What the Heart Wants (What the Heart Wants, #1)(83)

And that’s what made the difference between him and Growler.

*



Laurel settled Lolly on the davenport in the den, moved an ottoman between them, and shuffled the cards. Blackjack was a great way to pass the time—short, fast, and easy to learn. It was surprising Lolly hadn’t encountered it before, but she attended an exclusive girls’ school and, judging by what she’d casually let drop, had learned plenty of other things she shouldn’t have.

Lolly cut the deck and gave her hostess an apologetic glance. “I’m really sorry to be such a bother, Laurel.”

“That’s okay, honey,” Laurel said. She dealt a card to Lolly, facedown, then to herself, faceup. “Hey, I’ve got a ten, and I already feel lucky.”

“Don’t trash-talk me, Laurel Harlow. You’re just trying to get me rattled.”

Laurel placed a second card on the table in front of her. “Darn, the novice catches on quick. And here I had you pegged for an easy mark.” She slid a card off the top of the deck, a deuce, as Lolly picked up her cards and scrutinized them.

“Give me another card. I mean, hit me.”

“You lose ten points if you don’t get the lingo right.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Laurel gave Lolly a second card and drew a five for herself. It was iffy, but she’d hold pat. The deck was fresh, and it was anybody’s guess what would come up next.

Lolly’s forehead creased as she studied her hand. Laurel figured that meant her cards added up to somewhere around fifteen, so she was surprised when Lolly asked for another card.

“Hit me.”

“Are you sure?”

Lolly nodded.

Laurel handed her a third card, confident that her opponent would go bust.

Instead, Lolly spread her hand on the table—a six, a nine, a three, and another three. “Twenty-one!”

Laurel gaped at her. “Talk about beginner’s luck. I want a rematch.”

“Sure thing, sucker.”

Lolly’s eyes sparkled, and her color was high. Laurel smiled to herself. Who would guess that blackjack would do the trick? She picked up the deck and dealt Lolly a card, herself a card, Lolly a card, herself a card.

Looked good. She had a deuce on the table and a jack in her hand.

Lolly looked at her hand, then at Laurel. “How in the world did you ever, like, learn to play blackjack? I mean, your dad was a preacher and all.”

“You might say I fell in with low company. My friend Sarah taught me.”

“Sarah. She’s the one who wrote you that poem. I thought you said you’d lost track of her. Hit me.”

Laurel gave Lolly her third card and picked one up for herself too, a five. “I found her again. In fact, she’s the one who helped me get Hugo.”

The big dog looked up from his nap at the sound of his name. Lolly smiled at him and reached out a bare foot to massage his back.

“Dad has a big dog at the ranch.”

“What kind?”

“Doberman—well, sort of. He always gets his dogs from shelters.”

“Do you miss him?”

“The dog?”

Laurel laughed. “Your dad. Hit me again.”

“Yes.” Lolly picked up her card. “Oh, damn, an eight. That makes me twenty-five. What do you have?”

“Seventeen again. Would you like me to call him? You could talk to him on the phone.”

“No. I want to talk in person, but I’m not ready yet. I need to think things out.” She gathered the loose cards and handed them to Laurel. “I mean, let’s face it—my mother is a pervert. She’s like those pathetic women you see on TV all the time who get sent to jail for having sex with kids.” Lolly shuddered. “It’s so disgusting. How am I supposed to live with something like that?”

Laurel took a deep breath and put the deck on the side table. Playtime was over. “The same way I do. You just keep going.”

Lolly’s head whipped around. “What do you mean? Did your mother…?”

Laurel shut her eyes for a moment, trying to summon the courage. Could she say it? She’d told Jase. Maybe it would be easier this time around. “Not my mother. My father.”

Lolly nearly came off the couch, bumping into the table in the process and scattering the cards across the floor.

“But your father was a pastor!”

“And Marguerite Shelton was a teacher.” Laurel shrugged. “Pastors can do all sorts of horrible things. So can teachers. They’re just like everyone else.”

“Laurel, what—what did your dad do?”

“He took advantage of some of the teenage boys who came to him for counseling. He—he molested them.”

“My dad?”

“No. It happened later, after your father left town.”

“But…your father was good. Dad called him his moral compass.”

Laurel started picking up the cards. “Daddy was a good person in many ways, but he was bad in other ways.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either.” She stacked the cards and put them on the table again.

“Did you love him?”

She looked Lolly in the face. “I idolized him. I wanted to be exactly like him.”