Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(83)

“Colleen, Paulie, I don’t know how to thank you,” Joe said. “But I’ll think of something. Tell your sister she’s my new best girl, okay, Colleen?”

“You bet.”

“See you at the gym, Paulie,” Bryce said. Paulie responded with a huge (and adorable) smile. Colleen smiled, too. Her matchmaking skills were working. Again.

“I’ll walk you out,” Lucas said. He held the door for them, and they went out on the porch. Savannah was throwing a ball to Rufus, then running to catch up to him. They went around back, the dog barking joyfully, and Colleen hoped the sound hurt Didi’s brain.

“Well, I’ll let you two make googly eyes at each other,” Paulie said. “See you around, big man.” She punched Lucas in the shoulder hard enough that he rocked.

“You’re good people, Paulie,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “My cousin’s lucky to know you.”

Well, well, well.

Paulie’s eyes filled with tears. “Shit, Lucas, thanks. That means a lot to me.” She socked him again, gave a watery smile and ran out to her car.

Savannah was conveniently in the backyard, judging from the sound of Rufus’s barks.

“We can probably pass on the googly eyes,” Colleen said, clearing her throat.

He wrapped her in his arms and hugged her against him, tucking her face against his beautiful, smooth warm neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, and her entire side electrified.

“Oh, you know,” she said, her voice wobbling. She tried to pull back, but he just held her tighter.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow,” he murmured, his lips so close to her ear. “I promise not to break your heart.”

Her heart thudded fast and hard. He smelled so good. Felt so right. Tasted so— Down, girl, she told herself, resisting the urge to bite his neck. “I can’t tomorrow. It’s the party. The Petrosinsky thing.”

He pulled back, his eyes so dark and liquid and beautiful, those soulful Latin eyes. “Then soon.”

Rufus came bounding into the front, Savannah right behind, and crashed against them, practically dislocating Colleen’s knee. “Oh, my God, are you guys kissing?” her sister asked.

“Not quite,” Lucas said, letting her go, and Colleen took a shaky step back. “Not yet.”

“You slay me, Spaniard,” she whispered.

“I do my best.” He smiled, and that just about sealed the deal.

She was in serious trouble.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

COLLEEN HAD FELT that Bryce needed to see Paulie on her own turf, where, one hoped, she’d feel more confident and secure.

The Petrosinsky home looked gorgeous in a French surrealism, circusy kind of way...the chicken statues loomed large and ominously cheerful around a yellow-and-red-striped tent on the lawn, and dozens and dozens of chickens were roasting over a huge barbecue pit. There was a table full of salads and summery foods¸ a lemonade stand, a full bar. A band played the grotto—yes, there was a grotto—and the Crooked Lake shimmered in the distance.

Colleen had picked out a dress for Paulie to wear, part of the “I’m a Girl” campaign, and then done her makeup (subtly, just some mascara and lip gloss to give her strong features a little more femininity) and hair, which was a bit of a challenge. But the dress was really cute—yellow and cheery, a full skirt that swished and swirled and showed off Paulie’s chiseled legs. It seemed to be working; Bryce had ambled up to Paulie right away, and, as instructed, she’d led him off on a tour of the many chicken statues that dotted the grounds, her adopted dogs following joyfully.

The sound of a rooster cut through the air; right. Ronnie Petrosinsky was having a crowing contest.

Lucas didn’t seem to be here yet. Should she be having dinner with him at all? Would they end up in bed? Just the thought made her knees buckle.

It didn’t help that every spot in town seemed to hold some wicked-hot memories. Wicked being the operative word. The first time she’d let Lucas put his hand up her shirt. The first time she’d taken his off. The first time, period, when she’d told him she loved him, and it seemed like his heart might break at those words.

She sighed, either with longing or frustration or nostalgia or lust or all of the above. Her special parts needed attention. This was a problem.

She needed a drink. Some wine would be nice.

“Sangria?”

“Connor, just when I’m ready to auction you off to a home for unwed mothers, here you are, redeeming yourself.” She took the glass, glancing around at the other guests.

“Looking for Lucas?” Connor asked. “Because you’re stupid and want your heart broken all over again?”

“Nice weather, isn’t it?”

“Coll...”

“I don’t want my heart broken, Connor. No.”

“Stay away from him, in that case.”

“Where’s your date, brother mine?”

“She’s not here. Are you kidding? With you and Mom here? Not to mention Dad and Gail.”

Sure enough, there was Mother Dear, tossing back a white Zinfandel and 7-Up, her signature cocktail. “You think she drinks that just to punish us?”

“I do, yes,” Connor answered.

Colleen took a sip of the sangria. “So this mystery woman, Con, she must be dying to meet your beloved twin.”