Page 29 of Chasing Sparks

She’s not just some woman, and if Lucille hadn’t ripped me to shreds all those years ago, Ori would be perfect wife material.

I did not just think that.

But I did, along with a million other thoughts centered on Oriana Thorne.

Too bad she didn’t stroll into Sparkwood eleven years ago, when my heart was still capable of love.

But Lucille ended any chance of that.

The shop phone rings, and I grab it, assuming it might be a client. Hey, they call atallhours.

It’s not.

“Hi, cowboy.”

My hand tightens on the phone, a death grip to match the unease surging through me. “Lucille?”

Is this some kind of sick joke?

Her husky laugh, so unmistakable, carries through the receiver. “Bingo. What’s shaking, bacon?”

Is she serious? My ex is calling me out of the blue to have a casual conversation?

The gall of this woman.

“What can I do for you?”

“Where do I begin?” she replies, her levity grating on my nerves.

“Are you drunk?” That has to be it. Drunk dialing explains a lot. I down the last of my whiskey, knowing I’ll need it to get through this call.

“No, I’m not drunk.” Her voice softens, the giddy edge fading. “Sorry, I was nervous about calling you.”

Lucille? Nervous? That’s a first.

I scrub my face with my free hand and groan. “What do you want? I’m exhausted, and I want to go home.”

Her voice drops to a whisper, muffled like she’s covering the receiver. “I can’t talk to you over the phone. I don’t know who might be listening.”

What in the hell has she gotten herself into now?

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” And if so,whyare you calling me to discuss it?

“Do you have a free hour or two this weekend?”

Typical Lucille—ignoring my questions and bulldozing me into conceding to her demands.

Sorry, love. I don’t play by your rules anymore.

“For what?” I ask, drumming my fingers against my desk. “Is this about that custom piece we did in Vegas?”

“Umm … not really, no,” she says, her voice so low I barely catch it.

“Not really? That’s a yes or no question, Lucille.”

I’m losing patience fast.

“Hang on.” Her voice fades, muffled by some garbled exchange in the background.

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