A Home of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #4)(4)
Author: Brenda Novak

With that biting edge to her voice, he could tell she still had plenty of spunk. But she’d certainly changed in other ways. Mostly, she’d grown up. Although she had large br**sts, especially for such a small woman, the fat had melted away, and her hair was long and curly and tumbled almost to her waist. With the light from the kitchen acting like a halo behind her, he could now see that it was more red than blond.

Mike restrained a whistle and couldn’t help wondering whether she would’ve looked that good six years ago if she hadn’t pulled her hair back every day. If so, she might have commanded a little more positive attention from the boys in town. As it was, she hadn’t been especially attractive. Nor, with her unpleasant personality, did she have anything else to recommend her.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you?” he asked.

Her hands curled into fists. “Maybe I appreciate my privacy.”

More likely she enjoyed being caustic. He remembered Lucky clinging to Morris’s arm the day Morris had invited Mike over to meet his new wife and children. Because of his grandparents’ divorce and the quick second wedding, it had been a difficult year for Mike’s whole family, but particularly for Mike, since he’d always been closest to his grandpa. Everyone else had refused to acknowledge Morris’s invitation to come to the house, but Mike had shown up, hoping that everything he’d been hearing was a lie, or at least not as bad as it seemed. He’d thought he knew his grandpa. He’d thought his grandpa would never change. But Morris had been swept away by the excitement of his new relationship and was never the same after falling in love with Red.

Mike had known there was indeed trouble in Eden when Morris hugged Lucky close and introduced her as “his new girl.” “This one’s a little doll,” he’d said, but the moment he turned his back, Lucky stuck out her tongue at Mike and ran away.

Mike blinked, wondering what had brought Lucky back to Dundee. After Red died, his mother had finally stopped talking about how “that woman” and “those children” had stolen Morris’s love, as well as his money, then abandoned him when he was old and sick. Those who’d really loved him had taken care of him that last year. She’d also quit telling Mike, every chance she got, that it was Red who’d caused his grandmother to die shortly after Morris did. The doctors say it was heart failure. Of course it was. Her heart broke when she found out about Daddy’s affair. Mother was never the same after she left him and moved to town. Eventually, the scandal had slipped into the background and Mike hated to see it resurrected. “Are you here to stay?” he asked.

When Lucky threw back her shoulders and brought up her chin, he knew he hadn’t done a very good job of concealing his hope for a negative answer. But then, he couldn’t imagine her expecting anyone to be happy about her return, his family least of all.

“I might stay for a while,” she said. “You don’t have any problem with that, do you?”

He had a problem with it, all right, but he’d already done all he could about Lucky. As soon as he’d learned that his grandfather had never legally adopted her and her brothers, as they’d all believed, he’d sued her for the house. And lost. Then he’d tried to buy it from her, several times. But she’d refused to sell. Bottom line, Lucky legally owned the place his grandfather had always promised to him; she could stay as long as she liked.

“What you do is your decision, of course,” he said, his tone as curt and formal as hers.

“My thoughts exactly.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s late, I’m nearly naked, and it’s cold.”

He leaned sideways to gaze through the short hallway to the kitchen. Aside from the candles and the crackle of a fire, she didn’t seem to have many comforts in there. Surely, staying in such a barren, filthy place had to be miserable, especially for a young woman. But he didn’t want her to be too comfortable, did he? Then she might prolong her visit.

“Is there anything else?” she asked when he hesitated.

Letting his breath seep slowly between his lips, he stooped to retrieve his hat, which had fallen off when he’d “disarmed” her. “No.”

She stalked to the front door and yanked it open.

If she’d been anyone else, he would’ve said something neighborly, something like, “If you need anything, I’m right next door.” Because she was a woman, and young and alone, he had a tough time not saying it. But she wasn’t just any woman. She was the daughter of the most selfish, grasping woman he’d ever met.

“Good night,” he said coldly and walked out, carrying his hat. If Lucky had turned out as much like Red as he suspected, she could certainly take care of herself.

CHAPTER TWO

LUCKY COULDN’T SLEEP. Her presence had been discovered by Morris’s first family. Already. Before she could even settle in and begin her research. She didn’t peg Mike Hill as much of a gossip, but he was loyal to his family. Now that he’d seen her, he was sure to mention it to his mother, who would mention it to her sister and brothers, and so on until half the town rose up against her. After all, practically everyone in Dundee was a friend or relative of the original Caldwells.

Not that Mike or any of the people in his circle could do anything about her return—except make it unpleasant. Morris had seen to that. Considering what he believed her mother had tried to do to him, Lucky couldn’t understand why he’d still loved her and why he’d provided for her, especially so well. He’d left her brothers each a sizeable chunk of land, but he’d given her a little more than anyone else when he bequeathed her the house and a living allowance. Besides being grateful, she still missed him terribly. He was the best man she’d ever known, one of the few who had room in his heart for a fat, ugly little girl.

Ironically, Mike, one of her greatest rivals, reminded her of the man she’d loved so dearly. There was something about the way he carried himself, the way he smiled. Not that he’d ever smiled at her. When she was a teenager, she used to daydream that the rugged cowboy next door would strike up a conversation, but she couldn’t remember his even acknowledging her. Which was probably why she’d become so determined to get a reaction out of him. She’d even flashed him one day while he was riding past on a horse and she was swimming in the pond. She’d doubted he could ignore that—and had felt mildly exultant when an expression of displeasure had flickered across his face.