Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(66)

“Blessed art thou who can change the subject, and blessed—”

“Oh, come on,” Mom said, slurping down the rest of her hideous drink. “Don’t be coy. Before you know it, you’ll be old and your ovaries will be turning to stone, and still I won’t have a grandchild.” She began fanning herself. “Phew! Is it getting hotter out here? My God. I’m sweating. Colleen, have you ever had a bikini wax? I’m thinking of getting one.”

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us, now and as we contemplate matricide.”

“Quiet, you two,” Carol ordered. “Lucas! Take off your shirt! Your cousin did! You should, too.”

Carol had a point. And it was pretty hot.

Lucas looked down at them. His white teeth flashed among that incredibly sexy razor stubble, and Colleen gave what she hoped was a casual wave and not a boneless flop of the hand, as she suspected.

He pulled off his shirt in one smooth move. Colleen stopped feeling her legs.

“Ten,” Mrs. Johnson said.

“Ten,” Carol and Mom echoed.

Maybe it was his swarthy skin. The muscles in his shoulders and across his chest. His hard, sweaty, delicious torso, not ripped like Bryce’s gym-perfect boy-toy body, just...just complete, utter masculine alpha perfection.

“Colleen?” her mother asked.

She closed her mouth. “Nine,” she said faintly. “Who wants a mojito?”

They all did. And Colleen could use one, too. Or she could stick her head in the freezer for a few minutes.

So Lucas would be around. She shouldn’t be surprised; Mom was hardly a master of subtlety. Bryce was a bar fixture, so sure, Lucas would be there, too. It was okay. She could handle it.

On lust-numbed legs, she stumbled into the kitchen. Checked Mom’s fridge, which was filled with fresh vegetables that, if history served, would melt into one big vegetable which would then be thrown away, but not before Mom called to complain about the price of fresh vegetables. But there was mint, and lime, and of course Colleen kept her stocked up with good quality booze.

She poured some sugar and water into a pan and heated it, since Mom didn’t have any simple syrup. Took out the white rum, squeezed the limes and rinsed the mint. From outside, she could hear the women laughing and the power saw screeching again.

Seemed as though any minute now, Lucas would come down and see her.

Sure enough, she heard the clump of his boots coming down the stairs.

He’d pulled his shirt back on. Good thing, too, because he looked like sin begging for a taker as it was. A bead of sweat ran from his temple down his cheek, then down his neck. She remembered how it felt to be held in those arms, to lie on top of him and look into those dark, lonely eyes that only ever seemed happy when they were alone together.

Yeah, right. She’d bet Ellen Forbes had made him look happy, too.

“Hey,” he said, and her knees went weak. She really had to get a grip.

His voice had always been a wicked weapon in his arsenal, deep and holding a scrape that made her special places throb with every word. “Do you have—”

“Okay, listen,” she interrupted briskly, pouring the syrup over the crushed ice. “Before you say something adorable, like, ‘How can I get that nine to a ten?’ let’s be frank here.”

“Colleen.”

“We had a thing once, it was very lovely, and then it ended when you married someone else after saying you didn’t want to marry me. Maybe it was her money, maybe you found out what love really was, I don’t care, Lucas. Water under the bridge.”

“Colleen.” His voice was more forceful now, but she kept talking, grinding the mint leaves with slightly more force than needed. “Yes, I find you attractive. I have a heartbeat, after all, and you’re frickin’ gorgeous. Yes, you find me attractive, because I am. Even so, I think it would be stupid for us to—”

“Colleen, Bryce shot a nail through his hand.”

She looked up abruptly. “Uh...what?”

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

“Dude,” Bryce said cheerfully, coming into the kitchen, his hand held aloft. “Total Jesus moment, right?”

The nail went through the webbing of his hand between his thumb and forefinger, and blood streamed down his wrist.

“Oh,” she said. “Uh, yes, we do.”

Then she fainted.

* * *

WHEN HE SAW Colleen’s eyes roll, Lucas did try to catch her. Didn’t quite make it, unfortunately, not before she cracked her head on the counter. “Jeanette!” he called. “We need you!” He glanced at his cousin. “Bryce, you’re dripping blood on the floor. Grab some paper towels and hang on a sec, okay?”

He cradled Colleen from behind. Very uncool to be thinking lustful thoughts, but she smelled like fresh mint and sunshine, and her hair brushed his face. “Mía,” he said, pushing her head forward a bit to get some blood flow there. “Time to wake up.”

“Connor, why did you punch me?” she muttered, reaching for her head.

He smiled into her hair. “Colleen. You okay, sweetheart?” She sat up straighter and gave him a confused look. “You fainted,” he said. “Bumped your head on the way down, too.”

“I never faint. Also, you’re supposed to catch me. Haven’t you ever been to a movie?”