Rachel Gibson - Tangled Up in You

“Would you like more wine?” Lisa asked. “I’ve got Basque Red and Chablis. Or you can have beer or a Coke.”

“No, thanks.” She held up her half-full glass and looked at it. “I’m a cheap date tonight.” She needed to get up early and get to work, and wine tended to give her a headache.

“Before I married Louie and had Pete, these Fourth of July barbeques were out of control. Lots of drunks and dangerous fireworks.”

As far as Maddie could see, not a lot had changed.

The last person she was introduced to was Lisa’s sister-in-law, Delaney, who looked about twelve months pregnant.

“I’m not due until September,” Delaney said as if she’d read Maddie’s mind.

“You’re joking.”

“No.” Delaney laughed and her blond ponytail brushed her shoulder as she shook her head. “I’m having twin girls.” She pointed toward the beach. “That’s my husband, Nick, down there with Louie. He’s going to be a great dad.”

As if on cue, the great dad-to-be turned and his gaze sought his wife. He was tall and unbeliev ably handsome, and the only other guy around who gave Mick Hennessy any competition whatsoever in the looks department. Then his intense gaze found his wife and the competition was over. There was just nothing sexier than a man who only had eyes for one woman. Especially when that woman looked like Buddha.

“Are you okay?” Nick Allegrezza called out.

“For goodness’ sake,” Delaney grumbled, then yelled, “Yes.”

“Maybe you should sit down,” Nick suggested.

She spread her arms. “I’m fine.”

Maddie’s gaze slid to Mick, who knelt on one knee as he helped Travis light a flashing strobe. She wondered if he had ever looked that way at any one woman, or if he was more like his father and had eyes for a lot of women.

“Fire in the hole,” Louie yelled, and Maddie’s gaze flew to the bottle rockets whizzing upward. This time none of the rockets buzzed Maddie’s head and instead exploded above the lake. Relief calmed her beating heart. A few years ago, she’d volunteered to be Tasered in one of her self-defense classes. She wasn’t a chicken, but those flying missiles worried her.

“Last week I started to have a few contractions, and the doctor said the babies are probably going to come early,” Delaney said, drawing Maddie’s attention. “Nick’s totally freaking out about it, but I’m not worried. We’ve been through hell to have these girls. The hard part is over and everything else will be fine.”

Maddie had spent her adult life trying not to get pregnant and wondered what Delaney had been through, but she didn’t know her well enough to ask.

“You two did go through hell.” Lisa rubbed her sister-in-law’s belly, then dropped her hands to her sides. “But I have a feeling that having two thirteen-year-old girls in the same house at the same time is going to give new meaning to the word hell.”

“Not a problem. Nick’s not going to let the girls out of his sight until they’re twenty-one for fear they’ll run into boys like him.”

Suzanne raised a glass of white wine and laughed. “I never thought Nick would settle down and get married. Growing up, he was as wild as Louie was crazy.”

“Louie wasn’t crazy,” Lisa defended her husband, and her brows lowered over her blue eyes.

“Everyone called him Crazy Louie for a reason,” Delaney reminded her sister-in-law. “He stole his first car when he was, what? Ten?”

“Yeah, well, Nick was right there in the passenger seat with Louie.” Lisa sniffed. “And he really didn’t steal cars. He just borrowed them for a few hours.”

Delaney’s brows lowered. “Are you listening to yourself?”

Lisa shrugged. “It’s true. Besides, Nick came up with lots of bad ideas all on his own. Remember those horrid snowball fights?”

“Of course, but Nick doesn’t have to throw things at me to get my attention these days.” Delaney smiled and rested her hands on top of her big belly. “He’s still a little wild sometimes, but nothing like he was in school.”

“Every class had at least one bad boy. Class of 1990 it was Mick Hennessy,” Suzanne said. “He was always in trouble. In the eighth grade, he punched Mr. Shockey in the face.”

Maddie casually took a sip of her wine as if her ears hadn’t perked up.

“I’m sure Mr. Shockey deserved it,” Lisa defended Mick. “He used to make us run track even when we had period cramps. Sadistic bastard.”

“Lisa, you were always having cramps,” Delaney reminded Lisa. “Even in the first grade. And I swear you’d defend the devil.”

Lisa shrugged. “All I’m saying is that considering what Mick had to deal with growing up, he turned out pretty good.”

Maddie didn’t know what Mick had dealt with as a child, but she could guess.

“I didn’t know Mick growing up, but I’ve heard the stories.” Tanya raised her glass and took a drink. “And he turned out real good.” Behind the glass, one corner of Tanya’s lips lifted, leaving little doubt that she knew just how “real good” Mick was.

“Be careful, Tanya, Mick is like his daddy,” Suzanne warned. “He isn’t the kind of guy to stay with one woman. Last year Cinda Larson thought she had him all to herself, but he was seeing a few other women at the same time.”

The difference being, Maddie thought, Mick wasn’t married like his daddy had been.

“I just got divorced last year.” Tanya wore a strapless sundress on her tiny body, and she shrugged one bare shoulder. “I’m not looking for an exclusive relationship.”

Maddie took a drink of her wine and made a mental note. Not that Mick’s relationships with women were of interest to her, personally or professionally. His and Meg’s personal relationships would not end up in the book any more than hers, but she was curious. Curious if their childhood had been any better than hers. From the little she’d just heard, she’d say no.

Suzanne moved to the rail and yelled down, “Donald, make sure you point the big ones over the lake.” Then she turned back and her green eyes settled on Maddie. “Do you have children?” she asked.

“No.” If she hadn’t been standing next to a pregnant lady, she might have added that she didn’t think she’d ever want children either.

“What do you do for a living?”

If Maddie answered truthfully, she’d open herself up to questions she wasn’t so sure she wanted to answer at a Fourth of July barbeque. Not yet, and especially not with Mick and Travis walking up the beach toward her. The ends of Mick’s shirt slightly billowing about his chest and hips as he moved, drawing her and every other female’s attention to his Levi’s hanging low on his bare waist.

There was no doubt about it. Mick Hennessy was so blatantly all man that it hit a woman like a brick to the forehead. He was headed straight for her, and she’d be lying to herself if she pretended that he wasn’t hot as hell. While she had no problem lying to other people, she could never lie to herself.

“Fire in the hole!” Louie shouted and set off several screeching rockets, saving Maddie the effort of thinking up a half-truth or full-out lie. Four rockets flew up instead of at her head and her pulse steadied.

These rockets were a little bigger than the last and exploded in small bursts of color. Louie had broken out heavier artillery, yet still no one seemed in the least worried. No one except Maddie.

“I want to stay down there,” Travis grumbled as he, Mick, and Pete moved up the steps of the deck.

“The big show’s about to start,” Mick said, “and you know kids have to move where it’s safe.”

Big show? She raised her wine and drained the glass. She wondered if Mick was going to put Tanya out of her misery and button his shirt. Sure, it had been hot earlier, but it was getting fairly nippy now.

“Donald is a kid,” Pete complained.

“Donald is fourteen,” Lisa said. “If you’re going to argue, you can go sit by your grandmother and Tia Narcisa.”

Pete quickly plopped his behind down on the steps. “I’ll sit here.” Travis sat next to him, but neither appeared happy about being confined to the deck.

“Hey, Mick,” Tanya called out to him.

He glanced up from Travis, but his gaze met Maddie’s. His blue eyes looked into hers for several heartbeats before he turned his attention to the petite woman on Maddie’s left. “Hey, there, Tanya. How’s it going?”

“Good. I still have some Bushmills Malt 21. What are you doing after the show?”

“I’ve got to take Travis home, then head to work,” he said. “Maybe some other time.” He moved past them to a cooler and bent at the waist. He lifted the white lid and his shirt fell open. Naturally. “Yo, Travis and Pete,” he called out. “Do you boys want a root beer?”

As one, the two boys turned at the waist. “Yeah.”

“Sure.”

Ice and water sloshed in the cooler as he grabbed two cans of Hires and lobbed them into the boys’ waiting hands. He pulled out a Red Bull, then closed the cooler’s lid.

“Maddie, have you met Mick Hennessy?” Lisa asked.

Out of habit, she held out her hand, “Yes, we’ve met.”

He wiped his hand on his pants, then took her fingers in his cool wet palm. “Kill any mice today?”

“No.” His thumb brushed her bare ring finger and he smiled. Intentional or not, she didn’t know, but the light touch spread hot itchy little tingles to her wrist. It was the closest she’d come to real sex in years. “No dead mice yet, but I’m hoping they’re experiencing death rattles even as we speak.” She pulled her hand back before she forgot who he was and why she was in town. Once he found out, she doubted there would be any more handshakes and tingles. Not that she particularly wanted either.