“I’ll have two weeks over the holiday break. It’d be nice to get it done while I’m off work, if the weather will—”
“Listen to Mike, Dad. You don’t want to risk it,” a third voice interrupted.
That had to be Josh, Lucky decided. Josh, Mike and their father, Coach Hill. Lucky had strictly avoided Mike and Josh’s father when she was in high school. Like everyone else, she’d had to take P.E. in order to graduate. But she’d signed up for dance, even though she preferred track—anything to avoid facing Coach Hill day after day.
“Let’s just patch the roof, then paint the living room. One major project is enough,” Mike said.
“Is something wrong?”
Lucky started when Mr. Sharp touched her elbow. He’d been talking about gloss and semi-gloss paints and asking how often she planned on washing her walls, but she’d lost track of the conversation.
Lowering her voice, she said, “No, nothing.”
A curious expression crossed his face. “Why are you suddenly whispering?”
“I’m not whispering,” she said, but she was, and she wasn’t about to stop until Mike, Josh and their father left the store. She didn’t want to attract their attention. She knew Mike probably wouldn’t acknowledge her while he was in the company of his family and she wasn’t sure she could handle such a snub after what they’d shared.
“So, do you want the semi-gloss?”
Lucky nodded. At this point, she didn’t care what she ended up with as long as Mr. Sharp piped down for a few minutes.
Instead of falling silent and staying in place, as she’d hoped, he picked up two gallons of cream-colored paint and headed toward the cashier, obviously expecting her to follow so she could pay for it.
“Don’t you need anything else before we check out?” she asked, her voice rising only slightly to cover the distance.
He scowled as he glanced over his shoulder. “I already told you, I have all the other supplies.”
“Oh…right.”
“And I have to give old man Bedderman an estimate on remodeling his bathroom at ten, so we’d better scoot.”
She’d forgotten about his other appointment. “Of course. Well, you scoot. I’ll—” Before Lucky could finish, Josh and his father turned the corner and nearly barreled into her new contractor. While everyone jostled to avoid a collision, Lucky bent over a can of varnish and began examining the label, just in case there was still a chance Mike’s brother and father might pass by without seeing her.
“Lucky?” Sharp said, his voice impatient. “You’ll what?”
Lucky’s stomach tensed as the full focus of all three men landed on her, but she looked up, anyway. Of course it’d come to this. In Dundee, she’d always had to deal with her demons head-on. “I’ll pay for the paint in a minute and take it home with me. Just leave the cans at the register.”
“Right. See you next week. Josh, Coach,” Mr. Sharp said in passing. Then he was gone, and Lucky was alone in the aisle with Mike’s father and brother.
Standing, she threw back her shoulders and took a deep breath. She might be willing to cower in the corner when Coach Hill and his sons didn’t know she was around, but she’d never let them see her cower.
Coach Hill had frozen in place the moment recognition dawned. “Lucky.”
She nodded cautiously as Mike rounded the corner carrying some sort of tool. As soon as he saw her, a frown creased his handsome face, the face she’d studied so earnestly in the motel.
“Maybe it’s a good thing we bumped into each other,” Coach Hill said.
His words were nice enough. The Caldwells were always careful not to lose control. But the coldness in his eyes sent chills down Lucky’s spine.
“Maybe you wouldn’t mind coming over to the diner with us,” he went on. “We have some business we’d like to discuss.”
“No, we don’t,” Mike said.
His father gave him a dark look. “Yes, we do.”
Lucky wasn’t sure what to think, but she knew she didn’t want to let the three of them corner her in a booth at the diner. “What kind of business?”
“We’d like to buy the Victorian.”
“I already know that,” she said. “I…I’m considering it.”
“We’d like to buy it right away. Today.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not quite ready to sell.”
“When will you be?”
“Maybe in a few months.”
“You’ve got to make sure you ruin everyone’s Christmas first, is that it?”
“Damn it, Dad, come on.” Mike physically pulled his father in the other direction, but Coach Hill jerked out of his grasp.
“Just sell us the house and be done with it,” he said to Lucky. “No one wants you here. No one even wants to talk to you.”
The pain and anger flowing through her tempted Lucky to tell him that his own son had done a little more than talk to her. She was so tired of the arrogance, the derision. She wanted to shock and hurt him as badly as he was hurting her. But when she glanced Mike’s way, she knew she’d never do it, even if he felt exactly as his father did. She cared about him too much.
“I don’t remember asking for anyone’s approval,” she said instead, but her voice wasn’t nearly as belligerent as she’d intended. Terrified that they’d realize how close to tears she was, she narrowed her eyes and glared at them haughtily.
“She has as much right to live here as we do,” Mike said.
“Mike’s right, Dad,” Josh chimed in. “Let her be, okay? We can get the paint later.”
Coach Hill’s face turned bright red. For the first time, Lucky was seeing a crack in the family’s cool disdain. “I’m tired of you holding that house over our heads. Just leave,” he said as his sons dragged him away.
When they were gone, Lucky put a shaky hand on the paint rack to steady herself. She’d heard it all before, she told herself. She had a thick skin. They couldn’t hurt her. She’d expected this.
But something hurt—so badly she could scarcely breathe. Maybe it was the realization that, despite what had happened between them, Mike didn’t want her here, either. That night at the motel had been no more real than all the times she’d dreamed of being kissed by him the way he’d kissed Lindsey Carpenter.