Stef Ann Holm by Lucy Back (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📗

sleeping bags zipped up tight, with shaggy hair sticking out of the openings. They’d stayed up late, toasted marshmallows, talked about the new school year, which classes they wanted to take. The things they’d been doing over the summer, and baseball.

Sleeping with her cell phone close by, Lucy had expected Mackenzie to call to say the plan hadn’t worked, that Drew didn’t care and they hadn’t talked things out. But they must have.

Grateful, Lucy smiled in spite of feeling as if she’d slept on a pile of rocks. Checking the time on the front of her phone, she had to squint.

Almost seven.

Dragging herself out of the sleeping bag, Lucy left the boys and went inside to put on coffee. She padded into her bedroom and sat at the vanity, gazed at her reflection and frowned. She looked awful.

A quick visit to the bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth and brush her hair into a ponytail had her feeling better. Thankfully, she’d taken a shower before bed, so her legs were shaved and smooth for a pair of shorts and a tank top. Already, the day’s heat seeped into the cabin. It was going to be a hot one.

Lucy sat back at the vanity and applied marginal makeup. A little blush and mascara, a light coat of lipstick. She preferred pink. She swiped on deodorant and sprayed apple blossom body splash on her neck. Inhaling, she looked at herself, satisfied. Almost content to the degree that the past had been left in the past. No longer was Gary able to affect her. His not showing up was not surprising. Was it going to ruin her day? No. Was she going to feel guilty about it for her boys? Yes…

That’s why she’d camped out with them last night. But in the past, she would have brooded the rest of the day and thought about how she could get Gary back, and make him suffer the way she was suffering.

But the funny thing was, she no longer suffered. She’d finally hit neutral. What Gary Carpenter did and who he did it with was no concern of hers, and his actions weren’t going to bother her.

Lucy slipped on a pair of flip-flops. Today she intended to give the house a cleaning. Dusting, sweeping, shaking out area rugs and scrubbing the bathroom.

The sound of a car pulling into the yard caused her to glance out the front window. A deep-gray-and-chrome Hummer had pulled up next to the lilac bush.

Drew Tolman was here.

Going to the door, Lucy wondered what made him show up all of a sudden. He’d never come over, she’d never invited him. Living in a teardown wasn’t exactly a place she wanted to have company visit. She’d been thinking about finding some place permanent, but that was a long way off. Maybe by Christmas she could save enough for a small condo. The odds were unlikely, but with prayer and luck, it might very well be doable.

She went out to the porch, one hand on her hip and the other shading her eyes. “Hey, Drew,” she said, her voice sounding sleepy. His name was the first thing she’d said since waking. And it felt good to say it.

“Morning.” He glanced at the tent. “Rough night?”

She smiled. “The boys and I had a campout. They’re still in there sleeping.”

Drew looked too good in a pair of khaki shorts and a white linen shirt that hung to his narrow hips. His face was tanned, as were his muscular arms. A hint of stubble shadowed his jaw, as if he’d shaved just before bed, but not this morning. He had on black leather flip-flops.

Pocketing his SUV keys, he came toward her. “I know it’s real early. Is this a bad time?”

“No. I’m making coffee.”

“Good, I need some.”

On closer inspection, he didn’t appear as if he’d rested well. Maybe it hadn’t gone well with Mackenzie last night. Lucy’s initial thought when seeing him was he’d come by to tell her he and Mackenzie had had a great night, connected and come together. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“Come in.”

No longer did thoughts of her run-down residence fill her mind. There was something wrong. She had women’s intuition.

Drew stood in the kitchen as if he didn’t know what to do. He had that helpless-man look on his face, something she never thought she’d see there.

Absently putting her hand on his shoulder, she said, “Sit down. How do you like your coffee?”

“With cream, but milk’s fine.”

“I’ve got vanilla creamer.”

“That works.”

She put everything out, let him pour the amount he wanted. Taking a chair next to him, she drank a sip of coffee, let the flavors wrap around her tongue, and tried to anticipate what he was going to say.

“What happened?” she finally questioned when he didn’t start blabbing.

Drew pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed the center of his forehead, then gazed at her through his fingers. “Mackenzie went a little nuts yesterday. I think she has that shit you call PMS.”

However Lucy thought he’d word it, saying “shit you call PMS” hadn’t been part of the equation.

“I figured you’d know about this teenage girl stuff, since you were once her age.” Drew dumped creamer into the black depth of his coffee and then stirred.

Keeping her rampant emotions in check, Lucy tried not to think the worst, but she had a bad feeling. “What do you mean, she went a little nuts?”

“I came home yesterday and she’d messed up the whole house with my stuff. She got into my baseball things, put the baseballs into the fruit bowl, framed pictures of Opal and Roger and put them on the mantel.” Drew shook his head. “Just some weird stuff. And she had Kleenex in all the rooms in case I cried. Hell, I think it’s so she can cry because she’s whacked out on hormones. She hasn’t been herself lately. She’s been doing things—almost as if to piss me off—and it’s working. She’s leaving dirty dishes out, crap like