could be over there,” she said.

“Yeah. Or she went over to the school.”

Tawny looked at one of her dad’s old clocks on the wall. “It’s about that time.”

“Yep,” he said, and noticed that besides washing her tearstained face, she’d put on mascara. “You’ve got the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

The compliment seemed to unsettle her because she just stood there, not saying anything. That’s when he moved in and kissed her. At first she let him, returning the kiss with the same fervor she had yesterday. And then suddenly she stopped and used both hands to push him away.

“We’re not doing this again.”

He decided not to push it. They’d had emotional news today and Tawny seemed more fragile than usual. But whether she wanted to admit it or not, she liked his kisses and they’d definitely be doing it again. In fact, as often as possible.

T
awny spent the next several days working in her studio, desperately trying to finish as many outstanding projects as possible. They were having Thanksgiving early because they’d be in the hospital for the real holiday. She, Lucky, Katie, Cecilia, and even Jake would soon be heading to Palo Alto for the procedure. In the meantime, Lucky had passed his physical and had been trudging to a small clinic in Glory Junction to continue getting the daily injections that helped him grow stem cells. The side effects included bone pain and headaches, which made it difficult for him to train for the finals.

Tawny worried that he’d overtax himself. But in typical Lucky fashion he’d simply said, “I’ll deal.” They hadn’t talked once about their hookup—although Tawny couldn’t stop thinking about it—the
Sports Illustrated
story, or Raylene. That last part suited her fine. The thought of Lucky and Raylene together always made Tawny feel sick to her stomach.

On a good note, Pat Donnelly had agreed to take over construction at Lucky’s ranch. The crew would have to work double time to complete what was left of refurbishing the outbuildings, dormitories, and the lodge in time for Lucky’s first event—a spring barn wedding organized by the Lumber Baron, which included three days of cowboy camp activities. They also had more corrals to build for Lucky’s livestock.

So far the weather had held. But around here that could change in the blink of an eye. Katie continued to go to school while Tawny and Cecilia monitored her regularly for fevers.

Tawny spent the next hour putting the finishing touches on Clay’s boots. If she worked a few extra hours tonight there was a chance she could finish them before they left for the Bay Area. In her free time— like she had any—she tried to work on Brady’s pair. Those were just for fun and she enjoyed executing a design that was 100 percent her own. No input from the customer.

Since Lucky had come into the picture, money hadn’t been an issue. The man paid her an enormous amount of child support and had given her nine years of back pay, which Tawny had immediately deposited into a fund for Katie’s college education.

Tawny wanted her daughter to have every educational opportunity. If Tawny had her way, Katie would be the first Wade or Rodriguez to go to college.

As she found her rhythm, letting her work take her away, she didn’t hear Noah’s approach until he banged on the door.

“Hi,” she said, surprised to see him. They’d never discussed him coming over and Tawny had never given him her address. Although it wouldn’t have been difficult for a reporter to find her. “I wanted to see your boots,” he said. “People said you have seconds and samples for sale.”

“Sure.” Tawny waved at the shelves. “You looking for anything in particular?”

“No.” He looked down at the boots he wore. “I guess something like these.”

They were your typical store-bought variety. When he got a load of the price of hers, he was bound to have sticker shock. She got his size and directed him to a few shelves.

“Feel free to play and try on anything you want.” She pointed to the try-on bench.

Instead, he walked around her studio, taking in her equipment and some of her works in progress.

“What is this?” He examined her sketches for Brady’s boots.

“That’s just something I’m working on for fun.”

“Fork and knife, huh?”

“They’re for a chef friend of mine . . . Brady at the Lumber Baron.”

“I know Brady.” Of course he did. Noah had become a full-time resident at the bed and breakfast. He must have a hefty expense account. “Nice. You make boots for Lucky?”

“Nope. Ariat is one of his sponsors,” Tawny said.

“Still, I would imagine that a champion bull rider would have at least one custom pair in his closet.”

“Ariat might do his custom. I don’t know.”

“Lucky says you’ve made boots for all kinds of famous people.” Noah continued to wander around, poking into everything. He seemed genuinely interested, so she didn’t mind.

“Some,” she said. “A lot for people who have trouble fitting into conventional boots.”

“I never thought of that. What? Are their feet too big?”

“Not necessarily too big, but they have a misshapen toe or an odd arch or larger calves than the typical boot will accommodate. A lot of ranchers around here do it for comfort. They want a boot they can literally sleep in.”

“You sound like a good story yourself.” Noah laughed.

“The
Nugget Tribune
did a nice piece on me, but I’m friends with the reporter.”

He perused the shelves with boots his size and pulled a few pairs down. “What’s wrong with these?” He pointed to a chocolate-brown pair made of kangaroo leather.

“They’re not seconds, if that’s what you mean.” She cruised the shelves until she found a boot with an S drawn in the inside of the shaft and showed it to him so he could distinguish the seconds from the rest. “These”—Tawny picked up the kangaroo pair—“were a custom job for a man who got into some financial trouble and couldn’t afford to pay for them.”

“In other words, you got stiffed.”

She laughed. “I got a nice deposit, but yeah, I got stiffed.”

He flashed her a grin. “You’re very different from Raylene Rosser.”

She didn’t exactly know how to take that. Most men, including Lucky, went gaga for Raylene.

“Let me ask you something,” he said. “Is she a reliable source?”

Tawny flinched at the unexpected question, wondering what the reporter was getting at. “What do you mean?”

Noah sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it comes as any surprise to you that I’m interviewing half the town for this story about Lucky. Owen, that barber guy, seems straight up. But sometimes I get the idea that he pretends to know more than he does. Donna Thurston, the woman who owns the Bun Boy, has a definite flair for exaggeration. Clay McCreedy, who seems like he’d be a credible interview, won’t give me the time of day. I’ve heard through the grapevine that his wife has had bad experiences with the press—something about a missing child. Nothing I’m interested in for the purpose of Lucky’s story, unless it has something to do with him, which I’m pretty sure it doesn’t.”

He sat on the bench and started to take off his boots. “So far, you seem to be the most reliable of the people I’ve talked to. Cecilia is wonderful, but she’s the guy’s mother. And Raylene . . . yeah, I don’t know how to read her.”

“I can’t help you there,” Tawny said. When it came to Raylene, Tawny had a hard time being objective.

“That’s the thing,” Noah said. “I think you can. I get the feeling you don’t like her. Not because of anything you’ve said or done. It could just be that I’m picking up a rivalry between you two over Lucky. I don’t know what it is, but my reporter Spidey-sense says you don’t like her and that there may be a good reason for it.”

He slipped into her boots and struggled to pull them all the way on.

“You must have a high arch,” she said.

“You’re not going to play, are you?”

“No,” was all she said.

“Did Lucky force himself on Raylene when they were teenagers?”

Tawny jerked back. Apparently the cat was out of the bag. She was woefully inexperienced with dealing with the press or anything having to do with a celebrity athlete. Left up to Tawny, she would tell Noah the truth and believe that the truth would prevail. However, Pete’s voice floated into the back of her head, telling her how naïve that probably was.

Talk about the rape allegations and
game over
, he’d said.

“You need to talk to Lucky or Pete about that.” Hearing herself say it, she knew the statement made Lucky sound guilty.

“Did he ever force himself on you? Because he wouldn’t be the first athlete to think no meant yes.”

“Never!” she said because she couldn’t control herself. “Any relations Lucky and I have had”—a mere two—“have been completely consensual.”

“But Raylene could’ve had a different experience, right?”

She pinched her eyes closed out of frustration, knowing that she was about to fall into his trap. “All I’m willing to say is that you shouldn’t trust anything Ray Rosser says. The man is suspected of murder, for goodness’ sake.”

“He’s not my source on this,” Noah said.

She looked closely at him. Was he saying that Raylene was the source? Because that didn’t make any sense. Why would she try to make her boyfriend look like a rapist? What would that say about her being with a guy like that? “Well, then who is your source?”

“Raylene,” he said. “I don’t hesitate to tell you that because everything she’s said has been on the record. At first she only intimated it and then did a complete retraction. But she’s been regularly texting and calling me, and each time her allegations get more unwavering.”

“Excuse my ignorance, but what does
on the record
mean?” Tawny was in way over her head. She needed to stop talking and politely ask the reporter to leave. But she couldn’t help herself.

“It simply means that everything she’s said I can attribute to her.”

“So she’s accusing Lucky of raping her?”

He nodded his head. “Yep. And I can’t lionize the guy in a story—telling the world how he’s donating his stem cells to his daughter, how he bought his mother a house, and is the greatest sports hero since Derek Jeter—for the world’s premiere sports magazine, and ignore these allegations. I’m not that kind of reporter.”

“Did you ask Raylene why she would continue to see a man who supposedly raped her?”

“I don’t believe she’s seeing him anymore.”

“What?” She needed to call Lucky, but she was like a child drawn to the flame.

“I wanted to come to you before I approached Lucky.”

“You need to talk to him . . . Raylene is a liar.” She wanted to tell him about what a self-centered, mean girl Raylene had been growing up. How she would do anything to save her own hide, but stopped herself.

“She says he forced her the night before he left town. That her father caught him and threatened to press charges, but she begged him not to.”

“That’s not what happened,” Tawny said.

“So you know about that night?”

“Yes. But you should talk to Lucky or Pete.”

“Just talk to me on background,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“It means you help me make sense of her allegations and I don’t attribute any of it to you in the story.”

She didn’t know if she could trust him. At the same time, though, she didn’t want Lucky, the best man she knew, to be ruined because of a crazy, selfish woman. And she desperately didn’t want Raylene’s bogus allegations to come back to Katie or to hurt Cecilia. “You swear?”

“I swear.”

“If in fact she’s no longer with Lucky, I don’t know why.” Except that Lucky had told Tawny that they were no longer together and she hadn’t believed him. But if they had indeed broken up, why had Lucky met with Raylene the night he’d been with Tawny?

“What I can tell you is that he didn’t rape her ten years ago—or ever,” Tawny continued. “Raylene and Lucky were sexually active since her freshman year. Everyone in high school knew it. And I suspect that Raylene was sexually active with other boys besides Lucky, but obviously I can’t say for sure. That night, however, Ray caught them in the act, went ballistic, and accused Lucky of . . . god-awful things. Ray is known to be mean, racist, classist, and abusive. Not to mention that he shoots people he thinks are responsible for stealing his cattle. No judge, no jury, just boom.” Tawny wanted Noah to understand exactly what kind of man Ray Rosser was. “In Ray’s mind, no way would his darling daughter have consensual sex with the Mexican housekeeper’s son. I suspect that Raylene was so scared of Ray that she went along with whatever he said to save herself.

“Why she’s telling you this now, I have no idea,” Tawny continued. “I will tell you that she’s vindictive, incredibly self-absorbed, and like her dad, mean as a snake.”

“And perhaps a woman scorned,” Noah said.

“I don’t know,” she said. “A few days ago Lucky told me they were no longer together—that her ex was back in town. But you said you’d met her the other night with Lucky, so I assumed they were back on. It’s like that with them—breakup and makeup.”

“I can’t ignore her allegations, but after what you’ve told me I’m apt to be more skeptical.”

“It would be a terrible injustice to Lucky to write about it. He’s never been one of those types of guys who think they are entitled to whatever they want. He and his mom worked hard for everything they earned, and Cecilia raised him to respect women.”

“I’ll be honest with you,” Noah said. “After Raylene’s allegations, I’d wondered if maybe Lucky had done something similar to you and that’s why you waited until Katie needed a transplant to tell him about his daughter.”

“Now that you know the story, I can tell you the truth. I didn’t tell him about Katie because I was afraid he’d come rushing back and Ray would make trouble for him. I didn’t want my daughter to have that as a legacy.”

“Are you in love with Lucky?”

Tawny blinked. “Why would you ask me that?”

“A woman who loves a man would go to a lot of trouble to protect him.”

“I could never love a man who could force a woman into doing something she didn’t want to do.”

Noah smiled. “You didn’t really answer the question, but I get your gist. Thanks for being so candid with me. And, Tawny, this conversation goes no further.”

 

“What do you want me to do?” Jake came up behind Cecilia as she was chopping onions, and put his arms around her.

“Why don’t you set up the bar?” She wiped her eyes with her forearms.

“I helped make the pies,” Katie called from the kitchen table, where she folded cloth napkins.

“Well, then I’ll be sure to have an extra piece,” Jake said, and looked at his watch, wondering what was taking his daughters so long. Only three could make it for dinner, but the other two were coming for the weekend.