His Brown-Eyed Girl

But her words hadn’t been filled with regret.

They had been for her children, the ones she’d had with his brother. The family she loved more than her pride. So she’d begged him to help her. Begged the man she’d betrayed so she could go to the man she’d cheated on him with—his own brother.

Lucas banged his forehead against the door.

“Uncle Wucas?”

Charlotte stood in the doorway clad in a nightgown with ponies on it. Her wet hair hung nearly to her waist, but he knew now from experience it would curl up to her shoulders when it dried. Her blue eyes looked so much like Courtney’s—big and ready to be filled by life. She still looked frightened of him, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

He tried to smile but it probably looked as if he were in pain. She took a step back.

“Do you want some cereal?” He walked to the fridge. “Uh, I think your brother must have drank the last of the milk.” He looked at her. Would she pitch a fit? He’d seen kids her age in the grocery store lying on the floor, screaming and kicking. Lucas wasn’t up for handling that at the moment, not after the dirt bike crash and the dog piss.

Chris hobbled in. “What’s for dinner?”

Good question. “How about pizza?”

“Yes!” Chris pumped his fist in the air. Oddly enough, he landed on his “injured” foot without a grimace telling Lucas all he needed to know about a trip to the doctor.

Charlotte didn’t say anything, but several crystalline tears hung on her thick blond lashes.

“You don’t like pizza?” Lucas asked, using the voice he used on his mares when they were foaling.

Charlotte shook her head.

“Shut up, Lottie. You like pizza,” Chris said, hopping to the pantry, grabbing a bag of potato chips and shoving a handful into his mouth. Pieces fell, sprinkling the floor and his T-shirt.

Lucas grabbed the bag and rolled it shut. “If you want pizza, you need to lay off the chips.”

“But—” Chris made a swipe for the bag, but when he realized he had no chance, he dropped his arms and glared at Lucas. “Why are you here anyway? We don’t even know you.”

Good question. Lucas didn’t know the answer. On the drive from West Texas to Louisiana the same question had bounced around in his head. Why was he going to help out a family he knew nothing about?

Well, he knew a little.

His mother had forwarded him Christmas cards of this perfect family year after year. Lucas had watched his nephews and niece grow up in the happy, shiny photos, gummy grins shifting into painful half smiles. But other than a Christmas card and what he gleaned from his parents, Lucas knew nothing about his brother’s family. “Because your mother needed help.”

“But you hate my dad.” Statement. Delivered with anger. From the affable Chris.

Charlotte stopped swinging on the doorknob.

Michael appeared, face dark as a thundercloud, arms crossed. Tension hung like wet flannel. “Yeah, you do. We’re not stupid. So why don’t you clue us all in on why we’ve never seen you before now?”

Another good question.

But the truth was too hard for children.

“Where’s the number for a pizza place nearby?”

Flickering within the dark depths of Michael’s eyes—so similar to Ben’s—was an unspoken line scratched between them. “Find it yourself, Uncle.”

* * *

ADDY STARED at the dregs in her chai tea. She should have had decaffeinated tea or a nice glass of wine. The past few hours had left her unsettled and sucking down caffeine hadn’t been a good idea. She lit the chamomile-and-honey-scented candles on the shelf above the ancient claw-foot tub and tossed some dried lavender in the water pouring from the arched faucet.

Surely a bath would wash her cares away and later she’d get back to reading about the sensual Arabian sheikh and the woman who defied him...only out of bed of course.

“Addy?”

Addy set the empty teacup on the marble vanity and pulled on her worn terry-cloth robe as her aunt Flora burst into the bathroom.

“Oh, there you are,” Aunt Flora said, readjusting a sombrero on her gray locks. “I hollered for you for a good five minutes. Thought you were out for a run.”

“You know I don’t run at night. The faucet must have masked the sound of you calling. What the heck are you wearing?”

“What does it look like?” Aunt Flora asked. “It’s one of those Mexican hats. Doris got it for me for the Zumba class. We’re doing a Latin routine that requires a sombrero.”

“Mexican Hat Dance?” Addy cracked.

Aunt Flora twisted her lips and sent her eyes toward the pressed-tin ceiling. “Well, I don’t know the song, but it’s very sexy. You should come to class with me.”

“I’ll stick to yoga and running. I’m hopeless at sashaying.”

Aunt Flora snorted and sat on the toilet lid. “We don’t sashay. We rumba, salsa and do kicks. But stick to your boring exercise. Zumba is for the young at heart.”

“There’s an insult in there somewhere.”

“Phooey. The insult was right out front.” Aunt Flora smiled, revealing the gold crowns in the back of her mouth. The woman had a Cheshire cat smile and a wicked sense of humor...when she could still find it. “I saw that tall drink of water next door. Who is he? And where can I get one?”

“He’s Ben’s brother. I think. At any rate, he’s the kids’ uncle Lucas. And I don’t think he’s for sale.” Addy tamped down the odd feeling stirring inside at the thought of the man who had so recently invaded her world. She felt an attraction toward him, which seemed at odds with the perpetual fear she clung to whenever a large man lumbered into her periphery. That contradiction unsettled her.

Not that she couldn’t use a man in her life.

Again she reminded herself she wasn’t unhappy without a man to stomp bugs and fix the hinge on the laundry room door. Still she wouldn’t mind a date or two...but this man had his hands full enough without worrying with her. And he’d be leaving eventually. Of course she didn’t know where he’d return to, just that he would. So not a good idea to open herself up to the idea of Lucas.

“Pity. I’d take a dozen. I could use some help around here. And he’s a good-lookin’ tall drink of water, if you ask me,” Aunt Flora said, plucking at the tight Lycra covering her thin legs. Honestly, the tight leggings weren’t appropriate on a seventy-five-year-old woman, but when had something like propriety ever stopped her flamboyant aunt?

“I didn’t ask you.” Addy shut off the water and cocked an eyebrow at her aunt.

Flora didn’t budge. “You could use a drink of water.”

“I could use a bath. I’m dirty and the middle Finlay kid destroyed my new greenhouse two hours ago.”

“What?” Aunt Flora rose and jerked the blinds open, peering out in the inky darkness to where Addy’s greenhouse tilted like a drunk.

“Hey! I’m naked under this robe,” Addy said, pulling the collar closed and moving out of line of sight in case anyone peeped out the upper window of the blue house next door. Which never happened. That she knew of.

“Heh.” Flora shook her head and pulled the blinds closed. “Wouldn’t want anyone to see you nekkid, now would we? Might lead to dangerous things.”