“Fine. I’ll be out in twenty minutes.”
“You got plenty of time,” Brock muttered to his plate.
Mom laughed. “I like you already, Brock.”
He pointed his fork at her. “You say that now. Wait ’til I beat you at Triominos.”
Mom laughed harder, and for once I had something to smile about.
WHEN I CAME OUT OF my bedroom, Brock and Mom were still at the kitchen table. Their plates were gone, the lazy Susan had been moved to the counter, and Triominos were spread on the table.
Mom broke into a lopsided smile when she noticed me. I figured it was the dress. Her neighbor, Tanya, had put on some weight after her second child and she insisted on giving me her periwinkle tank-dress. I had thought the light hue wouldn’t work with my red-hair and brown eyes, but I was pleasantly surprised to find it complimented my complexion. The skirt flared and it looked very much like a skater-dress. Luckily it said ‘casual’ because the only other dress I brought with me was black.
I shook my head at her, but she ignored it.
“You look nice, Rae.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
Brock looked appreciative, but before anyone could say anything, Clint bellowed from the front of the house. “Sullivan! Get your ass out here.”
I turned to Brock and wondered how he would respond to this. He winked at me – or Mom. Or maybe both of us.
“No can do, Clint. Penny and I have a full dance card tonight. We just started a serious match of Triominos. She’s in the hole by double digits—”
“Wish you were double digits in my hole,” Mom muttered.
My eyes widened and I bit out, “Mom!”
Brock seemed oblivious to this, since he continued. “And it is my sworn duty as a Sullivan to teach her Thirty-one Knock since I cannot believe she’s lived seventy years without being exposed to one of the best card games around.”
Mom’s eyes never left Brock and when I saw her sly smile, I braced for what she might say.
“Poker’s the best game around, dear,” she said in a sweet tone.
Brock pondered it. “It can be.”
“Strip poker in particular,” she added.
I gasped. “Mother!”
Clint’s heavy footsteps came closer.
She chuckled. “You might be limiting my nut intake, Rae, but you’re not gonna limit my fun.”
Brock chuckled. “Sorry, Miss Penny. My woman wouldn’t like me playing that kind of poker with you.” He leaned closer to Mom. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to give you another stroke when I lose.”
I hadn’t seen Mom attempt such a bright smile all week. “That would be the best way to go, Brock.”
My eyes closed and I hung my head. I looked back to Brock. “I am sorry. My mom has never been so... saucy, I guess you might say.”
“Oh, just say it, Raegan. I’m a dirty old woman. Lucky for the next man in your life, you’re an apple which didn’t fall too far from my tree.”
I looked away but stopped when I heard Clint’s deep chuckle. “She’s got you there, Rae.”
Chapter 2
That Woman
Raegan
IN THE PAST, CLINT wore cologne or aftershave, but it was always mild and understated. However, as I closed the door to the SUV, the entire cab smelled like his cologne. It served as another reminder that he wasn’t wearing the same scent as he used to. On the one hand, it made me sad, but on the other hand, what else could I expect?
I shook my head, wondering why I was dwelling on it.
He started the engine and he turned off the radio. As he motored out of the neighborhood, I saw him glance at me.
“Your mother actually is doing better. Considering,” he said.
I looked at him. “Considering, what? The fact she’s had two strokes?”
His eyes cut to me, and I realized I needed to dial back my attitude.
“No, Raegan. Especially considering she’s seventy-one. She’s getting better, but really, she’d need more care as she gets up—”
I didn’t want to contemplate Mom getting older, since once she was gone, I’d be alone in the world.
To stop him, I interrupted. “There are seventy-year-old women who don’t need—”
“Are they married?”
I sighed.
“Exactly. What I’m trying to say is, she shouldn’t be in that house by herself.”
I scoffed. “Have you told her that?”
He chuckled. “I did. In fact, it came up when she gave me her key.”
My brows furrowed and I stared at his profile. “That doesn’t make sense, Clint. You said she gave you that key before Bronwyn had to stay with her. Why would you drop by?”
He concentrated on making a left across a busy street. I thought it was a ruse to evade my question, but once he pulled into an apartment complex, he spoke.
“The ‘why’ isn’t important, Raegan. What matters is that your mom knew she was slowing down, and rather than burden either you or your sister with it, she asked me to check in on her occasionally.” He parked the SUV and kept speaking. “It was only after the first stroke it came clear Wynnie would have to live with her.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but he unfolded from the vehicle, forcing me to follow suit.
When I met him on the sidewalk, Clint commandeered the conversation. “Now, Cassandra is Gabe’s woman, and she was shot a month and a half ago.”
My eyes widened, my lips parted, and I looked away from him. I looked back to him. “You should’ve told me that in the car, so I’d be sitting down.”
He grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “Sorry. Besides, you’re strong enough to hack it. I’m just lettin’ you know since that has something to do with why they invited me to dinner.”
I nodded. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
The man who opened the apartment door to us was the spitting image of Brock, only leaner. He wore a pair of Army-green cargo shorts with a heather-gray t-shirt sporting the UCF logo on it.
Clint said, “Gabe, this is Raegan Connelly. Raegan, this is Gabe Sullivan.”
I reached out to shake
