In which Colleen O’Rourke sees the man who broke her heart
for the first time in ten years.
“What are you doing?” said a low voice behind her.
Colleen’s heart froze, as though she’d swallowed a large ice
cube, and it was stuck right over her heart.
She turned around.
Yep. Lucas Campbell.
None other. Standing approximately two feet from her,
looking at her with those knowing, dark eyes.
Her skin suddenly felt tight. Mouth: dry. Brain: dead.
“What are you doing, Colleen?” Lucas asked again.
“Nothing,” she said as if it hadn’t been ten years since
she’d last seen him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m here to see my cousin.”
“So go see your cousin.”
“What are you doing to my cousin?”
“I’m not doing anything to your cousin.” So mature. And did
they have nothing else to say to each other? Ten years
apart? A river of tears (hers) and blood (his…well, she
wished it was his blood).
Lucas just looked at her, his pirate eyes unreadable.
Shit.
Of all the gin joints in all the world, she started
thinking, then squelched a blossom of slightly hysterical
laughter.
Lucas Damien Campbell was here. Here in her bar. You think
he could’ve called? Would that have been so much to ask,
huh? Hmm? Would it? Hey, Colleen, I’m coming to visit my
cousin, so be prepared, okay?
Colleen took a ragged breath, then coughed to cover.
Unfortunately, the cough became genuine, and tears came to
her eyes as she hacked and choked.
“You okay?” he asked in that ridiculously sexy, river-of-
dark-chocolate voice.
“Yes,” she wheezed, wiping her eyes. “Just great.”
“Good.”
He dragged his eyes off of hers and looked over at the
little knot of people at the end of the bar; Jess was
laughing, Bryce smiling and Paulie looked like she was
praying for a swift death.
“Are you trying to fix Bryce up with Paulina Petrosinsky?”
he asked. Damn. She’d forgotten how…observant he was.
“No,” she said, proud of getting that one word out.
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes. You are.” He raised an eyebrow, and her knees wobbled.
Sphincter! He was here. Here and beautiful, and damn it,
older. A decade older than the last time she’d seen him, and
yet it seemed like yesterday when he’d walked with her down
to the lake and broke her heart. Irreparably, the bastard.
Her breath wanted to rush out of her lungs, but she held it
in carefully, not wanting to induce another sexy choking
fit.
She’d forgotten how he looked, like a pirate, like
Heathcliff of the moors, dark and slightly dangerous…except
for his eyes, which could be so sad. And so happy, too.
His black hair was slightly shorter than it had been years
ago, but still gypsy beautiful, curling and black. He’d lost
his boyish skinniness, had broadened in the shoulders. He
hadn’t shaved today, and he seemed taller now than he had
back then.
Back when he loved her.
He seemed to read her mind, because something flickered
through his eyes.
In the year after Lucas left her, Bryce would come into the
bar and mention him occasionally. Went to see my cousin last
weekend, or Hey, Lucas is taking me and Dad to a White Sox
game! Finally, in a rare show of vulnerability, Colleen had
asked him not to talk about Lucas anymore. And in an even
rarer show of understanding, Bryce seemed to get it.
She knew he was married. No kids—surely Smiling Joe Campbell
would’ve mentioned that. She knew he worked for his father-
in-law. That was about it.
She had told him never to call her again, never to write,
and he took her at her word.
And now, her heart was jackhammering in her chest, and
though she hoped like hell her heart wasn’t written all over
her face, she was…terrified.
Lucas took a breath. “Colleen, I’m only back in town because
Joe asked me to come. I imagine you know he’s pretty sick.”
Her heart gave an unwilling tug. “I do,” she said, then,
fearing that sounded a little too matrimonial, she added,
“Know he’s sick. I do know he’s sick, I mean. He’s sick, I
know it, the dialysis, not easy, I guess, and I’m sorry.”
Her Tourette’s of Terror, Connor called it when she babbled.
Not that she was terrified often, but hell, she certainly
was now.
“Thank you.” He glanced again at Bryce—right, right, there
was something going on with Bryce tonight, whatever—then
looked at Colleen again. “It’s good to see you.”
“Can’t say the same,” she answered.
His mouth tugged on one side, causing a respondent tug in
her special places. Five more minutes, and she’d be back in
love.
“Bryce doesn’t need more complications in his life right
now.”
“And by complications, you mean what, exactly?”
“The Chicken King’s virgin daughter.”
“Oh, cool! That sounds like a Harlequin romance. I would
definitely read that.” The Chicken King’s virgin daughter
was nowhere to be seen at the moment. “And how do you know
Paulie’s a virgin, huh? Maybe she’s the town slut.”
Yeah. This wasn’t going well.
“I doubt she’s the town slut.”
She bristled. “What are you implying, Lucas?”
He gave her a strange look. “Nothing. Just that Paulie
doesn’t seem like the type.”
“Well, what if she is a slut, huh? Maybe Bryce likes sluts.”
Time to shut up now, Connor’s voice—her conscience—advised
sagely.
“I’m sure he does.”
“So what’s your problem, then?”
“I’m trying to have a rational conversation here.”
“Yeah, and I haven’t seen you in ten years, and you just
waltz into my bar and start insulting me and bossing me
around. I do know about your uncle and how sick he is,
because guess what? I visit him. I like him. I bring him
magazines and cookies, and he likes my dog.”
“You have a dog?”
“Yes, I do, so just…you just, um, put that in your pipe and
suck on it.” Smooth, O’Rourke. She tried to look haughty and
dignified. “Maybe I happen to think that Bryce needs someone
to help him through this difficult time.”
“Maybe he has other things to deal with.”
“And maybe I’m right and you’re wrong.”
He tilted his head to one side. “I’m getting the sense that
you’re still mad.”
“I’m not.”
“Leave my cousin alone, all right?”
“Make me.”
