Bring on the Rain Read Online Free PDF Page B

about younger men?”
    Madeline laughed and set the tray on
the bar. “You'd kill me. I’m an old woman.”
    He flicked a towel over his arm. “You
always break my heart, Madeline.” He winked and walked toward the
stained glass divider to the sports bar.
    She was still smiling when Sunny
Lightfoot came in. It was an unusual day, Mrs. Dupree, his
sixty-year-old mother, was with him. She was there and in rare
form.
    “ Hello.” Madeline nodded to
them.
    Sunny was tall and muscular, with long
raven hair he kept braided. His mother was very French: petite,
slim and elegant. She had used her maiden name since
widowhood.
    Today she wore a matching beige suit
and heels. Her white hair was styled in a sleek twist; she carried
her age well, had those wonderfully delicate bones younger women
prayed for.
    The French woman had married a
full-blooded Cherokee, Sunny’s father, after meeting him in the
oddest place—the middle of the desert—when her expensive sports car
had broken down on her trip back from blowing a couple million in
Vegas. It was a long story, and one Sunny got a kick out of
telling.
    His dad had died a few years back and
his mother lost interest in everything until Sunny had pulled her
out of it by dragging her from her desert oasis she and Sunny’s
father had built, a rather isolated mansion, and moving her to his
nice country estate.
    He flew her anywhere she wished to go
on his private plane and made her take up the life she’d left off
years ago among her friends.
    Trouble was, she was expressive in her
French way. Sunny was more low-key humor. Mrs. Dupree looking out
for Sunny was so visually humorous, considering the man was grown
and built so tall and athletically. It made for some razzing around
the tavern.
    She came forward, kissed both
Madeline’s cheeks, and stepped back. “Sunny, look at her eyes,
those dark circles. You’re working her too hard.”
    Towering over his mother, the thirty
four-year-old business owner gave her what he called his Indian
look. To the staff, he called it clueless. “What? Did you say
something, Mother?”
    She elbowed him. “You heard me, you
should hire more staff.”
    “ Whatever you say.” He went
behind the bar, fixed her a dry white wine, and handed it to her.
Winking at Madeline, he said. “I won my case today.”
    “ Great.” Madeline laughed.
“But, when don't you?”
    He made a comical face and his
chocolate eyes twinkled. “When Mother is in court staring down the
judge.”
    “ I do not.”
    “ Mother, you do. You used to
do it to my classmates in school. It’s not quite as amusing now
that I’m past thirty.”
    Mrs. Dupree got the joke and laughed
saying, “I pity the woman who marries him. Imagine, having to put
up with me. I am too protective.”
    “ Which is why I’m not
married,” he said dryly.
    “ I’ll marry you.”
    They turned to see Patsy Beeker walk
into the Tavern. Fresh off her shift still dressed in her uniform,
she was stout, butch, and the local mail lady. About the only thing
bigger than her combat boots was her muscle. She was the state arm
wrestling champion. Her significant other was so pretty and
feminine that it made them stare whenever Pasty brought her into
the Tavern.
    Mrs. Dupree patted her perfect hair.
“Patsy, but you’ll have to spend one year with me getting
polished.”
    Patsy snorted and straddled the
barstool, grabbed a fist full of peanuts and cracked them, eyeing
Mrs. Dupree with a sour grin. “On second thought, you’re not worth
wearing a pair of heels for.” She requested around a mouth full of
peanuts, “Give me a high ball.”
    They were still chuckling when Mrs.
Dupree complimented Patsy on her bright red crew cut and ear tattoo
as if they were the latest Paris fashion. Patsy was humoring her,
cracking jokes, and so began the usual interplay.
    Madeline fixed the high ball while they
joked back and forth. She had gone to school with Patsy and they
had been casual friends for a long time.