Here Comes Trouble (21 page)

“Your dog doesn’t look good. It looks like he’s got cataracts.” He directed his attention to Boris who shoved his head farther up Dennis’ lap.

“He’s old,” was all she could reply. Why, oh why didn’t she dead bolt the front door? “Why are you here?”

“I was in the area and wanted to see you.” He didn’t take his attention off Boris’ snout.

Dennis almost never wanted to stop by and “see her.” He always had an ulterior motive.

“I don’t believe you.” She pushed away from the door. “Tell me what you want, then leave.”

He turned his dull blue eyes to her. Years of drinking and mild drug use had etched deep crevices in his gaunt face. Multiple bags pulled his beady eyes down. Several lines stretched across of his forehead. Overall, Dennis Taylor was not a good-looking man. Not for the first time, Lacy wondered what the heck her mother had seen in him.

“If it’s money you want, you can forget it,” Lacy said when Dennis failed to reply to her first demand. She grabbed the doorknob with a trembling hand. “I made it clear the last time I saw you that I want nothing to do with you.” She yanked the door open and the afternoon breeze blew through the living room.

Dennis didn’t move from his spot. He just sat there, running his hand over Boris’ head and drilling her with his menacing gaze.

The skin on the back of her neck itched.

“Word has it you’ve come into some good times recently.”

At first his words eluded her. Good times? Then she thought over the past month and a half.

The check.

 
All the blood that had rushed to her head upon seeing Dennis now rushed down to her belly and left her feeling light headed and sick to her stomach. Playing dumb was her first instinct but Dennis wasn’t stupid. The man may make bad decisions, but Lacy never accused him of being dense.

She cleared her throat. “How did you know about that?”

“Your grandparents,” he replied, like she should have known he kept in touch with her mother’s parents; people Lacy had assumed were dead because they’d never attempted to have a relationship with her.

Dennis continued, “Your bitch of a mother had the audacity to leave all that money to you.”

The shock of his words was like a kick to the midsection.

She didn’t let the effect of his words show. “You think you’re entitled to some of it?”

He nudged Boris’ nose off his lap. “Well, I only raised you and used almost all my meager income to clothe and feed you. I think for damn sure that woman owes me something back.”

Actually Ray had done all that. Dennis hadn’t so much as pitched in a nickel for his daughter’s well-being. He could have scraped together the money for a new pair of shoes or a backpack when her old one had fallen apart. No, he’d been too busy using his pathetic income on whiskey and meth, or whatever the hell his drug of choice was at the time.

And he was delusional enough to think he was actually owed something?

“What makes you think I didn’t tear it up?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“’Cause you’re not stupid.”

Obviously she was if she forgot to lock her front door.

“The only thing you’re owed is a one-way ticket back to jail, Dennis.” She held the door open wider. “Get out.”

His thin honey-colored eyebrows twitched. “You’re going to throw me out of my father’s house?”

Her back teeth ground together. “No, I’m throwing you out of
my
house. And you have no right to call him your father; you weren’t even at his funeral.” The memory of standing beside Ray’s casket, knowing Dennis couldn’t drag himself out of whatever hole he was in to attend his father’s funeral made tears burn in her eyes.

“I’m two seconds away from calling the cops, Dennis. Leave.”

A tense, pregnant pause filled the air between father and daughter. The lines in Dennis’ cheeks grew deeper when the corners of his mouth turned down, a look that was a permanent fixture on the old man’s face.

Without saying a word, he stood from the recliner and stretched to his unimpressive height. He stabbed his fingers through his thin, straw-like hair. Lacy was surprised he didn’t pull out huge chunks.

She kept her gaze fixed to the hardwood floor as Dennis’ tennis shoes softly scuffed toward her. The second he stepped out in the sunshine, she threw the door closed with enough force to make the wooden doorframe creak. She hoped she slammed it hard enough to send him on his scrawny ass.

Only when she was alone did she allow all the breath to leave her lungs. Dennis had a way of draining all her energy.

Showing up uninvited was nothing new. He had a track record of popping in wherever she happened to be at the time. However, this was the first time he’d set foot inside Ray’s house in years. When she was eighteen, just before leaving for college, he’d stopped by right after serving time for possession of an illegal substance charge. Ray had seen how Dennis’ appearance had upset Lacy and had asked his son not to come back. To Dennis’ credit, he’d obliged his father’s word, most likely because he’d spent more time in jail.

She walked into the kitchen. There, inside her junk drawer was the business card of one of the St. Helena detectives who’d visited her in May. Without hesitation, she picked up the phone and dialed the cell number for Detective Parks.

She received his voice mail and left a message. Immediately after hanging up she dialed Detective Whistler’s cell phone. Again, she got voicemail. A frustrated groan gurgled in her throat and she jabbed the portable phone back on its base. Should she call the Trouble Police Department? Was there anything they could even do? It’s not like she had a restraining order against him and the front door had been unlocked. And as far as she knew, he wasn’t wanted by the Trouble police. She plowed both hands through her hair.

“Boris, what should I do?” The dog lifted his head and looked at her through bleary, brown eyes. He dropped his large muzzle back on the worn area rug and went to sleep. “Thanks a lot,” she muttered. She turned around and leaned her emotionally exhausted body against the cracked tiled countertop. Her surroundings blurred as tears gathered beneath her eyelids. Crying was a weakness Lacy hardly allowed herself. Tears never solved anything and only left her tired and red-eyed. But In the quiet solitude of her kitchen, she didn’t bother to fight the moisture that leaked over her eyelashes and trickled down her cheeks. One by one the tears fell until she hiccupped and slumped to the floor. Using the heel of her palm, she swiped away the wetness that covered her face.

“So stupid,” she muttered. “Why am I crying? He’s nothing to me.” An encounter with Dennis didn’t usually affect her so deeply. When had she gotten so weak?

“Stop.” She stood from her spot and grabbed the dishtowel that hung on the oven door. “You have a life to live that doesn’t have anything to do with him.” She used the towel to blot the stray tears from her face. “You’re better than him.” Just as the words left her mouth, her gaze settled on the whimsical, colorful invitation to Courtney’s homecoming party that Avery had sent her. She dropped the towel on the counter. “Ah, shit that’s tonight.” She blew out a deep breath, went into her bathroom, splashed some warm water on her face and slathered on more moisturizer.

Twenty minutes later, after changing into a khaki skirt and an emerald green blouse, Lacy drove to Noah and Avery’s house.

Two-dozen cars lined the street outside the McDermott home. Okay, so she was fashionably late. Like an hour late. There were so many people, she doubted anyone would notice little old her.

She parked her boat at the very end of the street and walked. The sun had already slid behind the surrounding rolling hills, casting the overhead sky in soft blues, which blended in into a deep purple. A summertime Wyoming sunset had a way of capturing the splendor of Mother Nature unlike any other place Lacy had been.

Childish laughter and booming voices grew louder as she approached the house. Brody’s pickup truck sat in the driveway, behind Chase’s motorcycle. Lacy knew he’d be here. Her heart sped up and danced into her throat at the thought of being near him again. The two of them were adult enough to be in each other’s presence and exchange intelligent words. Then again, there were probably enough people here that maybe she could avoid any personal contact with the man.

She tapped her knuckles on the intricate stained glass window in the middle of the white door. When no one answered, she rang the doorbell. She was about to walk around to the back gate when the door opened and the always-stunning Avery McDermott swung the door open. An ear to ear grin lit up the woman’s classically pretty features. In one arm, she held Lily, who sported an adorable floral-print sundress, and the other arm held a pitcher of ice tea. The woman was a true multi-tasker.

“Sorry about that,” she said with a smile. “I was just running inside to grab some more tea when I heard the bell. I told Noah to put a sticky note on the door to tell people to let themselves in, but apparently it slipped his mind.” She hefted Lily higher on her hip.

“Here let me take that,” Lacy said and reached for the pitcher of tea.

“Oh, thank you. Come on in,” Avery said and closed the door. She turned and walked through the natural wood foyer that led to a great room with a vaulted ceiling. “I’m glad you came. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

“Well, to be honest, I forgot.” Not the most honorable excuse, but at least it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m glad you remembered. You haven’t missed much anyway.” Avery walked into the kitchen and pulled a platter out of one of the cupboards. “Courtney didn’t get here until about thirty minutes ago.” She pinned Lacy with a wry grin. “Only Courtney would be late to her own party.”

“Yeah, that’s our Court.” Courtney Devlin had always marched to her own beat. That’s why Lacy loved her.

Lily squealed, then wriggled her round little bottom on Avery’s hip, a clear sign the seven-month-old wanted away from Mommy. “Oh, no you don’t, Princess. I know what you want.” Avery tightened her grip on the baby and opened another cabinet.

Lacy set the pitcher down on the jet-black granite counter. “Can I help you?”

Something on the other side of the kitchen beeped. Avery rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you can take the tea outside and set it down on one of the tables. Then you can grab this little terror and put her in her playpen.”

Lord only knew how mothers juggled so many things at once. The only explanation was those motherly types had to have been born with a chip in their brains that allowed them to hold a baby and cook a meal at the same time. Lacy definitely didn’t have that chip.

“Here, let me have her.” Lacy walked around the island with the built-in cooktop and took the baby from Avery.

“Beware, she’s a kicker,” Avery said, then tickled her daughter’s bare foot. “I really appreciate it.”

Lacy rubbed her nose along Lily’s satiny-soft cheek. “Are you kidding? I’ll use any excuse to hold her. She’s such a doll.” Lily reached one chubby, hot hand toward Lacy and almost managed to grab a chunk of hair.

“Oh, she likes to pull hair too. I’m surprised I don’t have a bald spot.” Avery hustled to the oven, her knee length swirly-printed dress floating around her.

Lacy hung on to the baby with one arm, grabbed the pitcher with the other and walked out the double French-doors. There, on the other side of the patio, stood the man who’d seen every intimate part of her body; and kissed them too. His mouth tilted up in a toe-curling grin when he spotted her.

****

Chase couldn’t keep his attention off Lacy. Instead of her usual ponytail, her hair fell like a blond waterfall over her shoulders, sparking memories of it brushing along his chest or spread out on his pillow. His dick stirred at the memory of the two of them late one night in his kitchen. He’d let her through the front door and offered her something to drink. After closing the fridge he’d turned to find her staring at his ass with her teeth sinking into that beautiful lower lip. Instead of making the long trek up to his room, he’d set the bottle of water down and lifted her onto the counter. No objections flew from her mouth when he’d stripped them both of their bottoms and slid into her right next to coffee maker.

When he approached the porch swing that she sat on, her eyes lit on his and the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile.

“Can I sit, or are you still mad at me?”

“Only if you rock us; my leg’s getting tired.”

He sat next to her and pushed the swing back with his foot. “I’ll take that as a peace offering.”

She slid her green gaze to his. “I never said I wasn’t still mad at you.”

“You make a career out of being mad at me.”

She curled one leg under the other and her bare toe poked his thigh. “You make it so easy.”

He stretched one arm along the back of the swing. “I aim to please you, Miss Taylor.”

“What, no Miss Twiggy?” she asked with a small smile.

He leaned close until his lips were next to her ear. “I’ve seen you naked enough times to know you’re anything but twiggy.”

Her hand shot out and shoved him back. “Do you have to do that?”

“Would you rather I say it loud enough so everyone can hear? I’m trying to conform to your ‘no one can know about this’ rule.”