Mixed Up with the Mob

David blushed. “Nothing. Just wondering what Gram’s up to this time.”

“Yeah, well. With her you can be sure she’s up to something every time. Where is she?”

“I’ll tell you, but don’t you dare make any stupid comments, Maddox. She’s at the latest Lady Look Lovely makeup party.”

Dan’s guffaws threatened David’s eardrum. “Oh, yeah. She’s up to something all right. She wants great-grandchildren, Latham, and she’s lured you to an event peopled with women of all ages, sizes, shapes and interests. But there is one interest they all share, you know. Men, single men. Like you.”

“That’s not funny. I’d rather suffer bubonic plague than face that crew.”

“Better you than me.”

“Maybe that’s what I should do. Have you pick her up. Sometimes I think she loves you better than she does me.”

“Can’t blame the woman for her good taste.”

“Give me a break. Just for that, I’m gonna turn around and call her. Tell her I’m sending you in my place. You should face the ‘sweethearts’ she hangs around with. Especially those who aren’t till-death-do-us-part attached to a sucker of the male persuasion.”

With Dan’s indignant squawks in the background, a niggle of discomfort crossed David’s mind. That was how he’d viewed the lot of the average married man. Until tonight.

He murmured a few “Mmm-hmms” and a few “Huhs,” which kept Dan happy and blathering.

David’s thoughts ran rampant.

Maybe Dan was his best defense against Gram’s zealous efforts, now that J.Z. and Maryanne had infected him with curiosity…and, if he were completely honest with himself, something he always tried to be, with a weird kind of emptiness in the pit of his—was that his gut that felt so jittery? Or was it his heart that made him feel strange, on edge?

He’d always thought the heart did nothing more than pump blood. He’d always rejected love-sloppy poets and schmaltzy chick flicks with their throbbing hearts and broken hearts and mended hearts. He’d always believed that the Lord would guide him to the woman he was meant to marry—if he was even meant to commit such lunacy in the first place.

“…are you okay, David? I’ve never known you to space out like this, and you’ve done it twice now. You still driving?”

“I’m fine. Just irritated with myself. I can’t help the soft spot I have for Gram. You should’ve heard her. She was in fine form this morning. ‘Oh, Davey, it’s not a problem. I’ll just have Bea drive me home after the party. She only lives two houses down from me, you know.’”

Dan hooted. “Sure, as if we didn’t know that Bea Woodward has more driving citations than a stray mutt has fleas. I don’t blame you. I don’t want your grandmother careening down Philadelphia’s wintry streets in that white-haired maniac’s car any more than you do.”

“And she knows how I feel.”

“Too well.” Dan gave another chuckle. “She’s a special one, all right. But you’re gonna have to brave the females and pick her up yourself. I’m on duty, remember?”

It was his turn to say, “Too well.”

Four long blocks away from Lorna Endicott’s palatial, old-money mansion, another red light made him stop. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, and “Uh-huhed” some more.

He sighed. How did Dad do it? How did the man handle such a mother? Was that why the moment he saw his chance back at the ripe old age of eighteen, his father bolted to the wild, wild West, and settled in Seattle?

Had that been the only way for Dad to find a mate on his own?

Maybe.

A car honked behind him, and David realized he’d been so caught up in his freaked-out thoughts, that he hadn’t seen the light go green. He pulled forward with a jerk, his blush hot all the way to his forehead.

“…you know why you’re on your way to pick up Grandma Dottie. You’re nuts about her. And I am, too—everyone is. She’s the sassiest, sweetest, smartest woman I’ve ever met. And you’d do anything for your grandmother.”

“I already admitted to my weakness, Maddox. So what’s your point?”

“Just that I wish I could be there to see you face a crowd of women who just spent hours and beaucoup de bucks turning themselves into traps for unsuspecting guys.”

At the next stop sign he looked both ways, relieved by the lack of traffic. True, it was ten o’clock on a Wednesday night, and he was driving down a posh residential neighborhood now, but you never knew when a speed demon would come at you with total lack of forewarning.

David tuned out Dan’s teasing again, and started into the intersection. Headlights appeared in his rearview mirror. He wondered if it might be another sucker roped into an appearance at the Lady Look Lovely party. Maybe the two of them could commiserate—

A woman stepped into the crosswalk.

He honked, yelled, “NO!”

Dan’s gibberish turned anxious.

The headlights pulled up to his left side. The gray Lexus roared ahead.

Twin beams limned the woman and a child she pushed behind. She stumbled on.

“Get off the street!” David yelled. He slammed the horn and stomped on his brakes.

Dan squawked some more.

David ignored him, tried to block the gray car with his.

The woman froze.

The Lexus swerved to avoid him then veered back, its aim sure, deadly. It hit her.

David skidded toward the sidewalk. “Call 911,” he yelled at Dan. “Ambulance, too.”

The car slowed. He gave Dan his location. Almost before he came to a full stop, David jumped out.

His temples pounded. He wanted to yell again, but something took hold of his throat. He rushed to the woman, who now lay on the road, the little boy frozen at her side.

An urgent prayer accompanied him down to his knees. “Are you all right?”

He took her pulse. Fast, too fast, but strong.

The woman, younger than he’d initially thought, gave him a wobbly grin. “Yes…no—maybe.”

He forced a smile when he saw no blood. “Now there’s a definite answer for ya.”

“It’s kind of hard to say….” She worked her way up to a sitting position, her shadowed features twisted in pain. “I think everything’s where it should be, and probably in working order, too. The car didn’t hit me hard.”

Her words contrasted with the fear in her eyes and the tremor in her hands. She held out her arms, and the boy crumpled into her embrace. Over the child’s head, she met David’s gaze. “Umm…you see—”

The boy’s sobs cut her off. She turned her attention to the scared kid, who couldn’t have been more than five or six. She murmured reassurances in a soft, musical voice, and her hands in turn dried tears, smoothed hair, checked for any sign of injury.