The Perfect Match. Kimberly Cates
weren’t sleeping because of a woman, I thought maybe some female had stirred you up. Ain’t been using your dick for much besides holding up your underpants for the past two years.”
“For Cripe’s sake, Vinny. I hope you don’t talk like that around my kids!”
“Like what?” Vinny said, looking injured. “Working around here, my mouth’s cleaner than the insides of most people’s washing machines! So this woman—she didn’t flip up your light switch?” The ex-cop looked nosy as an old maid, eager to get some tasty tidbit of gossip.
Cash pretended ignorance. “My what?”
“Never mind.” Vinny heaved a sigh. “If I have to explain, it didn’t happen. No chance you might actually get laid.”
The image that sprang into his mind made a body part far lower than his head throb—Rowena Brown spread out across his bed while he set out to discover exactly what feminine curves lay underneath that loose yellow jacket she’d been wearing. Somehow the fantasy only made stark reality worse.
“Exactly when am I supposed to get laid?” Cash demanded. “In between Dora the Explorer and putting dinner on the table? Or maybe I could squeeze it in between Mac’s therapy and her time in the swimming pool? I could just lock the kids in the bathroom and go at it right here on the kitchen table. Hell, Vinny, even if I did feel like having sex, no woman in her right mind would have me. One look around here and any sane person would run the other way.”
“You can’t be sure about that.” Vinny crossed his arms over his barrel chest and shot Cash an appraising look. “There’s no denying you’re pit bull mean and you’ve got an ugly mug on you, but you never can tell what’ll get a woman’s motor running.”
Cash chuckled, trying not to wince as a pain jabbed behind his left eyeball. He resolutely ignored it. He didn’t have time for a migraine. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom.”
“So this woman. She tried to beat you up and then…what?”
“She tried to convince me to let Charlie have a dog.”
“A dog, eh?” Vinny didn’t look nearly as aghast as he should have. He picked up SpongeBob, rolling the pencil between his fingers until it settled between two like the cigars he’d had to give up after his heart attack. “A dog might not be a bad thing, kid. Little Miss Charlotte spends an awful lot of time squirreling herself away in hidey holes. Last Thursday it took me forty-five minutes to find her. She was asleep up in that tree in the backyard.”
“Asleep up there?” Cash exclaimed, visions of trips to the emergency room dancing in his head. “She could have fallen—broken her neck!”
“Not that girl. She lashed herself to a branch with a chunk of rope. Said she read sailors did that sometimes when a killer storm blew up at sea—well, they lashed themselves to a mast instead of a branch, but you get the drift.”
He did. Far too well. And the image of his little girl up in her unfinished tree house alone hurt him.
“She’s too damned quiet for such a little thing, Cash,” Vinny said.
“Her mother abandoned her. Her sister’s in a wheelchair. What do you think she should be doing, Vinny?” Cash fired back. “Turning cartwheels?”
The ice pick jabbed behind his eye again. He went to the kitchen cupboard and reached for the bottle of pills on the top shelf. He shook one into his palm and slammed it back with a gulp of coffee. He knew Vinny had seen the prescription bottle. The older man’s voice softened.
“I’m just saying it might not be such a crazy idea-getting a dog for around here,” Vinny said. “If it would make Charlie happy.”
“The dog Charlie wants is the size of the girls’ playhouse and has the manners of a boatload of Vikings bent on pillage. Exactly where would you suggest we put the dog once I get Mac up on crutches? One fall could tear out the screws that are holding her femur together. And then—”
“Alright! Alright! I get the picture.” Vinny held his hands palms up in surrender. “But wouldn’t there be plenty of time to worry about that if…” He stopped dead midsentence and looked away.
“If what?” Cash challenged.
Vinny met Cash’s gaze with reluctance and very real love. “MacKenzie isn’t up on crutches yet.”
“And maybe she never will be? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Fury blazed in Cash, turning the ice pick to fire.
“Cash, I—”
“If that’s how you feel, maybe you shouldn’t be watching the girls. I can’t afford any negativity around here that Mac might pick up on.”
Hell, Cash thought, he sounded like a first-class jerk. Vinny Scoglomiglio had saved his life in the chaotic weeks after Lisa had bailed on him and the girls. His friend had stepped into the role of nanny like a Mary Poppins in combat boots, taking on the mysterious woman-jobs of hair braiding and Barbie playing and birthday cake baking with Cash’s daughters.
Okay, so the cakes were heavy as rocks, but they were homemade. Cash had almost humiliated himself by breaking down when the kids had surprised him on his birthday with his favorite German chocolate cake. Vinny and the girls had made it from scratch, using the recipe Lisa had left behind.
“I’m sorry. I’m an ungrateful bastard, and I wouldn’t blame you if you never set foot back in this kitchen,” Cash said, voice low. “But I hope you will.”
“And miss the sour look on your face when you take that first drink of my coffee in the morning? No way. Can’t shake me off that easily, boy. There’s a new tuna casserole recipe I clipped out of the Sunday paper I’m dying to try.”
Cash felt the throbbing in his head start to ease. “Glutton for punishment, huh?”
“Stayed married for twenty-six years. Be married still if Dolores hadn’t divorced me. If that’s not proof, what is?”
Cash laughed. “I always wanted to meet Dolores so I could thank her for that. If she hadn’t served you with the papers, you’d never have quit the Chicago force, never have left the city and come here.”
“Fate.” Vinny said succinctly. “You know, I never was much use to my own kids. Working long hours, drinking away whatever was left, trying to drown out the pictures that inner-city hell painted in my head. I’m damned grateful to have a second chance, you know? To be something better to your kids than I was to my own.”
“I was lucky as hell when I drew you as partner.”
“Got stuck with the burned-out alcoholic, you mean.”
“You were off the bottle by then.” Cash remembered Lisa’s reaction to the news when she heard it from one of the other deputies wives—that Cash had drawn the short straw, gotten the screw-up from the big city. They’d fought about it for hours. Truth was, Cash had volunteered to take Vinny on. Something in Vinny’s face had made Cash trust the older man, first with his own life and later with the lives of his daughters.
“Bookmakers wouldn’t have given me very good odds when it came to staying clean. Smart money would’ve been on the chance I’d get you killed.”
“I placed the winning bet. Maybe I used all my luck up on that. What if there’s none left for Mac?” The doubt slipped out. He met Vinny’s eyes.
“Luck will have nothing to do with whether that little girl of yours walks or not. MacKenzie is your daughter, Cash. Stubborn as hell. She’ll come through fine either way, no matter what happens. You’ll see.”
“Mac has to want to walk. But Janice says I can’t—can’t make her…”
Vinny’s smile braced him. “Then Janice doesn’t know you as well as I do, does she?”
Cash wished to hell he could be sure Vinny was right.