Getting Lucky (A Nugget Romance Book 5) Read online

  He knew enough to get by. Almost every Anglo cop in Los Angeles did. “You should give me lessons. How about I put my hands on you and you tell me what you want me to do with them in Spanish? Let’s see if I can figure it out.”

  She seemed to like where this was going because she moved his hands over her pubic bone and said, “Te deseo.”

  He knew what that meant. First he took her with his fingers, then with the hand-held water nozzle, turning the pressure up high, then with his mouth, and finally with the part of him that throbbed for her.

  “Good?” He turned her around so she could brace herself against the wall.

  “Don’t stop,” she moaned as he took her from behind, and then crumpled as she climaxed.

  “I’ve got you.” In a fireman’s hold, Jake carried her out of the shower, laid her on the bed, spread her legs, and entered her again. “This is unbelievable,” he said, the halting words coming out like breaths. “If I die from a heart attack, it will have been worth it.” He pumped one more time, threw his head back and shouted her name.

  Ten minutes later, with their limbs twined together like tree vines, Jake said, “I think I’m in love with you, Cecilia.”

  She cradled his face in her hands. “I think you’re in love with being in love, Jake Stryker.”

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “But this feels different. Like the real thing.”

  She laughed and kissed him. “Time will tell, mi amor.”

  “What about you?”

  “I don’t give my love so freely,” she said, and kissed him again.

  He knew she’d been hurt, left by the father of her child when Lucky was just born. So he couldn’t be upset with her for being leery of a three-time loser. “Time will be good to us, Cecilia. My gut tells me so. And a cop’s gut rarely steers him wrong.”

  “How does your gut feel about a meal?” She laid her head on his chest. “There’s so much good food here and we only have another day.”

  “Let’s do it. What’re you in the mood for?” Jake swung his legs over the bed, wanting to duck back into the shower for a quick rinse.

  “Italian,” she said. “That place that Nate recommended.”

  “Italian it is.”

  “You go first.” Cecilia nudged her head at the bathroom. “I want to call Tawny and see how Katie is. Maybe they got the results.”

  “On a weekend? Doubtful, sweetheart. But go ahead. I’ll be right out.”

  When he got done with his shower, Jake put on a pair of khakis, a long-sleeved shirt, and a light jacket. St. Helena wasn’t as chilly as Nugget, but still nippy in the evenings. He told Cecilia to meet him in the lobby, hoping the concierge could get them a reservation. Luckily, everyone seemed to know that they were Nate’s people. Nate was clearly revered in the hospitality industry, because so far, Jake and Cecilia had been treated like royalty.

  While waiting, Jake checked his messages. Looked like everything was a go for Monday. Frankly, he’d like to get Lucky off the ranch for a few days, make up a story that he was going away with Raylene or to a bull riding competition. But he knew Lucky would never go for it. The kid would demand to be there when the shit went down, making sure no harm came to his ranch or livestock. Jake couldn’t blame him. If he were in Lucky’s shoes, he’d do the same.

  Cecilia came down in a red dress that knocked Jake’s socks off. God, the woman was gorgeous.

  “That new?” he asked her, having never seen her this dressed up before.

  “Mm-hmm. I got it at Macy’s in Reno. You like?” She twirled for him.

  “Are you kidding? I love. Red’s your color.”

  The concierge let them know that the restaurant could take them in an hour. So they strolled down Main Street, looking in the shop and gallery windows. Rhys had been right on the mark about the place being money. Lots of expensive clothing and shoe boutiques and stores that sold nothing but olive oil and crackers for prices that made Jake flinch. But Cecilia seemed to enjoy it. She liked going inside, browsing through the racks, and making conversation with the shopkeepers.

  Such an elegant-looking woman, Jake was sure that the proprietors thought they had a real live one on the wire. But they never seemed to mind when Jake and Cecilia didn’t buy anything.

  “You talk to Tawny?” Jake asked as they passed an “artisan” chocolate shop. That was the other thing about wine country; everything was “artisan.” Artisan sandwiches, artisan soaps, artisan toilet paper. The term was a little overused, if you asked him.

  “No results yet,” Cecilia said. “And Katie is doing fine. No fevers, thank goodness. I also talked to Lucky. He was with Raylene.” On Cecilia’s lips, “Raylene” may as well have been a curse word.

  “What are you gonna do, Cecilia? He loves the girl.”

  “I don’t know how I raised a blind son.”

  “I don’t think his sight is off, just his judgment.”

  “Raylene may be a beautiful girl on the outside, but she’s no good on the inside. I knew what went on in that house. Ray was a tyrant—a bully, quick with his hands and even harsher with his mouth. And for a time I felt sorry for Raylene. I even loved her. But she started becoming just like him, sneaky and manipulative. That night that Ray accused Lucky of attacking her and Raylene just stood there, playing the victim . . . it’s unforgivable.”

  Jake rubbed Cecilia’s back. “There’s a chance she’s changed. All you can do is give her a chance.”

  “Never,” Cecilia said.

  Jake knew that Ray Rosser’s accusations against Lucky had crushed Cecilia to the bone. No mother wants to hear her son called a rapist. But Raylene had been a kid, and from everything Jake had heard about Rosser, probably a deeply abused kid. She’d been afraid to speak up. As a detective, Jake had seen it many times before.

  “You might want to rethink that,” Jake said. “Lucky loves her and you love Lucky. You don’t want to alienate him.”

  “I want him to start thinking with his brain, not his penis. He has a daughter now. He needs to settle down with a good woman like Tawny.”

  “Tawny?” Jake grinned. “I thought you disliked her as much as you do Raylene.”

  “I’m angry with her for keeping Katie from us. But in that crazy head of hers she was protecting her daughter—and Lucky and me, too. No matter what, she’s always been a good girl. A family girl, who took care of her father. And now Katie.”

  “You certainly know how I feel about Tawny.”

  “Yes. I think if you were twenty years younger, you’d be chasing after her instead of me,” Cecilia teased.

  “Unfortunately, when I was twenty years younger I would’ve been chasing after Raylene. And the moral of that story is: People change, Cecilia. They get wiser and better with age. What else did you and Lucky talk about?”

  “He wanted to know what we were doing.” She arched one perfectly shaped ebony brow and quirked her lips in a sly little smile.

  “You tell him?” Jake winked.

  “Why do you keep looking out the window every five seconds?” Raylene pulled her shirt over her head and scowled. “Bored with me already?”

  “Everything isn’t always about you, Raylene.” Lucky pulled her hips between his legs. “Do you ever wear any underwear, woman?”

  “Not when I don’t have to.” She sat in Lucky’s lap, grabbed her phone off his nightstand, made those ridiculous kissy lips she apparently thought looked sexy, and took a selfie of the two of them on Lucky’s bed.

  “What are you doing with that?” He motioned at her phone.

  “Posting it to Facebook. Why?”

  “I have a manager and an agent who need to okay stuff like that before it goes on the Internet,” he said, grabbing the phone from her and deleting the picture from her gallery.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a public personality. And this”—he waved his hand between their mostly naked selves—“isn’t G-rated.” The PBR didn’t go for racy. Bull riding is family entertainment.

&n
bsp; “Well, excuse me.” Raylene rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t aware I was bad for your oh-so-clean image. I wanted Butch to see what a hottie I’m with now.” She nuzzled his neck.

  Lucky pulled away. “You’re posting this shit to make Butch jealous?”

  “After what he and Barb did to me, why shouldn’t I?”

  “Raylene, sometimes I don’t get you at all. Is this just a game to you?”

  “Of course not. I’ve loved you since middle school. If you’re embarrassed of me and don’t want me posting stuff about us being together, I won’t.”

  “I’m not embarrassed of you, Raylene. I just don’t want to be used to torment your ex-husband . . . who, by the way, is still your husband on paper, which I’m getting damned tired of.”

  “At least I’m not hanging out at his house every day.” She got off his lap and put on her jeans.

  “If you’re talking about Tawny, I was never married to her.”

  “You had sex with her. You made a baby with her. Am I supposed to feel better that you two were never married? At least Butch doesn’t live in this state.”

  “There’s nothing going on between Tawny and me.” Although to be truthful, Tawny was a hell of a lot easier to get along with. She might be snappy at times, but she was reasonable. And sensitive. You could have a real heart-to-heart with Tawny. Raylene only liked talking about herself.

  Lucky leaned back on the bed, spread the blinds open with his fingers, and peered outside.

  “There you go again. What’s out there that’s so damned important?” Raylene demanded. “We’re trying to have a conversation.”

  Trying was the key word. Lately, they didn’t have much to talk about. Unless it was about how Butch was screwing her out of the Hawaii timeshare. Mostly she just liked to drink.

  “Just keeping an eye on my ranch, because instead of being out there, pulling my share, I’m in here with you.”

  “Then I’ll just go, Lucky. God forbid I should keep you from something important.”

  He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down on top of him. “Shush. I love you, Raylene, but you’re a goddamned handful.”

  “You used to like that about me.” She pouted. “You used to like everything about me.”

  “And I still do. Mostly. But this Butch thing is pissing me off. Shit or get off the pot, Raylene. I’m not here so you can make your ex jealous, you hear me?”

  “Will you stop going over to Tawny’s all the time then?”

  “No! My daughter lives there. Don’t you get it? I go there to see her, not Tawny.” Which was mostly true. “Anyway, you’re the one who told me she was seeing Brady. I thought one night we could all go out and have dinner together. If the man’s going to be spending time around my daughter, I should get to know him.”

  “I don’t want to go out with them. I don’t know Brady and I can tell Thelma doesn’t like me.”

  “We’re not going out with them so the four of us can become bosom buddies. For the sake of my daughter, I’d just like to get to know Brady. Plus, it wouldn’t kill you to be pleasant to the mother of my child.”

  “All right,” Raylene reluctantly agreed, but Lucky could tell she was put out.

  “Your dad still planning on pressing charges?” Jake thought it could hurt the investigation. If John and Gus got wind that Ray was making allegations, they might shut down their operation until things cooled down.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I think I talked him out of it, but who can tell with Dad.”

  “Should I apologize?” Lucky asked, gritting his teeth at the thought of it.

  “It might help,” she said, but sounded doubtful. “If you did, he’d want it to be all public and everything. After all, you did accuse him of being a wife beater.”

  “Well, he is.”

  “If you could get Tawny to make him boots, he might forgive you. He doesn’t like the idea that she makes them for Clay McCreedy but not him.”

  “Yeah, not gonna happen. Tawny has her hands full right now with Katie. We’re just waiting on the results of my blood test and then we’re going full speed ahead on this transplant.”

  “Ohhh.” Raylene held up her hands. “God forbid your precious girlfriend should make my father’s boots, which, by the way, he would pay a butt-load for.”

  Lucky shook his head. “Do you not get how sick my daughter is? Jesus, Raylene, sometimes I think you’re heartless.”

  She reached out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to make light of it. You may not believe this, but I’m very worried about Katie. The whole town is.”

  He exhaled. “I’ve got to get to work. You coming over tonight?”

  “If you still want me to.”

  “Ah, baby, of course I do. Come here.” He got out of bed and wrapped her in his arms, but a part of him felt like a phony, like this lovey-dovey thing they did was perfunctory.

  “I love you, Lucky.”

  He was working the top button on her jeans when the phone rang. “Ah hell.” On the floor he found his pants, dug through the pocket for his phone, and looked at the caller ID. “It’s Katie’s doctor.”

  Chapter 11

  Tawny thumbed through the magazines on the table. All of them were about five months old and none of them held her interest. How could they at a time like this?

  “What’s taking so long?” she muttered.

  “We’re early.” Lucky reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. They were warm and strong and callused and made her feel like they were in this together. A month ago it had only been her shouldering Katie’s cancer. For once she didn’t feel so alone.

  Lucky had gotten the call yesterday. This morning, they’d left at sunrise and made the five-hour drive to Stanford. Cecilia would get Katie after school and keep her overnight if need be.

  “What exactly did Dr. Laurence tell you again?” Tawny gazed up at the clock. She could almost hear it ticking away the time.

  “We’ve been over this five hundred times, Tawny. He said I’m a match, but they need to run a few more tests before moving forward.”

  “But you’re a match?”

  “Honey, I don’t know how many different ways to tell you the same thing.”

  “What kind of tests?” she wanted to know. Dr. Laurence had never said there would be more tests. Just the one to see if Lucky was a match.

  “That’s why we’re here. To find out.” He squeezed her hand a little tighter. “You want me to go in search of coffee?”

  “No, don’t leave.” She held on to his hand as if it were a lifeline.

  “Okay.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Try to relax. I think this is good. They’re just being really careful, which is what we want.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Take some deep breaths.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close.

  God, he felt solid—and safe. Someone to lean on. The only person she’d ever had like that had been her father, and he was gone.

  “You smell good.” Lucky sniffed her hair, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Is that perfume?”

  “Just shampoo.”

  “You warm enough? You seem cold.” Why they always cranked up the air-conditioning in medical waiting rooms, Tawny would never know.

  “It was warm when we got here, so I left my coat in the truck.” October in the Bay Area was balmy compared to Nugget.

  He took his denim jacket off and slipped it over her shoulders. She pulled it around her like a security blanket. It was warm from Lucky’s body heat and smelled like him—aftershave, man, and the outdoors.

  “Thanks. You’re not cold?”

  “Nah,” he said, and put his arm back around her.

  Eventually, Dr. Laurence came out and called them back into his office.

  “I’m glad we could do this so quickly,” he said. “I know it’s a haul for both of you, but I think we’re getting closer. Lucky is indeed a tissue match. Now we’d like to d
etermine how many of his major HLA antigens match Katie’s. Ideally, we’d like to have all six, which reduces the risk of graft rejection and serious infection.”

  “Doc, you lost me. What if I don’t have all six of . . . whatever you called it?”

  “Human leukocyte antigen. They’re proteins found on the surface of most cells. We inherit some of them from our parents and pass some of them to our children. But to answer your question, sometimes we’ll do the transplant with less than a six-out-of-six match.”

  “But it’s better if there is?” Tawny asked, her stomach in knots.

  “Yes.” The doctor nodded.

  “What’s the likelihood of the six out of six?” Lucky asked.

  “We’re going to test you and find out.”

  It did not go over Tawny’s head that Dr. Laurence hadn’t exactly answered the question. “Lucky’s mother, Katie’s paternal grandmother, might work better if Lucky doesn’t.”

  “That’s certainly an option we can explore,” the doctor said. “In the meantime, I’d like to send Lucky to the lab, let the techs do their thing, and we should know something later this week, or by early next week at the latest. Lucky, we’d also like you to have a physical. Given your profession, I’m guessing you’ll pass with flying colors or Professional Bull Riders Inc. wouldn’t let you ride. But we’re not taking any chances.”

  The doctor scrawled something on a pad, ripped off the page, and handed it to Lucky. “I’ll have Delores call the lab to let them know you’re coming. It’s just four floors down.” Lucky had taken the original blood test at the hospital lab in Quincy, so they paid close attention.

  “Will it hurt?” Tawny asked the doctor before they left.

  Dr. Laurence laughed. “I don’t figure much hurts this man—not from what I’ve seen on television.” He turned to Lucky. “How much does one of those bulls weigh?”

  “About two thousand pounds,” Lucky said.

  “Wow.” Dr. Laurence shook his head. “To answer your question, Tawny, it’s no different than what he did before—a simple blood test. We just want to look at the genetic markers on Lucky’s white blood cells. And it’s better if we do that here.”