Read Online Second Chance With the Rebel: Her Royal Wedding Wish by Cara Colter - Free Book Online
Authors: Cara Colter
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been a teensy problem with location. Anyway, it’s not as if she’s your real mother.”
Unaware how insensitive that remark was, Claudia forged ahead, her red lips stretched over teeth he found very large.
“I’m afraid the committee has voted to revoke our rental to Lucy. And we don’t meet again until next month, and that’s too late. But you know, the elementary-school gym is probably available. I’d be happy to check for you.”
“No thanks.”
“Don’t be mad at me. It’s really Lucy’s fault. Norman Avalon is president of the yacht club this year. Do you remember him?”
An unpleasant memory of a boy throwing a partially filled Slurpee cup on him while he was shoveling three tons of mud out of a ditch came to mind.
“They live right over there. If Lucy paints the place purple, his wife, Ellen—you remember Ellen, she used to be a Polson—will have to look at it all day. She’s ticked. Royally. And that was before the rezoning application. Macintyre, it is just sooo nice seeing you.”
He didn’t respond, tried not to look at Lucy, who had her eyes crossed and her tongue hanging out, her hands still around her own throat.
“Congrats on your company’s success. I know Billy would love to see you if you have time. We generally have pre-dinner cocktails at the club on Friday.”
Behind Claudia, Lucy dropped silently to her knees, and was swaying back and forth, holding her throat.
“The club?” As if there was only one in town, which there was.
“You know, the yacht club.”
“Oh, the one Lucy isn’t renting anymore. To honor my mother.”
“Oh.” With effort, since her expression lines had been removed with Botox, Claudia formed her face into contrite lines and lowered her voice sympathetically. “If you wanted to drop by on Friday and talk to Billy about it, he might be able to use his influence for you. ”
Lucy keeled over behind her, her mouth moving in soundless gasping, like a beached fish.
“Billy who?”
“Billy. Billy Johnson. Do you remember him?”
“Uh-huh,” he said, noncommittal. He seemed to remember smashing his fist into the face of the lovely Billy after he had made a guess about his heritage.
Claudia held up a hand with an enormous set of rings on it. “That’s me now, Mrs. Johnson. Don’t forget—cocktails. We dress, by the way.”
“As opposed to what?”
“Oh, Mac, you card, you. Toodle-loo, folks.”
She turned and saw Lucy lying on the ground, feigning death.
She stepped delicately over her inert body, and hissed, “Oh, for God’s sake, Lucy, grow up. This man’s the head of a multimillion-dollar company.”
And she was gone, leaving a cloying cloud of perfume in her wake.
For a moment Lucy actually looked as if she’d allowed Claudia’s closing barb to land. Her eyes looked shiny again. But then, to his great relief, she giggled.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Lucy,” he said sternly, “grow up.”
She giggled more loudly. He felt his defenses falling like a fortress made out of children’s building blocks. He gave in to the temptation to play a little.
“Hey, I’m the head of a multimillion-dollar company. A little respect.”
And then she started to laugh, and he gave in to the temptation a little more, and he did, too. It felt amazingly good to laugh with Lucy.
“You are good,” he sputtered at her. “I got it loud and clear. Charades. Three words. She’s killing me. ”
He went over, took her hand and pulled her to her feet. She collapsed against him, laughing, and for the second time that day he felt the sweetness of her curves in his arms.
“Mac,” she cooed, between gasps of laughter. “I’ve always adored you.”
“The last time you looked at me like that, I got pushed in the lake.”
She howled.
“What was that whole horrid episode with Claudia about?” he finally said, putting her away from him, wiping his eyes.
The humor died in her eyes. “Apparently if you even think of painting your house purple,
Unaware how insensitive that remark was, Claudia forged ahead, her red lips stretched over teeth he found very large.
“I’m afraid the committee has voted to revoke our rental to Lucy. And we don’t meet again until next month, and that’s too late. But you know, the elementary-school gym is probably available. I’d be happy to check for you.”
“No thanks.”
“Don’t be mad at me. It’s really Lucy’s fault. Norman Avalon is president of the yacht club this year. Do you remember him?”
An unpleasant memory of a boy throwing a partially filled Slurpee cup on him while he was shoveling three tons of mud out of a ditch came to mind.
“They live right over there. If Lucy paints the place purple, his wife, Ellen—you remember Ellen, she used to be a Polson—will have to look at it all day. She’s ticked. Royally. And that was before the rezoning application. Macintyre, it is just sooo nice seeing you.”
He didn’t respond, tried not to look at Lucy, who had her eyes crossed and her tongue hanging out, her hands still around her own throat.
“Congrats on your company’s success. I know Billy would love to see you if you have time. We generally have pre-dinner cocktails at the club on Friday.”
Behind Claudia, Lucy dropped silently to her knees, and was swaying back and forth, holding her throat.
“The club?” As if there was only one in town, which there was.
“You know, the yacht club.”
“Oh, the one Lucy isn’t renting anymore. To honor my mother.”
“Oh.” With effort, since her expression lines had been removed with Botox, Claudia formed her face into contrite lines and lowered her voice sympathetically. “If you wanted to drop by on Friday and talk to Billy about it, he might be able to use his influence for you. ”
Lucy keeled over behind her, her mouth moving in soundless gasping, like a beached fish.
“Billy who?”
“Billy. Billy Johnson. Do you remember him?”
“Uh-huh,” he said, noncommittal. He seemed to remember smashing his fist into the face of the lovely Billy after he had made a guess about his heritage.
Claudia held up a hand with an enormous set of rings on it. “That’s me now, Mrs. Johnson. Don’t forget—cocktails. We dress, by the way.”
“As opposed to what?”
“Oh, Mac, you card, you. Toodle-loo, folks.”
She turned and saw Lucy lying on the ground, feigning death.
She stepped delicately over her inert body, and hissed, “Oh, for God’s sake, Lucy, grow up. This man’s the head of a multimillion-dollar company.”
And she was gone, leaving a cloying cloud of perfume in her wake.
For a moment Lucy actually looked as if she’d allowed Claudia’s closing barb to land. Her eyes looked shiny again. But then, to his great relief, she giggled.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Lucy,” he said sternly, “grow up.”
She giggled more loudly. He felt his defenses falling like a fortress made out of children’s building blocks. He gave in to the temptation to play a little.
“Hey, I’m the head of a multimillion-dollar company. A little respect.”
And then she started to laugh, and he gave in to the temptation a little more, and he did, too. It felt amazingly good to laugh with Lucy.
“You are good,” he sputtered at her. “I got it loud and clear. Charades. Three words. She’s killing me. ”
He went over, took her hand and pulled her to her feet. She collapsed against him, laughing, and for the second time that day he felt the sweetness of her curves in his arms.
“Mac,” she cooed, between gasps of laughter. “I’ve always adored you.”
“The last time you looked at me like that, I got pushed in the lake.”
She howled.
“What was that whole horrid episode with Claudia about?” he finally said, putting her away from him, wiping his eyes.
The humor died in her eyes. “Apparently if you even think of painting your house purple,
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