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So, no, Addy’s assistant didn’t trust easily.
But she hadn’t given up on Addy finding love. She pushed gently, but she pushed. Just like Aunt Flora. And Addy’s mother. And her sisters. And...well, Addy could go on and on with the people who wanted to see her with a man and a baby on her hip.
But Addy wouldn’t be moved until she was ready. She’d learned long ago to listen to her instincts and step carefully where men were concerned. It took her a long time before she trusted. Which was why she couldn’t figure out why there was a sort of auto-trust when it came to Lucas.
“He’s hunky, but it’s not a date.”
“You’ve got weekend plans.”
“We’re rebuilding a greenhouse...with three kids.”
“Who knows what can come of some innocent hammering, nailing, screwing...uh-huh.” Shelia bobbed her head and performed the wave...which was hard to do holding a floral box.
“Go.”
Shelia’s laughter trailed behind her as she left. Addy locked the door behind her friend. Shelia had vacuumed the indoor-outdoor carpet and then locked the front door, but Addy scooted out of her back workstation and double-checked.
Like she did every day.
Then she located her purse, cell phone and pepper spray.
Like she did every day.
Fighting against fear wasn’t for the fainthearted. Addy’s nerves shredded every time she saw an unlocked window, a door left cracked or a shadow falling over her when she was alone.
Most people never thought about their personal safety, but ever since the day in November fifteen years ago, Addy had thought of little else.
Being stalked and attacked did that to a gal.
Of course, Addy knew she was likely safe in her corner of the world. Wednesday evenings in St. Denis Shopping Center in Uptown New Orleans was busy enough with shoppers, diners and looky-loos enjoying the early spring weather. No dark alleys or lonely stretches inviting violence. None of that comforted her. After all, danger lurked on the sunniest of days, in what seemed to be the safest of places.
Her safety routine complete, Addy’s mind turned to last night. Her thoughts had been haunted by Lucas and the feelings he stirred in her. Hungry, sweet thoughts claimed by the normal Addy, the woman who wanted to find love and peace with someone who completed her, who made her feel at home.
But the other Addy had pulled her mind from that hopeful thought to the letter she’d received from Angola State Penitentiary. From some random inmate named Jim McDade. Some decoy who likely owed Robbie Guidry a favor and most likely had no clue why he’d been asked to send the missive. Probably didn’t even care.
Inside the envelope was a drawing—well done—of a field of brown-eyed Susans. The cheerful yellow flowers with the brown center seemed to dance in the picture, their little faces turned toward the fading sun sinking against a streaked horizon. It had been folded carefully, a crisp tri-fold. Innocuous. Innocent.
But the image had caused Addy’s hand to shake so violently she’d dropped the paper to the floor.
Brown-eyed Susans.
A favorite flower for a brown-eyed girl.
Her father had sung that song to her when he strummed his guitar, winking at her, making her feel like the safest, most-loved girl in the world. Brown-eyed Addy. Daddy’s girl.
And Robbie Guidry, the twenty-five-year-old man who lived across the street from her family, three doors down on the left, had listened, smiling like the rest of their neighbors as he carefully absorbed everything about her life.
So the drawing wasn’t innocent.
It was a reminder.
An instrument of terror plied to take her to that sunny afternoon fifteen years ago—the day Addy learned what fear was, the day the darkness settled into her bones and refused to leave her. Before she went home she would drop off this latest drawing with Lieutenant Andre, who had worked her original case. The man kept a file of the “gifts” sent to her over the years, even though no physical evidence could tie the missives to Robbie Guidry. The nutso stalker wasn’t stupid and never, never allowed what he sent to be traced to him.
Picking up the bouquet of spring flowers, Addy scooped up her purse, her car keys in hand, her thumb firmly on the fob’s alarm, and turned out the lights. Her heartbeat sped up, but she was accustomed to that reaction. She inhaled, exhaled and became hypervigilant to the world around her as she pushed out the door that led to an open parking lot used by the employees of the shops. Open and in sight of a half dozen businesses. Safe. The rational part of her brain overrode the irrational.
Addy walked to her blue Volkswagen Bug, parked against the curb, noting her car needed a wash. Maybe she could get the kids next door to wash it. She could pay Michael and Chris fifteen or twenty bucks.
Three steps from her car, she froze.
Tucked beneath the windshield wiper was a single brown-eyed Susan.
The shattering of the glass vase made Addy jump and stumble backward. She hadn’t realized she’d dropped the flower arrangement. Instinctively she pressed the alarm on her fob, and the chirping wails bounced around the near-empty lot.
Breathing hard, Addy rifled through her purse for her cell phone. The purse-size canister of pepper spray was already in her hand.
The owner of the monogramming shop stuck her head out the rear door with a questioning look, but Addy ignored her and instead focused on the innocent flower sitting bright against the blue of her car. Another reminder from a man who hated her, a sharp left hook of a message meant to do exactly what it had done—scare her.
Addy sat on the curb, clutching her cell phone, not bothering to stop the car alarm. The world tilted, and she concentrated on taking deep breaths, rather than the short panicked ones sounding in her ears.
Breathe, Addy.
Think, Addy.
Robbie Guidry still sat behind bars, but Addy sat in a safe area. No one was an immediate threat. She stood, and looked around the parking lot.
Safe.
Who could have left the flower on her car? Who, either knowingly or unknowingly, could be aiding such a horrible man? She doubted she would get answers, but she would report it...not that it did much good. Without proof Robbie Guidry instigated the gifts sent her way, she had no leg to stand on in prosecuting him for harassment. It had been almost six months since she’d received anything from him. She’d hoped her lack of response had done its job.
But two things within twenty-four hours?
She shivered despite the sun on her shoulders and turned off her alarm. The woman at the monogram shop closed her door and Addy took out her phone to photograph the flower, sending it immediately to Andre’s email along with the date and time of the incident. She’d long since ceased bothering to call the NOPD with the threats—the responding officers made her feel stupid for wasting their time.
Addy tore the flower from beneath the wiper and tossed it onto the pavement where it would wither and be crushed beneath the wheels of the vehicles going in and out of the lot.
If only she could toss her fear the same way.
She looked at the cell phone she still clutched and, for some crazy reason, she wished she had Lucas Finlay’s phone number.
Chapter Four
LUCAS LEARNED the hard way that taking three kids to Home Depot was living hell on earth. As soon as they waltzed under the orange sign, Charlotte had to go to the bathroom. At first Lucas panicked. How was he supposed to take a little girl to a public restroom? Thankfully he spied something called a “family bathroom” and sent Chris in with her. Of course, Michael disappeared before he could be nabbed.
After a full ten-minute wait while Charlotte did her business, Lucas met Chris’s demand—a sports drink as payment for taking care of his sister’s “business” in a place where “any of the hotties from my school could see.” The kid drank three sips then asked Lucas to carry it. Michael remained MIA while Lucas juggled locating the right wood screws with pushing Charlotte in a race-car cart. Charlotte insisted he make engine noises like her father. Lucas found the whole thing embarrassing, but if it kept her from climbing out and playing on the lawn furniture display then he’d gladly rumble like a NASCAR engine.
He needed a drink...and it was only nine-thirty.
Not the ideal way to spend a Saturday morning, especially after Addy had canceled their Wednesday dinner, sending over Aunt Flora’s gumbo without a word on why she couldn’t meet. Flora had taken Chris to karate on Thursday, and outside of catching a glimpse of Addy wrapping her orchids in what appeared to be wet newspaper, he hadn’t seen her.
So much for finding a haven in the chaos. He’d been in survival mode for the past five days and now only wanted to get the damn greenhouse repaired and then get on with keeping the plates spinning, balancing on sticks he knew little about.
At the truck, Michael finally appeared with earbuds in, frown on his face. “Where have you been?” Lucas asked, hefting the lumber into the back.
“I’ve been sitting on that bench.” Michael pointed toward the front of the store.
“With the smokers?”
“I wasn’t smoking.”
Charlotte skipped past the truck and climbed onto the cart return. “Jeez, Chris, pull your sister down. I told you to watch her. Chris?”
“He’s over there looking at lawn mowers.” Michael flung an arm toward the side of the store.
“Chris!”
The ten-year-old froze, looked around to make sure no one had witnessed then jogged toward them.
“Why did you yell at me across the parking lot?”
“Because you are supposed to be watching your sister while I load this lumber, and I’m pretty sure there aren’t any ‘hotties’ at Home Depot on a Saturday morning.”
Chris shot him a withering look. “Girls are prisoners just like me. We get dragged everywhere by our parents...even to Bed Bath & Beyond. No one cares what a kid wants. Besides, I’ve already seen Josie Dupont.”
“You’re wasting your breath, plague. She’s too hot for you,” Michael muttered.
Chris rolled his eyes. “This from the biggest social piranha at St. Mark’s.”
“Shut the hell up.” Michael reached for Chris, but Lucas caught his arm.
“Okay, I’ve had enough. Chris, fetch your sister and stop calling your brother an Amazonian fish.” Lucas heaved another load into the truck.
“What?” Chris asked.
“Look, stupid, if you’re going to insult me, at least use the correct terminology. It’s social pariah.” Michael’s voice dripped with venom...and a shade of hurt.
Lucas turned Chris toward where his sister dangled. “Go.”
Chris sighed and did as bid.
Lucas faced Michael who had fixed his gaze on the cars whizzing down Veterans Boulevard. “What did he mean by that? You having trouble at school?”
His oldest nephew stiffened. “What’s it to you?”
Lucas looked at Michael. Dark hair swooping low across a forehead that bore the hallmark of being thirteen. Acne also marred his cheeks and chin, but not so much that it took away from his handsomeness. He was thin and gawky, but so were many boys that age. He looked like the quintessential young teen but with Ben’s smile and brown eyes. It was as if Lucas saw his own brother twenty-two years ago.
“Just trying to hel—” Lucas bit down on his tongue because that sounded lame even to him. “Never mind. But if you want to talk or if anything is going on that can’t wait until your mother gets home, you know where I am.”
“Yeah, I do. You’re sleeping in my parents’ bed. A virtual stranger who doesn’t know me or anything about my life.”
Lucas nodded. “True, but I’m here.”
“Yes. You’re here.” Without another word, Michael started to unload the cart.
Such anger and frustration was to be expected when going through puberty. Lucas could remember how awkward the age was. One moment he wanted to hit his father, the next crawl into his lap and hide from the cruel world. So Lucas would give Michael space. No doubt he dealt with something at school, but the boy didn’t trust him enough to seek help or advice. Lucas would keep his eye on his nephew...in case he needed to intervene.
After loading the truck, he drove through a doughnut place and picked up a couple dozen to pacify the kids. Screw never rewarding kids with food. This was survival for Lucas and he’d “pick his battles” like the article in the parenting magazine on the back of the toilet had suggested. Ben and Courtney had no hunting, fishing or sports magazines lying around their house, but obviously liked knowing the ten best snacks for their toddler.
The entire way to Uptown, Michael was silent, noshing on doughnuts, earbuds in as Chris and Charlotte quietly worked on a sugar high Lucas knew he’d pay for later. Every time he glanced in his rearview mirror, he caught sight of the three-year-old, who looked like a commercial for everything cute. At one point she caught his eye and smiled, sugary doughnut gumming up her face, looking so like her mother he couldn’t help but soften.
Which was strange since he’d spent years being angry at the woman who had ripped out his heart and left her high heels embedded within its depths.
He remembered the first time he’d seen Courtney. She’d been eleven years old, all legs and glorious blond hair, dangling from a branch of an old oak tree in the front yard of the house her parents had moved into days before. Lucas had been cutting through on his way to his friend Matt’s house to shoot hoops when he’d seen her fall from the tree. He’d scrambled over some bushes, hopped the low fence and found her in a tangle, laughing like a loon. She’d looked up, grabbed the book that had also fallen and smiled. “This is exactly how these two met.”
“Huh?”
She pointed to the cover of a book that had a Native American woman entwined in a cowboy’s arms. “These two, Small Dove and Colt. She fell out of a tree and he caught her. Crazy, huh?”
Lucas took several steps back wondering why a kid was reading a book that seemed to have sex in it. “I just came to see if you were okay.”
She beamed at him. “You rescued me. You’re my siuleehu. That means soul mate in Cherokee.”
He hadn’t known what to say to that. Or to her every time she boldly rode her bike to his house, stalking him with sunshine and silly smiles, all skinny-legged and browned by the sun. Then one day, she stopped following him. And six months later, he started following a new Courtney. One whose flat planes had developed into curvy wonderfulness, a girl who smelled like a meadow, wore lip gloss and tossed her golden hair over her shoulder. She’d been gorgeous, still funny but not so silly anymore.
For ten years they’d played tag with each other, giving each other their first kiss, accompanying each other to school dances, taking long walks down shady streets, sneaking in kisses, practicing moves on each other and cementing the idea Courtney had offered up that day years before—that they were soul mates.
To be together, build a life with a home, children and successful careers had been the plan...until Ben had come home from college with a hard body and a charming smile. While Lucas had been busy studying for law exams, his brother had been sending out resumes and schooling Courtney around town. Lucas had actually felt gratitude toward his brother for taking care of his soon-to-be fiancée while he studied. After all, they would be family within a few years.
But while he slaved over the intricacies of tax law, Ben and Courtney had been falling madly in love over lattes and late night movies.
Lucas hadn’t had a clue until he’d shown Ben the carat-and-a-half square diamond he planned to surprise Courtney with and watched the blood drain from Ben’s face. At that moment, he began to suspect the distance between him and Courtney had been because of Ben. A kernel of suspicion had bloomed, only to be confirmed days later when they had come to him, contrite, tears in their eyes as they explained how the impossible had happened, how they’d tried to fight against it, but hadn’t been able to stop fate. They were in love...and expecting a baby.
Lucas glanced over at that baby, thirteen now, and disdainful of the man who had stayed away from him because it hurt too damn bad to be in the same room with the two people he’d once loved so well, but who had betrayed him. Made a fool of him.
“You missed the turn,” Michael said.
“Sh—” Lucas bit off the curse word. He had to be careful with his language, but minding his tongue when he felt stressed to the limit was hard. “Easy fix. I’ll take the next exit. Little sightseeing.”
Except it wasn’t great sightseeing on the detour—most of the houses were dilapidated and lonely. Like a neighborhood time forgot...or more like politicians forgot after Hurricane Katrina. Lucas’s artist eye saw opportunity for some emotional photos. Maybe when the kids were in school, he’d come with his camera and play around with some shots. Wasn’t stark landforms against a barren landscape, but the beauty peeking from beneath the cracks and weathering had a rare quality.
Fifteen minutes later, they were on State Street. Ten more and they were in Addy’s driveway unloading bags containing the wood screws and other supplies. Michael, without being asked, hefted a roll of heavy-duty plastic from the bed of the truck and dropped it onto the grass next to the greenhouse.
“Careful,” Lucas said. He wished he’d brought his worn work boots, but the newer, shinier cowboy boots would have to do. “We don’t want to tear that plastic.”
Michael’s mouth flattened into a line. “I don’t know why I have to help do this. I didn’t tear it up.”
“Because it’s Saturday, the sun is out and a neighbor needs help.”
No response came from the kid.
Lucas glanced into the backyard where Chris ignored his younger sister who balanced on her stomach on the swing dangling from the massive wooden play set. His finger swooped across the small screen he held, his concentration centered on the iWhateveritwas in his hand. “Chris, please keep an eye on your sister while we unload everything,” Lucas called.
“Okay,” the boy said, not looking up.
“That means put away that thing you’re tapping on.”
Grumbling, the boy slid the electronic device into his jacket pocket.
“I can watch Lottie.” Michael crossed his arms.
“Chris isn’t strong enough to unload this.”
Michael made a sound that might have been a muttered “whatever” but Lucas chose to ignore it, picking his battle once again.
A small car pulled into the driveway and Lucas glanced at his watch—1:20.
A little late, but that could be expected of a business owner. Things came up and had to be addressed before closing for the day. Besides he hadn’t been counting the minutes until Addy arrived.
Or at least that was what he told himself.
Lucas wasn’t accustomed to keeping shopkeeper’s hours. As a landscape photographer, he didn’t have steady hours. Though his art brought in plenty of money, he never allowed the business to overshadow the passion, so often he worked in spurts, obsessively working days on end then taking weeks off before beginning the artistic cycle again. Usually after working with no rest and little food, his body demanded the restoration. Then at some point he had to meet with Chavez about the running of the ranch. But he liked his world, liked being able to embrace his passion whenever the mood struck him.
Addy parked in the spot sitting kitty-corner from the back door, her posturing proving she’d forgotten they were to reconstruct the greenhouse that day.
How could she have forgotten?
He tried to deny he’d thought about her over the past few days. Heck, that morning while walking Kermit and scooping cat litter, he’d vowed the attraction he’d experienced nights before had been a figment of his imagination.
But he knew he lied to himself. Addy was a cool drink of water after walking a desert...otherwise known as Home Depot with three kids.
Maybe the kids were driving him bonkers, but he suspected the desire to see Addy was more than craving an adult’s company. If he had wanted that, he would have taken Shannon Something-or-other up on her coffee invitation after dropping Charlotte at St. George Day School yesterday morning. Of course, the married and bored Shannon had had more than caffeine on that agenda. Her expression had said, “Let’s have a playdate.”
But he didn’t want to have a playdate with Shannon or any other “single” mother in Charlotte’s preschool class. He wanted a workday with Addy.
“Hey,” Addy said, as she climbed from the cute little Volkswagen that somehow looked too cartoonish for such a serious woman. “I’d forgotten we said we’d work on repairs today.”
Disappointment gave him a little sock. He’d thought she was attracted to him several nights ago. Something had ignited between them...but maybe his lack of sleep from being kicked by Chris, who had climbed into bed with him that first night—probably forgetting his mother wasn’t there—had his mind playing tricks on him.
Addy’s shoulders were tight and something in her expression worried him. She looked so different from the way she’d looked before. Sure, she’d seemed guarded—a private woman with a side of mystery.
But today she looked spooked.
What could make a woman look so hunted?
* * *
ADDY PUSHED A few tendrils of hair from her eyes and studied the big man. She hadn’t actually forgotten Lucas. She had, however, temporarily forgotten about the greenhouse and repairs. Messages from Robbie Guidry tended to do that. Rattled her so that she forgot to stop for eggs or pay her water bill on time. When she got reminders from the man who had stalked her, attacked her and nearly killed her, it put her off balance for several days. So she’d canceled on Wednesday night and stayed inside. Even taking the letter by Lieutenant Andre’s office stirred anxiety and it took time for the reality that Robbie was behind bars and she had control of her life to permeate her brain.
But how much longer would he remain behind bars? She inhaled and exhaled, knowing she had no control over when Robbie Guidry would be released from prison.
Lucas approached her as if she were made of glass. She willed her thoughts to settle.
“You okay?”
“Of course, I am. Busy morning at the shop.” She hated lying but didn’t want to talk about her life. About how she’d been a victim. That was her past.
“No, I don’t think so. Something’s wrong.”
“Not really. Just have a lot on my mind.”
“What do you have on your mind?” His question wasn’t soft. He pried into her thoughts and she didn’t want him there.
“Nothing you need to worry about. Let me change and then we’ll get started.” Addy pulled her purse out of the car, pausing to slide the cell phone out of a side pocket. She’d texted her father to let him know she’d talked with Lieutenant Andre yesterday, but he hadn’t replied. But then again he didn’t check text messages often—they seemed beyond him. She didn’t want to call because then her mother would know something was up, and Addy hated when her mother worried. Maybe she would drive out to New Orleans East to corner her father and share what Andre had told her.
Addy’s father was her go-to man. When she’d first received an anonymous drawing of a single brown-eyed Susan, she’d reported it, but with no evidence the drawing came from Guidry, there was nothing to be done. Still, Don Toussant kept track of the evidence and haunted the parole hearings making sure Guidry didn’t get out until he paid his entire twenty-five-year sentence for assault with a deadly weapon, attempted rape and attempted murder. They were a team...a team who couldn’t do much but wait.
Addy dragged her gaze to Lucas, whose dark eyes weighed and measured her.
“Something’s off with you, Addy. You seem...scared. Did something happen—”
She pushed by him. “My life is none of your concern. I don’t like people shoving their nose in my business. I said I was okay, so leave it.”