Lacy (The Doves of Primrose)

  The Doves of Primrose

  Book 1

  Lacy

  By

  Krista Kedrick

  The Doves of Primrose, Book 1: Lacy

  Copyright © 2013, Cowboy Capital Productions; Krista Kedrick, all rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means. Whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors imagination or used fictitiously.

  Cover: © Krista Kedrick, 2013

  Pictures: fotolia

  For my mom, who has always been my greatest supporter and advocate. And the woman who told me every day that I could do anything. I sure wish she would’ve clarified that didn’t mean everything. I love you.

  And for my dad, who answered my every question-- and there were many – with patience and intelligence. He was my coach, my ally and friend. I miss you.

  Other Books by Krista Kedrick

  Under a Prairie Moon

  Family Ties

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  About the Author

  Book Club Questions

  The Dove House sample

  Chapter 1

  Lacy was sick to her stomach. Her hands shook as she fluffed the throw pillow she had already washed once and vacuumed twice, then placed it against the antique sofa she was certain would fall apart any moment. She prayed those movie people weren’t oversized, other than their egos, or they would likely sue her after the thing collapsed. What had she gotten herself into?

  She raked a hand through her big hair, tangling her fingers in the rat’s nest. She had been so nervous this morning that the curls were bigger than usual. She looked like a poodle on a caffeine high. Why couldn’t she have inherited her father’s hair instead of her mother’s curls? Not that she remembered what his looked like; he had died when she was two and from then on it was a revolving door of “uncles” her mother brought home.

  But that was the family legacy.

  She ran a finger over the buffet, inspecting it for dust, straightened the lace runner that had been hand crocheted by Grandma Bonnie, God rest her soul, and squinted at the ornate oval mirror, searching for streaks.

  “The place is perfect, Lacy,” Scarlett said as she breezed into the room carrying a heavy vase of fresh wildflowers from the meadow. She placed it next to the stack of Saturday Evening Posts Lacy kept around to add to the ambiance of the infamous Dove House, once a brothel and now a bed and breakfast. She only wished its reputation would pay off in visitors or donations. And the historical society was a joke. They wouldn’t lift a finger or open a pocketbook to help her with this old place unless she could match the funds.

  Match the funds, her ass!

  Her blood pressure notched into the danger zone just thinking of how much repairs were going to be to get this place back in order after her mother’s incapable management. She could hardly afford a stick of gum, let alone a new roof to a house with half a dozen turrets and just as many leaky chimneys.

  “Here, honey. Put some of this on.” Emmylou broke Lacy’s brooding as her slender hands reached for Lacy’s face. Lacy had already turned to her friend before she realized Emmylou was about to put pink lipstick on her. She twisted and jerked her face free.

  “God, no! Thank you, darlin’, but I don’t need that.” She waved off her gorgeous and protesting friend. It just wasn’t right that someone was allowed to look like Emmylou.

  Lacy didn’t know why her two friends put up with her. She was a good foot shorter than either of them, surly and as pessimistic as a pilot wearing a parachute. Of course, she had every reason to be. Anyone whose husband abandoned her was bound to be a little grouchy about it.

  “But he’ll be here any minute!” Emmylou practically squealed with teenage zeal, curling her hand around the lipstick tube and staring into space.

  “Yeah. Great.” Lacy couldn’t care less that Kyle McClintock was coming to her home. To stay! For three weeks! She wasn’t sure she could last three minutes with the man without decking him. “Emmy, get a hold of yourself. It’s not like he’s the president or something.”

  “No. He’s more famous than the president.” A dreamy look swept over her friend’s face and Lacy had to resist shaking her.

  “Maybe Lacy doesn’t want him here, Em. Did you think about that?” Scarlett said as she stretched on the couch as gracefully as a giant cat.

  “Why?” Emmylou patted her hair and checked her in the mirror. “Oh.” She spun around to address the room. “That was years ago. And seriously, did you see his last movie? Oh my God!” She grunted it like a twitterpated groupie and dropped to the sofa next to Scarlett. Good thing neither of them weighed more than a sack of potatoes. “He has to work out for hours every day to look like that. And his hair!” Emmylou clutched Scarlett’s leg as she spoke.

  “I’m sure it’s the same hair he had in high school.” Lacy took stock of the room, making sure everything was in order. When someone is paying two hundred thousand dollars for room and board with one percent movie royalties she was going to make sure the place was perfect.

  “Oh, honey. You’ve got to get out more. Everything Kyle’s got is better than in high school. Wait and see.” Emmylou plucked a lock of hair off her shoulder and twisted it between her fingers, inspecting the ends for splits.

  “Em, I don’t care if he looks like Adonis or The Rock as long as his check clears and they don’t break anything while they’re here making their stupid movie. That’s what gets my heart to fluttering.”

  Lacy cringed when she saw her friends exchange a look. The look that said, “Poor Lacy. The queen of denial.” If only they knew the whole truth about Kyle McClintock and that summer she had the misfortune of being so damn gullible. She shook that train of thought off and sighed, trying to focus on the future, on what she was going to do with all that money.

  She only wished she didn’t have to put up with Kyle the asshole. What he did to her was bad enough, but she now had pretend to be nice every Sunday when his parents came to dinner at the B&B and gushed on and on about how well Kyle was doing and how he wants to come and visit but he simply didn’t have the time. What with jetting from set to set and movie premiere to movie premiere, he was plain tuckered out.

  Blah, blah, blah.

  More like hopping from actress to actress and beach to beach. Lacy wasn’t blind, she read the magazine headlines while in line at the super market, or possibly in her super-secret subscription to People magazine that she kept hidden under her bed. And maybe, just maybe, she stumbled across his name on the internet-not after doing a search on him, of course.

  “Girls, don’t be getting any ideas in those pretty little heads of yours. And don’t think for one moment either of you will be falling for the charms of Kyle McClintock. I won’t allow you to be swept up in movie star mania.”

  There was another of those raised eyebrow looks between Emmylou and Scarlett, but Lacy bit her tongue. They had been so much help getting this place ready she didn’t have the heart to scold them.

  “We weren’t worried about us, Lace.” Emmylou turned sheepish eyes on Lacy.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Lacy folded her arms over her chest and shifted her weight to one leg. “I’m a married woman.” Her eye contact faltered and she chewed her lip. “Sort of. And Kyle’s a jerk. Besides I have nothing to offer someone like that.”

  Scarlett was on her feet with her hands on Lacy’s shoulders before Lacy could blink. “When are you gonna stop shortchanging yourself? Lacy, you are an amazing woman with a heart as big as the ocean and a spirit that brings light to the darkest corners. I wish you would stop taking shots at yourself. Brice left because he was a good-for-nothing butthole who didn’t know what a treasure he had.”

  Even when she was riled Scarlett wouldn’t cuss. That made Lacy smile. “Oh, I know what Brice was and I was dumb enough to marry him anyway.” She placed her hands over Scarlett’s and looked into her sky blue eyes. “And I wasn’t putting myself down. I was talking about Kyle being a shallow, heartless bastard. I can’t compete with a personality like that.”

  “Oh.” Scarlett slid her hands off and backed away, then started to laugh. “Well, I meant what I said anyway.”

  “I know, honey. And I love you for it.” Lacy blew her a kiss, which Scarlett answered by pretending to swoon with the back of her hand pressed to her forehead, southern belle-style.

  The sound of tires crunching on gravel traveled through the open window pulling everyone out of their sisterly moment. Lacy felt her heart launch
into her throat and her hands go numb. For all her tough talk, she wasn’t exactly comfortable having Kyle under her roof. She was strong, God knew that, but she had a feeling she was about to find out how strong.

  She straightened her short skirt, pulled at her black bustier-style shirt and jammed the sleeves of her jacket up. She couldn’t help herself. She knew she shouldn’t care what she looked like, but on the other hand, this was their first meeting in eight years and she wanted to knock his socks off. Even if it was just a little. She let Scarlett and Emmylou go in before her on the pretense of straightening up, then rushed to the mirror.

  Her hair wasn’t as bad as she had thought. It looked a little too punk rocker for the prairies of Nebraska, but it suited Lacy just fine. Her magenta tights were still in place and the worn cowboy boots were just the right touch.

  She made her way to the ornate check-in counter, pushing between her drooling, fidgeting, giddy friends, and waited for the door to open. The minutes ticked by while the trio stood impatiently listening to the chatter of people and clatter of luggage being unloaded. Lacy dropped her elbows down and leaned against the guest book with her chin in her hand. Car doors slammed and Lacy had the urge to go to the front door and peek out the antique lace curtains to see what in the world was going on, but she restrained herself.

  “What is taking them so long?”

  “Emmylou, what are you so excited about? It’s just Kyle, plain old Kyle from high school. The guy who used to eat the worms when we fished at the pond just to gross us out.” Lacy heard Scarlett whimper when she mentioned that particularly disgusting memory.

  “I know.”

  Something in the way Emmylou said it made Lacy suspicious. Just then the oak and glass door swung open and the three women sucked in their breath staring at the entrance.

  The first person through the door was a slender woman in a white sheath dress, perfectly styled hair, big sunglasses and a flat computer thingy perched on her arm. She slid her finger across the smooth surface and the screen lit up, her beige heels clicking as she walked to the desk.

  Lacy watched the perfectly tanned, toned and composed woman approach her like Lacy was a dog she was coming in to pick up at the groomers. This must be the leading actress, she thought. Lacy cocked her jaw, waiting for the list of demands she was certain the woman would spew out. The woman looked once more at the screen before removing her dark sunglasses revealing oval shaped sea-green eyes. The entire picture she presented was beautiful. Poised frame, smooth, blonde hair neatly curled and pink lips. It was no wonder she was in pictures.

  “Which one of you is Lacy Weston?” Perfect Lips looked at the group and all Lacy could think was The Stepford Wives. This woman could have been the lead in that movie and not had to act one scene.

  “Campbell,” Lacy corrected with a little hesitation. “It’s Lacy Campbell, and that’s me.” She extended her hand in greeting, but the woman just pursed her lips and looked at it. She raised her hand, one finger pointed up. Lacy pulled back and darted a look to her friends. The woman then tapped on the screen for a couple of seconds. When she looked back up, she tilted her head to the side and flashed a tight smile.

  “I must have heard Mr. McClintock wrong. Sorry about that.”

  Lacy blinked twice and knew her friends were doing the same thing. “It’s fine. He probably didn’t know my married name,” Lacy finally answered.

  “Oh, no. Mr. McClintock wouldn’t have made a mistake, I must have just misunderstood him.”

  Lacy, Scarlett and Emmylou exchanged identical looks of befuddled pity for the poor girl.

  “We’re going to need some help with the luggage.”

  Silence followed. Lacy finally realized what the other woman, who hadn’t even introduced herself, was hinting at. She straightened from her bent position, looking to her friends for help. “Oh. Well, we don’t have a bellman or anything. Normally people just carry their own bags, but….”

  Lacy moved around the counter, nudging Scarlett who was closest and nodding at Emmylou who scowled at her.

  “Ah, yes. This is one of those quaint B and B’s.” Perfect Lips shrugged and scanned the entryway with annoyance when she spoke. Lacy already regretted accepting the offer to rent her house to these people.

  “Two hundred thousand dollars, two hundred thousand dollars,” Lacy mumbled to herself.

  “What did you say?”

  Lacy gave her biggest smile and folded her hands in front of her, pretending to be the picture perfect hostess. “Oh, nothing. Must’ve been the wind. This old place is pretty drafty.” She swore the woman shuddered and Lacy had to stuff her giggle back inside. She was about to ask the woman to sign in and show her to the rooms but heavy footsteps thudded on the wooden porch floor, interrupting her thoughts and sending a jolt down her spine. His voice entered the room before he did. She was instantly pissed when her heart somersaulted in her chest and her mind conjured the vision of his handsome face in her head making her knees waver. Damn it!

  “See, Marcus, I told you this place was perfect.”

  The footsteps grew closer. Lacy held her breath, staring at the half-open door.

  “Just wait til you see the inside. You’ll be totally impressed.”

  What the hell was he talking about? How would he even remember what the place looked like? The only room he had ever been in was her bedroom. She closed her eyes, trying to rip out the memory of him climbing the tree outside her bedroom window so they could-

  “There she is!” he proclaimed like he was discovering the sunken Titanic as he entered the room. He may as well have hollered Eureka! She slid her gaze over his tanned muscled body with a flutter in her chest. He pulled his sunglasses off and she drooped forward.

  That sucks. Lacy’s spirit evaporated and she checked the impulse to close her eyes and sink into a trough of self-pity. He was more handsome than ever. His jet-black hair was styled into tousled spikes, while his face appeared smoothly shaven the shadow across his jaw testified to his level of testosterone, and those eyes. Dear God, those eyes. Sky blue and sharp. They never missed anything. In fact, this very moment she was sure he could see through the mask of nonchalance she was working to preserve.

  He strolled across the wood floor and Lacy noticed he was wearing cowboy boots. Shiny, embroidered and black. They looked hot out of the box and designer brand. That was all it took for her to remember that he was an actor now, not the cowboy she knew, and he was a heartbreaker. He was Kyle McClintock. And she hated Kyle McClintock.

  He got closer and his smile grew wider, the dimple in his right cheek making an appearance. That dirty little bugger. The dimple was the thing she loved the most; it made him look like a mischievous little boy.

  “Lacy Weston.” He sighed and looked her over as though she were a glorious landscape, a grin lifting his lips. She would never have guessed it would take him that long to survey her five-foot-four frame. “Look at you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders continuing his inspection and her stomach quivered.

  “I already did this morning.” What was the matter with him? Had the sunshine bleached his brains? He had never been this dramatic before. This was not the same Kyle. More handsome, more built. If he wasn’t so obnoxious she would appreciate the broader shoulders, thicker neck and athletic form tucked into a fitted white t-shirt.

  He laughed immediately and patted her shoulder. “Glad to see you still have that same Lacy sense of humor.”

  Lacy sense of humor? As opposed to a Kyle sense of humor? It was a good thing he looked away because her face scrunched into a cynical scowl. Maybe he had been drinking on the way here.

  “Scarlett Pearson.” He stepped closer, making some whooshing noise of appreciation. He placed a hand casually on her elbow. Lacy wanted to puke. His tone was absolutely condescending. “You look more beautiful than I remember.”

  He used all his teeth when he smiled this time and Lacy thought she might have to call in the fire department to put out the flame in shy Scarlett’s cheeks.

  “Thank you, um….” Scarlett stammered as she nervously brushed her dark, shiny hair from her crinkled forehead.