“Are you sure you’re okay? Absolutely certain?” Her brow furrowed into worried mom mode.
“One hundred percent sure.” He wouldn’t tell her about the bruises, general soreness, and total loss of his pride, all at the hands of her boyfriend. Brr… Jimmy was actually his sister’s boyfriend.
“In that case…” Charlotte slammed her balled up fist into his solar plexus. Yow! Direct hit on a bruise. No fair! She and Jimmy struck the same places.
Lucky grabbed the door again with one hand, rubbing his chest with the other. Thank God he wore his leather jacket. February had some uses after all, like forcing him to wear extra padding. “What was that for?” His entire body ached and he wanted nothing more than to soak in the Jacuzzi, maybe forever.
“How dare you… how dare you try to dictate who I date and who I don’t?” The rage purpling her face clashed horribly with her current auburn hair color.
Rett squeezed between Lucky and the door at his back, son on her hip. “I reckon me and Rone should be going. Call me, Char.”
Coward. The shutting door sealed Lucky’s doom. Outside, he heard Rett tell Bo, “I wouldn’t go in there right now if I were you.”
Lucky held up both hands as much to keep Charlotte at bay as to surrender. He’d worried that Rett could kick his ass, got handed his ass by Jimmy, who he’d underestimated, but Charlotte? Oh, hell yeah. Get her mad and watch out. “Calm down! Don’t go getting all excited.” He glanced out the window. Where the hell was Bo? It couldn’t take that long to park the truck in their own driveway.
“Excited? Excited!” Charlotte poked a pointy-nailed digit into his chest. “For your own safety, you’d better learn the difference between excited and mad as hell!”
Please, God, let her not have a gun handy. He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes. When she got this angry, the only defense was to appeal to her motherly instincts—hopefully amped up to ten by the impending baby. “But… I love you.”
How she managed excruciating side-eye and stink-eye all in one, he’d never know. Talented, he guessed, and lots of practice getting pissed off, growing up with three younger brothers and raising two boys who’d somehow managed to stay alive into their teens.
Oh, and a pain in the ass older brother.
Where the hell was Bo? He should’ve been right behind Lucky. He’d calm Charlotte down.
“Can we talk about this like adults?” Lucky ventured.
Once again, the woman, who might be the last human being he ever saw before death, ran a critical gaze up and down Lucky’s body. “I think we’re one adult short, but go on, talk.”
“Promise not to hit me again?”
Charlotte folded her arms together over her rounded belly, her glare giving her answer. No promises.
“Can we at least sit down?” Lucky had gotten too old to get his ass handed to him on a platter and then be expected to stand while using brain cells.
His sister waved a hand toward the couch.
“First, how’s Andro?”
“Sleeping.”
“Ty?”
“Pretending to sleep, but likely pressing his ear to his bedroom door to hear every word. Don’t change the subject.”
Lucky winced. Oh, yeah. Whatever Charlotte handed out might be repeated tomorrow by her son.
He sank down onto the couch, letting out a sigh of relief. Damn, but he hurt. He’d gotten Jimmy’s side of the story, now to interro… find out his sister’s perspective. “How did you meet Jimmy?” He still hadn’t ruled out the bastard searching Lucky’s file to find out his address and showing up unannounced, demanding Charlotte go out with him.
Charlotte eased into her favorite chair, reclining back to put her feet up. “Look, Lucky, it’s none of your business. If you’d come to me and asked me first, we could have sat down and talked, but no, you had to take him to a gym and prove you were ‘the man’.” She made air quotes.
Direct hit. Yeah, he’d warned the guy away and Jimmy hadn’t listened, and Rett should have said something, but Charlotte had a point. Besides, Rett was Charlotte’s friend too. Rett wanted her friends to be happy. Of course, she went along with thekeep Lucky in the darkplan.
Charlotte’s eyes glittered with more than anger. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “Look, Lucky, I was there for you. I was always there for you. I came every single day to your trial, hoping and praying by some miracle you’d avoid prison.
“Then you got out, you wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone, and then you faked your death. Do you have any idea how much you gutted me? I lay on my bed crying for days. For days!”
Oh, God. “You said you knew I wasn’t dead.” Even to his own ears, Lucky’s argument came off weak.
