Read Online A Crazy Kind of Love by Maureen Child - Free Book Online
Authors: Maureen Child
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so he straightened up and added, “Congratulations. To you and your dog.”
Carla laughed. “Thanks. It’s pretty exciting.” She laughed again. “Abbey’s probably not excited, but I am. Just left my husband in his office mumbling something about college funds and high quarterly yields or whatever.” She grabbed the little girl’s hand and started for the door of the coffee shop. “Now I’m going in to tell Stevie I win the baby bet. We were sure she was going to be the one pregnant first, because, you know, Paul’s working at home most of the time now and, well, Jackson’s been out of town a lot and—” She caught herself, laughed again and shrugged. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to give you the whole story. Just excited. You know?”
“Sure,” he said, though he didn’t have a clue. Lucashad never really been the “fatherhood” type. He’d always been too focused on his work to think about spending any time with diapers and baby puke. But anyone with half an eye could see that Carla was excited enough for four people. So why wasn’t her good friend Mike happy for her?
He shifted a look at her, but she was watching Carla.
“Tell Jackson I said happy baby, okay?”
“You bet,” Carla said, still grinning. “And tell Sam I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“Right,” Mike said and backed away, drawing Lucas with her.
When they reached his car, Mike let him go, and then walked around to the passenger side and got in. Lucas stood there, looking at her through the windshield. Until she waved her fingers at him in a “come on” motion.
Once in the car, he glanced at her. “Why are you in my car?”
“Hello?” She blinked at him in stunned amazement. “Because I just told Carla Candellano that I was meeting you and you went along with it, so I had to get into the car or she’d think I lied to her.”
“You did lie to her.”
“Well, I don’t want
her
to know that.”
“I thought her name was Wyatt.”
“Is now, but she’ll always be a Candellano.” Mike tossed her purse onto the floor. “Italians may get married, but they never leave the family.”
“Like the Mafia family, you mean?”
“Stereotypes. I’m panicking and he’s talking sterotypes.” She sighed. “Not
the Family
. The family. Her family. The Candellanos.”
“Ah . . .”
“Are you going to fire up the engine any day soon?”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not picky.” She propped her elbow on the window ledge and speared her fingers through her hair. “Let’s just get gone, okay?”
“
You
not picky?” He stared at her, dumbfounded. “The woman who changes every line and drawing on my damn blueprints
isn’t
picky? The woman who put
parrots
in my kitchen
isn’t
picky?”
“Funny.” She looked around furtively. “Should I drive?”
“Then do I get to know what’s going on?”
“Sure. Whatever. Later.”
Muttering things under his breath that his mother would have slapped him for, if she were still alive, Lucas started the car, put it in reverse, and backed out. As he steered the car down Main Street, he spared another quick look at her. Her eyes looked a little . . .
haunted
. He snorted. When the hell had he gotten so sensitive? Why was he noticing Mike’s eyes at all? And why the hell had he ridden in to her rescue like some modern-day knight on a two-door red charger?
Screw that.
He didn’t need this.
Scraping one hand across his jaw, he asked tightly, “Where do you want me to drop you?”
“My truck’s back in town.”
“Naturally. I’ll take you back.”
“No.” She shifted in her seat, turning her back on the ocean on her right, to look at him. “I’ll just go where you were going.”
“Not a good idea.” He shot her a quick glance and tried not to notice that her long blond hair flew about her head like a distorted halo. Which, considering her temperament, was a joke and a half.
Hell, he didn’t want her along. He’d left his house early this morning in an
Carla laughed. “Thanks. It’s pretty exciting.” She laughed again. “Abbey’s probably not excited, but I am. Just left my husband in his office mumbling something about college funds and high quarterly yields or whatever.” She grabbed the little girl’s hand and started for the door of the coffee shop. “Now I’m going in to tell Stevie I win the baby bet. We were sure she was going to be the one pregnant first, because, you know, Paul’s working at home most of the time now and, well, Jackson’s been out of town a lot and—” She caught herself, laughed again and shrugged. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to give you the whole story. Just excited. You know?”
“Sure,” he said, though he didn’t have a clue. Lucashad never really been the “fatherhood” type. He’d always been too focused on his work to think about spending any time with diapers and baby puke. But anyone with half an eye could see that Carla was excited enough for four people. So why wasn’t her good friend Mike happy for her?
He shifted a look at her, but she was watching Carla.
“Tell Jackson I said happy baby, okay?”
“You bet,” Carla said, still grinning. “And tell Sam I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“Right,” Mike said and backed away, drawing Lucas with her.
When they reached his car, Mike let him go, and then walked around to the passenger side and got in. Lucas stood there, looking at her through the windshield. Until she waved her fingers at him in a “come on” motion.
Once in the car, he glanced at her. “Why are you in my car?”
“Hello?” She blinked at him in stunned amazement. “Because I just told Carla Candellano that I was meeting you and you went along with it, so I had to get into the car or she’d think I lied to her.”
“You did lie to her.”
“Well, I don’t want
her
to know that.”
“I thought her name was Wyatt.”
“Is now, but she’ll always be a Candellano.” Mike tossed her purse onto the floor. “Italians may get married, but they never leave the family.”
“Like the Mafia family, you mean?”
“Stereotypes. I’m panicking and he’s talking sterotypes.” She sighed. “Not
the Family
. The family. Her family. The Candellanos.”
“Ah . . .”
“Are you going to fire up the engine any day soon?”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not picky.” She propped her elbow on the window ledge and speared her fingers through her hair. “Let’s just get gone, okay?”
“
You
not picky?” He stared at her, dumbfounded. “The woman who changes every line and drawing on my damn blueprints
isn’t
picky? The woman who put
parrots
in my kitchen
isn’t
picky?”
“Funny.” She looked around furtively. “Should I drive?”
“Then do I get to know what’s going on?”
“Sure. Whatever. Later.”
Muttering things under his breath that his mother would have slapped him for, if she were still alive, Lucas started the car, put it in reverse, and backed out. As he steered the car down Main Street, he spared another quick look at her. Her eyes looked a little . . .
haunted
. He snorted. When the hell had he gotten so sensitive? Why was he noticing Mike’s eyes at all? And why the hell had he ridden in to her rescue like some modern-day knight on a two-door red charger?
Screw that.
He didn’t need this.
Scraping one hand across his jaw, he asked tightly, “Where do you want me to drop you?”
“My truck’s back in town.”
“Naturally. I’ll take you back.”
“No.” She shifted in her seat, turning her back on the ocean on her right, to look at him. “I’ll just go where you were going.”
“Not a good idea.” He shot her a quick glance and tried not to notice that her long blond hair flew about her head like a distorted halo. Which, considering her temperament, was a joke and a half.
Hell, he didn’t want her along. He’d left his house early this morning in an
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