Getting Lucky (A Nugget Romance Book 5) (3 page)

“I’m glad you like it.” She sat next to him.

“Did you know that Thelma Wade changed her name to Tawny?” Lucky tried to sound casual.

“Of course. She did it when she opened her boot business.”

“Boot business?”

“You don’t know? She makes beautiful custom cowboy boots. A lot of celebrities wear them, even rodeo stars. I would’ve thought you knew.”

Well, that explained Tawny’s fancy boots, the ones Lucky had so admired. But it didn’t explain why she was driving a piece-of-crap Jeep from the 1990s. “I ran into her today and got the impression she wasn’t doing too well.” God, he hated lying to his mother.

“Her little girl is very sick. Leukemia.”

“She has a kid, huh? I hadn’t heard she was married.”

“She’s not. I don’t believe Katie’s father is in the picture.”

“You know the guy?”

“No. That’s always been a bit of a mystery, but no one’s business but Tawny’s.”

“You’ve met the little girl, though?” Lucky asked.

“Maybe once or twice. They spend a lot of time in the Bay Area for Katie’s treatments. I didn’t know you and Tawny were back in touch. What a crush she had on you when you two were little. Used to follow you around like a lamb. Such a nice girl, and you barely gave her the time of day,” Cecilia chided. Lucky knew the subtext, though.
You were too busy getting into trouble with Raylene Rosser
.

“We just happened to run into each other. I barely recognized her, though,” he said as calmly as he could, but was starting to panic. What if the kid really was his? “I’ve gotta get going, Ma.”

“You just got here,” Cecilia said, and took his empty plate to the sink.

“I know, but I thought I’d stop by McCreedy Ranch before it gets dark and check out some stock Clay wants to unload.” Okay, he’d say a few Hail Marys.

“All right. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be over.”

On his way out he tried to remember where Tawny lived. It had been ten years, yet he found her tiny bungalow with little effort. He still knew the town like he did the back of a bull.

He parked across the street and sat behind the wheel, feeling edgy about going in. About seeing the little girl who may or may not be his.
Nine goddamn years
. Finally, he climbed Tawny’s porch stairs and rang the bell. He could hear movement inside and a few seconds later a young girl opened the door.

“Hello.” She looked up at him with big brown eyes. Eyes too large for her pale, gaunt face.

Lucky studied her. “You must be Katie.”

“Mm-hmm. Who are you?”

“A friend of your mom’s. She home?”

“Yes. Would you like to come in?”

Tawny needed to talk to the kid about inviting strangers into their home. “Sure.”

He crossed the threshold and gazed around the front room. There was an unfinished puzzle on the coffee table and the TV was on. The furniture, a set of mismatched chairs and a couch, looked pretty lived-in. Tawny came out of one of the side doors in sweats, her head wrapped in a towel.

“Hey.” He bobbed his chin at her.

She quickly turned to Katie. “Go brush your teeth and get ready for bed, baby.”

Curious about him, the girl seemed reluctant to go. Tawny gave her a look—the kind Cecilia used to give Lucky when she meant business—and the kid scampered off.

“What are you doing here?”

“I can’t tell if she looks like me.”

“Shush.” Tawny grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the house. “I don’t want her to hear you.”

“Why?”

She glared at him like he was a fool. “Why do you think?”

“Beats the hell out of me. Unless you’re lying.”

She gave him another venomous glare. “Did you just come over here to tell me what a liar I am?”

Lucky blew out a breath. “I came over because I wanted to see Katie for myself. How long has she been sick?”

“She was diagnosed when she was five.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” The girl looked so ashen that it broke his heart. No little kid should have to go through that.

Tawny nodded, and Lucky could tell that she was trying to keep it together. Even if it turned out that the woman was the world’s biggest liar, Tawny was looking out for her daughter, like any good mother would do. His heart broke a little for her, too.

“Why didn’t you try to get ahold of me when she was diagnosed?” Lucky asked.

“I figured you weren’t interested in returning my phone calls when I was pregnant; why would you suddenly call me back five years later?”

“Tawny, I never got your messages. If I’d known that I got you in trouble, I would’ve done the right thing.”

“You didn’t get me in trouble. You got me pregnant. And until now, I didn’t need you.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I deserved to know that I had a child, whether you needed me or not? Did it ever occur to you that Katie deserved her father? What have you told her?”

“Look, I don’t have time to do this now. Katie’s waiting for me.”

He stabbed his finger at her. “You better make time to do this. You dropped a goddamn bomb on me today.”

“Does that mean you’re willing to help?”

He paced the porch. “That’s the thing, Tawny. I would’ve helped whether she was my daughter or not. Because that’s what people do. But out of the blue you tell me I have a kid after all these years . . . that’s she’s sick and needs this stem cell transplant. It’s . . . I’m just reeling a little here.”

She swallowed hard. “I know. It’s a lot to take in. But I don’t want to do this with Katie here.”

“Then I suggest you show up at my place tomorrow and explain. Merely leaving a couple of lousy messages for a guy who’s supposedly the father of your child doesn’t cut it, Tawny. You should’ve done more.”

“I had my reasons.”

“Well, I’d like to hear them. Tomorrow.”

She gave him a faint nod and slipped back inside.

T
awny examined her latest project with a discerning eye. Each attraction on the boots’ California vintage-style map—the Golden Gate Bridge had been particularly demanding—she’d carved by hand. Samantha Dunsbury, who’d recently married Nate Breyer, co-owner of the local Lumber Baron Inn, had chosen the design. Apparently, the Connecticut transplant wanted to show off her Golden State spirit.

The boots were black leather and the maps—yellow overlays with orange, blue, and tan icons—reminded Tawny of one of those kitschy “Greetings from California” postcards. Tawny had never done anything like the boots and couldn’t stop admiring each hand-tooled detail. Grapes and oranges in the center of the map to denote California’s rich agricultural heritage. The Hollywood sign to mark Los Angeles. A surfer for San Diego. Redwood trees covered the northern tip of the map. The Lumber Baron, a symbol of Nugget, sat close to the Nevada border. And a burst of orange poppies, California’s official flower, decorated each boot’s toe.

The boots were showstoppers, and Sam was paying beaucoup bucks. Tawny desperately needed the cash. From consultation to completion it typically took five months to make a pair of custom boots, especially ones this detailed. She usually worked on several pairs at once and had a few pat styles that were big sellers that she could knock out quickly. Still, it wasn’t like she raked it in. But her clients paid top dollar and were extremely loyal.

For a special customer like Clay McCreedy’s new wife, Emily, Tawny had worked day and night to make sure her boots were done in time for her wedding. She owed it to Clay’s dad, the late Tip McCreedy. He’d been Tawny’s first customer and had kicked off her career. The influential rancher had worn her boots to every cattle auction and rodeo in the West.

And thank goodness her boots had become so in demand that her clients were willing to wait. Because over the last four years, they’d done a lot of waiting. Katie’s medical issues had to come first, including long hospital stays in Palo Alto.

Unfortunately, the work gaps created a cash flow problem. Not to mention that as a self-employed single mom her health insurance costs were astronomical. And of course there were out-of-pocket expenses. Insurance didn’t cover everything.

Katie stuck her head inside Tawny’s studio. “Mommy, the Marcums are here.”

“Okay. Coming. You dressed warm enough?” Although they were experiencing one of Northern California’s famous Indian summers, the afternoons could get nippy, especially in the high desert.

“Yeah. I’m bringing my jacket.”

Tawny made her way around her cutting table and leather samples to greet the Marcums. The couple had been an enormous help to Tawny, including Katie in their family activities on weekends and on various school nights so she could work.

“You’ve got your boots on.” Tawny had made them for Katie after her last radiation treatment. Pink with silver hearts.

“Yep,” Katie said. She’d tucked her skinny jeans into them and looked so beautiful and grown-up that Tawny couldn’t resist snapping a picture with her phone.

She followed her daughter out to the backyard and unlatched the side gate. “You have everything?”

Katie nodded and Tawny watched her climb into the Marcums’ minivan.

“Thanks for taking her.” Tawny leaned against the passenger-side window and peered inside to make sure Katie had buckled up.

“It’s our pleasure,” Cindy Marcum said. “We’ll probably grab dinner after the movie if that’s okay?”

“Sure. You have my cell phone number, right?”

“I do,” Cindy said, well aware of Katie’s medical condition. “Don’t worry, I’ll text you a couple of times from Reno.”

“Thank you.” Cindy’s husband backed the van out and Tawny waved goodbye.

She watched them drive away, then went inside to change, settling on a pair of jeans with bling on the back pockets and a Western blouse she’d scooped up on sale at the Farm Supply store. She finished off the outfit with one of her hand-tooled belts and red boots. For some reason she wanted Lucky to see her at her best. The man had only gotten better with age, and at eighteen he’d been damned fine to begin with.

She’d worshipped him all through adolescence, even though he hadn’t known she was alive. He was too busy chasing after Raylene Rosser, the meanest girl in town. But like the rest of Nugget, Lucky had only seen Raylene’s sweet façade. The girl voted most likely to be a beauty queen and have her own morning talk show. Kelly Ripa II.

Tawny had seen Raylene bopping around Nugget in her new Ford F-150. Word on the street was that her husband, a wealthy Denver cattleman, had dumped her for her best friend and she’d come home to lick her wounds. Tawny thought there was probably more to the story.

In the bathroom she fixed her hair, put on a little makeup, and headed for her truck. She didn’t have Lucky’s phone number, but the sooner they dealt with each other, the sooner he could be tested to see if he’d be a good donor match for Katie.

No one was more surprised than she when he’d bought the old Roland summer camp with plans to turn it into a dude ranch. After what had happened ten years ago, she never thought he’d come back. At least not for good. But Cecilia was here. Everyone knew that Lucky had bought his mother that big house on Mule Deer Lane.

Tawny looked at her gas gauge and, as usual, it was almost on empty. Before hopping on the highway, she cruised into the Nugget Gas and Go to fill up. Griffin Parks was in one of the bays with his head under a hood, but came over to the pumps.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to drop by. When’s a good time? I want a pair of boots.”

Ever since Katie’s leukemia had come back, a lot of the townsfolk had been buying boots. They knew she wouldn’t take charity. Instead, they came to her studio to purchase seconds and samples.

“Really?” Her lips curved up in a suspicious grin, having never seen him in any footwear other than motorcycle boots. He was definitely more James Dean than John Wayne.

He smiled back, and Lordy, the man was good-looking—and rich as a king. The summer before last, he’d come into Nugget and bought the Gas and Go and Sierra Heights, a bankrupt gated community on the outskirts of town. But you’d never know it. Griffin was salt of the earth and worked as hard as everyone else did in Nugget. If it hadn’t been a known fact that he pined after the police chief’s sister, she might’ve been tempted to go after him. Although Tawny had never been any good in the love department. Too shy to flirt and too busy to date.

That’s okay. All she needed was Katie.

“Yeah, really,” he said. “I think I’d rock a pair of shit-kickers.”

He’d rock anything
. “Then come over anytime. I’m sure there are a couple of pairs that have your name on them.”

“How’s Katie?”

“She’s doing okay.” And hopefully would be healthy soon if Lucky turned out to be a match.

“You need anything, you let me know. I’m serious, Tawny.”

She had to turn away before he saw her mist up, but managed to choke out a thank-you. Tawny didn’t know how it was in other places; Nugget was the only place she’d ever lived. But people here overflowed with kindness.

With her tank full, she headed toward the old camp. She’d forgotten how beautiful the drive was. Although Lucky’s property was only a few miles from town, the landscape changed here from deep forest to rolling hills. Cattle country. In the winter, when the fields were blanketed with snow, ranchers trucked their herds to the Central Valley or to warmer climates in Nevada. But now the land was dotted with Angus and Herefords and breeds Tawny didn’t even know the names of.

When she got to Lucky’s, the place was alive with construction workers. Hammering, sawing, lots of sweaty men eyeing her inquisitively. Surprised they worked on Saturdays, she nodded at a few in greeting and made her way to Lucky’s single-wide. No one answered, and after standing there a while, wondering whether she should go in search of him or go home, a guy wearing a tool belt and goggles took pity on her and directed her to the lodge. That’s where she found a shirtless Lucky swinging a hammer. His arms were ropey with muscle and his shoulders had doubled in width since he was a teen. It was strange seeing him again after all these years, no longer a boy but a man. Then again, he’d never been like the other boys. There had always been a maturity about Lucky that had separated him from the pack. She had a fleeting memory of him picking her for his partner in a silly square-dance class, when no one else would.

“Thelma’s got more hair on her arms than Grendel,” one of the boys had announced to the entire sixth-grade class. They’d just gotten done reading the
Story of Beowulf,
and the kid’s pronouncement sent a chorus of laughter through the room, sealing Tawny’s rep as class loser.

But then Lucky had squinted at the little jerk as if to say
I’ll be kicking your ass later
, brushed past him, and offered Tawny his arm. That’s when Lucky Rodriguez had first become her hero.

She took in a deep breath, walked a few more steps into the room, and made her presence known. Lucky stopped hammering and gave her a long perusal.

“We should go someplace more private—and quieter,” he said as power tools screeched.

“What are you doing with this place?” she asked, taking a turn around the room and staring up at the open-beam ceilings and the gigantic fireplace. “It’s nice.”

“It’ll double as a cantina for the cowboy camp and a banquet hall for events.” He seemed anxious to get to their business, but she was curious about the place. For years it had been vacant, the owners deciding that it was more lucrative to lease the land to neighboring ranches as grazing pasture than to run retreats.

She supposed Lucky’s bull-riding celebrity status would attract a wealthier clientele than church and school groups.

Lucky grabbed his T-shirt off a sawhorse, pulled it over his head, and led her to another outbuilding. Reaching in his pocket for a key, he unlocked the door and let them inside.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“When it’s done it’ll be my office and apartment. Where’s Katie?”

“She went to the movies with a friend.” Tawny glanced at her phone to make sure she had enough bars in case Cindy tried to call.

“In her condition, is that okay?”

“As long as she stays warm and isn’t out for too long. She wants to be like all the other kids and I want things to be as normal for her as possible until we find a donor.” Between the chemo and radiation, Katie had missed out on enough of her childhood already.

There was no furniture in the room, so Lucky motioned for her to take a seat on one of the staircase steps. “After I left you last night I did a little research on the Internet. We can get a paternity test in Quincy. I just need a swab from the inside of Katie’s cheek.”

Tawny nodded. She already knew that.

Lucky joined her on the staircase. “Why didn’t you try harder to get ahold of me, Tawny? Why didn’t you go to my mother?”

She sat there quiet for a few seconds, then said, “I didn’t want to make trouble for you, Lucky. After what happened at the Rossers’ I didn’t think it would help your situation for people to know that you got me pregnant that night.”

Lucky blew out a sigh. “I suspect not. But you should’ve looked out for yourself. And from what I can tell, you could’ve used my help over the years.”

“I didn’t need your stem cells until now. Katie went into remission after the chemo. We were fine until two months ago. That’s when the cancer came back. The doctors thought radiation might work. It didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” He started to reach for her hand and seemed to think better of it. “I wish I had known. I could’ve been there for her. And from the looks of things, you could’ve used my money and my support.”

“I don’t need your money. I have a thriving business.”

Lucky cocked his brows. “Your car and house tell a different story.”

“There was a time, Lucky Rodriguez, when my car and house would’ve been more than you could’ve dreamed of.”

He flinched. “That may have been true once upon a time, but not anymore. Okay, assume for the sake of argument that you didn’t need me. Did it ever occur to you that you were depriving me of a daughter, or your daughter of a father? And how about my mother of a grandchild?”

Tawny sighed. “You think your mother would’ve celebrated the news that on the same day you were accused of raping the richest girl in town, you knocked up poor Thelma Wade? That sure would’ve helped the Rodriguez reputation, don’t you think?”

“You know damn well I didn’t rape Raylene.”

“I know it, you know it, Raylene knows it, but what about the rest of the town if the mighty Rossers had decided to press charges? Or run your mother out of Nugget? And don’t think for one minute if they’d known about you and me that night, they wouldn’t have done it just to be vindictive. Because those people are mean as snakes.” And what about Katie having to live down the allegations that her father was a rapist?

“Raylene would’ve told the truth,” he said.

“Yeah, because she was so good at standing up for you at the time.” And if Raylene had known that Lucky was screwing around with Tawny, she would’ve called for a lynch mob just out of jealousy.

“She was a kid, Tawny. Afraid of her abusive old man.”

That girl wasn’t afraid of anyone, but far be it from Tawny to tell him. Clearly Lucky still had a soft spot for the viper.

“Maybe I was wrong, Lucky. Maybe I should’ve tried harder to tell you. But I was eighteen at the time and scared to death.”

“What’s your excuse for when you were twenty, twenty-five, or twenty-eight . . . while your daughter was sick?”

He wasn’t going to let her off that easy, and Tawny probably deserved his anger. But she’d done what she thought he would’ve wanted. Kept her mouth shut.