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She rolled her eyes. “You know how Frank is. The job offer includes college tuition for the girls and a month of vacation to start. I already have the Rolls Royce health benefits, that freaking amazing gym, and now a wardrobe allowance at Bergdorf. You can’t do that for me, youngster.”
“Mom and Dad would be extremely disappointed in you, you materialistic monster.”
“Talk to the hand. The face is planning to take the girls to St. Croix.” She folded her arms. “Besides, you don’t want me working for you. I’d take over in about half an hour.”
“True.”
“And now you’re free to leave and go back to Manningsport.”
He hesitated. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because (a) I hate it there, and (b) you’re here. You and the girls.”
“Well, (a) you’re insane, because that place is fucking paradise, not to mention much better weather, and (b) have they not invented phones? FaceTime? Skype? Planes? Trains? Automobiles?”
“I see you’ll really miss me.”
She hugged him hard. “Get out of town, Lucas. Go get married and make me an aunt, for crying out loud. I gotta run. Chloe has a half day. Love you, bye, sorry I took a better offer, call me from New York.” She pecked him on the cheek. “Oh, by the way, I thought of your new slogan.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Campbell Construction—It’s Time to Come Home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ANOTHERFRIDAYNIGHThappy hour at O’Rourke’s, and Colleen was doing her thing. Con was in the kitchen. They’d already sold out of the tuna tacos. The Hollands took up two tables, and the fire department was having another of their “meetings,” which seemed to involve a contest for the filthiest joke involving a hose or a pole or both. Jessica Dunn was ahead by a mile.
Connor had broken up with his mystery woman. He wasn’t heartbroken, and Colleen once again had high hopes for Jess. Even now, Connor was giving her the eye. About time he listened to his sister.
Mother Dear was on a date in the back of the pub (drinking her disgusting white Zin and 7-Up) and discussing art with Ronnie Petrosinsky. Poultry art, specifically, though Mom was still extolling the thrill of painting nudes. Savannah had just left with Gail; Gail was debating whether or not to take Dad back.
As for Bryce and Paulie, Coll was thinking she’d wear violet as maid of honor, because it seemed as if those two were just a matter of time.
Lucas would be best man, of course.
Best not to think of him, but her throat tightened just the same.
“Colleen, would you make me one of those grapefruit gimlet thingies I had last time?” Louise asked, and Colleen snapped back to attention.
She made drinks, pulled beers, wiped up spills, flirted with the patrons and made sure Monica and Hannah didn’t need help bringing out orders. She called Rushing Creek to check on Gramp. Joanie, his favorite nurse, said he was sleeping comfortably.
Maybe Coll would stop by later.
She turned to check on Jessica and the gang to see if they needed anything, and there was Lucas.
For a second, it seemed as though she was imagining him, his dark eyes and curling hair and rough, fallen angel beauty.
But no, Carol Robinson walked past him, patted his ass, and said, “Hi, hottie,” and he smiled a little, not looking away from Colleen, and good God, the smile just nailed her to the spot.
He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t have to. He was here.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and her eyes filled with a rush and spilled right over. “I’m very, very sorry,mía.”
That word never failed to get her, and he damn well knew it.
“Well, then,” she whispered. Couldn’t manage anything else.
“Forgive me,” he said.
