The impatience that had been running rampant through him died a fast death. He laughed. Leave it to kids. “Mike’s a good friend of mine. Always has been.”
“I thought Skeet was your best friend.”
“He is.” Good old Skeet, Jake thought. Always ready to join him in raising a little hell. He’d have to give him a call later today. Maybe.
But Sammy was nothing if not stubborn. “So who’s Mike?” he asked again.
“You done there?” his mother asked. “If so, you need to wash up. You’ve got enough sticky goo on you for another meal.”
“I gotta pee.” The boy scrambled off his chair and made a beeline for the bathroom.
“Wash your face while you’re in there.”
“’Kay.”
“Hands too.”
Jake got up to pour more coffee. “You hear anything from Zane lately?”
Birdie shook her head. “I get child-support checks every month like clockwork, but they sure don’t take the place of Sammy having his daddy around.”
“No. They don’t.” Jake sat back down across from her. He didn’t get it. He and Zane had worked together in Wyoming’s oil fields, and he knew the guy loved Birdie and their little boy. Then last year he’d just up and called her one day to say he wanted a divorce. No reason, no warning, nothing. Didn’t make any sense.
His sister had been absolutely flattened. But she’d picked herself up, dusted off her britches and was making a darn good life for herself and Sammy. Jake gave her a lot of credit.
He’d just taken a healthy gulp of coffee when Sammy danced back into the kitchen, a silky white thong over his head and snagged under his chin like a wrestler’s headgear. The little boy had his arms through the straps of the lacy bra that had been hung over the towel bar, wearing it like a warrior’s armor and grinning like a QVC pitchman.
Hot coffee spurted out of Jake’s mouth and nose, spattering the table.
Unrestrained laughter erupted from Birdie. “So, big brother, I’m guessing you’ve either taken up cross-dressing, or you have an overnight guest. My money’s on the second. Who is she?” She took a deep breath, still grinning. “Is our being here a problem?”
“No. Hell, no!”
“Oooooh, Uncle Jake—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Jake raised a hand in surrender. “I said a naughty word.” His gaze moved back to his sister. “I can explain.”
As Birdie extricated Lucy’s underwear from the little monster, plopping the pirate hat on his tousled blonde hair as a replacement, Jake fidgeted.
“Believe me, it’s not what you think.” His mind raced. The easiest route would be the truth. To simply tell Birdie about finding Lucinda Darling by the roadside, give her a quick, almost-all-there account of the last day and a half.
But if he did, she—or blabbermouth Sammy—would eventually rat him out, intentionally or not. For reasons that ran soul-deep and had no logical basis, he wanted to make Grandma Hattie happy. Needed to go along with this charade. He’d been away so long, putting his own needs in front of his family’s. Birdie was right. Guilt was a force to be reckoned with, and he had it in spades.
Worse, what if Birdie was wrong? What if Gram really was sick? That niggling doubt refused to be put to rest. She was eighty-nine.
Add it all up and he had to maintain this whole phony engagement deal. And if he really meant to pull it off, the truth probably wasn’t his smartest move. The question was could he lie to his own sister?
For that matter, when it came right down to it, could he lie to Mom and Dad? To Grandma Hattie?
What a freakin’ mess!
His gaze skittered around the kitchen and refused to meet Birdie’s.
Disgusted with both himself and the situation, he ran a hand over his face and cleared his throat. “Those undoubtedly expensive-as-Hades undies belong to Lucinda Darling. She—”
“Lucinda Darling?” Birdie’s voice rose an octave before her mouth dropped open, rendering her, for the slightest nanosecond, silent. Then she found her voice again, this time as a whisper. “Lucinda Darling is here? In your house? In your bedroom?”
Panic streaked through him. He jumped up and crossed the room, leaned against the counter. “No, no. Not in my bedroom. In the guest room.”
At his sister’s skeptical look, he swore again. Then, turning to Sammy, he apologized without waiting for the reprimand. He got one anyway.
“Mom’s gonna wash your mouth out if you do it again,” the boy warned.
“Jake,” Birdie said, “everybody is looking for her.”
“No news there. I’m not stupid.”