Whisper Falls (10 page)

Tessa raised her eyebrows. “Your real name is Johnny?”

“Jonathan. After my grandfather, Giovanni—it’s John in Italian.”

She smiled. “So how did you go from Jonathan to Lucky?”

Passing a little more of the wallpaper strip to her, he thought back. “When I was little, my family played a lot of board games, and I was really lucky at them. Like . . .
freaky
lucky. No matter what we played, I won.” He chuckled lightly then. “I remember Mike storming out of the room when I’d beat him at Sorry, or Aggravation, or Trouble. And he started calling me Lucky. Not in a nice way—in a pissed-off way. And my parents started doing it, too, to tease Mike, and by the time Anna started talking, she called me that, too—so I guess it just stuck. Even though it’s . . . pretty damn ironic.”

“How so?”

He just glanced down to the carpet beneath his feet and shook his head. “Uh, I’m not too lucky in most ways, hot stuff—trust me.” Then he got back to the subject. “And I don’t know how to be a dad, or if any of this”—he motioned around him to the room—“is what Sharon meant by getting settled—but she seemed to like the idea when I told her about it. And I figure giving Johnny a nice place to come for a couple of days a week, if we reach that point, is as good a place to start as any. I just . . . want things right for him. I don’t wanna scare him.”

When she appeared surprised at that, he simply flashed a dry expression. “Come on—
you
were scared shitless of me.”

She returned the look boldly, standing up a bit straighter on the ladder. “Shitless is pushing it, buster.” Then she relaxed her stance. “But yeah—you can, um, be a little intimidating.”

“So I just figured we’d both be more comfortable if I could give him a normal house to be in, and a normal room. Sharon says he’s into NASCAR.”

Tessa grinned. “I figured.” Then she tilted her head. “But why all the secrecy? Why didn’t you have
me
do the room, along with the others?”

At this, Lucky could only sigh. Maybe it seemed silly, but . . . “I just wasn’t ready to let anybody know. I’m still trying to get used to the idea myself and, to be honest, it just feels . . . really weird to me. Not weird enough to ignore it—but weird enough that I’m just . . . working my way toward it slowly, to make sure I don’t fuck it up.”

“You’ll be fine,” she told him. All confidence. Like she really knew him, like she really believed it.

“Why do you sound so sure?”

She smiled. “Anybody who would go to so much trouble and worry over this is
bound
to be a great dad.”

His face grew warm for some reason and he found himself lowering his gaze, back to the carpet, to the work boots he wore. Hell. Was he . . . blushing? Jesus Christ, what was the world coming to when rough, tough Lucky Romo’s face turned red? All because someone . . . believed in him a little.

“Now that I know about the room,” she said, “do you want me to help with the rest of it, too?”

He just shrugged. “Might as well.”

And she was back to smiling at him again. “Tell you what—anything I do in here is for free. On one condition.”

He cocked a hesitant grin in her direction. “What’s that, hot stuff?”

She pointed to the wall directly in front of the bed. “You do
that
wall. As a mural. The same way you paint motorcycles, but something . . . NASCAR-ish. It’ll be perfect.”

Lucky just looked at the wall. Damn—he’d never thought of that. But he
could
paint it. Easily. It was a good idea, and he couldn’t help liking that she appreciated his talent. “All right, babe—you got yourself a deal.” Then he looked back at her. “But, uh, listen.”

“Yeah?”

This was the important part, the whole reason he’d confided in her—even if he hadn’t meant to confide quite so much, damn it. “Can you do me a favor? Can you not tell my brother’s girlfriend I have a kid?” He sighed. “I mean, I’m sure before all is said and done, I’ll end up having to see my family, and I’ll tell them about Johnny—but I just need to do this my own way.”

She gave a solemn nod. “Fair enough.”

Okay. Good. And to his surprise . . . damn, for a guy who wasn’t usually so talkative, it felt . . .
not bad
to have gotten all that off his chest. Although he couldn’t help teasing her. “And can you do a better job of
this
,” he said, “than you did of not coming in the room?”

“I told you before—that wasn’t my fault. I heard you fall and thought you might need me to rescue you.”

He just looked up at her for a second—and then they both burst out laughing at the idea that petite little Tessa could ever rescue a big guy like him.

In one sense, he couldn’t believe all he’d just told her, but on the other hand, he was actually laughing with her. And he hadn’t laughed like this in a long while. So—hell—maybe in a some small way, she
had
rescued him. Maybe she’d reminded him that sometimes it was okay to open yourself up to somebody else—just a little.

T
he following day, Tessa worked at the bookstore by herself until lunchtime. The morning was quiet, giving her . . . well, too much time to think. About Lucky. She remained stunned at what she’d discovered about him yesterday. And finding out what had brought Lucky home changed . . . everything. Wow, he had a kid! And he’d moved back here just
for
that kid, no questions asked. And if he was nervous about meeting him . . . well, even
that
she found weirdly charming and sort of sweet. She’d never dreamed Lucky’s big secret would be so . . . endearing.

But she couldn’t help feeling a little depressed, too. Although she’d never in her life had sex for the sheer sake of sex—it had always been about emotion for her, about being with a guy she cared about—she thought it would be okay to change that now. After all, four years without sex was . . . four years too many. And yet, at a point in time when she felt nearly overcome with the need to live her life to the fullest, when she was ready and willing to indulge in wild, devil-may-care casual sex, the man she wanted to do it with wasn’t making a move on her. Because if he was going to try to have his way with her, wouldn’t the other day, when he’d kept her from falling, have been the time and the place to do it?

Clearly, something had held him back. And Lucky didn’t seem like a guy who’d hesitate to go for what he wanted. So if he’d really desired her, wouldn’t he have let her know it? She’d been all excited and giddy over her admission to herself that she wanted him—but now it was hitting her that wanting and having were two different things. And maybe he flirted with every woman he met. Or, when it came to seduction, well . . . maybe he was only into biker chicks—maybe she was too sedate for him. Or . . . maybe finding out about her health condition
had
changed the way he saw her. Yuck.

She didn’t know the answer, but given that she was starting to think he was a more complex guy than she’d realized, she didn’t anticipate figuring it out. Besides, who
knew
what drove guys to do the things they did—or didn’t do? All she knew was that her hope for hot sex with Lucky seemed as if it were over almost as soon as it had begun.

As a result, she felt all the more at loose ends, still eager to do something that would make her feel alive. And despite herself, she found her thoughts returning to things like skydiving. And—again—sex. And, oddly, even Lucky’s tattoos. They’d grown on her, and now she liked the way they sort of . . . defined him. It was as if he literally wore his heart on his sleeve—or his arm in this case. What, she wondered, defined
her
?

After leaving the bookstore when Amy took over at noon, Tessa found herself driving across the old stone bridge that led to the Farris Family Apple Orchard. She was attending a bunko party at Caroline Meeks’s house with the girls tonight and wanted to try an apple crumb cake recipe her mother had given her.

As she pulled up to the house that served as both home to Rachel’s grandmother and office to the orchard, Rachel came out to greet her, and together they walked to the root cellar where apples were stored after each fall harvest. “Coming to bunko tonight?” Tessa asked.

Rachel sneered slightly. “Mike thinks I should. So I guess I will.” Half a year after leaving Chicago, Rachel was still having a hard time appreciating what most Destiny ladies considered a fun night out. And at the moment, it hardly matched sex or skydiving in Tessa’s mind, either, but at least it provided time with her friends.

“Don’t bring one of Edna’s apple pies, though,” Tessa warned as they descended into the cellar. “It’ll put my crumb cake to shame.”

“All right,” Rachel said as she loaded a few apples from the cellar shelves into a basket looped over her arm. “I’ll pick up some cookies or something at the bakery.” Then she glanced over at Tessa in the dimly lit space. “So, dare I ask how the job for your new neighbor is going?” She still looked skeptical about the whole situation, but that was to be expected.

What Tessa
hadn’t
expected was to feel a little quivery inside at the mere mention of Lucky. “It’s going . . . well. Lucky likes my designs and the work is really satisfying.”

“Good,” Rachel said. “About the work. I know you really miss it.”

A moment later, they climbed the rock steps that led back out into daylight. Pretty spring weather had returned and, all around them, white apple blossoms fluttered like lace in the breeze. As they walked back toward the house beneath a soft blue sky, Tessa said, “So what’s going on with Mike? About Lucky, I mean? Any change?”

Rachel shook her head. “He hasn’t mentioned Lucky again. But he’s been extra snippy lately—so I know it’s still on his mind.” They stopped at the little red barn behind the house so Rachel could weigh the apples and transfer them into a bag. “Any new insights about Lucky on
your
end?” she asked. “I mean—what’s he like? Does he talk much? Are you still convinced he’s not so bad? Because, frankly, I’m still not crazy about you living next door to him.”

Oh, if Rachel only knew. And that’s when Tessa realized she was going to spill her guts. Not about what Lucky had asked her to keep to herself, but the rest of it. “Actually,” she said as they took a seat at one of the picnic tables outside the barn, “he
does
talk. Sometimes, anyway. And I really
am
convinced he’s not so bad at all.”

“Hmm,” Rachel said, still sounding doubtful—but also maybe as if she was willing to be swayed now that Tessa had actually spent some time with him.

“And . . . there’s more,” Tessa began slowly. On one hand, maybe it was stupid to share this, but she wanted to talk to someone about it, and better skeptical Rachel than worrywart Amy.

“More what?” Rachel asked.

“About Lucky.”

Sitting next to her on the redwood picnic bench, Rachel blinked, looking worried all over again. “What about him, Tessa?”

Tessa swallowed back her trepidation and admitted, “I’m wildly attracted to him and I want to have sex with him.”

“Holy Mother of God,” Rachel said, her jaw dropping. “You’re not serious? Tell me you’re not serious.”

Tessa gave her friend a look. “Listen, you know how long it’s been. And once you get past all the tattoos, the man is hot. Really hot. And the more I get to know him, the more I think he would be the perfect guy for me to have a fling with—just something fun and casual.”

“Um, since when do you do fun and casual? That’s
my
department. Or, I mean, it was until Mike.”

“Yeah, well, that was then, this is now. Sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. And I
need
to have sex, Rach—
you know this
.” Tessa had confided in Rachel on the topic on many occasions.

“But with Lucky Romo? Of every guy in the world?”

“No, with Lucky Romo of every guy I have access to right now,” she replied. “Which is not exactly the whole world.” She refrained from saying, however, that at the moment, she couldn’t think of a single man she would be more attracted to.

That’s when Rachel’s face suddenly changed, brightened. “What about Logan? Or Adam Becker?”

And Tessa simply rolled her eyes. People had been trying to fix her up with Mike’s handsome friends for ages, but she just wasn’t into it. “We’ve been down this road before. They’re great guys, but they’re not for me.”

“And Lucky Romo
is
?”

Tessa just nodded. That simple. Lucky Romo was the guy for her. Right now anyway. “And whatever you do,” Tessa said, “you can’t tell Mike I feel this way.”

Rachel gritted her teeth lightly. “But I’m marrying him, Tessa. And we have this honesty thing going.”

“But this is about
me
—not about him or you.” Then Tessa leaned her head back and let out a sigh. “And besides, I doubt anything will
really
happen between us anyway. There was a moment when I
thought
something might happen, but he didn’t make a move. So . . . I just wanted to tell you about it, to get it off my chest.”

“Well, if you’re so sure you want him,” Rachel said, looking as if she couldn’t quite believe she was actually suggesting this, “why aren’t
you
making a move?”

“Because
he
didn’t,” Tessa explained. “That’s kind of like getting turned down—without having to get turned down. Saves the embarrassment.”

After leaving the orchard, Tessa drove over to Crestview. She stopped at The Home Depot for more paint and supplies, and then she stopped at a deli to grab a quick lunch before heading home to bake her crumb cake.

Glancing across the highway as she exited the sandwich shop, lunch in hand, Tessa caught sight of Gravediggers, the bar Lucky had mentioned. She’d seen it before, but had never looked at it closely. Now, she thought it rather stood out in the rows of strip malls that lined the road in this particular area. A flat cinderblock building painted a dull black, it featured neon beer logos in the windows—although not currently lit at midday—and a large sign with the bar’s name in jagged red lettering, accented with a shovel at the end. So did Lucky hang out here? Seemed likely. And it reminded her that for all she was beginning to know and appreciate about him, they were still very different people.