Cuff Me Lacy (2 page)

"Sit here and enjoy the afternoon breeze, baby."

Patting the newly upholstered gold pillows, Chrissie glanced out the double windows and spotted Paddy carrying wood to split toward the side of the house. He wore a pair of ancient looking jeans, a simple white t-shirt, and a pair of work boots. Damn, he'd never looked sexier to her.

Tucking the bath towel under her arm, she joined Cagney on the pillows and propped an elbow on the sill.

Her best childhood friend had returned and stood outside her window yielding an ax as if a snow storm was approaching and his life depended on the fire wood.

Paddy, didn't you get the memo? Summer arrived with Memorial Day last week.

He lifted the ax and his back stretched the white cotton shirt to perfection.

Mm, mm, Paddy. When'd you grow all those muscles?

Crack! The log split in two and dropped to the ground. He bent, the shirt lifting to reveal his waist, and stacked the wood. Placing a new log in the brace, he raised his arms again and took aim.

The wood pile was up to his waist, his shirt thrown over the porch rail, and the sun was low in the sky by the time she was able to avert her gaze and look at the alarm clock on her nightstand. Shit, it was five to seven and Bill would be here in twenty minutes. Her hair was still up in a towel and the dress she'd chosen still needed ironing.

Pulling the towel off her head, she stood and walked back into the bathroom. Deciding the natural look was good, she scrunched some gel in her hair, tipped upside down for some body, and then tossed her head back. Her brown waves fell into place and she smiled at her reflection.

"Thank you, Momma, for the curly gene."

Applying some mascara and lipstick, she pinched her cheeks, and dropped the towel to the floor before walking to the closet. Checking the time, she bypassed her original choice and picked a cute denim sundress to slip over her head.

"Ditto on the perky boobs, Mom.” Her mother was in her late fifties, but you couldn't tell from her breasts. Mama Hansen could choose to go braless with the best of them. Of course, that meant the Hansen women needed to be grateful for their B cups, and never yearn for a C.

The chopping stopped, and she strolled back to her viewing area just as his screen door shut. What was wrong with her? Paddy may have been a crush in grade school, but that was where the attraction had ended. In high school, she avoided him like the plague. Well not really avoided, she just had other interests back then.

With those Coke-bottle glasses and the Reynolds heavy-duty braces, he'd been the captain of the Chess Club and a finalist in the county's science fair three years straight. She, on the other hand, had been a varsity cheerleader from the first semester of her freshmen year.

She'd gone to all the pep rallies, partied every weekend, and barely made it through tenth grade math. Actually, if it wasn't for Paddy helping her study the last month of school, she wouldn't have passed. They'd never had a falling out or a fight, they'd simply gone in different directions. Then he'd left for college, and he had always been too busy for her when he'd come into town to visit his family.

Damn, it really was thirteen years since she'd last seen him.

So why'd he have to come back when she was going through all these funky hormonal things? And why'd he have to look so good?

Cut it out, Chrissie. You're just horny. That's Paddy you're drooling over. Yeah, and Paddy's one of those brother-like friends. That's it. You've got a date with the Bull. Get your ass in gear!

She pulled off the denim dress and searched for the strappy teal mini dress. Green was the Bull's favorite color, so why not show him her appreciation? Slipping her feet into a matching pair of fuck-me heels, she swayed her hips crossing to the mirror to apply some shadow and blush. Then she fussed with her hair for a few minutes.

The doorbell chimed just as she finished priming her appearance.

Okay, Chrissie. Stop being so sentimental and have a good time tonight. A chance like this doesn't come by every day in Littleville.

Licking her lips and pasting a big smile on her face she swung the door wide open.

"Hey, Lacy.” Patrick let out a long whistle and wiped his brow with a bottle of Merlot dangling from his fingers. ���Guess you do have a date tonight."

She looked down at his left hand, holding two wine glasses, and had to step back when his chest almost collided with hers as he pushed past her.

"Don't you wait to be invited in? And yes, I have a date."

"Great. You look fantastic.” He shook his head and made a tight circle around her. “He's a lucky man."

"Th—Thanks. I think."

"Awe, come on Lacy. It's just me, Patrick. I mean it. Any man taking you out is a lucky one."

She stared at him, wanting to scream ‘then why don't you bother taking me out', but simply smiled.

Grinning, he raised his right hand between them. “Care to share a glass before your date gets here?"

Oh, she wanted to share more than wine with him. But where would that leave her? No where. He'd just go back to New York, and she'd be left with her B.O.B.—alone and frustrated.

The Bull picked that very moment to drive up in his flashy red convertible, and Chrissie waved at him.

Patrick muttered a few choice words about the timing under his breath, but forced a smile to remain on his face.

So, Lacy has a date with Bill the Bull. Well that only meant she isn't attached to anyone in specific. Bill isn't the type of man to commit to a woman, and she cannot possibly take him seriously.

Patrick held out his hand to Bill. “How's it going?"

"Good.” Bill shook it and grinned. “Nice to see you. Glad you made it back to Littleville. I think we're going to have a great summer here."

"Me, too,” Patrick said, throwing Chrissie a smile. “It's been a long time coming and an overdue visit. I'm looking forward to it."

Bill nodded and then walked over to Lacy, giving her a quick peck on the cheek and running his hand up and down Chrissie's arm.

"Sorry if I'm late, baby. I had to stop off at Beckman's and pick up a few things on the way over. The old man wouldn't let me out of there before telling me about his grandson's winning touchdown pass for the championship game."

Noticing Bill's hold on Lacy, something unusual stirred inside Patrick. Could it be possessiveness over a woman who wasn't his? He shrugged it off, attempting not to consider the possibility and looked at Lacy's shapely figure.

"Young Beckman is the best player this town's had since you graduated,” Chrissie said. “College scouts have already approached him, and he still has a year to go."

"Plus, the boy has a good head on his shoulders. He made nationals for debate last spring. I sat in on one of his arguments and was really impressed.” Patrick rubbed his chin and smiled.

"That was a good tournament for him. I think he placed in the top five,” Bill added.

"You two were together in the spring?” Lacy asked with surprise.

"Yeah, it was one of the educational support events the team decided to participate in. So many players have retired without a different profession to follow after they're done with the game. It is a damn shitty feeling to find yourself out of a job and past the age where you can learn how to do a new one.” Bill said, meeting Patrick's gaze and raising his brow. “We try to encourage the kids coming into the sport to finish their education."

She stared at Bill all doe-eyed and full of admiration.

Hello! I'm here. I've been working with inner city kids to complete their education for years.

"And of course, you were there for the love of debate.” She spared Patrick a moment and tossed him a glance.

"Of course,” he said, turning toward the door. “Well, I'll let you get on with your dinner. See you Monday, Bill."

Fuck. He was bothered.

"Will do, boss. Guess we'll meet at your house now that you're in town."

"Perfect.” Patrick hesitated just a moment longer than he would have liked. “We'll catch up soon, Lacy.” Placing the wine and glasses on the foyer table, he walked down the stairs and across the yard.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he cursed under his breath.
Real smooth MacKlick. That a way to show her your ‘lucky to have me’ attitude.

Patrick pulled open the Jag's door and folded his body in the driver's seat. The two figures on the front porch grew small in his rear view mirror.

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Watching Patrick drive off, disappointment spread across Chrissie's chest. She'd have liked to spend some time with him. She missed him.

A broad palm dropped to her ass cheek and fingers outlined her thong. Bill stepped in front of her, pulled her lower body against his, and fit his large erection into her belly.

"You get more beautiful each time I see you,” he said, tracing a finger down her décolletage and lowering his lips to her neck. “And more delicious."

She squirmed out of his hold. “I'm famished. What time is our reservation?"

Bill dropped his hands to his side and took a step back. Looking into her eyes with surprise, he answered, “We can get going right now, or they can hold the table as long as we'd like."

She went back into the house and pulled a shawl off the hook beside the door.

"Guess that means you're ready to go?” Bill asked.

"Yup. It would be rude to keep the table empty because we're late."

She walked off the porch and toward his car. Locking her front door, he followed. Bill opened the passenger door for her and gave her a kiss before shutting it.

She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back against the headrest.

Chrissie didn't say a word during the drive, and thankfully Bill received a call on his cell which kept him occupied while she brooded in her own thoughts—which just happened to be on the man who had left without her.

Patrick was much more than she could ever want. He was smart, loyal, and now he had gone and turned so good looking! Feelings stirred deep within her, and she ached from missing him.

Darn, Hansen, don't let sentimentality get a hold of you. He'll be back in the big city in a few weeks, and you'll be left alone in this town waiting for him to visit his mom to catch a glimpse of his fine ass. No. Patrick will break your heart when he leaves. He's too city slicker now. You'd be trading one dead-end-relationship for another.

Glancing at the Bull sitting behind the wheel, her eyes focused on his bulging bicep and she had to blink to adjust her sight.

She needed to stop putting herself in physically tempting situations with Bill, and she needed to stop fantasizing about Patrick. Neither one of them was marriage material. She had to consider the truth and face her situation head on: her biological clock was ticking. She needed to find a decent man to rely on. A man she could communicate with and start a family with. This love crap and ‘fireworks when he kissed you’ was overrated and pure bull.

Bull!

Ah, shit.

Bill was looking at her with a silly grin on his face. The sooner she got down and dirty with the Bull, the sooner she'd have her hormones and feelings for Patrick under control.

Yeah, that's it. You're horny. Just get it on tonight and you'll be back to normal in the morning.

Chrissie unfolded the napkin over her lap. She'd never been in Lorenzo's before, and she studied every inch of the quaint and elegant restaurant with the intensity of a child being let loose in her favorite toy store.

Long, silky tablecloths topped the round tables, decorated with fresh red roses in tall, thin, crystal vases. The chairs were also dressed in a soft material that trailed to the floor. Candles served as the primary light source, and the faint sconces on the perimeter of the room helped for backlight.

"Bill, this place is gorgeous."

He raised his shoulders and stretched his arm across the table. Chrissie looked—really looked—at him for the first time that evening. What the hell was going on?

Bill was all decked out in a black Hugo Boss suit, his typically shoulder-length blonde hair was trimmed and combed carefully back, and there was no hint of a shadow anywhere on his clean shaven face. She breathed his familiar scent and smiled, recognizing one of her favorite men's colognes. He even wore a jacket and tie. The casual and laid-back Bill of the past five years was nowhere to be seen, and before her sat a serious and thoughtful man she wasn't sure she recognized.

"So, what do I owe this visit to?” she asked slowly. “Do you have business in town next week, or are they naming a high school field after you or something?"

"Or something, sweetheart.” He reached across the table and secured her hand in his. “It's been really difficult not seeing you for the past three months—"

"Aw, come on, Bill. You could find any number of women to keep you company. There has never been a shortage before."

He shook his head. “I'm a changed man, Chrissie. When you gave me that ultimatum last time we were together, it was a huge shocker. I never knew you wanted a house with a white picket fence and a yard full of children. And to be honest with you, I'd never pictured myself in that type of situation."

"So then, why are you here?"

"Because you're my Chrissie, and I want tonight to be special.” Bill stroked the back of her palm with his thumb.

His Chrissie! Oh, shit! What was happening?

She pulled her hand into her lap and intertwined her fingers. Where was this going?

Bill rubbed his broad jaw and glanced around the crowded restaurant. “Chrissie, I've missed you. I need you back in my life.” He maneuvered his chair to sit beside her and placed his muscled arm over her shoulders. “Baby, I'll do anything to have you again. No matter where I was or what I did, I always wanted to come home to you."

He came home, but he never stayed. Never before had he asked for, or promised, anything but a physical relationship.

Large fingers closed over her thigh. “Baby, you know we're a good thing."