Outside the kitchen window, a small sparrow flew gracefully through the air, then dropped to walk drunkenly across the front lawn. Only went to show that all God’s creatures had their strengths and weaknesses. He’d have to pick up some seed and get his bird feeder hung today.
Colorful red and purple petunias clustered at the base of his mailbox. They had to be his mother’s doing. He leaned closer to the window for a better look but was interrupted when the now fully charged cell phone on the counter started playing a tune.
Recognizing it as “Who Says You Can’t Go Home,” he chuckled. The Bon Jovi-Jennifer Nettles song could be his anthem.
“Lucy! Your phone’s ringing.”
“Could you answer it?”
He hesitated. After all the media hype stirred up by Lucy’s aborted wedding, caution was called for. He seriously doubted the insidious paparazzi could finagle her cell number from anyone, but decided it was best not to give too much away. He flipped the phone open. “Hello.”
“Who is this?” a deep voice bellowed.
“Good morning to you too,” Jake said pleasantly, pouring himself a mug of coffee. “Who’s callin’?”
“Who’s— You put my daughter on the phone this instant! Who’s calling? I’ll show you who’s calling.”
“Luce, it’s your dad.”
She stepped frowning into the kitchen, slicking all that glorious auburn hair into a ponytail. Miles of bare leg and tiny feet with Georgia-bulldog-red nails spiked his blood pressure. His worn T-shirt had never looked so good. The teeny little thong and lacy bra still hung in his bathroom. So what did she have on under that cotton shirt of his? Anything?
His pulse revved into high gear even as another part of his anatomy stood at attention. Shoot!
A disgruntled sigh escaped her. “So much for a reprieve. You’d better cover those innocent ears, Jake. I seriously doubt this is going to be pretty.”
She took the phone. “Good morning, Dad.”
Jake moved in and laid his head against hers, the phone between them. When she pulled away to scowl at him, he simply ignored her, unabashedly turning the phone slightly so he could listen in on the conversation.
“Don’t you ‘good morning’ me, young lady. What in the Sam Hill is going on?”
Before she could answer, he blasted her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“What I’ve done?”
“Damn straight.”
“You know, you should probably be having this conversation with Donald. He’s the one who couldn’t keep his zipper—”
“Don’t start that. He’s a man.”
Her eyes popped wide, and her jaw dropped. “And that excuses his behavior?”
“I didn’t say that, but you sure as hell could have handled things better. The press is all over this runaway-bride crap, romanticizing it. They’re drooling like wolves on the trail of an injured rabbit. Exactly the kind of thing I don’t need right now.”
“Oh, that’s right. How could I have forgotten? It’s all about you, isn’t it? Forget I’m the one—”
Her father practically scorched the phone lines with his scathing rejoinder.
Lucinda flinched but gave no ground.
Jake put a supportive arm around her shoulders.
She rubbed at her forehead. “The press was pretty brutal about your wedding, wasn’t it, Dad? Guess mine turned out to be not so different after all.”
“Don’t get smart with me, young lady. I’m still your father.”
She said nothing.
“And the money! For God’s sake, Lucinda. The florist, the caterer…”
“I’m sorry.”
Jake saw red but kept quiet. This was her fight.
“And why, in blue blazes, did you abandon your car on the side of the road like that?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“What?”
“When my car broke down, I didn’t get hurt. I wasn’t abducted. I didn’t sit for hours in the blazing sun with nothing to drink. A good Samaritan came along and rescued me.”
“That the guy who answered the phone?”
“Yes.” She tossed Jake an exaggerated smile and fluttered her lashes theatrically. “And he’s wonderful.”
He drew back a bit to study her. Did she mean that, or had she simply said it to inflame her father? Didn’t matter, he reminded himself. Both of them were benefiting from their time together. Then she would hit the road.
“My guess is it didn’t take him long to put two and two together. To realize he rescued the cash cow.”
“Dad!”
Jake’s hands fisted.
“How much we going to have to pay him to keep his mouth shut? You didn’t sleep with him, did you? Do I need to get our lawyers involved? Worry about pictures? A tell-all story?”