Page 495 of Summer Heat
Lance laughed and nuzzled his face into Curtis’s chest. “I missed the hell out of you, boy.”
They went inside together, into the kitchen that was now crowded with the family waiting for the last of their fold. Lance’s mother hugged him first, smelling of her trademark Chanel perfume. She exclaimed over the flowers and tsked happily over the box of chocolates. “You know I don’t need this!” she protested, gesturing at her ample hips.
Then she slapped his arm. “You couldn’t wait three days to have a fight, huh?” she said with a frown, peering at his lip.
“I swear, Mama, I didn’t start it.”
“Sure, sure,” said Tyler, his younger brother, from the doorway. His little brother, who now stood taller than any of them.
Lance frowned. “Hell, man, you going mountain man on us?” Ty’s pale blond hair was long, caught back in a ponytail, and there was a shadow of light beard on his jaw. “Don’t be trying to grow a beard and make a fool of yourself, now,” he said, and hugged him, pleased when a smile broke Ty’s all-too-serious expression.
The last to give him a welcome was Jake, as dark as his brothers were fair, his hair months past the military cut he’d sported for almost twenty years. “Hope the other guy looks worse,” Jake said ironically.
Lance thought of the bartender with a twinge of guilt. She was the only real victim in the whole thing. “He went down first, anyway.”
“Go get cleaned up,” Louise said. “Supper is almost ready and I don’t want to be waiting on you.”
Impulsively, Lance bent and kissed her cheek. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Come on, Curtis, you can help carry my suitcase in.”
“Okay!” In little cowboy boots, Curtis clunked after him.
Home, Lance thought, breathing deeply of the gathering evening that fell in the backyard. The sun lingered in a pale yellow haze behind the jagged mountains towering around the house, and a few birds clung to the pines, their whistles a wistful sound in the air that suddenly had a deep bite to it.
Home. Thank God.
* * *
Tamara had the worst headache in the history of the world, and Cody wasn’t doing much to help. She’d managed to get him fed—applesauce with macaroni and cheese out of a box—No one was giving her mother of the year any time soon. Now he was in the bathroom and she sat on the closed toilet in her little house, supervising, thinking with exhaustion of the test she yet had to study for. Accounting—her worst subject. She hated math.
“Look, Mommy!” Cody cried, pointing to the circle he’d drawn on his taut four-year-old tummy with a blue soap crayon.
“Beautiful,” she said with a nod. “Come on, kidlet, hurry up. I need to wash your hair.”
“No,” Cody protested, covering his blond curls with his hands. “I hate that.”
“I got new shampoo. It won’t hurt if you get some in your eyes.” Tamara picked up the bottle of baby shampoo to show him. On Saturday, she’d had to use some of her own shampoo. Cody had gotten into one of his silly moods while the shampoo was in his hair, and it had burned his eyes. “See?” She pointed to the label. “That says it won’t hurt.”
The doorbell rang. Tamara frowned in surprise. No one ever came to see her. She was, frankly, too busy to have time to indulge the nurturing friendships required. “Don’t move,” she said to Cody.
She walked to the doorway of the bathroom, her eyes on Cody, and called, “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” came a door-deadened voice. “Lance Forrest. I was in the fight at the bar this afternoon.”
Lance Forrest. For a minute she bit her lip. “What do you want?”
“Just to make sure you’re okay.”
Even through the door, she liked the sound of his voice. Warm and not too dark, with a hint of a country drawl. Something unidentified moved through her. Annoying.
“I have a present for you,” he called when she didn’t answer.
She rolled her eyes. “Give it to your mother.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Cody put the soap in his mouth. “Cody, quit that!”
He made a face and tried to wipe away the blue soap on his lips.
“I already gave my mama a present,” Lance said. “Come on, Tamara. I feel bad.”
Cody bent his face toward the water. Tamara called out, “Oh, come on in!” and made a dash for the tub. “Let me help you, honey.” She fished a washcloth from the water and wiped away the blue soap. “There.”
