Wet and Reckless (Private Pleasures 4)

“Sounds lovely.” Roxy maintained her stare-off with West for one more second before gracing Addy with a determined smile. “Does Grandma DeShay’s secret recipe involve a stiff shot of vodka?”

Addy laughed. “Not our version, as we’re beer and wine only. I can’t vouch for how Granny preferred i

t.”

Before he could disabuse her of the idea of pouring any sort of alcohol into her all but empty stomach, Roxy looked over at him and rolled her eyes. “Relax, Officer. It was a joke. I don’t drink.”

“You limit your vices to smoking and hitchhiking?”

Addy interceded by opening the menu and pointing to the lower half of one side. “Everything’s good, but since I’m partial to Grandma DeShay’s recipes, I like to point out the house specialties. Take a look and let me know if you have any questions. I’ll be back with your drinks in a flash.” Another friendly smile and she left.

He waited while Roxy perused the menu. Not quite true. He watched her. First, she cupped a hand to the nape of her neck and tipped her head to one side, and then the other, before trailing her fingers down the silver chain to fiddle with the guitar pick dangling between her breasts—a place he ought not focus on. He tore his attention away and glanced around the diner. Everybody else in the place stared at his tablemate. Oblivious, she closed her menu and looked out the window.

“So, Roxy, what brings you to Bluelick?”

His question lured her gaze back to him. “Family.”

Total surprise. He wouldn’t have pegged her as a local, especially since she didn’t know better than to try and walk all the way from Millersville, but he liked the idea of her visit to his little corner of the world having a specific purpose—and preferably a near-term end date. “You’re from the area?”

“No. This is my first visit, but my mom grew up in Bluelick, and my grandmother still lives here.” Uncertainty pulled the corners of her mouth down. “At least, I think she does.” She looked at him. “Lillian Belle?”

“No clue, but I’m fairly new to the area. I don’t know everyone. Addy does,” he added as she returned with their drinks.

“I do what?”

“Know everyone in town. Roxy’s looking for her grandmother.”

Addy eyed her, and he could tell she was trying to place the genes. Apparently, she came up blank. “Who’s your grandma?”

“Lillian Belle. The address I have for her is… What’s wrong?”

Shaking her head, Addy slid into the booth next to West and fixed her soft gaze on Roxy. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but Mrs. Lillian passed. It happened…gosh, about six months ago.”

“Oh.”

Roxy looked crestfallen, and West fumbled for a proper expression of condolence.

Addy’s manners weren’t as rusty. “I’m so sorry. I take it you two hadn’t spoken in a while?” She reached across the table and patted Roxy’s hand.

“We never spoke. Never even met,” Roxy added. “The way my parents told it, Lillian disowned my mom when Mom eloped with my dad and stuck to her guns about the decision, even though she had no other family.”

Addy nodded. “That’s the way I understand it. Your mama should have gotten a notice when Lillian died. A local law firm handled the estate. I can’t believe they would have dropped the ball.”

“I’m sure they didn’t drop the ball. It’s probably fairer to say it hit a dead end.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Nor did he like how she blinked rapidly before lowering her eyes to the menu lying on the table in front of her. Or how small and alone she looked sitting on the other side of the booth. “Define ‘dead end.’”

“My parents were killed in a car crash three years ago.”

Orphaned at nineteen. Christ. A very tough blow, at a very tender age. Had there been other family to turn to besides an estranged grandmother she’d never met?

“Oh, Roxy. I am truly sorry.” Addy squeezed her hand now, displaying another of the small-town traits West was coming to appreciate. Natural compassion. Even for strangers.

Roxy offered her a small, sad smile. “Thanks. Me, too. I wrote to Lillian when it happened, to let her know. I never got a reply, but I move around a lot, so…”

He took that as an answer to his unasked question. Nobody had stepped up to support her through her time of crises.

“I figured maybe her letter never caught up with me. I couldn’t track down a phone number for her. Information didn’t have a listing. I hoped maybe after all this time, if I showed up, she’d be open to meeting me.”