Carla Neggers - White Hot

Mollie didn’t know how they did it. Busy musicians all, her parents, her sister, and Leonardo all managed to arrive at the West Palm Beach Airport within an hour of each other. They brought their instruments, and tons of unnecessary clothes because they hadn’t taken the time to think about what they really needed, and they wanted to hear everything, the whole story, all over again, from start to finish. It was a transparent show of support that Mollie appreciated.

They were out back, now, with Griffen Welles and Chet and a few other of her clients, all making sure she was okay, that she didn’t feel alone and isolated in her new home. She’d wandered out front to get her bearings.

A battered brown truck rattled to a stop in front of Leonardo’s driveway. Her heart skipped a beat when Jeremiah climbed out and sauntered around front, then leaned against the hood. “Going to let me in?”

“We had the security codes changed, just in case.”

“Ah. Is this a hint?”

He knew it wasn’t. His tone, his bearing, even his straight line of a mouth told her he knew exactly how hard she’d fallen for him this time. She opened the gates, and he left his truck where it was, just walked on in and slid his arms around her, kissed her.

Stopped cold.

“What the hell is that?”

Mollie listened a moment. “ ‘The Volga Boatmen,’ I think.”

“A recording?”

“Leonardo Pascarelli, Bart and Amy Lavender, Cecily Lavender, and Chet Farnsworth. I think Griffen might be singing, too.”

He frowned. “Your family’s here?”

“Uh-huh. They called en route. That’s an improvement, you know. Usually they don’t call at all.”

“Flakes,” he said.

She laughed. “They’ll never change, you know. They are what they are.”

His arms tightened around her. “We’re fortunate, Mollie. Very fortunate. You have your crazy family, and I have my father. Croc and Deegan…I don’t know. I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up like that.”

“How is Croc?”

“Last I saw, he was eating a plate of french fries with way too much ketchup out at his parents’ pool. He’ll be okay. He’s got a lot to work out.”

“And you’ll be there helping him.”

“He lied to me, and he’s no prize. Harvard, a damned trust fund baby. But yeah, I’ll be there.” He stared out toward the backyard, the singing growing louder and more boisterous with every measure. “You know, I have a feeling that lot out there won’t care if we keep a lizard on the kitchen table.”

“We, huh?”

He grinned at her. “You want your own lizard? I’m of the what’s-mine-is-yours school. If I get Leonardo Pascarelli and your daffy family, you get my lizard.”

Her stomach fluttered, her head spun. It was the heat, the trauma of the past days, the proximity of this man she’d loved too hard, too long. Yet she didn’t give away her turmoil of feelings. “What about your family?”

“My mother died when I was twelve. My father never remarried and never will. I used to see that as depressing, as an unwillingness to move on with his life, but now I don’t. He’s happy. He’s grateful for the years they had.”

“But his experience made you afraid to commit yourself to anyone.”

“But I did anyway,” he said, his mouth meeting hers briefly, a promise. “I love you, Mollie. I’ve loved you for a long, long time. I was just too stupid to see it until now. I’m like my father, Mollie. There’s only one woman for me. When you know that, in your gut, and yet when you’ve seen life’s unfairness-” He paused, and she could see him searching for the right words. “Ten years ago I just thought I was a romantic fool.”

“You still are, Tabak, and you’re the one for me.” She kissed him softly. “You always have been.”

“Even when you were telling me to rot in hell?”

“Even then.”

He smiled. “Shall we go tell your family?”

“They won’t be surprised.”

“They see it coming, do they?”

“No. They’re just never surprised. They’ll just say, ‘Oh, wonderful, then come, sit, and sing along with us.’ ”

“I can’t sing.”

“You can’t?” She grinned, tucked her hand into his. “Now that will surprise them.”