A Home of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #4)(41)
Author: Brenda Novak

The mysterious Eugene Thompson suddenly seemed like the best father candidate Lucky had. She could already tell she didn’t want to be related to Dave Small. “Is my being here a matter of public concern?” she asked.

Dave took a drink of the clear liquid in his glass, which had to be tequila. Lucky could smell it from where she sat. “I guess it is to the Caldwells,” he said. “And the Hills.”

“You’re friends with them?”

“We speak now and then.” He leaned a little closer. “And I have to tell you, I don’t understand, any more than they do, why the hell you’d come back here.”

Finally Jon seemed to notice that his father’s conversation with Lucky wasn’t all that friendly and stopped grinning like a fool. “Here, I’ll buy you a drink at the bar,” he told her, standing up and taking her elbow.

Lucky jerked out of his grasp. “I have every right to come back,” she told Dave. “I own property here.”

“Not as much as they do. And what you do have should belong to them.” He took another drink. The clack of his glass hitting the table served as his exclamation point.

“Morris must’ve wanted me to have the house or he wouldn’t have left it to me,” she said.

Dave chuckled. “Yeah, that mama of yours…” He whistled. “She was a smart one, wasn’t she? Figured out how to work a situation to her advantage.”

“You should know,” Lucky said, lowering her voice even further. “You visited her often enough.”

When the color drained from Dave’s face, Smalley knew he’d missed something significant and leaned forward, over his huge stomach. “What’d you say?” he asked, his dark beady eyes darting curiously between them.

Jon had been standing up, out of earshot. He seemed to care more about getting Lucky away from the table than hearing what he’d missed. Maybe Dave could afford the luxury of being choosy, but after his painful divorce, Jon was obviously too lonely for snobbery and made it quite clear that he didn’t want his father to offend Lucky.

“You don’t know that,” Dave growled to her alone. “I don’t ever want to hear you say something like that again. I’ll deny it to my dying day.”

Lucky stood and moved close enough to whisper in his ear. She didn’t plan on using her mother’s journal as a weapon, had no intention of causing trouble here in Dundee, but she couldn’t resist putting Dave Small in his place. “Deny it all you want,” she said calmly. “I have proof.”

LUCKY WAS SO ANGRY she could feel the blood rushing through her veins. She wanted to stalk out of the bar and head home immediately, pack her belongings and leave this town—forever. But she refused to let anyone chase her away. Especially a hypocrite like Dave Small. And she knew after rambling from one place to another that she wouldn’t feel much more satisfied anywhere else.

She could feel Dave’s heated glare on the back of her head as she sat at the bar, feigning indifference while she sipped her wine. She glanced over her shoulder a few times to challenge that glare, just so he’d know she wasn’t intimidated, and ended up catching Jon’s eye a time or two instead. He’d tried to follow her when she left the table, but his father had commanded him, as if he were a dog, to stay. After a brief moment, when Lucky thought Jon might actually defy Dave and earn a bit of her respect, he’d slumped into a seat at his father’s elbow.

“Can I get you anything else?” the bartender asked.

Lucky didn’t drink much, but she was certainly drinking tonight. She wouldn’t allow herself to leave until the Smalls did, and she needed something to occupy her hands. Especially when she realized that Mike Hill was sitting over by the billiard tables. She didn’t know if he’d come in before or after she did, but she definitely knew he’d spotted her. Almost every time she looked up, she caught his eye in the mirror behind the bar.

What a night, she thought, wishing she’d stayed home after all. She ordered another bourbon, and when a young cowboy approached and asked her to dance, she decided to pretend she was having a damn good time.

IT WAS MIKE’S JOB to entertain clients when they flew in from out of town. Ever since Josh had gotten married, Mike had more free evenings than his brother did and generally enjoyed taking folks out to eat or over to the Honky Tonk for a few drinks. But he wasn’t in the mood for billiards or darts tonight. He wasn’t even in the mood for conversation. Not since he’d seen Lucky walk through the door.

He let his focus stray to the dance floor again, where she was swaying to a slow song with a handsome man at least ten years younger than he was—and wished it wasn’t bothering him that they seemed to be dancing a bit too close.

“Why so quiet?” Gabe asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Mike pulled his gaze away from Lucky. Gabe had let the incident in the diner go without comment, but there was still a great deal of tension between them. Mike suspected that he’d only agreed to accompany him tonight because their guests were a father-and-son duo from up in the panhandle who had a lot of land and even more money—perfect fund-raising targets.

“I’m a little tired.” And feeling old, Mike added silently. Watching Lucky move to the music in the arms of a much younger man reminded him that there were fifteen years between them—a decade and a half. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the shoulder he’d injured in a rodeo accident several years back suddenly began to ache.

He needed to get his mind off Lucky and the memories they’d so recently created, memories in which he felt anything but old. “You think they’ll contribute to the campaign?” he asked, jerking his head toward his guests, who were taking on Vern Pruitt and Cliff Peterson in a game of pool.

Gabe considered the four men surrounding the billiards table and shrugged. “They said they’d like to meet my father in the morning. I guess we’ll find out then.”

“Sounds fair.” Mike’s gaze returned to the dance floor to see Lucky sidling up to her partner for another dance.

Damn, he hated it.

“Mike?”

“What?” Mike masked the frown tempting the corners of his mouth and looked back to find Gabe studying him closely.

“The redhead you’re watching is Lucky Caldwell. You know that, don’t you?”

Mike wasn’t likely to ever mistake Lucky for someone else, not since that first night when he’d pressed her up against the wall. “I know. I’ve already bumped into her a couple of times.”