Delightful: Big Sky Pie #3 (6 page)

A moment later, Andrea heard him. “I want my mommy.”

Her heart clutched. She shoved the curtain aside. “I’m here, Lucas. Right here.”

He shuddered, snuffled, and she knew he wanted to crumple into her arms, but she couldn’t sweep him into the bear hug they both ached for as the doctor was applying a cast to his left arm. But she kissed his cheek, snuggled him, and assured him that it would all be okay, peering over his head at the doctor for her own reassurance.

The doctor nodded, explained that it was a simple break in the forearm, and that the elbow-to-wrist fiberglass cast would immobilize the bone and promote healing. Andrea felt the tension in her chest subside, but her mother looked a bit ashen.

A ten-year breast cancer survivor, Delores Norbert understood how precious life was. She faced whatever was thrown at her with a stoic attitude, including her wild, spirited daughter and her rambunctious grandsons. She handled her own ailments with quiet bravery, but when one of her chicks was ill or in trouble, her usual calm deserted her. Andrea caught her hand and gave it a “Thank you, I love you, Mom” squeeze and got one in return.

Logan sidled over to Lucas. “That’s a pretty sick cast.”

“It’s copper for Montana State University,” the doctor said.

Both Lucas and Logan had MSU T-shirts, and he told Lucas, “Like the Grizzlies.”

Lucas swiped at his damp eyes and straightened, obviously buoyed by his big brother being there. “I know.”

Logan took the cue, doing a sudden turnaround from guilt-ridden to protective older sibling, as though he couldn’t let anyone see how upset and scared he was, especially not Lucas. “Don’t worry, gizmo, I’ll help you with everything. Maybe Mom will get us a couple of silver marker pens to write on your cast.”

“Will you, Mommy?” Lucas asked.

“On the way home,” Andrea promised, thinking her knees might give way and wishing she had someone to lean on the way her sons had each other. A sister, a brother, a husband.

The thought rattled her. She didn’t need anyone, especially not a man, but every once in a while it seemed like a great idea. Lately, it seemed like a great idea more often than once in a while. As the doctor finished up, the two boys chatted. The best medicine for Lucas right now was his big brother and vice versa.

She dragged her mother into the hallway to find out exactly what the injury was and what the doctor had told her about it. But her mother was no help. “I was too shook up to understand most of what he said. Where were you? I was so frightened. I tried phoning and phoning. When you didn’t answer your cell, I tried the pie shop, but you’d gone.”

“Logan told me you were trying to reach me. I’m really sorry, Mom. I must have left my phone at work.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow and crooked one hip. “Don’t lie to me, Andrea. Some man answered your phone. He said his name was Ace.”

“Not Ace.” Andrea blanched. What exactly had he told her mother? “It’s Ice.”

“Ice? Like in ice cubes?”

“Yes.”

“God, don’t tell me you’re running around with a rap singer.”

“No. He’s not—”

“Whatever.” Delores waved a dismissive hand that said she didn’t need to know. “You’re old enough to run your own life, darling, but I just hope you know what you’re doing and not getting involved with another Donnie Lovette.”

I
ce stood at the apartment door debating whether or not to knock, uncertain what awaited him on the other side. He might be walking right into the fist of an irate husband or lover. He didn’t need that. Hell, coming here was a bad idea. He spun on his heel, retreating back toward the elevator, the heels of his biker boots heavy on the creaky floorboards. As he jammed his hand into his pocket, his fingers struck a solid object. He glanced back at her apartment, damning himself a coward. He had to give the phone to her no matter what. If he got a punch in the face, maybe it would knock some sense into him, kill this persistent desire that one roll in the sack hadn’t squelched.

Who was he kidding? He wasn’t here out of any nicety to return her phone. His little head was steering this shipwreck.

Rule 1: No fraternizing with the cast.

He released a self-deprecating laugh. He hadn’t just fraternized…he’d started something much more dangerous. Something he’d never felt for a no-strings-attached piece of ass, something he didn’t understand and couldn’t explain to himself.

He raised his hand to knock on the door, and her mother’s words rushed into his head. “Tell her Lucas broke his arm.”

Who the hell is Lucas?
He couldn’t very well ask Andrea’s mother, so he hadn’t, but the question had plagued him for hours. What bothered him most, though, was why he gave a shit.

His fist connected with the door, harder than he’d meant it to. He heard movement on the other side and stepped back, just in case. Someone peered through the peephole. The door inched open, a chain in place. Her blond hair, damp as though from a shower, fell to her shoulders. Her face was scrubbed of all makeup. Blood rushed straight to his dick, and he bit back a groan, knowing he was in some kind of trouble that he’d never been in before.

Her big brown eyes were guarded. “What are you doing here?”

Her hushed tone made him suspect she didn’t want whoever was home to hear. Lucas?

“I—” His throat was so dry that he choked on the word. He didn’t intrude on another guy’s territory. Not ever. Well, not knowingly. “May I come in?”

“No.” She closed the door enough to unhook the chain, then slipped out into the hallway, shutting the door softly behind her. His heart began a hard, unsteady thud, and he didn’t know why. Andrea wore a long T-shirt—which showed she clearly wore no bra—her long legs enticing him, her feet stuffed into tattered, fuzzy blue slippers.

Her stance radiated cold, but fire burned in her gorgeous eyes. “How did you find out where I live?”

“Your address,” he lied, thinking on his feet obviously not his best asset, “is in the paperwork you filled out for your interview.”

She should have seen through the lie, but he had the impression she just wanted him gone. “What do you want?”

If she’d look down, she could detect that herself, but her gaze was pinning his. He held out her phone. “I thought you might need this back.”

“I do.” She snatched it from his hand and held it in a death grip. She seemed to want to ask him something, but instead she said, “Thank you.” She turned to go back inside.

He didn’t want her to leave yet. He wanted to pull her into his arms and run his fingers through her damp hair, taste again that incredible mouth. “About this afternoon…”

Guilt spread across her face, and his worst fears were confirmed when she said, “It shouldn’t have happened.”

His stomach dipped. She was involved with another guy. Shit. He had no business sticking around, making her feel worse than she apparently already did about their tryst. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t be working for a couple of days. Lucas needs taking care of.”

And there it was. All he needed to know about her. For some reason it pissed him off. “Look, maybe cheating on your husband, boyfriend, whoever this Lucas is, is okay with you, but I don’t tread on other guys’ territory. Not knowingly. So next time you have an itch that needs scratched, don’t come knocking on my hotel room door.”

Andrea’s mouth had dropped open, but no words came out even though she seemed about to light into him. Something held her back, some secret he saw in her eyes. Her words were clipped. “Don’t worry. That’s one mistake I won’t repeat.”

He returned to his hotel suite, cursing himself for thinking even for a minute that the reason he’d felt something for Andrea was that she wasn’t the man-eater every woman he’d ever cared about turned out to be. Bobby was finishing up the dailies. “You look like hell. Wanna grab a beer?”

“No,” he barked and slammed into his room, the room that now reminded him of her at every glance. He stormed back into the living room. “Yes, I want someplace noisy where I can get shit-faced. Let’s go.”

Ice thought Lucas was her boyfriend or husband or something? If that weren’t so infuriating, she’d laugh. Where did he get off anyway? Her mother’s warning rolled through her mind like a neon ticker tape. “I hope you know what you’re doing and are not getting involved with another Donnie Lovette.”

They weren’t involved. They wouldn’t be involved. She wanted nothing more to do with Ice Erikksen. Going there. Sleeping with him. It had been like a compulsion, like someone else had been in charge of her. She hadn’t the will to resist him, didn’t want to resist him. She hadn’t wanted anyone that much since…Donnie.

God, maybe Molly was right. Maybe it was just that she missed having a fella of her own. Maybe it was time she started dating with an eye toward someone to build a future with. If she didn’t look for men in bars, the dating pool might yield some decent types who weren’t out only for a party. She could ask some of her friends for suggestions. Even if the thought of blind dates made her cringe, she had to start somewhere. Right?

“Mom, are you going to get dressed and pick up the pizza?” Logan asked, his blue eyes radiating impatience.

“We’re all starving,” her mother said, glancing up from the book she was reading Lucas. “Don’t know why you refused to have it delivered.”

“When you taste Moose’s pizza, Mom, you’ll know why.”

“It’s good, Grammy,” Lucas said. “Don’t forget Aunt Molly’s pie, too.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” She was just relieved that Lucas had an appetite and was okay with her leaving for a little while. Andrea headed for her bedroom, quickly brushed her hair, and dressed in jeans, high-heeled cowgirl boots, and a zipped hoodie. A little mascara and lip gloss and she grabbed her purse. “Back in half an hour at the most with pizza, pie, and maybe even some ice cream. Disney movie is in the DVD player, Mom. Logan can get it started.”

As Andrea drove across town, her mind kept going back to Ice. The strange longing in his compelling blue eyes touched something deep in the core of her very being. It felt as though she were in unfamiliar territory. But she wasn’t. She’d slept with men before and instantly regretted it, and yet somehow this was different. She didn’t regret it as much as she wanted to do it again. What was the matter with her? So what if he made her body sing? That wasn’t the only thing a woman needed. She groaned. Was she destined to only ever fall for Mr. “Hot, Sexy, but No Commitment” guys? The possibility brought on an aching sadness.

She parked near the pie shop, then hurried through the cool autumn night across Front Street, beelining for the rustic-looking building with the old-time, swinging saloon doors. A sign proclaimed
MOOSE’S WORLD FAMOUS PIZZA
. According to legend, politicians, blue-collar workers, and corporate leaders used to call this their place to meet and socialize. Even Evel Knievel claimed to have come up with his Snake Canyon jump one night in this bar.

The interior resembled something that might have been around in the Old West days with battered barn siding, wooden tabletops, and walls that customers had carved their names or sayings on. Peanut shells littered the floor. The place had an energy that wrapped you up like the hug of a good friend. The bar took center stage in the middle of the room, amid wooden booths and picnic table seating. The noise level was a dull roar punctuated by the occasional cheers or moans depending on how the Thursday night NFL Vikings game, which was showing on several big screens, progressed.

Andrea made straight for the bar, but her order wasn’t ready yet. She ordered a glass of Malbec and moved to an end bar stool, squeezing in between a couple of men, not glancing at either of them and not realizing how tense she felt until the wine began to ease the knots from her shoulders. It had been a hell of a day. And it wasn’t over yet. She wasn’t the world’s worst mother. Was she?

“Andrea, what brings you here on a school night?” asked the man on her left.

Startled from her thoughts, she gazed over and up into a familiar, friendly face. Wade Reynolds, one of Quint McCoy’s best friends, a bottle of Bud Light in hand, smiled down at her. It spoke to how preoccupied she was that she’d missed noticing the six-foot-four widower. If she had to run into anyone, she was relieved that it was Wade. “Only another parent would think seven p.m. on a Thursday night was late.”

He grinned, a slow curling of his mouth, and she realized he was extremely handsome in a quiet, unassuming way. He was raising his preteen daughter on his own since cancer took his wife four years earlier.

Andrea knew, if anyone understood the vagaries of single parenthood, he did. She told him about Lucas. “Only Moose’s pizza and some of Molly’s pie à la mode will do tonight.”

“I’m sorry to hear that he broke his arm. Poor little guy,” he said, his sympathy cutting straight to her heart. “I’m hoping Moose’s pizza will have a similar effect on Emily. She’s having trouble adjusting to the move into town.”

“I heard you were selling the cherry ranch,” she said. “I take it the sale went through?”

“Yep. Last month. I bought a three-bedroom craftsman. It needs some updating, but it was move-in ready for our purposes now.”

“Sorry the cherry farm didn’t work out for you.”

“Ah, that’s okay. It was Sarah’s dream, not mine. I’m glad to be back to construction. I was all thumbs as a farmer. The guy that bought the orchard though seems to know his stuff. I think Molly will be glad of that next cherry season.”

“Speaking of cherries…” She told him about the fiasco with the freezer.

He nodded. “Quint asked me to take a look at the wall in the cold room. Seems like the liquid might have done some damage to the drywall. Doesn’t sound extensive, but it’s the kind of damage that can eventually cause mold.”

Drywall damage. Another expense that the pie shop didn’t need. If she discovered Ice Berg Productions had anything to do with that, she’d make them pay for the repairs. As she thought that, she felt a strange tingling down her spine, the sensation of being stared at. She glanced around the bar, thinking maybe her name had been called, that her pizza was ready, but it wasn’t that. And then her bad-boy antennae twitched, and she knew.

She spied him, directly across the bar. His partner Bobby and a bunch of women were crammed into a big booth, cheering on the Vikings’ opponents, the Seahawks. Was that BiBi beside Bobby? It was.
Interesting.
But not interesting enough to divert her attention from Ice’s penetrating blue eyes. His gaze unnerved her. She couldn’t read him, but he didn’t look away from her, not even when a lusty redhead sidled up and draped an arm over his shoulder. He ignored the redhead, shrugging her off, and kept staring at Andrea, and Andrea couldn’t pull her gaze free of his.

What the hell did he want with her?

“Your pizzas, Wade, Andrea,” the waitress said, stepping right in front of Andrea and eclipsing her view of Ice.

Andrea jerked as though she’d been shaken, coming back to herself. “Oh, great. Thank you.” She paid for her two small pizzas, then turned to Wade as he also stood. “Gotta run. It was nice talking to you.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll see you at the pie shop?”

“That would be nice.” She touched his hand, just a friendly gesture, hoping Ice would notice, and not understanding why she gave a hoot if he did. She took a step back and felt her feet slipping out from under her. She saw Ice react, reach for her even from across the bar, an impossible save, and yet arms did lift her. Wade.

“Whoa.” He pulled her to her feet and into him, laughing. “Gotta watch out. Those peanut shells are slippery.”

Andrea hated how hot her face felt, how clumsy and flustered and unlike herself she’d become since Ice Erikksen came into her life. Wade grabbed hold of her pizza boxes and his own, insisting on walking her to her car. She gave him a grateful smile and fell into step beside him. As she reached the swinging doors, she felt that prickling on her neck again, knew without glancing back that Ice was watching her leave with Wade. She moved closer to the tall man, as though he were more than her friend. The hell with Ice Erikksen. Why should he care who she dated? And why wouldn’t he quit staring at her as if she’d done something wrong?

Andrea yawned as she made her way through the house, checking to be sure the doors were locked, turning out the lights in the living room and kitchen. The boys each had their own room, a luxury that eased the stress of two opposite personalities trying to share the same space. Walking into Logan’s space felt like entering a war zone; more clothes occupied the floor than his closet. Lucas, on the other hand, couldn’t stand chaos. His room had everything in its place. Often she’d catch him absently picking up and putting away Logan’s things if he was in there chatting or playing with his brother.

But peeking into Lucas’s room now, she paused, thinking she was so tired she’d accidentally gone into Logan’s room. A mound of blankets and a pillow occupied the floor next to Lucas’s bed. The night-light showed that Lucas was sound asleep, his arm propped on his favorite stuffed teddy bear. As she crept closer, she realized that the heap of blankets was Logan, also asleep. Her heart squeezed.
Big brother keeping his promise to watch over little brother.
Tears sprang to her eyes. Poor little guys. They’d had a tough life lesson today, but they shared a bond as strong as steel.