A Better Man (7 page)

“Will you continue to pester me if I refuse?” she a
sked.

“
Yes.”

“How did I already know t
hat?”

“How about I call you tomorrow to set up a place and time to meet ag
ain?”

“Tomorrow? I don't see how much can change in just a
day.”

He smiled. “I like to remain optimis
tic.”

“So do I. Just be careful you don't put too much pressure on Nicole. Optimism is often disguised by impatie
nce.”

“See, that's the kind of thinking I need right now. But all I've got are replays of past goal shots in my h
ead.”

“You were never a dumb jock, Jordan. You just need to take a breath before you deal with this. Teenage girls are complica
ted.”

“Got news for you. So are grown wo
men.”

She gifted him with another chuckle. “Give me your ph
one.”

He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her. He waited while she tapped in her number, then handed it
back.

“Give me a call. You'll find me in your contacts between Bambi and Por
tia.”

“So you're saying you're into threeso
mes?”

With an eye roll she slid inside her car, closed the door, and started her en
gine.

Before she put the car in drive, he tapped on the window and waited till she rolled it
down.

“Did you forget someth
ing?”

“Yes.” He took a deep breath. “I forgot to say I'm so
rry.”

“
For?”

“For not showing up on graduation night to take you to the da
nce.”

Her silence confirmed that she'd not forgotten that night any more than he
had.

“That was fifteen years ago,” she said. “It hardly matters
now.”

“It matters to me. It always did. I tried to call you to apologize and explain that when my friends found out I was taking you to the dance, they waylaid me and got me shitfaced before I knew what was going
on.”

“I'm sure they thought they were doing you a fa
vor.”

“I didn't give a shit what they thought. The massive amount of alcohol they poured in my soda was what stopped
me.”

“Like I said, it doesn't matter
now.”

“You're wrong, Lucy. And I'll prove
it.”

“No n
eed.”

As her little white Honda disappeared down the street, Jordan wondered how the hell he was going to multitask everything when so far in his life he'd been one-­dimensional. But he'd made promises and he meant to keep each and every one of
them.

Even if it killed
him.

A
regular school day could melt a teacher's energy depending on whether the students behaved or whether they'd chosen the wild kingdom rule of the day. Today, Lucy's students had called upon their inner hyenas, and by the time she'd reached her car in the school parking lot, she'd felt like a zookeeper on her first day on the
job.

The meeting with Jordan had stolen another dose of her usual oomph. She'd expected nothing to get resolved. But he'd fooled her and stolen a little bit of her heart because he really seemed concerned about his sister's well-­being. It was hard not to like a man who wanted to put his own needs aside and champion a young girl. Lucy wished she'd had someone like that when she'd been growing up. Heck, she wouldn't have minded a champion when she got older ei
ther.

And then he'd pulled the ultimate surp
rise.

He'd apologized for graduation n
ight.

Yes, it might have come fifteen years late. But the part that had made her heart melt had been that it seemed important to him to apologize and explain fifteen years later. If you had asked her a week ago if she'd ever see that apology, she'd have laughed. Jordan Kincade—­badass to the bone—­didn't appear to be the kind of man to apologize for anything. And that gave her no choice but to accept it and move for
ward.

The final kicker in her energy boost had been the PTA meeting to organize the school carnival. As usual, when they asked for committee volunteers Lucy's hand grew a helium balloon. Since she was a single woman, everyone thought she had more time on her hands than those with families. And while maybe she did, she didn't want to be the appointed loser who always volunteered because others felt she had nothing important going on in her
life.

As she parked her car in the driveway, she knew she had one more mission before she could call it a day and kick off her Keds. With next week off for spring break, she planned to do some heavy relaxing, reading, and catnap
ping.

She walked across her next-­door neighbor's lawn and knocked on the door of the pretty little Craftsman-­style house. The large front porch displayed an array of potted flowers and hanging fuchsias. In the corner sat a white wicker rocking chair with a cute little side table large enough for a pitcher of lemonade and several gla
sses.

The door creaked open and Mrs. Benner stood in the opening wearing her quilted robe, one blue house slipper, and one pu
rple.

“Hello, d
ear.”

“Mrs. B, you're supposed to look through the peephole before you answer the door. Remem
ber?”

“I am?” Her steel gray brows pulled together over a pair of hazel eyes that didn't focus as well as they use
d to.

“Yes. We need you to stay s
afe.”

“Oh. Well, I've got that covered. Chuck Norris keeps an eye out for
me.”

Chuck Norris was Mrs. B's twenty-­pound cat who snored and wouldn't lift his head off the sofa unless a can of cat food was invo
lved.

“Yes, I'm sure Chuck has iron paws. But I still need you to look first. Just in c
ase.”

“Okey-­do
key.”

Lucy sighed, knowing the eighty-­year-­old would most likely forget. Her mind, like her eyesight, wasn't what it used to be. Though the memory lapses mostly came on bad days when her arthritis was—­as Mrs. B called it—­kicking up. And because Mrs. B wanted to maintain her independence for as long as possible, Lucy had promised the older woman's daughter and son that she'd keep an eye on her. A promise that often included shopping, errands, and doctor visits. But Lucy didn't mind. Mrs. B was a sweet woman and Lucy respected her desire to remain indepen
dent.

“I thought I'd check in with you before I turned in for the night,” Lucy said. “Do you need anyth
ing?”

“I could stand to knock a couple of years off my life so I can go dancing ag
ain.”

Lucy gave her a sympathetic smile. A few years ago Mrs. B had belonged to the Blue Hair Hoofers, a dance group made up of women over the age of seventy. They performed for charity events and private parties, and Lucy knew Mrs. B missed that part of her life a great
deal.

“I wish I could,” Lucy said. “In the meantime, do you have enough food in the refrigerator to get you through until we shop on Sun
day?”

“Well, if I don't, I'm sure Chuck will share,” she joked. Hopef
ully.

“I planned to make some homemade soup tomorrow. I'll bring you over s
ome.”

“Oh, that would be lovely, d
ear.”

Lucy gave the woman a hug. She'd stop by in the morning before she went to school to double-­check. Otherwise she'd worry all day. “Okay then. I'll see you tomor
row.”

“Okey-­do
key.”

Mrs. B shut the door and Lucy waited for the lock to click. When it didn't she knocked on the door again. And again Mrs. B answered without looking through the peep
hole.

“Hello, d
ear.”

“Mrs. B, you need to lock your door when you close
it.”

“Okey-­do
key.”

“Go ahead. I'll wait here until I hear the deadb
olt.”

Mrs. B closed the door and Lucy sighed with relief when she heard the bolt slam home. It was only a matter of time before her neighbor would need professional assistance. In the meantime, Lucy planned to help out as much as poss
ible.

She crossed the lawn and opened the door to her little Victorian cottage. In the distance she heard the click-­click-­click of nails on the hardwood floor. Without thought, she knelt down for the onslaught of poochie smooches from Ziggy. Her golden retriever didn't disappoint as he came around the corner of the kitchen, tail sweeping side-­to-­
side.

Ziggy had come into her life at a time when great changes had been taking place. And though he'd never know, he'd saved her from herself more than
once.

After she'd picked him out at the animal shelter three years ago, David Bowie's “Changes” had come on the radio. She hadn't missed a beat in the irony and immediately named him after Bowie's alter ego. Because of the surname she'd taken for a fresh start after her divorce, her students called her “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” Adding “Ziggy Stardust” to her life had been like having a friend sent down from heaven at a time when she'd really needed
one.

Ziggy's job was to protect her against the spiders from Mars. Aka mean, scary people. Her job was to protect Ziggy from ending up in another animal shelter and giving him all the love he deserved. They had an understanding and a loyal relation
ship.

Perhaps the first in Lucy's entire
life.

Ziggy just had one little pro
blem.

He to
oted.

A
lot.

She'd changed his food and treats several times but it hadn't helped. The vet said his digestive system just created a lot of
gas.

Whew. She'd
say.

“Hey, Zigmeister.” She rubbed his large head between the ears, then wrapped her arms around him for a hug. “How'd your day go? Find any squirrels to ch
ase?”

Ziggy gave a quick bark, then moved his big body closer. Lucy ended up on her butt while her dog smothered her in canine wor
ship.

Coming home now was so peaceful. Her little cottage was the one—­the only—­place she felt safe. And it was all hers. Not only did she not have to share it, she didn't have to ask permission for anything. She didn't need to seek approval on how to decorate or what to cook for dinner. She didn't need to ask for authorization to go into another room so she could focus on her studies, watch her favorite TV show, read a book for leisure, or work on the romance novels she'd begun to write in search of at least some kind of happily-­ever-­after. During her marriage she'd had to tread lightly in fear of setting off her ex-­husband's volatile temper. Somehow she'd surv
ived.

Ba
rely.

She pulled herself up off the floor, dusted off the dog hair, and dropped her bag into the chair by the door. Next, the deadbolt slammed shut and she took a deep br
eath.

“Who wants a treat before din
ner?”

Ziggy's tail wagged in quick response and Lucy went to the kitchen cupboard for a Beggin' Strip. She broke the treat into four pieces and fed each one to him after he performed his tricks of rolling over, shaking hands, lying down, and covering his nose with his
paws.

“Good
boy.”

He rewarded her by passing
gas.

“Whew! What have you been eat
ing?”

He gave a silly bark and got down on his front paws like,
Yeah, I reek, but aren't I
cute?

He was. Which was the only reason she forgave him for the constant stin
kage.

After a thorough wash of her hands, Lucy rummaged through the freezer and pulled out the small tub of Dove Unconditional Chocolate ice cream. The best part of living alone was you didn't have to share, hide, or explain the reason you were munching on your guilty pleasure before dinner. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer, flipped off the top of the ice cream, and du
g in.

“Mmmm
mmm.”

The smooth chocolate rolled over her tongue while Ziggy cocked his
head.

“This is sinful, Zig. Be glad you're a dog and you don't have to try to refrain from stuff like this when your day goes from bad to haywire. Lord knows you don't need anything else to stink up your insi
des.”

Studying the vintage enamelware on her reclaimed wood shelves, she snuck another bite and wished the sweet deliciousness could rewind her greeting to Jordan Kincade at The Muddy Cup. She hadn't meant to sound so snippy when he'd sat down five minutes late for their meeting. She hadn't meant to make herself look like a snob. Had it not been for her heart pounding like a captured rabbit, she could have handled the encounter much ea
sier.

Clearly the man had an effect on
her.

For several years after graduation, she'd hated him. Carried a grudge so big she'd needed a U-­Haul truck to tow it around. Then she'd realized she'd had no one but herself to blame for the heartache. People couldn't hurt you unless you let them. She'd let her guard down and he'd seized the opportunity. Which was why she never thought she'd hear a word of remorse come from his sensuous lips. But he'd surprised her by doing exactly
that.