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

“It can wait.” But a few minutes after his phone stopped ringing, it started up again.

“Sounds important,” Tawny said.

Lucky caved and answered it. “Hey, baby, can I call you back? I’m right in the middle of something.”

“Is everything all right?” Raylene asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell you later. You talk to your lawyer?”

“Yes,” she said. “He’s trying to expedite things with Butch.”

“That’s good. I want to hear all about it, but this is a really bad time . . . Give me an hour or so.”

“Okay,” she said. “Love you.”

“Me too.” Lucky clicked off and slid the phone back inside his pocket.

Tawny lifted a brow. “Girlfriend?”

He may as well tell her the truth. It was bound to come out anyway. And something told him that Tawny had never liked Raylene much, especially after what he’d told her about that night at the Rock and River.

Most of the town had only seen what they wanted in Raylene. The girl who’d sold the most magazine subscriptions to raise money for Nugget Elementary. The girl who’d won the 4-H round-robin for best showmanship at the county fair every year. The girl with the brightest hair, the whitest teeth, and the nicest clothes. The girl who every other girl in Nugget should emulate.

To someone like Thelma Wade, whose pants never quite hit the tops of her shoes and who’d never won anything, Raylene must’ve been the Antichrist. But then no one knew the real Raylene like Lucky. She could be spoiled, self-centered, and vindictive, but mostly she was damaged, scarred, and lonely. A little girl who had no one until she had Lucky. And together they had everything.

“Yep,” he said. “Actually it was Raylene.”

Tawny balked. “You can’t be serious? You’re seeing Raylene Rosser?”

“Yeah. We’ve been keeping it on the down low.”

“I bet you have,” she said, her voice filled with sarcasm. “It’s not every day a man dates the woman who accused him of rape.”

“Ah, would you give it a rest with that already? It was a long time ago. And it was Raylene’s old man who accused me of rape. Not Raylene.”

“Whatever you say.” She shook her head and swiped her purse off the ground. “I’ve got to get going.”

“What do you mean, you’ve got to get going? We haven’t finished with the game plan yet.”

“I’ll tell Katie when I get home. You can come over any time after five. But I’ll tell you right now, Lucky, I don’t want Raylene Rosser in my daughter’s life. Katie’s got enough problems.”

Lucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Come on, Tawny. I realize that this is new territory—for both of us. But try to be reasonable here. Raylene and I are together. She’s a huge part of my life.”

“I don’t care who’s in your life or who you date. It could be Attila the Hun for all I care. Just don’t bring any psychos around my daughter.”

“You mean our daughter,” Lucky threw back at Tawny as she walked to her Jeep. He caught up with her and grabbed her arm. “Hold up a second. For the sake of Katie, you think we could try to get along?”

That seemed to register with her because she deflated in front of him. “You’re right. I’ll see you after five then.”

“Yep, I’ll be there.”

Lucky got into his own truck and followed Tawny down the long drive to the highway. He wanted his mama to hear about Katie from him, before word got out. He thought about bringing his bull-riding helmet, but then Cecilia would just aim for his chest.

 

Jake Stryker’s police rig was in his mother’s driveway again. Lucky didn’t know how he felt about the guy, but he wished Jake wasn’t there right now. Inside the house, he caught the two of them in the kitchen in a lip-lock, like friggin’ teenagers.

“You guys mind?”

“Maybe that’ll teach you to knock next time.” Cecilia smiled at her son but quickly pulled away from Jake. “Are you hungry?”

“Nah,” Lucky said, and Cecilia felt his head to see if he had a fever.

Deciding three was a crowd, he excused himself to watch TV in the family room. He wasn’t good company anyway. Flipping through the channels on the flat-screen, Lucky kicked off his boots. It would be nice when the workers finally finished his apartment and he could move out of the skanky trailer. Get some furniture like this, Lucky thought, stretching out on his mother’s big velvety sofa. In the kitchen, he could hear his mom saying goodbye to Jake. A few minutes later she came in and scooted next to him on the couch.

“I was thinking of making coffee,” she said. “Would you like some?”

“Sure, if you’re making it anyway.”

She padded off and Lucky heard the grinder going. He got up and followed after her.

“I’ve gotta talk to you, Ma.”

Cecilia stopped reaching for the mugs. “What’s wrong, Lucky?”

He motioned for her to take a seat at the kitchen island. “I have a daughter. She’s nine and Tawny Wade’s her mother.”

“Katie?” Cecilia sat there, clearly dumbfounded, her face a giant question mark. “How did this happen?”

He hitched his shoulders. “The usual way.”

“You two were never an item. You were always chasing after Raylene.” She said Raylene’s name like it was an obscenity. “Explain yourself,
mijo
. Why am I just finding out about this now?” As he expected, she was angry. And disappointed. Cecilia didn’t raise a son to bring a baby into the world and turn his back on her.

“Because I’m just finding out about it now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do the math, Ma. It happened the night of the fight at the Rossers. I left the next day. Tawny says she left messages for me, but I never got them.”

“Why didn’t she come to me?” Cecilia asked. “Katie is my grandchild.”

“The night we were together, I told her about what had happened with Raylene. She was afraid that if people knew I was Katie’s father . . . it would look bad. It would give credence to all the nasty things Ray Rosser said about me. She thought she was doing the right thing . . . for me . . . for you.”

“
Ay Dios mio!
How did you find out?”

“Tawny told me and we did a paternity test. She needs a stem cell transplant for Katie, and since I’m her biological father, Tawny’s hoping I’m a match.”

“I want my granddaughter,” Cecilia said. “All these years she’s been living right under my nose.”

“I know, and I’m working on it, Mama.”

“What do you mean, you’re working on it?” Cecilia shot him a defiant glare. “All these years . . . Tawny should’ve come to me. I’m angry with her, Lucky. She had no right.”

He put up his hands. “Ah, for Christ’s sake—”

“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain in this house.”

“I’m sorry. But cut her a break, Ma. She’s had a lot on her plate and did the best that she could.”

“I would think you should be upset about this. Katie’s very sick . . .” She stopped herself, but Lucky knew the implication. He’d looked up acute myeloid leukemia on the Internet.

Cancer of the blood and bone marrow was no joke. From everything Lucky had read, Katie could be living on borrowed time.

A
bout midnight, Jake pulled into the Gas and Go to fill his tank and his coffee thermos. Wyatt had taken the weekend off, leaving Jake and Rhys to cover his graveyard shifts. Dinner at Cecilia’s had been tasty, as usual, but he could use a little caffeine to get him to morning. And the Gas and Go was the only business still open this time of night.

The community was divided on an around-the-clock filling station. Some liked the convenience; others thought it was bringing too many big rigs in off the interstate.

Jake was in the first camp. The town, mostly filled with ranchers and railroad workers, rolled up early. At least at the Gas and Go, Jake could still get a soda and a pack of those mini powdered-sugar doughnuts he liked after ten p.m.

So far, the truckers who came through only stayed long enough to use the john, fuel up, and buy a soft drink. Other than their diesel fumes and loud engines, they were nothing to complain about. A few times in winter, when the pass got snowed in, Rhys had let them park their rigs in the lot behind the police station. On the really cold nights, a few bunked at the Lumber Baron instead of their sleepers.

Tonight it was quiet, though. Just Jake and the silvery moon. He topped off his tank and left his truck at the pumps while he went inside. Griffin manned the cash register.

“What are you doing here so late?” Jake asked him, filling his thermos at the coffee counter.

“My night guy called in sick.”

“That’s too bad.”

Griffin shrugged. “I don’t mind doing it every now and again. Tonight’s slow anyway. You filling in for Wyatt?”

“Yep.”

“Can you believe Darla talked him into going to a spa? Last I heard they were getting one of those his-and-hers seaweed wraps.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me,” Jake said.

“I guess the whole thing’s free. Darla used to work with the spa owner in a salon in Sacramento. The woman wants her to carry some of her spa products at the barber shop.”

“It might go over pretty well with the ladies in Nugget. Truth be told, I never thought those expensive shampoos Darla carries would sell in a town like this. But according to Owen, it’s a license to print money.”

“The old coot was supposed to hang out with me and play a little pinochle to while away the hours.”

The barber and his cadre of old-timers, known around town as the Nugget Mafia, had taken a shine to Griffin and were always making themselves at home in the gas station. Jake supposed that now that Darla, Owen’s daughter, had taken over the barbershop they had nowhere to congregate. “You have to get yourself some age-appropriate friends,” Jake said.

“Yeah, I know.” Griffin grinned. “Yesterday I had to show him how to stream movies on his new flat-screen. The guy wanted to know where the rabbit ears were.”

Jake started to ask Griffin about Sierra Heights, the white-elephant gated community the gas station owner had purchased from bankrupt developers, but someone blew the horn from a Ford F-150, indicating that Jake should move his SUV. There were a number of available nozzles on the other side of the gas pump.

Griffin looked outside. “Who the hell is that?”

A blonde—in the tightest jeans Jake had ever seen, a Western blouse that was open to her belly button, a lacy black bra, and a straw cowboy hat—came busting through the door. “Would you mind moving your car.”

It was more of a demand than a request, and Jake wondered if she’d missed the large Nugget PD logo on the side of his rig. Not that he was one of those cops who used the color of authority as an excuse to be inconsiderate. But other than him and Lindsay Lohan, the large service station was empty.

The woman looked Griffin up and down like he was a lollipop and turned her attention to Jake. “Who you looking at?”

That’s when Jake smelled the booze. And people thought vodka was odorless. “Have you been drinking, ma’am?”

“No. Have you?” She stuck out her chest, and Jake didn’t know if the gesture was meant to be belligerent or provocative. What he did know was she wasn’t getting behind the wheel anytime soon. “Don’t you touch me!”

Jake hadn’t so much as breathed on her, but the gal was sloppy. “Ma’am, I’m gonna need to see your license.”

“Uh . . . I don’t think so.”

More than a decade in LAPD’s robbery-homicide division and now he was mopping up drunks at the Gas and Go. “If you want to drive away, you’ll have to take a sobriety test, and I’m afraid that starts with you giving me your license.”

“Do you know who I am?” She jabbed her finger at his badge.

“More important, do you know who you are?” Jake said, and heard Griffin in the background choking on a laugh.

“I’m calling my father,” she said, and tottered backward on her high-heeled boots. “In case you didn’t know, he’s Ray Rosser of the Rock and River Ranch.”

Jake knew who Ray Rosser was. Unlike Clay McCreedy, whose cattle ranch abutted Rosser’s, the guy was a dickhead redneck of the first degree. Cecilia had worked twenty years at the Rock and River and had plenty of stories to tell. Jake figured Lindsay here must be the infamous Raylene. From what he’d heard from Cecilia, the girl was bad news.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Jake told her. “That way he can drive you home and you can sleep it off.”

She dumped her purse on the floor, looking for her cell phone. She fished it out of a pile of makeup and tampons, made a big show of pounding in a number, then staggered off to a private corner of the store.

In a low voice, Griffin told Jake, “And I thought I’d die of boredom tonight. So that’s Raylene Rosser?”

“I suppose so,” Jake said.

“I’ve been hearing about her, but this is the first time I’ve seen her in the flesh.” Griffin rolled his finger to his head, making the cuckoo sign.

Except for the black makeup around her eyes that reminded Jake of a raccoon, Raylene Rosser was a sexy woman, he’d give her that. There was a time when he went in for the tarted-up types—drunk or not. He could see why Lucky would be attracted to her. Cecilia had told Jake that she was afraid her son was seeing Raylene on the sly, knowing that his mother wouldn’t approve. Supposedly the boy had been hooked on the girl since grade school.

“Looks like I’ll be blocking your pump a little longer,” Jake said. “But I can’t risk her driving away.”

“No problem.” Griffin looked out the window. “It’s not like they’re lining up. Besides, the other side is available. I don’t know why she didn’t just take that side in the first place and pull the hose around to her tank. Or back in.”

Because she’s loaded
, Jake wanted to say, but refrained, trying to maintain his professionalism. Here in close-knit Nugget that was sometimes difficult to do. Everyone was up in everyone else’s grill. It was the culture of the town and one of the reasons Jake liked it so much. People looked out for one another.

Jake checked the back of the store for Raylene. As soon as she’d gotten off the phone, he’d spied her perusing the magazine rack as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Now she sat in a heap on the floor, crying.

Ah, Jesus
.

“You okay, Ms. Rosser?” He strode to the back of the store, hoping her ride would come soon. He still had to drive through the backcountry while he was on patrol. And frankly, he didn’t need this crap.

“Do I look okay?” she slurred, putting her face in her hands. “I’m disgusting. I bet you would be shocked to know that there was a time when people thought I’d make something of myself . . . something really good, like a movie star or a veterinarian.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Instead, I’m a loser.”

“Nah, you’ve just had too much to drink,” Jake said. “It’ll all look better in the morning.”

“I doubt it. But th-th-thank you.” She sobbed uncontrollably, and suddenly Jake felt sorry for her. Not only had she done a one-eighty, but black mascara ran down her face, making her look pitiful—and a little crazy. “My husband, Butch, had an affair on me with my best friend, Barb.

“
Butch and Barb
. . .
Barb and Butch
,” she mimicked to herself. “My father actually thinks I should take him back. He doesn’t think I can do better.”

Philandering was a sticky subject for Jake. He definitely wasn’t worthy to give advice on the topic. Fortunately, Lucky came through the door and Jake didn’t have to respond. Lucky bobbed his head at Griff and headed straight to Raylene.

He acknowledged Jake with a similar nudge of his chin. To Raylene, he said, “Give me your goddamn keys.”

Jake watched Lucky march out the door and move Raylene’s truck to the street. When he came back in, he muttered that he was sorry for any inconvenience.

“You got here fast,” Jake said. The old Roland camp was a ways out of town.

“I stayed the night at my mother’s.” Lucky scowled, and stuffed the contents of Raylene’s purse back into her bag. Then he pulled Raylene up by the elbow. “We’ll get out of your hair now.”

Jake saw them get into Lucky’s Ram and drive away. It looked like Cecilia had been right. No other reason Raylene would make Lucky her get-out-of-jail-free card unless they were seeing each other, which left Jake in an awkward position. Did he tell Cecilia or not? Because his guess was that there was no way Lucky would be telling her.

Ah, family drama. With three divorces under his belt, Jake had had enough to last a lifetime. It looked like he was in for some more.

 

“What the hell is with you, Raylene?” The woman smelled like a distillery and looked like a prostitute.

“Lucky”—she nuzzled her head underneath his neck—“I love you so much.”

Lucky pushed her away. “I need to drive. You coming home with me, or am I taking you to the Rock and River?”

She let out a high-pitched giggle and hiccuped. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Because you’re tanked or because you’re with me?”

“I’m not so very drunk,” she said, and Lucky rolled his eyes. “Daddy doesn’t like you.”

“Well, I don’t like your daddy.” In fact, Lucky hated his guts. “So I guess I’m taking you home. My home.”

“I don’t like your trailer,” Raylene whined.

“I don’t really care, Raylene.” Because right now, he didn’t like her. He had enough problems: his daughter’s illness, his mother’s disappointment, and Tawny’s reluctance to let him be a full-fledged father to Katie. He sure the hell didn’t need his girlfriend going out on the town, drunk as a skunk, dressed like a pole dancer.

“Why are you being so mean to me?” Lucky could see her pouting as the moonlight filtered into the cab of his truck. “You’re acting like Butch. He treated me worse than a dog.”

“Where have you been all night?” He couldn’t stand the thought of her driving drunk.

“Reno, with my girlfriends. God, Lucky, you act like I’m not allowed to have any fun. You don’t know what it was like being married to Butch.”

“Can we not talk about Butch for once?” Lucky pulled to the side of the road and slammed on his brakes. “You drive back from Reno like this?”

“No, Hannah drove.” Hopefully, Hannah had been sober. “Then why were you at the Nugget Gas and Go?”

“We met in the square and went in Hannah’s car. When she dropped me off, I didn’t have enough gas to get back to the Rock and River. Why are you interrogating me? What are you, jealous?”

“No, Raylene. I don’t want you killing someone, or yourself. Jesus, you’re twenty-eight and you’re acting like you’re in high school.” He eyed her trashy getup and frowned.

“I’m probably having a midlife crisis after Butch,” she said, and Lucky could hear remorse in her voice. And maybe shame.

Still, he was unable to let it go. “You’re lucky Jake didn’t arrest you for DUI, Raylene. I know you’re going through a rough patch, but you’ve got to pull it together, baby. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, sounding so sad that it made him sorry for yelling at her. “Lucky, you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d gotten married?”

Lucky closed his eyes.
Every damn day
. “Yeah,” he said softly.

“Remember that time in ninth grade when we planned to run away to Los Angeles together?” She laid her head on his shoulder.

He grinned in the darkness. “I remember.”

“We had it all worked out. We’d save up and get an apartment and look for jobs. Me as an actress, you as a stunt man.”

“We sure were idiots back then.” Lucky chuckled.

“No, we weren’t. We just had big dreams.” She let out a long sigh. “At least one of us made them come true.”

The cab of his truck got quiet. He supposed Raylene had never realized her dreams. Unless you counted marrying Butch and working in an accounting office, she hadn’t accomplished any of the things they used to talk about. Raising horses had been one of them. Raylene had concocted this fantasy about buying a ranch in Wyoming, training wild horses, and winning the Extreme Mustang Makeover. They used to lie for hours underneath the giant redwood near her barn, planning their lives together. Man, he used to love to listen to her talk.

“Lucky?”

“Hmm?”

“That night you left, I wanted to die.”

Then why didn’t you tell the truth
? “It was a long time ago, Raylene.” He kissed her. “Let’s go home now.”

Tomorrow, he’d break the news to her about Katie. That wouldn’t be pretty, but Raylene needed to hear the truth. Tawny had already told Katie but had put Lucky off for another day. Katie hadn’t been feeling well enough for his visit, or so Tawny had claimed. He’d stayed at his mom’s house, hoping Tawny might change her mind.

Today, he was going over there come hell or high water. But in the meantime, Raylene needed to know before the news spread through Nugget like a brush fire.

In the morning he made coffee and waited for Raylene to wake up. By now, her parents had probably put out a missing person alert—and Jake had probably told his mother about the scene Raylene had made at the Gas and Go and how Lucky had been the one to pick her up. He dragged his hand through his hair. Hell, they were both nearly thirty and still worried about the wrath of their parents. Kind of pathetic. He wondered if Katie would be the same when she grew up.