Page 28 of Hell of a Mess

Twenty-Four

Lace

“My house isn’t as big as this one, but it’s a nice size. Plenty room for you to have your own space. The entire third floor can be yours,” Mal said as he sat across from me on the patio, looking more relaxed than I felt.

I didn’t want to leave here—or rather Luther.

Dropping my gaze, I studied my cast as I fidgeted with my nails nervously.

How did I tell Mal no? He wanted to get to know me.

He wanted me in his home. I’d never had a father who wanted me.

The one I’d had for twenty-nine years hated me and used me.

This was something I’d once dreamed of as a child.

Being wanted. But I wasn’t a child anymore.

I hadn’t been for a very long time. My childhood had ended the day my mother drowned.

“I’m not trying to pressure you,” he said when I remained silent. “If you want to take more time before making that decision, I understand. Luther isn’t the easiest person to be around for long periods of time.”

My eyes shot back up to look at him, and the need to defend Luther had me opening my mouth to do so when the door to the house opened.

Luther came sauntering out with an unlit cigarette in his mouth and a glass of whiskey in his hand and Maui hot on his heels.

He was in jeans that hung on his hips, a black T-shirt that fit tight across his shoulders, and he was barefoot.

His gaze went to Mal, and he smirked before looking over at me.

“The conversation looked a little slow out here. Thought I’d come liven things up,” he drawled in that deep voice of his that made my entire body buzz.

“It wasn’t, and your assistance isn’t required,” Mal replied in a tone that made it obvious he was annoyed.

I didn’t want him to send Luther away. But what did I say to stop it?

“Eh,” Luther said with a shrug and continued over to the empty seat to my left. “I’m always required.”

Mal’s narrowed gaze watched him as Luther sat down.

Leaning back, Luther looked at me. “Has he convinced you to move to his place yet?”

I watched as he pulled a lighter from his pocket and held the flame up to the tip of the cigarette in his mouth.

“Um,” I replied, then glanced over at Mal, who was still glaring at Luther. “I, uh…I’m not sure I’m ready to do that.”

Luther inhaled, then took the cigarette from his mouth and turned his attention to Mal. “Told you she wasn’t ready. Happy now?”

“This isn’t your business, Luther.” His response was heated.

Luther didn’t seem at all fazed by it though. He appeared more amused than anything. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I found her. Brought her here and pissed off Linc. Got her help. I think that makes it my business.”

“Helping her doesn’t make her yours to control,” Mal shot back at him.

Luther cut his gaze at me. “Am I controlling you, sugar?”

I shook my head. “No. Not at all.”

Luther’s pleased smile only made my flutters worse. “See,” he said, turning back to Mal. “She’s happy here for now. Let the girl breathe.”

“She’s my daughter!” Mal raised his voice this time, making me jump.

“Go inside, Lace.” Luther’s body still appeared to be relaxed, but the tone of his voice said otherwise.

I stood up, not sure if I should leave. I’d caused this.

Maui came running back onto the patio from wherever he’d been exploring in the yard and stared up at me with bright eyes.

“Jayda is in the kitchen,” Luther told me. “I smelled baked goods.”

I nodded, understanding the suggestion that I go to the kitchen with Jayda.

Attempting to give Mal a smile I didn’t feel, I didn’t wait for him to stop me and make this even more awkward than it was.

“You don’t call that controlling?” Mal snarled at Luther.

“No. I call it getting her away from your angry ass. You scared her.”

He hadn’t really. Just startled me.

I reached the door with Maui right beside me and went to open it when I heard Mal hiss something at Luther, but it was too low for me to make out. I glanced back to check on him, and Luther was grinning as he took another pull from the cigarette. He was fine. I should go.

Once both Maui and I were inside with the door closed behind us, I made my way to the kitchen. I wasn’t hungry, although Luther was right; Jayda was baking something, and it smelled wonderful. Maui ran ahead of me and barked happily once he reached the kitchen door, then disappeared inside.

I heard Stevie’s laughter and paused, wondering if I should interrupt them.

The desire to please Luther had me moving again.

I really should make my own decisions. Not worry about what he wanted me to do, but I wanted to do what he said.

It was most likely damage from the life I’d lived, and I didn’t care about fixing it.

By the time I excused myself from the kitchen, Stevie had eaten two oatmeal cookies and shown me all the different tricks she had been teaching Maui.

She was a bundle of vibrant energy that made the room light up when she was in it.

While listening to her talk, I’d found myself thinking about how I’d never been that happy.

Laughing and playing with my dog in the kitchen was nothing I’d ever experienced.

The time I had spent in the kitchen was to help the staff prepare meals.

Alpheus often sent me there when they were short-handed.

The head chef, Manella, normally placed me with Donnette, the pastry chef, and she was the one who taught me how to decorate with icing.

Manella required perfection and working in the kitchen had been stressful work.

Not somewhere with puppies and laughter.

I turned the corner that led to the hallway where my bedroom was located, and the sound of a door opening behind me had me glancing back. Luther walked out of the room, holding something to his mouth. A damp cloth? What was wrong?

His gaze swung over to meet mine, and the corner of his mouth I could see slightly quirked.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him, fully facing him now.

He dropped his hand and revealed a swollen, cut lip. “Nothing I’ve not had before,” he replied. “Did you eat whatever it was Jayda was baking?”

I shook my head, studying his injury. “Did someone hit you?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “But I dodged it enough that it didn’t bust it. This’ll heal easy.”

“Who?”

I’d left him on the porch with Mal a little over an hour ago.

“Mal,” he replied.

“Why?”

He lifted his hand to put the cloth back over the swelling. “I asked for it.”

He’d asked to be hit?

“You did?” I asked incredulously.

He gave me a smug look. “Sometimes, I don’t know when to stop. Or, hell, I know, but I just can’t help myself.”

“What…” I shook my head. “What did you do to him?”

Luther licked his lips. “Told him not to worry. That you hadn’t started calling me Daddy.” He winked. “Then I added yet. Probably shouldn’t have. But, damn, it was funny.”

I stared at him. What had he meant by that? I didn’t want him to be my father. Not at all. I wanted him though.

“Come with me. I want to watch you eat something,” he told me with a nod of his head.

“I’m not hungry,” I said, but I did want to go with him. It seemed I always wanted to be with him.

“Lace,” he said in a serious tone, “you need to eat. Please.”

Well, when he said it like that and added please eating didn’t sound so bad. My feet began moving toward him, not caring that my head was telling me to go to my room, that I didn’t need food.

“Good girl,” he praised, and all the things inside my chest felt as if they’d been lit up.

My lips curled into a smile I couldn’t help as joy radiated through me. It seemed that Luther’s praise was my dopamine trigger.