Summer Kisses (37 page)

Will opened the driver’s door and slid behind the wheel. Lucky always kept an extra set of keys in the glove compartment. Reaching over to pop the latch, he noticed Lucky’s purse sitting on the floorboard. And right on top sat her iPhone. “Holy shit.”

Stranding her with no way of calling for help was definitely not the way to get what he wanted. He clicked the button to the glove compartment, and the little door popped open. ATM receipts and a pair of sunglasses fell out. Behind a hairbrush and a tube of toothpaste sat the spare keys, a tire gauge, and a package of peanut M&Ms. Messy. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“Duh.” She jumped down from the engine block and did her best to close the hood, but she was about three inches too short.

He unfolded himself from the car, walked to the front, and lowered the hood until it clicked.

“Go tell Lorna we’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Lorna was the latest in a long line of nannies. They’d been through so many they were now scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Vivi yelled at the top of her lungs, “Lorna, Uncle Will’s taking me on a ride—be back in an hour.”

Will cocked his head to one side. “Really, I could have done that. Go inside and tell her.”

“What did you say?” a voice called from the front door.

Will glanced over his left shoulder. Lorna’s scraggly blonde-gray hair hit her waist, and he knew her clothes were made entirely from hemp—she’d told him she was hippie chic. It looked more like unkempt and crazy, but she showed up every day, was nice to the girls, and didn’t smoke marijuana on the job, which put her miles above the last nanny.

“We’re going to pick up a friend.”

“Your energy isn’t calm.” Lorna touched the purple amulet around her neck and mumbled something. “Sending you mellow vibes.”

“Sure.” Coherence had never been Lorna’s strong point, but she was willing to work nights and weekends, so he tolerated her weirdness.

“Ready?” Lightly, Vivi slid her hand in his.

“You bet.”

Hand in hand, they walked back to the car.

Quality time with his niece wasn’t the only reason he wanted her along. Lucky had one huge weakness—children. She loved them and had wanted to have them so badly, but Ricky had stolen that right from her.

“Lucky probably hates me.” Vivi didn’t sound angry, only thoughtful.

“She doesn’t know you … but when she does, you two are going to be best buds.” Acid churned in his stomach. He was about to hurt his two favorite people, but it couldn’t be helped. He opened the door for Vivi.

“What’s she like?” She hopped onto the leather seat and buckled the lap belt. He’d forgotten that old cars didn’t have real seat belts. Maybe she should ride in the back? Through the small back window, he checked out the backseat. It didn’t have any seat belts.

“Smart, funny … pretty. Just like you.” He closed the door, walked around to the driver’s side, slid behind the wheel, and shut his door. It smelled like Lucky—Burt’s Bees Coconut Foot Cream and Chanel No. 5 and something under it that was all her. His heaven smelled like this. He slammed the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life.

Being in love with the woman his brother had married hadn’t been Will’s choice. But he had to live with the consequences, and now, with any luck, the consequences would want to live with him.

Lucky was learning that humiliation came in all shapes and sizes. This afternoon’s version was a hot pink Volkswagen Beetle. The poor thing didn’t even have the dignity to be vintage, and worst of all, it sported plastic eyelashes on the headlamps.

If her bloodlust to murder Will hadn’t already been at an all-time high, this pink tennis shoe of a car full of the three giggling girls from McDonald’s would have pushed her over the edge. Still, Kylie, Morgan, and Reyleigh had let her sit in the passenger’s seat, and Lucky had managed to control her cringe reflex every time a high-pitched giggle squeaked from the girls. Ignoring their constant ramblings took lots of self-control and the occasional smile and nod so they’d think she was listening.

As they weaved through traffic on MOPAC and finally exited onto Fifth Street, tall buildings lined either side of the street and had them playing hide-and-seek with the clear blue sky. Signs selling condos and lofts invited anyone with a gazillion dollars and a desire to stare at rooftops to buy a one-bedroom and live the high life in downtown Austin. Will had been one of the first suckers to plunk down money to live smack dab in the middle of everything. Lucky preferred more space. She adjusted Lana to a more comfortable position on her lap.

Will had gone too far. Betrayal was one thing, but stealing Stevie Nicks was over the line. True, Lucky had been avoiding Will, but her car—the only true symbol of freedom. She’d deal with him…. Oh yeah, she was looking forward to it.

“So, you must be really rich?” It was either Kylie or Morgan asking from the backseat. She couldn’t remember who was who.

“Absolutely.” Yep, she was so rich that all of the assets she legally owned fit into the trunk of a Camaro. At different times in her life, she’d been wealthy and dirt poor. People who thought that money wasn’t everything had never gone to bed hungry or worn the same clothes day after day because it was the only set they had. Being rich certainly kicked poor’s ass every time.

They exited onto Cesar Chavez. The traffic wasn’t too bad, and they made it all the way to the hike and bike trail before things backed up.

“Hey, isn’t that a statue of your husband?” More commentary from the backseat. Either Kylie or Morgan was observant in addition to being annoying. “Wow, what happened to the hand?”

“Yep, that’s Ricky.” Lucky glanced over as they slowed down in front of the statue of Austin’s most famous musician. The city had decided that a larger-than-life statue was the perfect memorial to her husband, so they’d commissioned a bronze, slapped a couple of benches around it, and called it a memorial park. Now that she saw it in the daylight, it was more of an alcove than a park on the Lady Bird Lake Hike and Bike Trail.

The bastard shouldn’t even have rated an alcove.

“It’s missing a hand. That’s weird.” Reyleigh squinted to get a better look.

Traffic continued to crawl.

“Looks like it was vandalized.” It was hard for Lucky to not sound sarcastic. “That’s too bad.”

A couple of months ago, in a fit of sugar-induced rage, she’d gotten the bright idea to remove Ricky’s head. In the dead of night, she and her two best friends, Betts and Charlie, had attempted to behead the Ricky Strickland Memorial. It hadn’t gone well…. Ricky’s statue had been anatomically accurate—thick neck and all. She smiled to herself. They’d settled for a hand, which resided in Lucky’s trunk along with the rest of her worldly possessions.

Five minutes later, Reyleigh pulled into the circle drive of the 5 Fifty Five condos in the upper floors of the Downtown Austin Hilton. “This is nice.”

“Yes, nothing but the best.” Her dear brother-in-law liked nice things, and thanks to Ricky, he could afford them. “Just pull into the circle. The front doors are over there.”

Whatever game Will was playing—holding her car hostage until she lost her mind and agreed to a new reality show—she wasn’t in the mood. Six more months of poverty, and then she’d be back on top. No more selling her beloved things and lying to her friends so they would think she was okay.

“Thanks so much.” Lucky was sincere. These girls had been happy to help her out … no strings attached. She owed them, and she couldn’t live with that. “Here.” She slid her favorite white Dolce and Gabana sunglasses off. “Take these.”

“Oh my God!” Reyleigh’s baby-blue eyes went huge. “Are they the sunglasses your husband wrote about in that song?” As if they were the prince regent’s royal scepter, she gingerly took the glasses.

The song was named “Sunglasses That Hide the Mirrors to Your Soul” and had, in fact, been written ten years before she’d bought these. “Absolutely. Wear them with pride.”

“Oh my God!” Reyleigh, Kylie, and Morgan all oh-my-God-ed at once.

Lucky opened the door, tucked Lana under her arm, and stepped onto the asphalt. “Thanks again, and have a wonderful day.” She closed the door and didn’t look back. Just once, she’d like to meet a female who wasn’t a Ricky Strickland fan.

With her head held high, she sauntered over to the front doors.

“Good to see you again, Ms. Strickland.” The doorman, Jose, smiled as he opened the door.

She gave him a quick hug. “Good to see you too. How’s your wife and baby girl?”

He looked stunned that she would remember and ask after his family. “Maria is good, and our little one, Marisol, is almost three.” With his right hand, he held the door open while his left went to his back pocket. Out came his cell phone. He touched the screen. Air-conditioned air poured out the open door. “Here’s a picture with Marisol and the giant teddy bear you gave her. She loves it.”

He held out the phone with a photo of a little girl wearing a red dress with little white flowers and sitting in the arms of a five-foot teddy bear.

“She’s absolutely adorable.” Lucky smiled at the photo. “When I saw the bear, I hoped she’d like it.”

“If you’re looking for Mr. Brodie, he sublet his condo and moved out.” Jose shuffled the phone back into his pocket.

“Oh.” She took a step back. “When? Where did he go?”

“It was about two months ago, and he didn’t say where he was going. Sorry.” He straightened his uniform. “I can check with Mike at the concierge desk.”

“No, that’s okay.” She looked over her shoulder. The girls were still parked. “Thanks, Jose. Give Marisol a kiss from me.”

She turned and waved at Reyleigh. “Would you be up for doing me another favor?”

Screw Will. Lucky was going home…. Well, to her house. She’d pick up a few things, including a different car, and she was out of here.

“Wow.” Reyleigh turned onto the gravel of Lucky’s private driveway.

Lucky’s heart beat double time. This was her house, but it didn’t feel like home. She hadn’t spent a night in this house since Ricky had died. She told herself it was because she hated him, but she was beginning to suspect it was because she couldn’t face the house without him in it. Sure, she’d been in and out to pick up things, but never to stay. Ricky had been a shit, but he was a larger-than-life shit. The house had felt lifeless without him.

“Wow. All of this is yours?” Kylie or Morgan awed from the backseat.

The car meandered down the mile-long drive.

Will had lost his mind if he ever thought she’d move in with
her
and the kiddos and live happily ever after. What woman in her right mind would lay down her dignity for the sake of money? Lucky glanced out at the freshly mowed Bermuda grass, manicured oak and cedar trees, and the other various drought-tolerant plants she’d overseen the installation of to make her dear husband happy. Then again, Ricky had trampled over her dignity for the better part of their fifteen-year marriage.

Reyleigh pulled into the circle drive and stopped directly in front of the double front doors. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m at Ricky Strickland’s house.” She pulled out her smartphone and started snapping pictures.

Lucky opened the door, place both booted feet on the gravel, grabbed Lana, and stepped out.

Morgan and Kylie scooted out of the backseat, pulled out their smartphones, and snapped away.

“Let me take your picture in front of the house.” Lucky stowed Lana on the VW’s hood, held the phone sideways so she could get the widest shot, and snapped the picture.

“I want a selfie with you.” Reyleigh giggled and rushed up to Lucky, squeezed close to her, held the phone out in front of her, and snapped a picture.

“Me too,” Morgan and Kylie said in unison.

“Help,” cried a small, high-pitched voice off in the distance. “Hel…”

Lucky looked at Reyleigh, trying to decipher where the voice was coming from.

“Help!” There was a faint splashing.

Lucky’s heart lodged in her throat. The pool. She took off in a dead run, motorcycle boots pounding in the granite until she made it to the backyard. A little girl, Dawnie, floated on the bottom of the deep end.

“Call 911!” Lucky screamed as she jumped in and swam for all she was worth. She grabbed the little body around the waist and kicked with everything she had. The little girl didn’t struggle. It took years before Lucky broke through to the surface.

Reyleigh stood on the gravel pool decking. “They’re on the way.”

Fear pounded with every heartbeat. Lucky dragged the little girl out and laid her flat on her back on the pool decking. She knelt down, opened her airway, and started chest compressions. Ever conscious of the tiny body, she made sure not to use too much force.

After two compressions, the little body twitched, and she sputtered and coughed up a mouthful of water. “Help…”

Tears burned the inside of Lucky’s nose and stung her eyes. She was alive. Dawnie was alive.

“Lorna didn’t help me. Why didn’t Lorna help me?” Dawnie shook as she clung to Lucky. “I’m scared.”

“Me too,” Lucky’s voice squeaked.

“You’re Lucky.” Dawnie’s appraising eyes scanned Lucky. “Cute shirt.”

“Um … thanks. Who’s Lorna?” Lucky cradled the little body close to hers, picked up the little girl, and carried her to the nearest chair.

“She’s over there.” Reyleigh nodded to a chaise lounge farthest from the pool.

A small woman with a wild mass of gray-blonde hair lay sprawled out on the chaise lounge. What the hell?

After Lucky took care of Dawnie, she would take care of her. Who was this woman, and why wasn’t she paying attention? Where was Dawnie’s mother?

“She’s got her earbuds in,” Reyleigh called over her shoulder. “Looks like she’s asleep.” She walked over and kicked the woman.

The older lady jumped about five feet in the air. “What?”

“The little girl fell in the pool,” Reyleigh yelled as she reached for the earbuds and yanked them off the older woman.

Reyleigh was fast becoming one of Lucky’s favorite people.

“Huh?” The woman yawned.