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“Are you letting him have his way?” Luke asked, not at all surprised.
“I suppose so. I always do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lucy awoke to breakfast in bed. Luke carried a tray to her bedside, placed the wicker carrier next to a mountain of paperwork, and then kissed her gently on the lips. “I figured you needed to restore your energy.”
“I could get used to this,” she said, stretching.
“You deserve to be pampered,” Luke whispered against her lips.
“You think turning over the business to Rex is a bad idea. Don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. This is between you and him.”
“I care what you think, Luke.”
He sat on the edge of the mattress. Happy to have his company, Lucy went about buttering her toast and spooning homemade peach preserves onto the light bread. “So? Tell me what’s going on inside that head of yours.”
“Let me ask you something,” he said, turning the tables. “If your grandfather were alive today, what would he say?”
She choked on her first bite of toast.
“That’s what I thought.”
She held up one finger and chewed. Taking a drink of freshly squeezed orange juice, she said, “I can almost hear him now.”
“It’s not what he’d say. It’s what he’d do. He’d try his damndest to get the reins of his company back.”
“I’m not handing over ownership. Rex is just standing in while I concentrate on more important matters, like starting a family with the two of you.”
“We haven’t even discussed this, Lucy. This is how you operate. You’re a right-now person.”
She laughed. “And what makes you say that, Luke McDavid?”
“You always have been. Everything must be done right when you make a decision to do it. There’s no waiting with you. When you were a kid, you wanted a horse. Your granddad went out and bought one a few minutes after you asked for one.
“You wanted a sports car, not the pickup he gave you for your sixteenth birthday, and what did he do? Traded it that day so you could still tell your friends you got a Mustang on your birthday.
“You couldn’t get anyone to rent to high school kids at Myrtle Beach for your senior trip, so the old man told you not to worry. He bought a fucking house, closed in two days, and you spent the summer there. And let’s not even get me started on how you got accepted at Vanderbilt.”
“I didn’t go.”
“Of course you didn’t. You fell in love with racing that year, and Mr. Malone didn’t just sponsor a race car, he bought a whole fucking team. Anything you want, you can have, and thanks to your financial situation, you’ve never wanted for anything long.”
“Are you mad at me for some reason?” she asked, noting his tone sort of suggested as much.
“No, honey. I’m not angry with you, but I need you to see what you’re doing here. I don’t think you want to be a mom yet. You certainly don’t want Rex running your company or at least you shouldn’t. Think about it. What the hell does Rex know about racing?
“Thing is, you decided to start a family, more or less told us that’s what you had in mind, and now you’re kicking up your heels and raring to go. You’ll fuck around the clock if you have to—not that I’m opposed to that, by the way—just so you can get started on expanding your family as soon as possible.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think about it. You rushed back into town like a bat out of hell, grabbed hold of our hearts like you’d just dropped them at the door and decided to stop back in and scoop them up, and now you’re talking a lifelong commitment with a couple of kids.”
“Eight.”
“What?” he screeched, apparently understanding but unable to process.
