Divorced, Desperate, and Delicious

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

  

“No!” Lacy cried and leaned back against the seat.

“Who is it?” Chase asked, unable to hide his annoyance. They had condoms, damn it! Twenty-four of them, and he had already formed at least seventeen fantasies on how he hoped to use them. And he hadn’t stopped at seventeen for lack of ideas; he figured he should leave a few scenarios open for Lacy.

“Let’s leave,” she snapped.

Chase threw the car in reverse, but he hadn’t hit the gas when Lacy’s front door jerked open and he heard a voice call out.

“Well?” he asked, and glanced at Lacy, praying she’d tell him to floor it and head straight to an available hotel.

“How do you feel about suicide?” Lacy mumbled.

Chase glanced to the house, and an older woman with dark hair, wearing a purple suit that matched the Cadillac, came strolling toward the car. Running his fingers over his fake moustache, he frowned.

“Your mother?” he asked, but already knew the answer. The resemblance between the two was strong.

“Prepare yourself,” Lacy said. “This isn’t going to be pretty.”

The look on Lacy’s face held more fear than it had when she’d gone to answer the door to Zeke. “How bad can it be?” He glanced back up to see the purple-suited woman hotfooting it across the yard toward the car.

“Have you ever had your fingers slammed in a car door?”

“Ouch!” he said and wiggled his hands.

“When this is over, that will sound like a cake-walk.” She got out of the car. “Mom, what are you doing here?”

Chase stayed in his seat and watched Lacy open the back car door and grab the two bags of groceries she’d bought. Lacy’s mother stood five feet from the car, but Chase could feel her brown eyes on him, sizing him up and probably finding him unsuitable. Wasn’t that what mothers did—found all their daughters’ boyfriends unsuitable? Cutting the engine, he stretched his fingers over the steering wheel, not really eager to have them slammed in the car door.

Shoulders squared, he got out and realized Lacy might accidently introduce him by his real name.

“Hello,” he said before Lacy had a chance. “My name is . . . Jason Dodd.” His ex-partner and best friend’s name slipped out easily enough. “You must be Lacy’s mother.” He held out his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jason,” she said, and a smile flickered across her face as she took Chase’s hand. “It’s absolutely wonderful, in fact. My name is Karina Callahan, since my daughter doesn’t seem inclined to introduce us.”

Chase’s apprehension faded. The woman didn’t seem nearly as bad as he’d anticipated, or maybe they just hadn’t gotten to the slamming-door stage. He glanced at Lacy, who had her arms filled with groceries.

“You’ve never been shy, Mama.” Lacy juggled the bags and propped one on her hip as she adjusted her hold. “I figured you’d cover it.” One bag started to slip.

“Oh.” Chase pulled away from Lacy’s mother and reached for the bag. Before he got to it, the sack tumbled and spilled onto the grass.

Chase knelt down. Lacy, still with one paper bag in her arms, dropped to her knees, and so did Mrs. Callahan. He reached for the dozen eggs, which no doubt were shattered, and that’s when Chase spotted the two bright red boxes of rubbers that had fallen right beside the woman’s purple pumps. Damn. The door-slamming stage had arrived.