Mai Tai'd Up(39)

“Why would she hate what you’re doing up here? Everything I’ve heard about Our Gang sounds pretty terrific,” he asked, his voice confused.

“Yes. You know that and I know that, and everyone else knows that. But when someone says those things to her, what she actually hears is ‘Our Gang, that place where my daughter is throwing her life away to pick up dog doodoo and raise a bunch of vicious mutts.’ She can’t understand how the same girl who won a crown and a sash by throwing a fire baton could also want to do this. Not when there are social committees to chair, and a golf grip to master,” I finished, realizing I hadn’t taken a breath that entire time.

“Wow,” Lucas said.

“Yeah,” I said, drinking the rest of my martini and then rattling the ice in my glass. “Another?”

“I think I kind of have to, after that,” he said with a chuckle, draining his glass. “Fire batons? Damn.”

I shook off the melancholy, took the glass from him, and nodded toward the gas grill. “You go get that fired up, I’ll make the drinks, and then we’ll get dinner going. I need to eat something, or I’ll get sloppy drunk and you’ll end up having to put me to bed.”

I started across the patio, then turned back to him just as he was opening his mouth. “Shush,” I warned, then my dress and I flounced over to the bar. Where I mixed two more martinis with a twist . . .


We made dinner together, Lucas in charge of grilling the skewers of steak and onion, while I tossed cherry tomatoes in a hot pan with some olive oil, fresh garlic, and lots of parsley and thyme. I boiled fingerling potatoes in a brine of water and salt, then steamed them for a few minutes in their skins, making them perfectly tender inside. I then tossed them with a little brown butter and cracked pepper. With the kabobs, it was a perfect meal to eat outdoors, under the fairy lights.

I’d wisely switched to ice water after my second cocktail, and I could see a two-drink maximum was going to have to be the new standard around Lucas—especially when he was wearing navy blue. It was almost impossible to stop myself from crawling across the table, curling into his lap, and licking his face. Maybe I should have made the time to grind a bit earlier—it might have taken the edge off.

Once dinner was over and we’d switched over to espresso (made with the ancient espresso maker my grandfather had in the kitchen since it was built), we just sat and talked for hours—the kind of hours you can afford when you have zero cares in the world and no responsibilities. We had those cares, yet we still stayed up talking well into the evening.

We moved inside when the night air got chilly, and I was curled up on what I’m sure in its day was called a davenport, across from Lucas, who was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, which was crackling away comfortably. Ella and Louie were on the record player now, singing “You Can’t Take That Away from Me.”

And speaking of records, for the record, no redhead should ever sit in front of a fire. Because it’s just not fair to the fire. Honestly, the way the firelight caught his hair, throwing flashes of burnt orange and whiskey honey around the room, it was just . . . not fair.

As I was ruminating on this, my phone rang. Surprised, considering it was well after nine, I looked at the phone and saw that it was Lou.

“Hey, Lou, what’s shaking?” I asked, laughing when I realized I was speaking in Rat Pack. Lucas just shook his head, snapped his fingers, and pointed at me. Ring a ding.

“Hey, Chloe, you ready to get your first dog?”

“Huh?” I asked gracefully.

“Got a call about a dog they picked up in Salinas. Looks like it might have been a bait dog, lots of old scars.”

“Okay,” I said, clutching the phone.

“They’re gonna hold him for you to pick up tomorrow morning; I’ll email you the details. Okay?”

“Okay,” I repeated, eyes wide.

“Easy, princess—you’ll be fine.”

“But we’re not ready yet, there’s still so much to be done and—”

“You’ve got the pens ready, right?”

“Yes.”

“And food and water?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then you’ll be fine,” he said, his voice kind. “You can’t always wait until everything’s perfect—sometimes it happens when it’s not supposed to. You roll with it, right?”

“Right,” I whispered, looking at Lucas, who was by now on the couch next to me.

“I’ll call you in the morning, and don’t worry so much. You’re going on your first freedom ride! Enjoy it!”