Cook County: Lucky in Love (3 page)

“She set it up with Bernie over at the boutique. She said you can go in any time today.”

He groaned. “That’s a total chick store, you know. You’ll owe me.”

“So, you’re going to be my best man?”

“No, I’m just going to try on the damn monkey suit because it makes me feel all hot and tingly to wear one.”

Chance laughed out loud.

Lucky shook his head in disgust. Damned if he’d ever go through all this fuss to please a woman. He was perfectly content staying a blue jeans-clad bachelor.

Chapter Three

Lucky stepped into the darkened interior of Hell’s Belle. He smelled of aftershave, a touch of cologne, and spearmint breath spray. Not that he was planning on kissing anyone. Nope. His poisoned lips were staying far away from Cook County’s female population. He was only here because there was no place else for him to go, and he’d had his fill of time spent alone.

Ladies night at Hell’s Belle always guaranteed a full house, particularly since there wasn’t much else to do on a Thursday night in the small community. As Lucky scanned the room, his gaze fell on several women he knew, some more intimately than others, and a healthy amount of men out prowling for a one-nighter. There had been a time not long ago when he would have been the most predatory one of all, but he’d learned his lesson. There would be no coaxing the ladies into his arms and his bed, no matter how good some of them looked in their tight jeans and short skirts.

“Well, damn. I thought you might be done drinking your troubles away when you didn’t show up here for a few days,” Rhoda, the busty, plus-sized bartender, said with a sigh as Lucky lowered himself onto a stool in front of the spot she was wiping down. “That or you’d ended up in a ditch somewhere after leaving here wasted.”

“I’d think you’d enjoy having regular customers as long as they pay.”

“Not if they pay with their life.” Rho looked at him pointedly.

Her eyes were tired and a sheen of sweat had her bangs sticking to her forehead, and the neck of her gray T-shirt wet. It was clear the night had been busy and she wasn’t in the mood for Lucky’s usual smart-assed joviality.

“Some man came by yesterday, asking if I knew a Lucky Masters.”

He groaned inwardly. The last time someone had been asking for him around town, it had been Sylvia Case’s sister. She’d actually told him she didn’t hold him liable for her sister’s death, but if the past had taught him anything, good luck didn’t last long. “What’d he want?”

“How would I know? I don’t meddle in people’s business.”

Lucky arched an eyebrow, earning a smack from Rho’s rag. He couldn’t help but laugh. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

“What do ya want, smarty pants?”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

This earned him a rare smile from Rho.

“I’ll be paying for that,” a soft, sultry voice breezed past him as the woman who’d been occupying his mind entirely too much lately slid onto the stool next to him.

“It’s ladies night, so you can’t say no to me. Right?”

Hell
. “Make that a whiskey.”

Rho’s smile quickly transformed into a deep scowl, but she made the drink, asking Cammie what she wanted and filling her order as well. “Watch this one,” Rho warned her before walking away toward the other end of the bar where she was being flagged.

“Hmm.
Should
I be wary of you?” the feisty little brunette asked, twirling the girly umbrella in her drink.

Lucky spared her a glance before taking a swallow of his whiskey, needing the liquid courage to stay seated. The woman had somehow managed to pour herself into a tight, red, V-neck T-shirt, snug jeans and red fuck-me heels that made him want to do just that. If anyone should be wary, it ought to be him. The last time he’d taken a woman to bed, she’d died the next morning. And she hadn’t been nearly as innocent as this one.

Lucky tapped his shot glass on the bar top, meeting Rho’s scowl with one of his own as she refilled it.

Cammie tossed a wad of bills on the bar and huffed. “Sorry I bothered you. Enjoy your evening.”

“Stay,” he heard himself say, the disappointment in her tone gnawing at his gut. He didn’t want to hurt her in any way, and that went for her feelings as well. He’d just have to be mindful not to be too nice and allow crazy ideas to take root in Cammie’s pretty little head.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” she said as she slowly took a seat on the stool next to his, her voice holding a note of sorrow that gripped Lucky’s insides.

It was then that he noticed her usually bright hazel eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. His gut twisted as he wondered what had happened to cause her such evident distress, especially as he recalled he had never seen her in this bar before. To his knowledge, Cammie May wasn’t a drinker. Then he remembered Delia’s barb about her finding her boyfriend with another woman.

“You’re no bother, Cammie, and no man stupid enough to cheat on you is worth drinking and crying over.”

She looked up, eyes wide in surprise, before offering a slight shake of her head. “I’m not drowning my sorrows in alcohol over a man, Luck. There are far worse things in the world than spineless liars.”

“Uh-oh, sounds serious,” he murmured, drawn in to the woman’s problems despite warning signals flaring in his brain. This wasn’t the way to stay unattached and distant, but he couldn’t help himself. Cammie May was sad, and he wanted that to stop immediately. “What’s wrong, little one?”

The corners of her mouth turned upward, almost forming a smile for the briefest of moments before a tiny sigh escaped her smooth, extremely enticing lips. “It’s been years since you’ve called me that. It drove me nuts when I was a kid, but grew on me as I got older. It kind of made me feel special having my own little nickname from the great Lucky Masters.”

He snorted. “Great? I don’t think so. I was just a ranch hand and a bronc buster. Nothing special.”

“You were to me,” Cammie said wistfully before her cheeks bloomed pink and she lightly shook her head as if shaking out the thoughts of him from long ago.

She focused on her drink, twirling the little umbrella while she seemed to collect her thoughts.

“Out with it,” Lucky ordered, the silence growing uncomfortable. “Who made you cry?”

She grinned. “Why? You going to beat him up?”

“Maybe.”
Probably
.

Cammie made a small sound in her throat that would have passed for laughter had it not been so sad. “Like I said, this isn’t about a man.”

She twirled the little umbrella in her drink, silent for a long, tense moment.

“I have a really good friend in trouble,” she finally continued. “She’s sick, the kind of sick that cough syrup and chicken noodle soup won’t fix.”

He looked up sharply, his chest constricting. “Which friend?”

Cammie’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh geez, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Kenzie’s fine, other than regular wedding jitters, I’m sure.” She shook her head as she lowered her chin into her hands. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long, trying day and my brain is a mess right now.”

Afraid he’d made her feel worse, Lucky rubbed Cammie’s back in an effort to soothe her, but pulled his hand away after he felt her bra strap beneath the thin cotton shirt. His mind immediately went to thoughts of what the all grown up Cammie May looked like naked, and he muttered a curse beneath his breath. The woman was hurting, and he was picturing her naked body in his mind. If there was an Asshole of the Year award, his name was being engraved on the plaque.

Cammie looked up in confusion, having heard his muttering. Lucky prayed she hadn’t understood what he’d said, or why he’d said it. “I’m sorry,” he offered, unsure what he could say to make her feel better, but figuring a condolence was mandatory in these situations. “I don’t think I know this friend, but I’m sure she’s a good person.”

Cammie sniffed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “She’s been battling her health problem for a long while, and now it’s trying to shut down her kidneys. She’s too young to die, Lucky, and she hasn’t done any of the things she planned on doing with her life.”

Sonofabitch
. Lucky downed his whiskey and banged the glass on the bar, signaling his need for another shot while damning himself for not letting Cammie walk away when he’d had the chance. The last thing he needed on his mind was a young woman dying, especially one whose death would hurt Cammie. “I’m sorry to hear that, Cam. I hope the doctors find a way to save her.”

Lucky drummed his fingers along the bar, struggling to think of what to say. Cammie was more upset than he’d ever seen a person get over a friend, and a situation that hadn’t even happened yet.

He returned Rho’s dark glare with one he was sure was even darker as she poured him his third drink, and he quickly swallowed it down, letting the alcohol burn in the pit of his stomach. He needed it to keep from running out on Cammie, to flee as far from this conversation as he could. He could ride a bucking bronco all day, break every bone in his body and laugh about it, but dealing with damsels in distress that he couldn’t do a damn thing to rescue was when he tucked tail and ran.

As hurt as Cammie seemed right now, though, he couldn’t just run out on her. She’d been there to offer kind words after Delia Mayberry had insulted him at the diner this morning. He felt the need to return the favor by being the ear she needed as she talked about her friend.

“The doctors say that she may end up having to have a kidney transplant if she doesn’t start responding to her medication better. Waiting lists are long for organs, but friends and family can be tested, so she doesn’t have to wait on a stranger’s kidney to become available. But she doesn’t really have any family, and she doesn’t know if her friends would be willing to donate a kidney to save her. She’s terrified of what will happen if it gets to that point.”

“You might be worrying over nothing, hon.”

Cammie nodded, sniffed a little before a trail of tears spilled over, sliding down her cheek.

“Hey now.” Lucky quickly wiped away the moisture with his thumb, erasing the evidence of heartbreak. If there was anything he couldn’t stand to see on a woman’s face, it was that. “I’m sure she’ll be all right. A match will be found if it comes to that, and who knows, maybe your friend will outlive us both.”

She nodded as she sniffed harder. “Gotta have faith, right?”

“Yeah,” he agreed half-heartedly. Faith hadn’t done a damn thing for him, but he’d agree with just about anything right now to keep Cammie from breaking down into full on sobs.

“I’m sorry,” she abruptly apologized. “I’m just spilling my guts about all this depressing stuff. I’m sure this wasn’t how you planned to spend your night.”

“It’s fine.” Lucky patted her hand, careful not to linger. It would be too easy to allow his fingers to feel more of her soft skin. “I just came in for a drink, and to be around people for a little while. Drinking in a crowded room isn’t nearly as depressing as swigging your alcohol from a bottle in your living room, regardless of whether or not you’re actually alone in that crowded room.”

“You’re not alone, Lucky.” She put her hand on his shoulder and lightly squeezed.

He swallowed hard. “Yeah, I suppose not. Thanks, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” she replied, hard gaze cutting through him like a dagger. “I’m twenty-freaking-eight years old for cripes sake.”

Lucky laughed, unable to contain it while looking at Cammie’s cute nose scrunched in irritation. “What exactly is a
cripe
anyway?”

Her lips twitched as she put up a fight, but soon succumbed to a small laugh. “I don’t know, but I think I made my point.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Yes, ma’am. Didn’t mean to get your panties in a twist.”

“You, sir, have no effect on my panties.” She raised her nose indignantly and turned her face away, lips twitching again.

“It’s good to see you laugh and smile, Cam. The frown just isn’t you.”

She met his gaze dead-on and nodded. “Same for you, cowboy. You’re supposed to be the lighthearted Masters. Chance is the dark, moody one.”

“He was before your friend got her hands on him and pussified him all to hell,” he muttered, earning a soft chuckle. “It’s good to see him happy though. Lord knows he’s earned it.”

“As have you.”

She leaned in close, the soft scent of strawberries reaching out to tease him.

“When’s the last time you really had fun?”

The night before I woke up to a dead woman in the bathtub
.

Lucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m doing just fine, Cammie. You should have a little fun yourself, get your mind off the ex and the friend for a little while. Grab yourself a guy and take a spin on the dance floor.”

“Great idea,” she said, sliding off the barstool. “Don’t mind if I do.”

A soft hand gripped his forearm tightly and yanked him out of his seat.

“Wait a minute,” he started to protest, but the devilish twinkle in Cammie’s red, puffy eyes stopped him cold. Damn, she was cute in a sweet but sexy way.

“You’ve owed me this dance for a long time, cowboy,” she said as she pulled him across the floor, stopping when she found a space in a dark corner near the jukebox, which wasn’t in use due to the live band playing. “I’m collecting. Deal with it.”