Lucky simply shook his head. “He’s just somebody me and Duke knew a long time ago—and we’d rather keep the past in the past.”
Hmm—was that an opening? She kept trying to tell herself it didn’t matter and that she wouldn’t ask or pry, yet . . . “Are you ever gonna tell me anything about this mysterious past of yours, Mr. Romo?”
He narrowed his gaze on her and she wondered if he was considering it—until he said, “I’m more into in the present, hot stuff. In fact . . .” He walked over to the bed and sat down on it, then patted the comforter, motioning for her to join him.
“In fact, what?” she asked, taking a seat facing him.
Again wearing shorts, she stretched her legs out in front of her, and Lucky ran his hand smoothly up one calf, onto her knee. “I need to ask you something, Tessa.”
Wow. Had he ever called her by her name before? She wasn’t sure, couldn’t remember—so hearing it now struck her. “What?” Her heart fluttered a bit and she sensed something big coming.
“I was wondering . . . if you’ll go with me when I meet Johnny for the first time.”
Whoa. She could scarcely believe the request. It felt . . . colossal. And like a huge compliment. And also like . . . this was officially a fling no longer. Lucky had just asked her to be with him for what was possibly the most important event of his life.
Before she could summon an answer, he went on. “Since the house was almost done, I thought it would be a good time to call Sharon. And I think hearing about the home improvement, plus the fact that we’ve talked pretty much now, finally has her ready to move forward with this. So we set a time. This Sunday.” Which was Easter. “They have stuff with Sharon’s parents during the day, but she’s having me over for dinner afterward. And when I mentioned maybe bringing someone with me, she was cool with it.”
Tessa blew out a breath, and stated what she thought was kind of obvious. “Are you sure bringing me is a good idea? I mean, he might be nervous enough about meeting
you
without you dragging a second stranger along.”
“I know, but . . .” He sighed, looking tired as his gaze dropped to the comforter—before he lifted it back to her, wearing a profoundly honest expression. “Look at me, hot stuff. I’m afraid I’ll scare the shit out of the little guy. But if I’m with you . . . you look so normal. And nice. And you’re friendly. I bet you’re great with kids.” He stopped, swallowed, suddenly appearing a little uneasy. “I don’t want it to be like I’m taking you just because you look so different than me, but . . . I just thought being with you might make me seem a little less . . . everything. I thought you might put him at ease. And I know you’ll put
me
at ease.” Then he reached down, squeezed her hand. “I kinda need you, babe.”
Wow. Now Lucky not only wanted her—he
needed
her. “Of course I’ll go with you,” she said.
L
ucky got a lot of ways: he got worried, he got upset, he got defensive, he got broodish, he got quiet, he got mad—and sometimes he even got even. But one thing Lucky seldom got was nervous, and that’s exactly what he felt by the time Tessa showed up at his door just after five o’clock on Easter Sunday, looking pretty as spring itself in a cheerful, flowy yellow dress. She smiled and held up a small blue Easter basket filled with candy. “Have a peanut butter egg and relax,” she told him.
Shit, was he that transparent? But he didn’t deny feeling uptight, and . . . God, having her there helped. And to his surprise, even the peanut butter eggs helped. In fact . . . when was the last time he’d eaten Easter candy? When the was the last time someone had given it to him? Probably . . . before he’d left home. And it wasn’t like he’d ever thought about that before this minute, but . . . “Damn, you’re sweet,” he told her as they left the house.
The two of them pulled into Sharon’s driveway half an hour later.
She and his son lived in a little home a lot like Lucky’s, but not as well cared for, and the cars in the driveway looked functional but like they’d seen better days. And for the first time it occurred to him that maybe his new financial support would really give Johnny a better life. Somehow it was like a balm on his fears as he grabbed Tessa’s hand for support, approaching the door.
Even if he hates me
,
at least I can make sure he gets the things he needs.
“You okay?” Tessa asked.
“Sure,” he lied.
“Because you’re about to squeeze my hand off.”
“Shit,” he muttered, letting go. “Is it okay?”
She nodded, then said, “Take a deep breath. And smile.”
He tried, but had a feeling it looked pretty weird.
“I said smile, Romo, not grit your teeth like you’re in pain,” she told him on a laugh.
Which made
him
laugh, too. A little. “Maybe I’ll forget the smile for now. Do I look decent?” He’d worn a black button-up shirt Tessa had picked out of his closet—probably to cover up his tattoos.
“For the fifth time, yes,” she said.
God, he’d already asked her? Damn, he was even more nervous than he realized. As she’d suggested, he took a deep breath and tried to shake off his nerves, finally saying, “Hell, let’s just do this. If I blow it, I blow it,” as he rang the doorbell.
“You won’t blow it,” she whispered as they both heard movement inside, someone coming to answer. His stomach churned.
He didn’t expect a guy as tall as him to open the door, but the mustached man wearing a gray Cincinnati Reds T-shirt and jeans flashed a friendly smile. “Come on in. I’m Randy, Sharon’s boyfriend.”
“Thanks,” Lucky murmured, putting a hand to Tessa’s back to usher her in. The TV was on, the sound echoing around them, and he smelled something good cooking—chicken maybe.
Sharon emerged through a doorway, looking much as she had when they’d met upon his return to Destiny. Heavier and plainer than he remembered from that fated night ten years ago—but they’d all been younger then. She wore her straight blond hair long with bangs, and had on jeans too tight for her body. Just now, it struck him that she possessed a truly kind smile and he sensed she was a good mom. “Hi, Lucky.”
“Hey,” he said, still nervous as hell, wondering if his kid would appear at any second, and what he’d think of his new dad. Still, he managed to introduce Tessa, who thanked Sharon for having her, and just glancing down at the woman by his side calmed him a little.
That’s when he caught sight of a dark head of hair ducking past the doorway behind Sharon, and then finally coming into the room to stand next to his mother. And . . . holy shit. This was his kid. And Duke was right—he looked just like Lucky, from the olive-toned skin to his mouth and his eyes, which Lucky tried to meet as Sharon’s arm fell around the boy’s shoulder. She said, “Johnny, this is your dad.”
“Hi,” Lucky said, lifting his hand in a lame wave.
Johnny’s eyes went wide, taking Lucky in. “Hi,” he returned.
And though Lucky hadn’t planned it, words rushed out, words that suddenly seemed all-important. “Sorry I haven’t been around.”
“That’s okay,” Johnny said, shifting from one foot to the other. “My mom explained how you didn’t know about me.”
“But I’m here now,” Lucky offered, “and . . . I hope we can get to know each other, hang out some. If you want,” he tacked on at the end. He didn’t want to make the kid feel pressured, and he probably just had.
Johnny gave a little nod, and looked about as nervous as Lucky still felt. Great. He was just as scary as he thought. So Lucky played the one card he was holding—although he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to use it this fast. “I hear you’re a NASCAR fan.”
The very words softened the boy’s expression, brought a happy expression to his face. “Yeah. Are
you
?”
Shit. “Well, me, I’m into motorcycles . . . but maybe you could teach me. About racing.”
This time, Johnny’s nod looked more enthusiastic. “Yeah—I have a book I could show you. And lots of stuff on the Internet, too.”
He pointed to an older-looking computer in one corner of the living room, as if ready to do this right now, but Sharon kept a hold on his shoulder and said, “Let’s save that for after dinner.” Then she looked to Lucky and Tessa. “Hope you like fried chicken.”
“Smells great,” Lucky said. “I haven’t had any good fried chicken in ages.”
That’s when Johnny’s eyebrows knit and he looked up at Lucky. “What should I call you?”
“You can call me Lucky. Or Dad,” he added, even as weird as that sounded to him. “Whatever feels good to you.”
Yet the boy looked all the more confused. “My mom told me I’m named after you. So how come you’re named Lucky and I’m not?”
“Lucky’s just a nickname,” Sharon said, laughing softly.
And Lucky added, “My real name’s Jonathan, after my grandpa from Italy. So you were sort of named for him, too.”
Johnny’s eyes went wide in amazement. “Really? I’m from Italy?”
They all laughed and Randy said, “You’re not from Italy, little man. Your great-grandfather is. But guess it makes you
part
Italian.”
“Wow,” he said. “That’s cool. No wonder I like pizza so much.”
Everyone laughed some more and Lucky found the kid’s wonder about his ancestry both appealing and amusing. Lucky had never cared much about it as a kid, and now he wished he’d shown more interest. He used the opportunity to say, “I have some pictures I could show you sometime. Of my family.
Your
family.”
“Really?” Johnny said.
And Tessa turned to look up at him, clearly surprised. “You have pictures?” she asked quietly.
He shrugged. “A few. Took ’em with me when I left.” Then he peered back down at his kid.
His
kid. The idea of that was starting to feel a little less daunting. “Yeah, I could even show you where your great grandpa lived when I was growing up, over in Destiny. Sometime. If you’re interested.”
“And I happen to know,” Tessa chimed in, “where Grandpa Romo moved when he first came to America from Italy, and that he built the house himself.”
Oh, the orchard, Lucky realized. Rachel’s family had owned it as long as he remembered, but he recalled something about it originally belonging to Giovanni, and how that had somehow started the problems between the Romo and Farris families. “So he built the house, huh?” Lucky asked Tessa now. He hadn’t known that part.
She nodded. “According to Rachel.”
Lucky refocused on Johnny even as he pointed to Tessa. “Look what a smart girlfriend I have.” Then, hoping he wasn’t going too far too fast, he said, “No pressure, but if you want, sometime, you could come over to my place and hang. I’ve got a room there for you, anytime you like.”
The kid appeared excited. “Really? I already have my own room at your house?”
And Lucky laughed, thinking “really” was Johnny’s favorite word. “Yeah,” he said.
“And you’re
so
gonna love it,” Tessa added.
“Why?” the boy asked.
Leaning forward slightly as if telling him a big secret, she said, “
Well
, could be that your dad fixed it up with a bunch of NASCAR stuff.”
“No way!” Johnny’s jaw dropped and his eyes got even bigger.
“Way,” Tessa said.
And as if he’d never been the least bit nervous about any of this, the kid then turned to his mom and said, “Can I, Mom? Can I go to my dad’s house soon?”
And that’s when Lucky had to push back a lump in his throat. At hearing the boy say, “my dad.” And because Johnny wanted to come over, wanted to be a part of his life. Johnny wasn’t scared, by Lucky’s size, or his looks. Even if he’d been lured by NASCAR talk, Lucky didn’t care. He automatically reached out, squeezing Tessa’s hand, as he heard Sharon say, “Sure you can.” Then she looked toward the kitchen. “But we’d better continue this conversation over dinner—I’m afraid my chicken is about to burn.”
Lucky couldn’t believe how relatively comfortable he felt moving with the rest of the small crowd into the kitchen. Once there, Sharon started taking up the chicken from the sizzling skillet, and Tessa was soon mashing potatoes while the guys worked on getting everyone sodas from the fridge. Damn, it was strange. Like he was . . . part of a family. He didn’t know most of them, but . . . it was still nice. He hadn’t had a meal like this since . . . hell, since the last time he’d been in Destiny.
T
essa rode home at Lucky’s side, reflecting on the evening. Things with Johnny had gone so very well! And she could see how happy Lucky was.
And
he’d called her his girlfriend—oh so casually. She wanted not to care as much about that as she did the other parts of the night, but every time she thought about it, a little
zing
shot through her chest.
At dinner, she’d had to eat lightly—but later, while Johnny showed Lucky the NASCAR-themed Easter basket he’d gotten, she explained to Sharon about her condition, and the other woman had been very understanding. Tessa had sincerely liked her and felt glad for Lucky that he’d gotten such a nice person pregnant all those years ago.
“So when Johnny comes over next weekend,” Lucky said as they pulled into his driveway in the dark, “should I plan something to do or just play it by ear?”
“Um, maybe a little of both?” she suggested. “I’ll help you come up with something. And . . . since you two did fine on your own, you should probably make your day next weekend one-on-one time, don’t you think?”
He looked at her as he brought the Jeep to a halt in the parking spot next to the garage. “Probably, but I think the kid likes you,” he pointed out, “and so do I, so we might have to mix up the one-on-one stuff with some you stuff, too.”
Given that she and Lucky spent most of their nonworking hours together these days, Tessa found it easy enough to agree.
“So,” she said as they got out of the Jeep, “my place or yours tonight?” The time they spent together extended to sleeping, too, although it usually came with a healthy dose of sex first. And most of their sexy encounters had indeed taken place in a bed, but every now and then passion got the best of them, as it had last Sunday in Lucky’s kitchen—so they’d also had fun on Lucky’s living room floor and a couple of times in her shower.