Willow Smoke (38 page)

Her
finger’s
tightened
against
his
skin.

“But I won’t give up my
twenty percent
of
RainbowBlaze.
I’ve
earned
that.”

Without
opening
his
eyes,
Nick
covered
her
hand
with
his.
“I
know
you
have.
You
don’t
have
to
give
anything
back.
Ever.
I’ve
never
tried to buy you, Daisy. Giving
the
stuff
back
would
only
make
us
both
feel
like
that
was
why
I
gave
you
things.”

He
cracked
an
eye
open.
He
hadn’t
ever
seen
her
look
so
lonely
and
forlorn.
“I
don’t
know
what
I’m
going
to
do
with
you,
kid.
Nope.
I
won’t
call
you
kid
again,
and
I think it best if you drop the reference
to old man.” He paused. “You’re not put off by the age difference? I’m
forty-two.”

“I’ve
known
that
from
almost
the
beginning.
I
checked
at
the
racing
office.
Age
hasn’t mattered to me. Why should it matter to you?”

“So
you
knew
before
you
came
to
my
suite?”

“Of course.”

Nick
voiced
his
next
thought
before
he
could
stop
it.
“What
if
we
were
to
have
kids?
I’d
be
leaning
on
a
cane
taking
them
to
the
Cubs
game.”

Daisy
eyes
rounded
and
then
narrowed.
“Who
said
anything
about
having
kids?”

“I just did. Not that I’m
planning on it.”

“Good.”
Daisy
sighed
and
traced
a
line
from
his
chest
to
his
belly
button.
“Let’s
not
complicate
things
any
more
than
they
are.”

“But
we
are
lovers.
You
do
admit
that,
don’t
you?”

“Certainly, in a matter
of speaking.”

“What
the
hell
does
that
mean?”

“I
don’t
know,
but
why
are
we
arguing
over
semantics?
I
feel
like
I’m
back
in
freshman
English.”

“I suppose you’re right.
But you won’t try to give back the gifts.”

“No.”
Her
voice
was
meek.
“But
I
don’t
have
much
to
give
you.”
She
rimmed
his
belly
button
with
a
finger.
“Except
maybe
me.”
She
leaned
over
and
replaced
her
finger
with
her
tongue.

“As
long
as
you
give
yourself
freely.
I
wouldn’t
want
you
thinking
you
were
paying
me back for anything.”

Daisy
glanced
up
with
a
smile
on
her
lips.
“Oh,
I’m
going
to
pay
you
back
all
right,
but
not
for
the
diamonds.
This
is
for
that
delightful
loving
a
while
ago.”

Her
fingers
wrapped
around
his
shaft.
Nick
tensed.

“Now,
you’d
better
enjoy
a
twenty-year-old
while
you
can.
I
won’t
be
that
young
much
longer.
I
skipped
dessert
at
dinner
with
this
in
mind.
I’ll
just
hope
Claire
Donaldson
is
having
a
nightmare
about
us
at
this
moment.”

Nick
chuckled
and
sank
back
into
the
pillows.
He
relished
the
warmth
of
Daisy’s
mouth
surrounding
him.
Lovers
or
not.
Twenty-one or not. Future or not.
None
of
that
counted
at
the
moment.
He was in the perfect place.

“Hi,
Daisy,
this
is
Angie.
Angie
Underwood.”

“Hi,
Angie.”
Daisy
cradled
the
phone
between
shoulder
and
cheek
while
grabbing
a
pop
from
the
fridge.
“How
are
you?
Where
are
you?”

“I’m in St. Paul with my
folks for a
couple
days,
then
back
to
Austin,
Texas
for
a
run.
But
I
wanted
you
to
know
that
we’re
coming
to
Chicago
toward
the
end
of
September.
The
twenty-eighth,
to
be
exact.
Our
run
will
last
through
Thanksgiving
and into
the first week of December. I hope we can get together.”

Daisy
pulled
out
a
kitchen
table
chair
and
sat
down.
“I
expect
to
be
here.”

“So...”

Daisy
listened
to
the
silence.

“So I guess I have to
ask. Is my brother still in the picture?”

“Oh. That he is. Don’t
you talk to him?”

“There’s
seldom
time.
And,”
Angie
mocked,
“he’s
never
home
anymore.
I
wonder
why?”

“He does stay pretty
busy.”

“Right.
How’s
that
bikini
line
working
out?”

“Fine.
Your
suggestion
is
much
better.
Not painless, but much better.”

“Good. I won’t ask if
Nick appreciates it,
but
he’d
better.
So
how’s
your
class
going?”

“What?”
Daisy
frowned
and
looked
at
the
receiver.

“Aren’t
you
taking
a
course
on
Chaucer?”

“Oh,
that.”
Daisy
sighed.
“It’s
good.
He
must
have
been
quite
the
character.
He
earns
his
reputation
for
being
ribald.
I
have
a
final
paper
to
write
this
coming
week.
And
then
I’ll
have
about
a
month
before
fall
term
begins.”

“Sounds
like
you
stay
pretty
busy
yourself.”

“Angie,
have
you
ever
ridden
in
a
canoe?”

“Of course, we spent our
summers up north on lakes and rivers.”

“Are they safe?”

Angie
laughed.
“You
are
a
city
girl.
Of
course
they’re
safe,
if
you’re
with
somebody
who
knows
what
he’s
doing.
So
Nick
wants
to
take
you
to
the
Boundary
Waters?”

“Yes, but I said
no.”

“But
you’re
rethinking
your
position.”

“Yes.”

“This
is
bigger
news
than
you
might
realize,
Daisy.”

“What
do
you
mean?”

“Nick
makes
two
or
three
trips
a
year
up
there
to test out canoes or to just get
away.
When
he
goes,
he
travels
alone.
I’ve
never
heard
of
a
woman
tagging
along.”

“Not
even
his
ex-wife?”

“Ashley?
She’d
never
have
gone.
Too
many
bugs
and
too
much
wild.
Doubt
he
asked
her
more
than
once.”

“Really.
Why
me?”

“You’re
going
to
have
to
figure
that
one
out
for yourself,
girl. I hope you go, and I
hope
the
loons
put
on
a
show
for
you.
Their
calls
at
night
are
incredible.
Got
to
run.
Just wanted to stay in touch.
See
you
in
a
month
or
so.
Enjoy.
Bye.”

“Bye.”

Daisy
hung
up
the
phone.
Now
why
would
he
think
she’d
like
the
bugs
and
the
wild
more
than
his
ex-wife
had?
Shrugging,
Daisy
forced
herself
to
set
Nick
Underwood
aside
so
she
could
focus
on
Chaucer.

“Thought
we
might
find
you
here,
baby,”
Maxine
cooed,
stepping
through
the
Laundromat
entryway.
The
early
evening
temperatures
were
still
scorching,
so
the
door
stood
wide
open.

Daisy
looked
up
from
her
book.
She
scowled
at
Reggie
following
behind
her
sister.
“Hi,
Maxine,”
Daisy
said,
rising
from
her
chair
and
slipping
her
feet
into
flip
flops.
“How
are
you?
What
brings
you
to
this
part
of
town?”

“No
hi
for
me?”
Reggie
sneered.

Both
women
ignored
him.
“I’m
managing.
Barely,”
Maxine
said.
“It’s
hard
even
getting
food
on
the
table.
And
the
landlord
can’t
understand
that
rent
money
is
hard
to
come
by
with
Reggie
laid
off.”

“Cut
the
crap,”
Reggie
interrupted.
“So
who’s
the
suit?”

“What?”
Daisy’s
heart
leapt.
Shit,
somehow
they’d
found
out
about
Nick.

“Oh,
baby,
I’m
thrilled
for
you.”
Maxine
placed
a
cold,
sticky
hand
on
Daisy’s
bare
shoulder. Daisy
shrank from the touch.
“I’m
your
sister, for God sakes—you’re
supposed
to
confide
in
me
about
the
men
in
your
life.”

“What man?”

“This
man!”
Reggie
pushed
a
newspaper
in
front
of
her
face.
“The
guy
who
looks
like
he’s
fingering
your
ass.”

Speechless,
Daisy
gawked
at
the
society
page. There were many
pictures of
couples
and
small
groups
attending
the
charity
ball.
There
she
was,
cuddled
against
Nick.
His
hand
hardly
looked
innocent.
She
read
the
caption
under
their
photo.
Nicholas
Underwood
in
a
May
to
September
romance?
Who
is
the
lucky
princess?
Daisy
felt
color
working
up
her
throat.
Princess?
Not
hardly.