“Gabe’s pretty excited about his dad running for Congress, isn’t he?”
Mike looked up now that the conversation had returned to a neutral topic.
“He told me he just got a commitment for fifty thousand dollars. From one guy,” Josh went on to say.
“That’s great.”
“Poor Gabe. I’m glad he’s focusing on something. If it wasn’t for that damn car accident, he’d have a Super Bowl ring by now.”
“At least he’s alive,” Mike snapped.
Josh blinked in surprise.
“How can we expect him to get past what happened to him if we can’t? Just because he can’t run anymore doesn’t mean his life is over.”
“Gee, aren’t we sensitive today.”
“Being sensitive is one thing. Making him feel useless because he isn’t fulfilling our dreams is another.”
“You don’t think they were his dreams, too, Mike?”
Mike knew they were, but he also knew that the expectations of others had made the situation worse. “He can set new goals.”
“Am I right in guessing that you’ve already expressed your ‘suck it up’ opinion to him?”
“Why do you say that?”
“He was pretty remote today, and that would certainly explain it.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, he’s been remote, in more ways than one, ever since the accident.”
“Are you sure you have to be so hard on him?”
Mike glared at his younger brother. “I want my best friend back.”
Josh shook his head. “I’m not sure what’s going on with you.”
Mike didn’t respond. He couldn’t explain it. His life had been moving smoothly along for nearly forty years. And then Lucky had returned, and suddenly he was easily irritated, completely preoccupied and dissatisfied with everything that had once fulfilled him.
“We have a meeting here, Tuesday at ten,” Josh was saying.
“I thought it was at one.”
“Gabe said his father couldn’t make it after lunch, so we changed the time. One of us should let Conner Armstrong know.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Fine.” His brother slid his hands into his pockets and started for the door, then hesitated at the entrance as though he had something else on his mind.
“See you tomorrow,” Mike said, hoping to encourage his departure.
Josh turned and hooked his fingers over the door frame. “I ran into Jon Small when I was gassing up.”
“And?”
“He had a few questions for me.”
“About what?”
“Lucky.”
Mike narrowed his eyes. “What kind of questions?”
“When did she get back? Have we seen her? Hasn’t she turned into a beauty? You know.”
Mike and Josh often thought alike, but Mike couldn’t figure out where his brother was going with this. “What’s your point?”
“He said something that struck me as odd.”
“Which was?”
“He told me she’d spent the afternoon sitting in her car across the street from his father’s house.”
Mike sat up taller. “What?”
“She was there so long—”
“Doing what?”
“Just watching the house, apparently. Anyway, she was there so long they were afraid she might be some kind of stalker, bent on stealing one of the kids. So Jon crept up from behind and confronted her.”
“Did she say why she was there?”
“She told him she was looking at Christmas lights.”
As far as Mike knew, Lucky had no connection to the Smalls. He couldn’t help wondering why she’d been there, but he didn’t want to add fuel to the suspicion in Josh’s face. “So?” he said, pretending to shrug off the information. “Maybe she likes Christmas lights.”
“It’s freezing outside,” Josh replied. “Why would anyone, let alone a young woman, sit in her car all afternoon and watch one house? That’s not a lot of lights, Mike.”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her?” Mike said, trying to act as disconnected from the subject matter as possible.
Josh didn’t fall for it. Cocking one eyebrow, he said, “Fernando told me he helped you carry a Christmas tree into her place a couple of hours ago. Considering that, I thought you might see her before I do.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
MIKE LEANED against the porch rail, waiting for Lucky to come to the door. He could have called her. He probably should have called her instead of traipsing over to her house. But she wasn’t the most receptive person in the world, and he wanted to see her face when he asked her about the Smalls.
“Can I come in?” he said when she opened the door.
Dressed in a pair of low-riding jeans and a black, form-fitting sweater, she hesitated but finally swung the door wide and stepped back.
The scent of her perfume as he moved past her evoked images of her silky skin beneath his lips. His muscles contracted as he tried to resist his body’s instinctive reaction.
“Would you like to sit down?” she asked.
The house was spotless. It smelled of furniture polish and Lysol, but except for a new area rug and the Christmas tree he’d brought, which still didn’t have a light or a bulb on it, the front room was bare.
“Where?”
She frowned as if she hadn’t expected him to accept the courtesy but waved him back into the kitchen area.
“Why haven’t you decorated your tree?” he asked. “According to my mother, women really like that sort of thing.”
“Is that why you brought it over?” she replied, obviously baiting him.
Mike walked to the windows, which looked out over the land he loved. “Tell me what I want to know, and maybe I’ll return the favor.”
Their eyes met, and Mike couldn’t help thinking how difficult it was to erect barriers they’d already broken down. He didn’t quite trust her, hated that she seemed to pull him away from all the people he knew and loved, and yet…
“What do you want to know?” she asked.
“I’m curious about why you were at the Smalls today.”
“How’d you know I was there?”
“Jon mentioned it to Josh.”
She grimaced. “Word spreads fast.”
“This is Dundee, remember?”
“How could I forget? Can I get you a glass of wine?”