A Bad Boy is Good to Find(21)

“Jesus. What happened to the furniture?”

“I think it all got auctioned off. The only stuff left is junk no one wanted. Most of my junk is piled up down in the basement.”

“Where’s your mother staying?”

“She’s gone to an ashram in India. To find herself.” Her voice sounded flat.

Con stared at her in amazement. “Your mom, in India?”

“It’s a popular vacation destination, you know.” She shrugged. She didn’t understand it any better than he did, but she didn’t need to let him know that. “Put your bag down anywhere you like. It doesn’t matter.”

He dropped it on the floor right where he stood. That lopsided grin creased his tanned face.

“What are you smiling at?”

“You. It’s good to see you.”

“I can’t imagine why.” She fought the warm sensation his smile churned up in her stomach. “I only want you here because I don’t trust you.”

“Can’t blame you. Mind if I take a dip right now? I haven’t washed in three days.”

“I can tell. I can smell you from here,” she lied, trying not to smile. “Did you sleep in your car?”

“Yup. Not too comfy.” He lifted up his arms and stretched. “I’m kinked up like a pretzel.”

“The pool’s out back,” she said, unnecessarily. Where else would it be? She was trying to distract herself from the spectacle of his tanned chest and bulging biceps as he stripped off his shirt. “I’ve got an extra towel.”

“’S okay. I’ve got one.” He bent over and fished a white towel out of his bag, and she followed him out the French doors. The hot sun of the Indian summer beat down on the browning, unwatered grass. Crabgrass had made inroads into the lawn in the month since the gardener was let go and maintenance reduced to a weekly mowing.

“It’s all set, you know, the show. I’ve even chosen the dress. It’s worth fifteen thousand dollars.” Her voice still sounded flat, like a recording. Maybe she was trying too hard to keep emotion out of it. To keep emotion out of anything.

“Fifteen thousand? Is it woven out of solid gold?” Con dropped his towel on the slate terrace surrounding the pool. They’d even taken the cedar Lutyens-style benches. Uneven blades of grass crept over the edges of the patio.

“Pearls. Freshwater. They’re sewn all over it in a kind of rippling pattern. It’s pretty.”

“Sounds nice. Do you get to keep it?” He unbuckled his belt.

“No. Sorry, you won’t get a cut of that.”

“Hey, I don’t want anything from you. I’m just here to help you out.”

She held her breath as he unbuckled his belt and slid his pants down over his strong legs. Cleared her throat. “I appreciate the help. The money from this show will give me some breathing room to get myself together and get a job.” Her heart jolted as he slid his boxers down past his muscled thighs. “What are you doing? You can’t take your underwear off! Someone might see.”

“No one around. And all these tall hedges.” He stepped out of his boxers, stark naked and dangling. She felt a flush creep up from her neck.

He took two powerful strides to the greenish pool, drew himself up, and did a graceful, shallow dive into the water. He swam a few strokes, pulling himself through the water with ease, then flipped over onto his back, droplets of water streaming off his face and hair.

“Damn this feels good. Why don’t you come in too?”

“No thanks. The filter’s been turned off for a while. There are probably all kinds of nasty bacteria growing in it.”

“Smells okay to me. And the temperature is heaven.” He dove deep under the water and swam almost the entire length of the pool, causing Lizzie’s eyes to widen, before he burst up for air, hair dripping into his eyes. “I haven’t swum in a long, long time. I’ve missed it.”

“Where did you learn how to swim? I don’t picture your shack having a pool out back.”

Con laughed. “A pool, no, the bayou. Flowed right past the old homestead. Right into it sometimes. I was swimming before I could walk.” He shook his head like a dog, scattering water droplets over a wide area. One stung her arm.

“This back in lovely Mudbug Flats?”

“Yes, and don’t say it like that. It’s beautiful there. You’ve never seen it.”

I will soon. “Do you wish you could go back there?”

“Hell, no! I’d sooner walk to the North Pole on bare feet.” He dove under the water again.

Lizzie felt a nasty curl of guilt unfold in her chest.

Don’t forget, he never loved you.

He only wanted your money.

Deep breath.

Con surfaced again. “Oh, man, I was sticky and dirty. The hotel in Phoenix left me with barely enough money for gas.” He scrubbed his face. “That place was expensive.”

She tried to ignore a twinge of guilt. “Well, don’t worry, the show will cover all our expenses. It’s negotiated into the contract.”

“You won’t hear me complaining.”

That’s what you think.

She touched her belly, which was flatter than ever. Nerves and no money for food. No car to drive to the store either, lucky thing the house was close to the train. “The only problem is how we’re going to eat until we get there. My credit cards are maxed out. That’s why I had to come back to the ancestral homestead. Think you can catch a deer and skin it?”

Con chuckled, treading water in the deep end. “I’ll think of something.”

He went out to get dinner, wet hair slicked back, the top down on his gold convertible. He returned nearly three hours later with two large pizzas on the front seat of an elderly Corvette with a loud engine rattle.

“What on earth…?”

“Ham and Mushroom still your favorite?”

“Sure, but where’s your car?”

“Right here.” He gestured to the Corvette, dingy black with white scrape marks on the rear wing.

“Where’s your Mercedes?”

“Sold it.”

Her gut tightened. “Why?”

“Money, of course. Lemonade okay?”

“Sure. But you loved that car.” Why was she feeling guilty? That car was a gift from his ex. Payment for services rendered. “It’s your pride and joy.”

“Times have changed.”

He slammed the door and scrutinized the Corvette for a moment. Nodded thoughtfully. “Wanna eat outside? This breeze is nice. We could eat by the pool.”

“Uh, sure.” She still couldn’t believe he’d sold his car. And for this scratched-up piece of junk? Why did that make her feel uncomfortable all over?

“How much did you get for your Mercedes?”

“A lot.” He plunked down on the grass and offered her a slice of pizza. “More than it’s worth.”

“Who bought it?”

“A guy who admired it. There’s a lot of money rolling around this town. I’d be a fool not to take advantage.” He took a big bite of pizza.