Bed of Roses (Bride Quartet #2)(85)

"You pulled a fourth deuce in the fucking river?" Rod shook his head. "You're one lucky bastard."

"Yeah. One lucky bastard."





AFTER THE GAME, WHEN JACK HAD THE WINNER'S SHARE OF everyone's fifty-dollar entry fee in his pocket, he lingered with Del on the back deck.

"Since you're having another beer, you're figuring on flopping here?"

"Thinking about it," Jack said.

"You make the coffee in the morning."

"I've got an early meeting, so the coffee's going on about six."

"Fine. I've got a divorce deposition. Man, I hate it when a friend pressures me into handling a divorce. I hate fucking di vorce cases."

"What friend?"

"You don't know her. We dated off and on some back in high school. She ended up marrying this guy, moving to New Haven about five years ago. Two kids." 

With a shake of his head he took a short pull of his beer. "Now they've decided they can't stand the sight of each other, and she's moved back here, staying with her parents until she figures out what the hell she wants to do. He's pissed because she wants to live back here and it complicates visitation." He tipped the bottle to the left. "She's pissed because she put her career on hold to take the Mommy Track." Then tipped it to the right. "He didn't appreciate her enough, she didn't understand the pressure he was under. The usual."

"I thought you weren't going to handle any more divorces."

"A woman whose breasts you've once fondled comes into your office asking for help, it's tough to say no."

"That's true. It doesn't happen often in my line of work, but it's true."

Del shot him a smirk over another sip of beer. "Maybe I've just fondled more breasts than you have."

"We could have a contest."

"If you can remember all the breasts you've had in your hands, you haven't had enough of them."

Jack laughed, tipped back in his chair. "We should go to Vegas."

"For the breasts?"

"For . . . Vegas. A couple of days at the casinos, followed by a titty bar. So, yes, breasts would be involved. Just hang out for a couple days."

"You hate Vegas."

"Hate's a strong word. No, better, we could go to St. Martin or St. Barts. Something. Play the tables, scope the beach. Go deep-sea fishing."

Del's eyebrows rose. "You want to fish? To my knowledge you've never so much as held a fishing rod."

"There's always a first time."

"Itchy feet?"

"Just thinking about getting away for a few days. Summer's coming. I got locked in last winter with work, and had to cut the week at Vail down to three days. So we can make up for it."

"I could probably stretch a long weekend."

"Good. We'll do that." Satisfied, Jack took another pull on his beer. "Weird about Rod."

"What?"

"Getting engaged. It came out of the blue."

"He's been with Shelly a couple of years. Not so blue."

"He's never made any marriage noises," Jack insisted. "I didn't figure him for it. I mean, a guy like Carter, yeah. He's the type. Come home from work every night, put on the slippers."

"Slippers?"

"You know what I mean. Come home, make a little dinner, pet the three-legged cat, watch some tube, maybe bang Mac if the mood's right."

"You know I try not to think about Mac and banging in the same sentence."

"Get up the next day, do it again," Jack continued in a tone that edged toward a rant. "Add a couple of kids along the way, maybe a one-eyed dog to go with the three-legged cat. Bang less because now you've got kids running around. Deep-sea fishing and titty bars are a thing of the past because now you've got nightmare trips to the mall and daycare and a freaking minivan and college funds. And Christ!" He threw up both hands. "Christ, now you're forty and coaching Little League and you've probably got a gut because who the hell has time to go to the gym when you've got to stop by the market and pick up bread and milk. Then you blink and you're fucking fifty and falling asleep in the Barcalounger watching reruns of Law and Order."

Del said nothing for a minute, just continued to study Jack's face. "That's an interesting roundup of the next twenty years of Carter's life. I hope they named one of the kids after me."



       
         
       
        

"That's the way it goes, isn't it?" What was this panic, this spurt of it rising up in his chest? He didn't want to think about it. "The good part is Mac won't be coming to you to file for divorce because it'll probably work for them. And she's not the type to freak out because he's heading out to Poker Night or hit him with the 'you never take me anywhere' routine."