Not So New in Town (23 page)

The only stumbling block keeping her from complete euphoria was Julia. The disapproving looks, snarky comments, and extra load of useless errands flashed like a warning sign. Seemed Julia had lost everyone’s undivided attention and didn’t like it. Things would only get worse when Wanda got around to confronting her. Lucy hoped like hell she’d be running one of Julia’s stupid errands when the poop hit the turbo fan. The only other niggling worry—more like an epic worry—had to be that Lucy’s period hadn’t come. Yet. She still remained positive and kept reassuring Brogan.

Lucy dusted her hands and read the recipe next to her on the kitchen counter for the third time. Tonight, she was surprising Brogan with a homemade, healthy, organic dinner, personally delivered to his house in celebration of their two-week anniversary. Lucy even swallowed her mortification (along with a few M&M’s) and shopped at Wanda’s favorite store, Scanty Panties, on the outskirts of town. She purchased a sexy red lace thong and matching push-up bra, and planned to wear it under her zippered, black lace dress. Brogan had no idea of her surprise, but she’d instructed him to be home by seven, with an appetite.

Parker would be spending the night out for one last summer fling before school started on Monday.

With a glass of water in hand, Lucy pushed the door to the bedroom with her shoulder, and Julia, wearing a frilly pink robe and a pinched expression, looked up from reading a fashion magazine.

“Here you go. Freshly minted water. I’m making a really healthy meal for dinner: beef stir-fry with avocado salad.”

Julia reached for the glass. “Interesting how you’ve decided to learn to cook all of a sudden. It wouldn’t have anything to do with all the sex you’re having with Brogan, hmmm?”

These days, Julia didn’t hesitate to lash out with her razor-sharp tongue. Lucy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding.

“It’s all everyone is gossiping about. Miss Sue practically ran a front-page article in the
Harmony
Herald
. You might as well acknowledge the relationship.”

“Why? You never did. I’m just taking a page from your book.”

Julia visibly bristled. “Well, take this page while you’re at it…he’s going to break your heart like he did mine, and he’s going to leave Harmony and return to his real life in New York. The same way he did all those years ago. He’s not interested in Harmony, marriage, or kids. Remember that.”

Lucy flinched as if Julia had thrown sand in her face. “You broke his heart, not the other way around. I don’t plan to do the same thing.” Lucy flashed a smug expression, trying to cover the fear coursing through her veins. Unconsciously, she pressed her hand to her belly, knowing Julia’s scenario was dead-on if Lucy turned up pregnant.
Sweet
caramel
apples
on
a
stick
.
No!
There was no pregnancy, because Lucy willed it to be so. Shaking the ugly thoughts from her head, she marched back to the kitchen to cook a delicious meal for her Bro-man.

Julia was wrong. Dead wrong.

* * *

Brogan strolled through the back door of BetterBites, whistling a nameless tune. He stopped at the counter where Margo worked and grabbed a handful of granola.

“What’s got you dancing in your loafers? Forget it. I already know. Where is your Lucy-love?” Pushing through some dough with a French rolling pin, she smirked at him.

“Gave her the day off. She’s been working too hard.”

“Yeah, keeping you happy in bed.”

Brogan flashed a cocky grin. “I think the happiness is spread all around. Haven’t heard any complaints.”

“Probably because you’re howling like a coyote.”

Brogan laughed hard. “That’s for sure.”

“Don’t you have to be in New York in three weeks? What’s going to happen to Lucy?” Margo scowled at him as if he were a bottom-feeder drug dealer with no scruples. The New York deadline loomed over his head, but he’d been toying with the idea of convincing Lucy to meet him there after Julia had her baby. She could jump on board with some marketing ideas. Shit. Who was he fooling…he wanted her with him, by his side. Everything about Lucy seeped between his ribs and lodged in his chest, taking up permanent residence. In the past, his relationships lasted only a few weeks. He didn’t want that anymore. And he’d already survived a bad marriage. He sure as hell didn’t want that. But he
did
want Lucy. A really good friend. Someone he more than cared about.

Brogan snatched another handful of granola and tossed it in his mouth. He grabbed water from the cooler and flipped through the orders on a clipboard hanging on the wall. He struggled to focus on the notes as his mind wandered to the past week. Grinning, he remembered Lucy’s excitement when he’d presented her with the Trace Adkins tickets. You would’ve thought he’d handed her the crown jewels. After jumping him and appropriately thanking him by rocking his world, she’d rushed home to get ready. At the concert, Brogan had enjoyed watching Lucy sing more than Trace. In typical Lucy fashion, she’d danced in the aisle and sung at the top of her lungs, croaking like a bullfrog in heat, not caring that she embarrassed Parker and his friend, sitting one row in front of them. At the end of the concert, her gray eyes had burned bright, her cheeks had glowed a pretty pink, and she’d said, “That was awesome. Thank you so much. I’ll never forget this night.” Pleasure filled his chest. He’d never known a woman like Lucy…full of life, sass, courage, and a heart of pure gold. His friend.

“Mr. Reese? You have someone who wants to see you in the front.” Bailey stood inside the swinging door that separated the back of the store from the front and interrupted his happy Lucy memories.

“Thank you, Bailey. Do you know who it is?” She shrugged her shoulders, popping her gum. “Okay. I’ll be right there.” He took another swig of water and brushed off his hands.

As he crossed the store, he’d reached the bins that held the packaged granola when he stopped cold. A wave of shock, followed by panic and confusion, blasted him like a stick of dynamite to the chest. Brogan stared at a man’s profile. He was standing near the front window, examining the assortment of green teas.

His father.

How many years since that long, nerve-wracking drive from Georgetown to Gaffney? At least fifteen. He’d never seen or spoken to his dad since. Oh, he’d tried. But every time he’d called, his dad hadn’t answered. A few times his dad’s wife would pick up, but she’d acted pissy and brushed him off with some lame excuse. After several years, he stopped trying.

Brogan didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. But somehow his father sensed his presence and looked up. A slow smile curled his weathered lips.

“Hello, Son.” His dad dropped the tea bags on the table with a shaky hand. Brogan knew his dad was close to seventy-five in age, but his complexion was drawn, and his color didn’t look good. What little was left of his tawny-colored hair had grayed. And his short-sleeved shirt hung loose from his now-skinny frame. He looked closer to ninety-five.

“Do you have a minute to talk?” Don Reese asked in a raspy voice.

Brogan snapped out of his stupor. “Sure. Would you like to step in my office?” He was surprised by how normal his voice sounded.

“That’d be fine. Real fine.” Don shuffled, stopped, wheezed, and then started to shuffle again. Brogan hesitated, unsure whether to help him or leave him to his own devices. He chose the latter and led the way to his office in the back. Margo looked up from shoving pans of bread in the oven; concern etched her scowling face.

“Please make sure I’m not disturbed,” Brogan said in her direction as he held the office door for Don. Closing the door, he watched his father hover over the guest chair, holding the back as if he might fall.

“Have a seat, Don. What can I do for you?” Brogan asked as he sat behind the desk and clasped his hands together to hide his nerves. Sweat, cold and sickly, trickled from his hairline down his spine.

Don managed to bend his knees enough to sit. He fiddled with a worn nautical bracelet around his shriveled wrist, similar to the one Brogan wore. Brogan instinctively fingered his as he cleared his dry throat. Refusing to start the conversation with a bunch of inane prattle, he remained silent. He hadn’t called this meeting.

“Uh, Son…it’s good to see you. What’s it been? Five years?”

“Yeah, five years times three, but who’s counting?” The hurt he’d kept bottled up leaked from his voice.

“Fifteen years? That long, huh? I had no idea. You’ve got a real nice store here. Quality product. I can tell. Kind of ironic we both landed in the small-town retail business.” His dad gave a rusty laugh.

Shit. That sobering thought made Brogan itch to post a For Sale sign, don a three-piece suit, and hit Wall Street…yesterday. Reigning in his shaking fury, he said, “So, here we are. What can I do for you? You need money?” His old man’s head snapped back, and his watery eyes sparked. Must’ve hit a nerve. Too bad.

“Keep your money. I came here to talk to you about your family.”

“What family? I don’t have any family.” Except for Uncle Ray, who now went by Raylene, but he’d be damned if he would bring his mother’s brother into this.

“Your stepmother, my precious Louise, died a few years back…” Stepmother. Precious? That bitch who never let him speak to his dad? Oh no,
he
didn’t. Brogan was not about to acknowledge that woman as his stepmother when he’d never even had a dad.

“…sold the hardware store because I got a little sick and couldn’t keep it running,” Don kept talking. “Doc says I’m doing fine, just need to take it easy, and I’ll live for another fifty years.” A wracking cough overtook him, shaking his frail frame as he pulled a red bandana from his pocket and covered his mouth. Bullshit. Death had come a’knocking. The sickly-sweet smell, mixed with nasty drugs, hung in the air. Brogan recognized the death smell from sitting by his mother’s bedside. His heart constricted painfully over an absentee father who never cared about him, because now it was too late. The opportunity to know his dad had already slipped through his fingers.

“Why now? What made you come see me after all these years, Don?”

Don’s eyes flickered over the use of his given name. But Brogan had stopped thinking of him as Dad years ago.

“I need to tell you about your family.”

“
Jesus!
I told you I don’t have any—”

“Yes…yes, you do. You have a half brother and sister.”

The bomb that went off inside Brogan’s head caused temporary hearing loss. A brother and sister he’d never met and didn’t even know existed. Not possible. Brogan growled low. “What are you saying, old man?”

Don leveled his watery gaze at him without flinching. “Your sister, Ashley, is thirty-five and your brother, Neal, is now…er, he’s thirty-one or thirty-two. Can’t keep it all straight in my head.”

Thirty-five? Brogan had a sister one year older than him? How? Don hadn’t left his mother until Brogan was two years old.

That sick panic feeling swelled and morphed as Brogan realized this nightmare wasn’t close to being over. “I don’t understand. You were having an affair before you met and married my mom?”

Don shifted in his seat; color seeped over his pasty, gray face. “Not exactly. I was married to Louise
before
I met your mother.”

“Excuse me?” He was clearly confused. “Okay, you divorced Louise and then married my mom?”

The color seeped from his drawn complexion, turning it even grayer, and his eyes filled with tears. “No, Son. I was still married to Louise when I married your mom.”

It took a moment to register, but as the news hit him, Brogan gripped the edge of his desk to keep from reeling back. “You were married to both women…at the same time?” His chest heaved. “You were a
bigamist
?”

Don slowly nodded, and his thin lips drooped in a frown. Brogan’s blood boiled as it all became crystal clear. The secrets, the lies, his mom
never
speaking about his dad. His dad and Louise never wanting anything to do with him. He was the living proof of his dad’s crime. If they never acknowledged him, no one would be the wiser. The dirty little secret everyone wanted to keep hidden.

Brogan gave his chair a violent push as he stood. “You committed a felony, and that’s why you never wanted anything to do with me. You lying, cheating sack of shit!” He barely tamped down the urge to wrap his hands around his father’s scrawny neck. “Did my mother know?”

With unsteady limbs, Don stood, grasping the front of the metal desk for support. “No, no. Your mother found out once the divorce was final. I felt I owed her at least that.” Don’s thin shoulders straightened, and he skewered Brogan with a hard stare. “Everything you know about me is right. I was a liar, cheater, and spineless bigamist. Sorry ain’t gonna fix anything at this stage of the game. But for what it’s worth, I
am
sorry. Your mama was a good woman, and she raised you real good. Don’t hold no grudges against your mama. You keep all that blame on me, where it belongs.”

Damn straight. Brogan not only blamed him—he felt nothing but rage. Not an ounce of pity for his dying sperm donor. It was almost a relief having everything Brogan resented about his father confirmed by his own pathetic story. At least he finally knew the truth. If Don expected absolution for showing up today to confess and ease his conscience, he was going to be sadly disappointed. Brogan had no intention of absolving him. He’d leave that up to his Maker.

Don wheezed as his thin shoulders shook, overcome by his rattling cough. A tap at the door snapped Brogan out of his trance. He opened it, and Margo thrust water at him. Brogan thanked her with a nod and handed the water to his dad.

“Here.”

“Thank you, Son. You’re a fine man.” He drank unsteadily, dribbling some water down the front of his shirt.

After Don had taken a few sips, Brogan, unable to stop himself, asked around a lump in his throat, “W-why did you abandon me? Why did you leave and never look back? Were Mom and I that bad?”

Don shook his wobbly head. “I thought I could handle both. Back then I was in sales and traveled a lot, which is why your mama never knew the truth. Your mama was a fine woman and wouldn’t continue to see me unless I married her.” He hung his head. “I’m not proud of abandoning you, but I knew Louise would never accept you, nor would polite Southern society. It ain’t like it is today. Louise would’ve been shunned, and her children shunned. So, I cut bait, thinking it was best for everyone.” He met Brogan’s injured gaze. “If it makes you feel any better…I wasn’t much of a father to your half sister and brother either.”