Change of Heart Read online

  She padded barefoot across the living room and as soon as she entered the kitchen, she saw Lanny Frazier. He was leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand, and looking her up and down. He was a large, handsome man, his eyes half-closed, inviting.

  Chelsea gave the look back at him. “I guess I should have brushed my hair.”

  “Not on my account, Tequila Lady,” he said, his voice slow and seductive as he let her know he remembered her from the bar.

  Pilar, a plate in each hand, stepped between them, her eyes on Lanny’s. “She’s all used up. Last night she and Eli sounded like a herd of cattle.”

  “Yeah?” Lanny said.

  Chelsea wasn’t fooled by his glances. She knew when a man was interested in her and this one wasn’t. Not really. She took a piece of bacon off one of the plates Pilar was holding. “Yes, I’m taken, but I’ll put you on my list.” She paused. “At about a hundred and twenty.”

  There was a little guffaw of laughter from her left and she saw a big kid—no, a huge, enormous boy—sitting at the breakfast table, his head down, a sketchpad in his hands. He looked like a bigger, younger version of Lanny.

  Chelsea went to sit by him at the table. “Drawing anything interesting?”

  He turned the pad around to show a sketch of Chelsea, her long legs exposed, yet looking demurely innocent. Lanny was looking at her in a lecherous way.

  She laughed. “Perfect. Have you met Eli?”

  “At the gym,” the boy said.

  “Oh? Did you bench-press Jeff?”

  He looked at her, his eyes full of laughter.

  Lanny sat down across from Chelsea. “This is my baby brother, Shamus. He leaves for college in just a few weeks. We’re going to miss his constant chattering. Can’t get the kid to shut up.”

  “I think his drawing says everything about you.”

  Pilar put the plates in front of the two males and gave Chelsea a look to stop flirting. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a little T-shirt, and looked quite as good as Chelsea did. “You want some pancakes?”

  “Sure,” Chelsea said. “Just one. No, make that three. Eli wants me to get fat.”

  “You could use a few pounds,” Lanny said. “So where is he hiding?”

  “He’s sleeping,” Chelsea said.

  “Ha!” Pilar said. “He never sleeps. I gave him a list of people he has to call and he’d better do it! They want him back at work. And he often calls his mom.” As she handed Chelsea a plate of pancakes, she stared at her.

  “Don’t look at me,” Chelsea said. “I’m not keeping him here. I’m just visiting. Eli can go back to saving the world anytime he wants to.”

  Pilar gave a curt nod, but she said nothing as she went back to the kitchen.

  In the ensuing silence, Chelsea began to feel a bit awkward. She knew Pilar and Eli were friends and that meant they looked out for each other. But that didn’t include dumping guilt on Chelsea because she wasn’t giving up her life to chain herself to a kitchen. She wasn’t going to spend her days waiting for hubby to come home. He got all the fun; she got the drudgery.

  She looked at Lanny sitting across from her. “Doesn’t Grace Ridgeway work for your family’s company?”

  “She does. But if you’re hoping to become BFFs with her, it won’t happen.”

  “Why not?” Chelsea asked as she bit into the pancakes.

  “She stays to herself. My mom keeps trying to fix her up on dates but Grace won’t go. But then, after what happened with her husband, it’s understandable.”

  “Suicide, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s what Colin was told. He’s—”

  “The sheriff. I met him. Gorgeous man.”

  “Better not let his wife, Gemma, hear you say that. She’s . . .” Lanny made a few punches like a boxer. “Shamus and she work out together.”

  Chelsea looked at the boy, at the sheer size of him. “Olympic shot-putter, is she?”

  Shamus, bent over his drawing pad, smiled.

  Pilar, full plate in hand, sat down between Chelsea and Lanny. “Gemma is built so well I’m thinking of joining Mike’s Gym and putting on the gloves.”

  Lanny looked at her. “But if you’re living in DC . . .” He trailed off as the realization of what she might be saying hit him. He looked down at his pancakes, smiling.

  Chelsea turned to Shamus. “Do you know Abby?”

  He nodded, then handed her his big sketchpad.

  The drawing was of two young people, a boy and a girl. She was very pretty, with long dark hair, while he was cute in a nerdy sort of way. His ears stuck out rather prominently.

  At first Chelsea thought it was a picture of her and Eli as they’d been as kids, but there were too many differences for it to be them. She looked at Shamus. “Is this Grace’s daughter, Abby?”

  He nodded.

  “Who’s the boy?”

  “Scully,” Shamus said.

  “And he is . . . ?”

  Lanny spoke up. “The only person my little brother actually talks to is Gemma, my sister-in-law, so I’ll have to translate. Scully is Grace’s kid’s best friend. I’ve seen them together at the shop several times.” He took the pad, looked at the drawing, then handed it to Pilar. “Nobody gets why she hangs out with him. That girl is a beauty.”

  “She’s fifteen!” Pilar said.

  “Yeah, I know,” Lanny said. “But give her three more years and she’ll be ready to walk down a runway.” He looked at Chelsea.

  “Easier said than done. How tall is she?”

  “About five-eight, I guess.”

  “Too short,” Chelsea said. “What about the kid with her?”

  “He’s inches shorter than she is, if that’s what you mean,” Lanny said. “Poor kid doesn’t have a chance.”

  Chelsea picked up the pad.

  “They remind you of Eli and you?” Pilar asked.

  “They do.” Chelsea looked at Shamus. “You wouldn’t happen to know who she’s going to the prom with, would you?”

  “Baze,” Shamus said and took his pad back. He quickly drew something, then turned the pad around. A very good-looking young man in a football jersey was smiling.

  “Ah, right, I got it. Scully with the ears is the best friend, but she dates the football player.” She was looking at Shamus and waiting for his nod, but the boy just frowned. “I take it that you don’t approve.”

  “Scully is my friend,” Shamus said.

  As Chelsea looked at the picture, she remembered how she’d felt at that age. All those hormones, all that curiosity. Like young Abby, Chelsea had been very pretty—and the boys let her know it. They teased and flirted with her, laughed, and appeared out of nowhere. She’d close her locker door and there would be two beautiful young men there, smiling at her.

  In her family, she’d been one of several daughters and not even considered the prettiest one. Her older sisters were achievers, whereas Chelsea let things happen rather than pushed for them. For most of her childhood she’d been content to follow Eli around as he came up with ways to help people.

  But then puberty hit and there were all those boys saying wonderful things to her about how pretty she was, what a nice voice she had, how smart she was. One boy said her hair was like “silk on a starlit night.”

  All of it had taken her by surprise, had shocked her, as she’d never seen herself as a beauty. One time she’d asked Eli if he thought she was pretty.

  “As compared to what?” he’d asked. The best she could get out of him was when he told her that beauty in a human didn’t matter. It was what was inside that counted.

  Now, as an adult, she knew he was right, but when she was fifteen and being offered rides in red convertibles and being asked out by boys who were big, strong, and beautiful, a person’s inner beliefs weren’t what she cared about. When the senior