He emptied his now cold coffee and rinsed his cup. Then he slammed his hand down on the counter. Like hell it wasn’t his business. How could her own father be so callous? So impersonal?
Still, he’d best leave it to Lucy to deal with him. Funny how, if you’d asked him yesterday, he’d have sworn media sweetheart and socialite Lucinda Darling had the world on the proverbial string, dangling it between those pretty fingers of hers. And that she had aided and abetted her father in his dealings in the Gulf. But things weren’t always what they seemed.
Hadn’t he learned that from his own family?
An outsider looking at the Parkers would chalk them up as the perfect middle-class family. Yet he and his dad were constantly at each other’s throats.
Of course, that was all his dad’s fault. Jake snorted. Yeah, right. Growing up in a small town meant everybody knew every breath he took, every misstep he made. Because his dad was the chief of police, Jake’s mischief-making had been a real bone of contention between them…so Jake had always made sure he took everything one step further.
When he’d refused to settle down, though, and stick with the law firm he’d joined in Pride, his dad had seen red. He wanted Jake in a place of prominence in town. Wanted him married to Wanda Sue—or someone like her—and settled down. Wanted something to brag about to the all-important country-club good old boys.
Mom, always the peacemaker, had stepped in and tried to make things right.
But Jake had needed to leave town more than he’d needed to come to terms with his family. And so he had. First to Wyoming, then to Mississippi.
Now he was back. Because he loved Grandma Hattie, he’d give it one more go.
Speaking of going, he’d better grab his car keys and head to the store. He was halfway to the counter when the doorbell chimed.
Wary after the morning’s phone call, Jake’s antennae shot up. Paparazzi? Feeling a little like a fugitive in his own home, he peeked out the kitchen window and spotted the battered tan-and-black SUV parked haphazardly in his driveway. His sister Birdie’s. He’d recognize that heap of junk anywhere. She’d driven it when she and Sammy visited him every few months in Bay Saint Louis, refusing his offer to buy her something better.
His four-year-old nephew hopped out of the backseat and half skipped, half walked up the sidewalk, a black-felt pirate hat on his head. Jake smiled. Now here was his welcome-home committee.
Hurrying to the door, he had his hand on the knob when he remembered Lucy in the guest room. Panic squeezed his chest; his breathing became labored. This was exactly the reason he’d left Pride in the first place. Everything he did got picked over by the entire town’s population. Everything had public consequences.
Well, maybe Lucy would sleep through the visit, and they’d have a chance to discuss exactly where they were heading and how they intended to get there. If not…well, the sticky got stickier. But one way or the other, it was a matter he’d have to address sooner or later, and he’d known that.
Birdie on his doorstep first thing this morning was definitely sooner than he’d planned. Hell, there was the problem in a nutshell. Unlike Lucy, he didn’t believe in planning, so he hadn’t. Hadn’t taken the time to think the situation through. Decide how to approach it. As usual, he was running on a wing and a prayer. And if one good downdraft came along, he was gonna crash and burn.
“Hey, Uncle Jake, you gonna let us in?” Sammy banged his tiny fist on the door.
“Sammy, stop that. Uncle Jake will—”
Jake quickly buttoned his shirt, threw open the door and caught Sammy as he leaped into his arms. “Whoa, you’ve put on a couple pounds, bud!” He returned his nephew’s easy hug, then leaned around him to give Birdie a quick peck on the cheek.
“Good morning!” He backed into the house, beckoning his sister to follow. “Didn’t expect anybody quite this soon. How did you know I was home?”
“Randy called. Said he was on patrol last night and saw your car in the drive and lights on.”
The stress of meeting everyone’s expectations, all the weight of small town life that he’d thrown off while he’d been in Bay Saint Louis, crashed in on him. Not even twenty-four hours in town and the mill was up and running again about bad-boy Jake Parker. No escaping it.
He sighed. “So I suppose that means Dad knows too?”
Birdie’s smile dimmed. “That would be my guess.”
“Shit.”
“Oooooh. Uncle Jake said a bad word.”
His sister raised her brows, the corner of her mouth turning up slightly.
“Yes, I did.” Jake ruffled the boy’s mop of curly brown hair. “I apologize. And don’t you repeat it.” Then he turned to his sister. “Want a cup of coffee? I don’t have any milk, so you’ll have to drink it black.”