Scoring Lacey (13 page)

“Night.”

It was one of their more civilized conversations.

She hoped Kevin didn’t welch on letting Carmen stay with him. She hadn’t lied to Shayne. She and her daughter needed a break. Maybe Carmen hadn’t been lying and it was just fooling around with Garth, but there was so much anger in her daughter she could see her retaliating in an irretrievable way. If being with Kevin meant Carmen wasn’t so angry, then Lacey would accept that. If Carmen not hurting so much meant being with her father, then she could go. Whatever it took to make her baby stop hurting.

Shayne lay on her bed, holding one of her cameras and was flicking through the pictures revealed on the viewfinder.

“Both minors are still awake.” She unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them off. He looked up, watching her as she kicked the denim aside. There was a little click when she pulled her top off. “Did you just take my picture?”

“Me? No.” He was once again looking at the camera. She was surprised his halo didn’t make a little “ding” it was so shiny over his head. The bra was removed and she dug out an old Husks hockey jersey to sleep in. “Better be a twenty-three on that.”

She turned, showing there was no number. The bedside lamp was turned on and she flicked off the overhead light. Another familiar click had her glaring at him. “Stop taking my picture.”

“But you’re so sexy wearing a jersey. Be sexier with a twenty-three on it. These are good, Lace.”

She crawled across the bed as he rolled to his back. It felt natural for her to settle against him, her head resting on his shoulder as they both gazed up at the camera. They were pictures of Sunday’s game. “I know.” One of his hands dropped to her hip where he idly traced the bottom of the jersey, pressing the arrow key.

“I still have that one you took of me when I was twelve or thirteen and I was in the net. Hangs over my fireplace.”

She liked that. “This is my favorite.” She tapped the screen, trying to ignore the hand sliding under the green polyester with the thick band of yellow at the bottom. The picture was of her dad in his usual position, standing on the bench, watching the game with a fierce combination of love and battle.

“This is mine.” He hit the button repeatedly, flashing through the pictures so it looked like they were watching a game on TV. It was her from minutes ago, her shirt being tossed aside while a little smile curled her lips. A smile because he was watching her. A smile because he was here. “This ass.” His hand caressed over it then down her thigh. “Drives me nuts. Even in picture profile.”

Reaching down, she pushed aside his wandering hand. “Behave. Or you won’t have to worry about telling Todd because Carmen will bust in here and tell the world.”

His sigh was woeful as he set aside her camera. “Then get that thing out of my sight.” He turned off the bedside light, pitching her room into darkness. “Get into bed, Lace. You’ve had an emotional day.”

Sliding under the sheets warmed from their heat, she felt him settle against her. The weight of him was reassuring as he slipped his arm under her head, his fingers playing through her hair.

She gripped the front of his shirt, pressing her nose against the soft fabric so she could inhale his scent. “Shayne, what if she leaves me and never comes back?”

“You’re crazy,” he whispered. “How could she stay away?”

Shayne slipped into an empty stool at the bar. He felt exhausted despite having fallen asleep in Lacey’s bed with her for an hour. When he woke her house had been quiet and dark. Despite some groping and kissing, there had been no sex. Never had Shayne been more reluctant to leave a bed. He’d wanted to stay with Lacey curled against him, the warm puffs of her breath brushing over his neck. She had cried again. This afternoon her daughter had done what her ex-husband had never accomplished. Lacey was crushed, maybe even defeated.

Damn it.

He hated her tears, hated seeing her in that kind of pain.

“You look ragged.”

“I feel it,” Shayne said to Todd. “Scotch me.” His friend’s eyebrows climbed but he heeded the order, setting the glass down in front of Shayne then pulling some beers for an order.

At one in the morning, the Box was rather busy for a weekday. Shayne wished everyone would fall into a black hole and vanish into some science fiction abyss. Clasping his hands behind his head, he stared into the glass of scotch that wasn’t as dark as Lacey’s eyes.

He was in emotional quicksand.

He had known it the minute he had talked to her tonight and heard her crying. He hadn’t even acknowledged Todd as he had left the townhouse. Every instinct had said to go to her so he had. It hadn’t been about sex. It had been the instinct to protect her because she was hurting, to be there because she was crying.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself as he picked up the glass and took a long sip. He didn’t really taste the alcohol.

He had stayed in this godforsaken, piece of hell, prairie city for one reason. Lacey.

He should leave. Now.

Pack up his shit and go back to Texas. Right now. No good-byes, no reasons, just leave, because this wasn’t good. This was not good at all.

As he watched Lacey sleep, there had been no mistaking the fact that he was fucked. He didn’t want to be emotionally invested because he would leave. He couldn’t stay, she couldn’t leave. “Fuck,” he repeated as he drained the alcohol. He tapped the rim as he stared blankly at the collection of bottles behind the bar.

God bless his friend, he asked no questions. He just refilled the glass and went off.

Because what could Shayne possibly say?
Well, I’ve been getting your oldest sister naked and I’m falling for her.

Yeah.

That would go over well.

Fuck.

He shouldn’t have come back for the fundraiser. If he hadn’t, this mess wouldn’t exist. There’d be no taste of Lacey on his tongue, no feel of her in his hands, no awareness of her tears. He sure as hell wouldn’t be feeling like this.

Shayne drank the whisky like it was the water it may as well be. Frowning, he stared at the melting ice cubes and wondered where the hell the booze went.

He approached alcohol more cautiously than his friends. When Lacey and Shannon had taken him and Todd to a pub, he hadn’t been as excited as his friend. Todd saw it as a rite of passage. Shayne had seen a fist at his face. It had been Lacey who had told him he wasn’t his father. How she had known, he didn’t know. He still heard her say that no matter how hammered he got, he’d never swing his fist.

Damned if she hadn’t been right. He had yet to get into a drunken bar brawl for fear of seeing his dad’s face in the mirror. He had yet to be able to handle more than a whiff of vodka. Certain beers made his stomach curdle because he saw the empty cans and bottles in the shack. Granted he also never really tied one on unless he was with Todd or Lacey, as if they alone had the power to protect him from the past.

Lacey.

Once again he laced his fingers behind his head as he stared into his glass. There was some surprise when golden nectar of the Gods splashed down on the shrinking ice cubes.

“So does she have a name?” Todd asked. Shayne heard the crunch of a pretzel that was no doubt in the corner of his friend’s mouth.

“Yes. Lacey.”

There was coughing from Todd, a hacking, choking sound. At least no pretzel got into his drink. Shayne took a bracing sip because this wasn’t how he wanted to tell his friend.

“Lacey?” Todd’s voice rose. “
My
Lacey?”

“Yeah,” Shayne admitted, meeting his friend’s gaze as he downed the alcohol in a way that would’ve made Jerry proud. “That Lacey.” And because Todd was distracted, Shayne grabbed the bottle and poured until his glass was almost full.

Todd grabbed the glass and took a healthy swallow. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Shayne said, nodding his head. “That, too.” That, he decided, was worthy of the left jab that came out of nowhere, slamming into his cheek with enough force to cause him to almost fall off his stool. His face throbbed where the punch landed. He really needed to remember that Todd was left-handed. “Can I finish that?” He took the glass back and drained it then set the cold glass against his cheek. “Pour me another, will you?” He was going to get utterly shit-faced because then he wouldn’t have to deal with Todd. He wouldn’t have to deal with Lacey. He wouldn’t have to deal with the mess of his current life.

He was going take a lesson from the Jerry Donnelly book of life – get drunk, it’s all shit anyway.

Lacey answered the phone ringing in her ear. “Yeah?” She didn’t know the exact time, but guessed sometime in the wee hours of the morning. It took awhile for her eyes to focus on her clock. Two thirty. Wee hours indeed. There was also no Shayne in her bed. When had he left?

“Get your ass down here. Now.”

“Todd?”

The only answer was a crash as he slammed the phone down. With a sigh, she rolled out of her warm bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. Sandals would do. As she walked by the bathroom, she stopped long enough to brush her hair. The door to Kayla’s room was still closed and curious she opened it to see Danny sprawled on the bed, one leg up the wall. She knocked on Carmen’s door because if there was a fire, she didn’t want her daughter to leave Danny behind.

Lacey walked in as Carmen lifted her head from its face plant in the pillow. “Uncle Todd called and I have to go. Danny’s still here.” Not only had she slept through Shayne leaving, but the doorbell ringing too. Splendid. Wasn’t she the best baby-sitter in the world? She had strange men in her room and didn’t hear Shannon’s dad arrive.

“Yeah. I told Mr. Lewis to leave Danny sleeping. Is that okay?”

“If the house burns down, take him with you.”

“’Kay.” Carmen’s head fell back down.

Lacey grabbed her keys and went to see what had her brother frothing at the mouth. She squinted as she looked at the clock, to make sure the time was correct. Yep, two thirty in the morning. Yawning, she wandered out to her car then drove to the Box. The parking lot was empty but for Todd’s truck so she went to the back door, knowing the front would be locked. “Todd?”

Her brother appeared like some pissed off demon. He grabbed her arm and dragged her into the bar. “Come see what you’ve done.”

“What?” She had to jog to keep up with him. Her brother wasn’t known for his temper in the family. That was solidly on Shelley’s blonde little head. But that didn’t mean when his powder keg went off you wanted to be standing close enough to feel the fire.

He stopped and yanked her beside him. “That’s what you’ve done.”

She stared at the denim legs bent over the side of the bench seat. She knew that faded grey shirt since it had been in her bed a few hours ago. She took a cautious step forward and saw the bruise on his cheek. “You?”

“I tend not to shake hands with guys fucking my sister.”

“Oh,” she said softly because what was there to say? There was blood splatter on his shirt. “You punched him in the nose?”

“No. He hit the floor. Fix that.” Todd jammed two fingers. “I don’t know what the fuck you did, but you fix him so when I beat the fuck out of him, he doesn’t remind me of rolling his dad’s drunk carcass out of my bar.”

Lacey tugged on her arm then glared at her brother. Two fingers were poked towards her though he made no contact as he stormed away.

Lacey set one knee between his legs. “Shayne?”

“Told Todd,” he mumbled without opening his eyes. “He took it very well.”

“I see.” She reached down to caress the bruise. He looked rough. Not rough around the edges but just got kicked in the head by a train rough. “Baby,” she whispered because he looked so sad and broken and alone.

“Can’t do this,” he sighed and draped his arm over his eyes. “Fucking up friendship. Why? Fucking falling down drunk.”

A painful clutch filled her heart as she began to register what was going to happen. She pulled her hand back and stared at the man who was going to break her heart. She knew it. Felt it. You always knew when someone was going to blast you apart. It was the tone in their voice. She knew it well.

“Gotta go,” he said and sat up. His face drained of color and she wondered if he was going to puke on her. “Leave. Fucking city. Hate it. Fucks with my head.”

Lacey stared into the bloodshot eyes of Shayne. He squeezed his eyes shut then squinted.

“Lacey,” he said as he leaned forward and rested his head against her breasts. “Sweet, sexy Lacey.”

She smoothed her hand over his hair and felt him grip her hips.

“What was I doing?”

“Leaving me.” She tilted his head up, kissed his mouth then walked away because she couldn’t stay. Her vision blurred from tears. What had she expected? Really? She pushed open the door and stopped to see Todd firing tennis ball after tennis ball into the empty net. He stopped then straightened when he saw her.

“Lace?”

She held up her hand, stopping him because if she opened her mouth she was going to fall apart. Lacey continued around the side of the bar. The pain was a little surprising but not really. Truthfully it was leaving her feeling like she was gasping for air. She had known earlier that she was in a slippery place with him. Maybe if he hadn’t white knighted it over to her place earlier it wouldn’t hurt like this.

It seemed to take forever to get to her car. She dropped the keys then crouched down to retrieve them. She pressed her head against the door, her hand groping for the handle. She could do this. People broke up
all
the time. Relationships, especially doomed ones, didn’t make it. And this was doomed.

So many factors were against it.

She pressed her mouth against her forearm, nodded then pushed the remote button to open the car door. The tumblers clicking open was a relief, it meant she could get in her car and leave. She opened the door and eased into the car. Slowly, painfully she lowered her head to the steering wheel and counted to five then again. Her hand was still shaking, her vision was still blurred.

A metallic bang had her lifting her head to stare at six feet, three inches of drunk male with his fists on the hood. He lifted a hand and pointed a finger at her then jerked his thumb in the international sign of “you get your ass outside.”