Page 66 of Legs

Rachel pressed her hand over her heart. “Thanks, Ma. That means the world.”

Warmth crept over me, uncomfortable in its intensity. Lydia’s acceptance shouldn’t have mattered. I’d stopped caring what others thought two years ago. Still, heat flooded my cheeks like I was a kid again, glowing from parental praise. It felt nice. Better than nice. It was a reminder my family had stolen more than my future. They’d cheated me out of basic affection, but Lydia sent it rushing back. Even at thirty, I soaked it in…and an idea caught, a way to run with her approval and pull the shards of my life together.

I leaned my elbows on my knees, nudging Stanley away from my crotch. “If you’re in a bind for bartenders, I might be able to help.”

Lydia’s response came slowly. “The company we hired went out of business. We have a few others in mind, but the timeline is tight. Was there someone specific you’d recommend?”

“Not exactly. I’ve been wanting to promote smaller vineyards in the area. This type of event could be great exposure. You could market it as a ‘diamond in the rough’ thing. Let guests know they’ll be sampling from the best boutique wineries. We’d have to spin it, maybe have them pouring from private collections at set stations, something to wow the crowd. Even do the wine tasting blind and have guests guess the grape, with prizes for the winners.” I pushed my hand through my hair. “Sorry. Just thinking out loud.”

Lydia didn’t seem to mind. “Supportive and smart. I should have known better than to question my Rachel.” She leaned back and clasped her hands. “I’d like to discuss this further, but I bet the girls would love the idea.”

Pride rushed through me again, along with a sting of longing. If mending fences with my mother were as simple as proving I wasn’t a selfish meathead, maybe I could suck up my anger and return her endless calls. Unfortunately, ours wasn’t a trivial misunderstanding. You were a mistake, my father had claimed. A disappointment. She hadn’t once stood up for me. No point wishing for the impossible.

But this, right now—my first taste of belonging in too long—was because of Rachel. Because she’d screamed pussy and had walked into The Blue Door and entertained my advances. Because she trusted herself with me. I’d have to do the same with her. Tell her about my plan and why I’d really joined the contest, but my excuses kept piling up. Delay tactics.

She would be pissed. No avoiding that. If hanging up on my mother had shoved a wedge between us, this stunt of mine had the power to ruin what we had. It all felt more fragile now. With my heart in the mix, it felt downright brittle. Like everything we had could shatter at any moment.

I’d still have to come clean, about the contest and the extent of my feelings. I should do it tonight. Get it over with and hope for the best. Neck tense, I sipped my wine.

Mitch whistled a low note. “If Mom came around that quickly to your biker boyfriend, it might be a good time to tell her Cora’s pregnant.”

That was unexpected.

Rachel squealed, the sound so jarring, I nearly spat out my wine.

“Mitch!” Cora buried her face in her hands.

Lydia frowned at her son. “Stop being a pot stirrer, Mitchell. That’s nothing to joke about.”

Mitchell didn’t take it back, and Cora’s hands dropped to her belly.

“Oh my God. How could you not tell me?” Rachel didn’t wait for a reply. She was up in seconds, pulling Cora into a hug.

Lydia fanned her face. “A baby? But when? How? You’re not even married.”

Mitchell beamed at Cora as Rachel pressed her hands to Cora’s stomach. He shrugged at his mother. “Yes, a baby. When—she’s six weeks along. How—I could get into it, but Rachel might stick her fingers in her ears and sing songs like when she was a kid. As for the married part, we’re not in a rush. We weren’t expecting this surprise, but we’re thrilled. The rest will come later.”

Rachel jumped, chanting, “I’m going to be an aunt,” while Lydia tossed more questions at the couple, shocked Mitchell hadn’t proposed, wondering if they’d planned to move to a bigger place and where and when and listing all the ways she’d help.

Rachel may have been scared of her mother’s reaction to us, but I’d bet Cora and Mitchell had been shitting bricks, terrified to break their news. Unnecessarily. Lydia proved she was a woman whose sun rose and set by her kids. She’d already started coming around to me, and she’d no doubt spoil her grandchild rotten, whether or not her son followed a traditional path.

I stood and shook Mitchell’s hand, thrust into this nutty family. Everything with Rachel was a wild ride, but this was special. And tough. Some sadness would follow; her father wasn’t here. He’d miss this important milestone, which meant tonight wasn’t the best time to confess about the contest, or my love. Saying the latter wouldn’t feel right with lies between us. It would all have to wait.

Twenty-one

Rachel

“Are you sure this looks good?” Nothing about the leopard-print skirt hugging my legs would mix and match with my wardrobe. The black stilettos were dangerously high, the halter top flashier than I usually purchased, its greens and blues bright against my freckled skin. I still grinned, knowing I’d buy it all.

A hint of reckless just for me.

“If you don’t buy it, I will burn your wardrobe and send you through the streets in a potato sack.” Ainsley wasn’t one for subtlety, but she was indeed the Style Whisperer.

The instant we’d walked into the all-white space, sparse décor adding to the posh vibe, she’d sifted through racks and had chosen two outfits for me. The second was a homerun. The woman was like a hound dog, sniffing out perfect ensembles. She’d already found a purse to match her pink pumps and had Gwen buying a jade scarf to highlight her eyes.

Gwen came up behind me and hung a silver chain around my neck. “This would work, too.” The attached sphere dipped into my minimal cleavage.

I touched the pendant, then ran my hands over my hips, imagining Jimmy’s palms following the trail, strong and sure. He went crazy for my legs, an attribute this outfit played up.