Brown Eyed Girl Read online

  Tiffany’s jaw dropped as she faced off with him. “That was low, Red—even for you.”

  “Hey, you being from Texas and all, I thought you might be a Dallas fan.” He smothered a grin as she balled her napkin in one hand.

  “You know,” she said, her tone hard and serious, “I’ve got roots in this state, too. My father was born and raised in Louisiana, and I’ve been a resident for half my life. That was totally uncalled for.”

  He grinned smugly. “Just answer the question Tiffy.”

  She wiped her mouth on the cloth napkin then threw it deliberately on the table as though challenging him. “Of course I pull for the Saints, and when I’m not pulling for the Saints I bleed L.S.U. purple and gold.” Everyone broke into applause.

  “She must have roots in Louisiana, because we’re seeing a little of that Ragin’ Cajun right now,” Pete commented.

  “It’s Red’s rudeness that brought it out,” Bailey added.

  Red met the stares of everyone and put his hands up in self defense. “I had to ask!” he said amidst the chorus of boos and hisses.

  Tiffany leaned closer to speak lowly into his ear. “They don’t like you much right now.”

  “Easy fix. Who wants dessert?” he shouted, winking at her as boos turned to cheers and hands flew up around the table. “You see? All you have to do is satisfy their sweet tooth and they’re your best friend.” Everyone got up to check out the array of pies, cookies, candies, and other desserts that were set out on the huge buffet.

  “Oh, where’s that pudding?” Giselle asked, reminding Red to get it out of the fridge. “My babies want pudding!”

  “What kind of pudding is this?” Kathleen asked, as she eyed the luscious looking concoction covered with whipped cream.

  “Ba-na-na...Our favorite, isn’t it twins?” Giselle said, patting her belly.

  Jackson came back with a dessert bowl filled with it and handed it to her. She took a bite and her eyes widened. “This isn’t pudding from a box is it?” She licked her spoon. “It’s fantastic.”

  Tiffany shook her head. “No, it’s homemade. I got the recipe from one of the nurses I work with. I made a double recipe, but I think I should have quadrupled it.”

  After a few minutes of everyone scrambling to get pudding, Red began to worry. “Now, look here!” he announced. “This is my house, and I don’t mind having to squeeze a chair in from the kid’s table, but I’m telling ya’ll now, I want some of that pudding.”

  “Here, pass this to him,” Annie said, as she handed the casserole dish to pass around the table to Red.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” he said, reaching for the dish...the empty dish. “Oh, come on! Ya’ll know it’s my favorite.”

  “Here, you big baby,” Bailey said, as she passed him a dessert bowl containing some pudding. “We dished it out so everyone could have some.”

  “Thank you.” He took a bite and rolled his eyes in ecstasy. “Doc, this is excellent.”

  “Tiffany, anytime you come to our house for a meal, you’re designated to bring this for dessert,” Giselle added.

  “I can do that.” Tiffany sat down with a saucer filled with fudge, divinity, and a praline.

  “Didn’t you want pudding?” Red asked her.

  “I can make more of that,” she answered. “I don’t know how to make this stuff.”

  He leaned in closer. “Can I have your share?”

  She turned slowly to face him, their noses nearly touching. “I don’t know, Red. What’s it worth to you?”

  Their gazes locked and Red caught his breath at the look in her eyes. He gave her a sexy grin. “Name your price. I really love...your...banana pudding.”

  Tiffany bit her lower lip and looked away. “Take it.”

  He grinned at her, and got up to get the last remaining bowl of pudding. When he sat back down he laughed at the face she made as she bit into a praline. “Good, huh?”

  “Sugar is my only vice.” She closed her eyes as if savoring the delectable treat.

  “I can think of one other vice,” Red told her cryptically. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Hey, you better watch that. You’re getting older and it’ll only get harder to take off those unwanted pounds.”

  “I guess I need to lower the speaker volume of my phone when you’re around,” she said dryly. “Who made these?”

  “My mom always makes the candy. I’m sure she could give you some recipes.”

  “Is it difficult?”

  “Honey, anyone who can make banana pudding this good should be able to handle candy making.”

  After dessert, everyone got up collectively to clean the kitchen. By the time they finished, there was still an hour and a half until game time. The adults were sitting in Red’s huge living room filling every spare seat including dining chairs brought in from around the table. Others chose to lounge on the thickly carpeted floor as the large group visited and drank coffee.

  Before long, several of the men rose to get various instruments, including the fiddle and two guitars. Red went to his room and returned with one acoustical guitar and a banjo. He handed the latter to his dad then sat in a chair next to Tiffany and began to tune his guitar.

  “You play?” Tiffany asked.

  “I can do a lot of things you don’t know about...yet,” he said, sending her a look of promise.

  <>

  She sat, fascinated, as Red finished tuning and began to play skillfully, his long fingers picking, strumming, and warming up until the rest of the men were ready.

  “What are we singing today, ladies?” Red asked his sisters.

  “Something we can sing harmony to,” Melissa suggested.

  Tiffany suggested her favorite boy/girl country group and Red jumped into a snappy tune with lots of harmony parts. By the end of the song, nearly everyone in the room was singing along, including Giselle, Jackson, and thanks to Melissa’s encouragement, Tiffany had joined in also.

  She’d always had a decent voice, although she’d never felt comfortable singing around other people. Somehow, in the midst of this family, it didn’t seem to bother her.

  For the second selection, Brandon and Bailey treated everyone to a duet, a stirring rendition of their favorite Michael Buble song, Home. Tiffany watched the muscles in Red’s forearms strain and bulge as he rhythmically picked, plucked, and strummed the strings of the guitar. She watched his long fingers as they moved gracefully, and nearly embarrassed herself wondering what other talents they held. She sat on the floor in front of him with her head leaned back against the arm of the sofa. Sated from the food, and relaxed from the swell of music, her lids drifted closed of their own accord. As he strummed the last chords, Tiffany opened her eyes, surprised at the intensity of Red’s gaze on her just a few feet away.

  “That was beautiful,” Vivienne said, of her daughter and son-in-law’s performance.

  “It was,” Tiffany agreed, brushing aside her self-consciousness long enough to address Red. “I’ve never seen a family this large where everyone was so musically inclined. Do you all sing or play an instrument?” she asked Red.

  “Pretty much,” he said, lowering his guitar for the moment. “Annie plays the piano, but I don’t have one yet. Chad plays the drums, and has a good voice, but he’s terrified to sing in front of people.” He cocked his head at her. “Speaking of singing, I heard some pretty sweet sounds coming out of those pipes of yours. Is there anything in particular you’d care to perform for us today?”

  She thought on it for several seconds. “I’m not...,” she began.

  “Unless you’re too intimidated to sing solo,” he said, loud enough for everyone else to hear.

  She narrowed her eyes to slits at the obvious challenge. “I was just going to say I’m not sure if you can handle the guitar part in the song I had in mind…It seems pretty complicated,” she said, as an outbreak of ‘burn’ comments made their way around the room.

  “You just call it, Doc,” he said, beam
ing as she applauded when he began to play her choice.

  Tiffany stood up in front of him and turned to her audience. “I’d like to dedicate this song to my missing in action fiancé, Tanner Collins,” she said, as the room erupted in boos and hisses.

  “Hmmm...,” Red commented loudly, “He may be missing in action, but I doubt if he’s missing any action.”

  She shot him an icy glare.

  “What?” he asked, all too innocently.

  Deciding the best revenge would be to show him what she could do she opened up and belted out the song about a doomed relationship. If Red seemed impressed with her delivery of lyrics, she was equally impressed with his guitar skills.

  At the end of the song, she took an exaggerated before turning to Red. “You play that thing pretty well.”

  Red bowed his head. “Thank you. You have a nice voice. That was real good for a ‘bitter bitch’ sing along, but can you sing something with substance?”

  “Excuse me?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips.

  “I said, can you sing a ballad...Tiffy?”

  Tiffany knew he was goading her, hoping she’d accept the challenge. She suspected it was so he could hear her range, which she didn’t particularly mind. Wanting to show him he wasn’t entirely in control of the situation, she leaned forward, resting her hands on his knees so she could look him in the eye. To the man’s credit, his eyes never dipped lower to the hint of cleavage created from her position, but remained on her own steadfast gaze. “Red, are you picking on me?” she breathed, inches from his face.

  <>

  Red stared into the depth of luminous eyes filled with amusement...eyes that only hinted at the fire hidden deep inside. His heart thudded heavily in his chest as he made an effort to swallow. “Maybe.”

  “I’ll tell your mother.”

  He frowned up at her. “Mom can’t abide tattle tales. Besides, you think she’d take your side over mine?”

  “In a second,” she answered, with a sweet smile.

  “She only just met you,” he snorted. “I’ve been her favorite for thirty-eight years.”

  “Spoiled brat.”

  “Look who’s talking,” he said, swallowing audibly.

  She took a deep breath and stepped back. “So you want a ballad, huh?”

  “Only because I think you’re capable of more,” he told her.

  Tiffany laughed softly. “Oh, is that what this is?” She leaned in and got nose to nose with him. “And here I thought you were just being...you.” She breathed the last word seductively at him.

  Red froze, transfixed by this confident, sexy as hell lady before him, and uncomfortably aware of an inherent heat stirring in his lower regions. The sudden image of two giant chess pieces, alone on a board, came to mind. Her queen approached expectantly, looking satisfied with the check mate as his king fell forward with a resounding clatter. Damn.

  She straightened, wearing a ‘don’t mess with me’ expression, obviously pleased with herself.

  “Anything in particular you’d like to hear?” she asked.

  Red cleared his throat, feeling the heat as he stammered like a teenager. “No…no ma’am...um...your choice.”

  “What if I choose a song you don’t know?”

  He stopped, suddenly fully confident in this particular challenge, and stared her down. “Don’t you worry, Doc. I’ll know it.”

  She flipped her hair casually behind her shoulder. “Mighty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged and gave her what he hoped was a cocky grin. If truth be told, there was something about this woman that instantly deflated all the cockiness right out of him. Hell, he’d be following her around like a puppy if it wouldn’t completely null and void his ‘man-card’ into a useless piece of paper. He took a deep breath and steeled himself against her understated, though totally effective signals. “Name your tune, Ms. LeBlanc.”

  Tiffany’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit as she pursed her lips at him. He knew instinctively that she was out to prove something. He also recognized her look of determination to wipe any and all traces of smug cockiness from his face.

  “There’s a song from LeAnn Rimes that means a lot to me. It’s older and never got any radio play, so I doubt you’ve ever heard of it. It’s called What I Cannot Change.”

  Remembering how much an ex-girlfriend had loved the cut from her CD, he nodded as melody and lyrics flooded his mind. “As a matter of fact, I do know that one, Doc. It’s pretty deep. Are you...um...you sure you can handle it?” he asked, as all other commotion in the room came to a complete halt.

  She winked at him and nodded. “Bring it on, McAllister.”

  The room buzzed with excitement and sounds of approval as everyone settled down for Tiffany’s ballad.

  Red plucked his strings softly until he found the chord she could live with, then sat back and waited. At her nod, he closed his eyes and began picking the intro, practically seeing notes and haunting melody float through the air waves. When Tiffany began to sing, he lowered his head, already knowing he was in big—really big—trouble.

  It was agony, listening to her croon the heart-renching lyrics with the voice of an angel. He only looked up once more, and paid for his foolishness. He’d nearly lost control at her teary-eyed gaze at his mom while she sang of the heartbreak of not being able to talk to her own parents.

  Red succumbed to the feelings of sadness her tortured words evoked in him. He lowered his head again, listening as she lamented over not being able to change what was wrong in her life. His heart broke for her as she sang of letting go, forgiving, loving what she could not change, and changing what she could.

  Her sweet voice...perfectly pitched, and in turns, strong then soft as an infant’s coo…stirred him deep in his soul. His sisters and mother sang well, and so did Giselle, but there was a pureness and clarity to Tiffany’s voice that the others didn’t possess.

  He’d not lost many challenges in his lifetime, but this day she would claim victory over an epic failure on his part—the failure to recognize the seriousness of a challenge that had completely blown up in his face.

  She finally ended his torture, singing the last of the lyrics, and he struggled to close out the song he knew he’d always think of as her song.

  Red took a deep breath and allowed his gaze to find hers. She stared down at him with eyes glistening with unshed tears, proof that the words truly meant something to her. His heart ached for her, longed to reach out to her as she wiped at one corner of her eye. He sensed his family waiting for him to speak—to say or do something other than sit there, zombied-out and silent. Red finally managed to blink several times before giving her a slow nod in the heavy silence of the room. He gazed up at her again and cleared his throat, feeling like a fool when the only thing he could think of to say sounded lame, even to his ears.

  “Well done, Doc.”

  His family seemed to come to life suddenly, moving as one to surround her, lavishing her with praise. The commotion cut into the mind numbing trance that had him imprisoned. The vision of her, surrounded by members of his own family caused an unfamiliar tightening in his chest. He rose from his chair, lay his guitar down across it, and wiped sweaty palms on his jeans. He watched, thinking how well she fit, how easily she could be a part of his family.

  And just like that—he knew.

  Chapter 4

  Red walked into his kitchen, pulled two bottles of beer from his fridge and retreated to his pool house. By the time he closed the door behind him, he had one beer opened. He downed it in two gulps then slammed the empty bottle on one of the tables. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he opened up the second beer and took another long swig from it. At the creak of the opening door, he swung around to see his dad walking inside.

  Red turned away, wishing just for once he could be left alone with his feelings. But alone time in this family wasn’t an option…not now…not ever. He didn’t realize his father had crossed the room to meet him unt
il he felt a calming touch on his shoulder.

  “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it, son? Realizing that first time you’re in love?”

  Red swung around to gape at his dad, prepared to deny it—defend his actions—or at the very least glower at the man for making fun of him. But his father stood steady and solemn, no trace of laughter in his voice or on his features...more proof of the seriousness of the situation.

  Red released the huge breath he’d been holding and shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell’s happening here.” He lifted one clammy hand and clenched it to stop the shaking. When that didn’t work he downed the rest of the beer, wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve. “I’ve never been afraid of a damn thing, Pop, but I’m not gonna lie to you. This scares the ever-loving shit out of me.”

  Pete nodded, crossed his arms across his barrel chest, and finally chuckled. “That’s a common reaction for most men.”

  Red shook his head. “I’m not ready for this.”

  “Scott, you’re thirty-eight years old. Besides, from what I see, you don’t have much choice in the matter.”

  Red clapped his palms over his eyes and groaned, then froze as another thought overtook him. “Do you think I have a chance with her?”

  Pete McAllister laughed and slapped him on the back. “I don’t know, Son, but I’d sure hate to see you lose a chance because you’re too scared to ask.”

  “Isn’t that what Paw Paw told you?”

  “Yep, now come on back inside. Your mother sent me to remind you that you’re the host of this party. Besides,” he said, nodding at the two empty beer bottles. “Two beers won’t change a damn thing. Hell, I stayed drunk for a week, and when I sobered up, I was still in love with your mother.”

  Red tailed his father back into the kitchen, where his attention was immediately dominated by the beauty surrounded by his family.

  Their gazes clashed and Tiffany’s initial smile turned into a look of worry. After addressing Bailey they both turned in his direction, as though studying him.

  “Oh, great,” Red mumbled to no one in particular. He tried to shake it off and busied himself strapping his guitar onto his shoulders. He made small talk with Jackson, wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans several times, all the while praying his act was convincing enough to throw his nosy sister off the scent. The women in this family were like a pack of wolves...one sign of weakness and they pounced, determined to discover the cause.