The Good Luck Sister (Wildstone #1.5)(31)

“Good God, give it a rest,” Mia griped. “And you’re drooling. Get yourself together, woman. Yesterday you wanted to kill him, remember?”

“Well, he is still a man,” Alyssa said. “If I didn’t want to kill him at least once a day, he’s not doing his job right.”

“Please, God, tell me you’re almost done with the baby hormonal mood swings,” Mia said.

“Hey, I’m hardly having any baby-hormone-related mood swings anymore.”

Mia snorted and looked at Lanie. “FYI, whenever we’re in a situation where I happen to be the voice of reason, it’s probably an apocalypse sort of thing and you should save yourself.”

“Whatever,” Alyssa said. “He’s hot and he’s mine, all mine.”

“Yes,” Mia said. “We know. And he’s been yours since the second grade and you get to sleep with him later, so . . .”

Alyssa laughed. “I know. Isn’t it great? All you need is love.”

“I’m pretty sure we also need water, food, shelter, vodka, and Netflix.”

“Well excuse me for being happy.” Alyssa looked at Lanie. “Are you married, Lanie?”

“Not anymore.” She took a bite of the most amazing fettuccine Alfredo she’d ever had and decided that maybe calories on Mondays didn’t count.

“Was he an asshole?” Mia asked, her eyes curious but warmly so.

“Actually, he’s dead.”

Alyssa gasped. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked—”

“No,” Lanie said, kicking herself for spilling the beans like that. “It’s okay. It’s been six months.” Six months, one week, and two days but hey, who was counting? She bypassed her water and reached for the wine after all. When in Rome . . .

“That’s really not very long,” Alyssa said.

“I’m really okay.” There was a reason for the quick recovery. Several, actually. They’d dated for six months and he’d been charming and charismatic, and new to love, she’d fallen fast. They’d gotten married and gone five years, the first half great, the second half not so much because she’d discovered they just weren’t right for each other. She’d not been able to put her finger on what had been wrong exactly, but it’d been undeniable that whatever they’d once shared had faded. But after Kyle had passed away, some things had come to light. Such as the fact that he’d hidden an addiction from her.

A wife addiction.

It’d gone a long way toward getting her over the hump of the grieving process. So had the fact that several other women had come out of the woodwork claiming to also be married to Kyle. Not that she intended to share that humiliation. Not now or ever.

You’re my moon and my stars, he’d always told her.

Yeah. Just one lie in a string of many, as it’d turned out . . .

Cora came back around and Lanie nearly leapt up in relief. Work! Work was going to save her.

“I see you’ve met some of my big, nosy, interfering, boisterous, loving family and survived to tell the tale,” Cora said, slipping an arm around Mia and gently squeezing.

“Yes, and I’m all ready to get to it,” Lanie said.

“Oh, not yet.” Cora gestured for her to stay seated. “No rush, there’s still fifteen minutes left of lunch.” And then she once again made her way around the tables, chatting with everyone she passed. “Girls,” she called out to the cupcake twins, who were now chasing each other around the other table. “Slow down, please!”

At Lanie’s table, everyone had gotten deeply involved in a discussion on barrels. She was listening with half an ear to the differences in using American oak versus French oak when a man in a deputy sheriff’s uniform came in unnoticed through the French double doors. He was tall, built, and fully armed. His eyes were covered by dark aviator sunglasses, leaving his expression unreadable. And intimidating as hell.

He strode directly toward her.

“Scoot,” he said to the table, and since no one else scooted—in fact no one else even looked over at him—Lanie scooted.

“Thanks.” He sat, reaching past her to accept the plate that Mia handed to him without pausing her conversation with Alyssa. The plate was filled up to shockingly towering heights that surely no one human could consume.

He caught Lanie staring.

“That’s a lot of food,” she said inanely.

“Hungry.” He grabbed a fork. “You’re the new hire.”

“Lanie,” she said and watched in awe as he began to shovel in food like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Mark,” he said after swallowing a bite, something she appreciated because Kyle used to talk with his mouth full and it had driven her to want to kill him. Which, as it turned out, hadn’t been necessary. A heart attack had done that for her.

Apparently cheating on a bunch of wives had been highly stressful. Go figure.

“You must be a very brave woman,” Mark said.

And for a horrifying minute, she was afraid she’d spoken of Kyle out loud, and she stared at him.

“Taking on this job, this family,” he said. “They’re insane, you know. Every last one of them.”

Because he had a disarming smile and was speaking with absolutely no malice, she knew he had to be kidding. But she still thought it rude considering they’d served him food. “They can’t be all that bad,” she said. “They’re feeding you, which you seem to be enjoying.”