let her know it was a joke. The girl’s black-painted mouth didn’t even quiver.
And the silence rolled on.
Oh, well. At least Bernie had said this so-called custody arrangement would only last a day or two, and they weren’t chatter bugs. Mia’s tears seemed to have temporarily dried up, too. Plus, Cassie was likely jumping through hoops to do whatever it took for them not to have to leave here with these kids. Lucky was all for that, but he wasn’t heartless. He still wanted to leave them in a safe place. Preferably a safe place that didn’t involve him.
What the heck had Dixie Mae been thinking?
“Bull,” someone said, and for one spooky moment, Lucky thought it was Dixie Mae whispering from beyond the grave.
But it was Mia.
Those little blue eyes had landed on his belt buckle, and there was indeed a bull and bull rider embossed into the shiny silver. Lucky had lots of buckles—easy for that to happen when you rode as long as he’d been riding—but he had two criteria for the ones he wore. Big and shiny. This was the biggest and shiniest of the bunch.
“Yep, it’s a bull,” Lucky verified.
Mia didn’t come closer, but she did lean out from sour-faced Big Sis for a better look.
“I ride bulls just like that one.” He tapped the buckle, and hoped that wasn’t too abstract for a four-year-old. Of course, she had clearly recognized it as a bull, so maybe she got it.
And the silence returned.
“So, what was it like staying with Scooter?” he asked.
That got a reaction from Mackenzie. She huffed. Not exactly a sudden bout of chatter, but Lucky understood her completely. What he didn’t understand was why Dixie Mae had left them with Scooter in the first place. But then, there were a lot of things he didn’t understand about Dixie Mae right now.
“How about you?” he asked Mia. “Did you like staying with Scooter?”
She pinched her nose, effectively communicating that Scooter often smelled. Often kept on her clown makeup even when she wasn’t working. The only thing marginally good he could say about the woman was that her visible tattoos weren’t misspelled.
“Do we gotta go back with Scooter?” Mia asked.
Lucky wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the outburst of actual words—Mackenzie or him. It took him a second to get past the shock of the sound of Mia’s voice and respond.
“Do you want to go back with her?” he asked.
“No.” Mackenzie that time. Mia mumbled her own “No.” Judging from the really fast response from both girls, and that it was the only syllable he’d gotten from Mackenzie, he’d hit a nerve.
A nerve that affected his next question. “So, where do you want to go?”
Now, this would have been the time for both girls to start firing off answers. With friends, relatives, rock stars. To a goth store, et cetera. He got a shrug from Mia and a glare from Mackenzie.
What had he expected? Bernie had already told him their parents were out of the picture. Orphans. Something that Lucky more than understood, but he’d been nineteen when his folks died. Barely an adult, but that had barely prevented him from having to stay with a clown.
Though there were a couple of times when Lucky had called Logan just that.
More silence. If this went on, he might just take a nap. Lucky went with a different approach, though. “Is there a question you want to ask me?”
Mia looked up at her sister, and even though Mackenzie’s mouth barely moved, Lucky thought he saw the hint of a smile. The kind of smile that had some stink eye on it.
“Have you ever been arrested?” Mackenzie asked. Yeah, definitely some stink eye. “Because Scooter said you had been.”
“I have,” he admitted. “Nothing major, though, and I never spent more than a few hours in jail.”
Except that one time when there’d been a female deputy who’d come on to him. But that time he’d stayed longer by choice. Best not to mention that, though. In fact, there was a lot about his life he wouldn’t mention.
“What’d you get ’rrested for?” Mia asked.
Lucky smiled, not just at the pronunciation but the cute voice. Cute kid, too.
“Drinking beer.” Like Bernie had earlier, Lucky chose his words wisely. At any rate, beer or some other alcohol had usually been at the root of his bad behavior.
Mackenzie made a hmmp sound as if she didn’t believe him. Lucky didn’t elaborate even though there was no telling what Scooter had told them.
“Don’t drink beer,” Mia advised him in a serious tone that made him have to fight back another smile.
The little girl came closer, leaving her sister’s side and not even looking up for permission. She climbed into the seat next to him, tore the gum stick in half and gave him the bigger of the two pieces.
“Thanks,” Lucky managed to say.
Mia then offered half of her half to her sister, but Mackenzie only shook her head, grunted and deepened her scowl. Much more of that and she was going to get a face cramp.
“Is Lucky even your real name?” Mackenzie again. “Because if it is, it’s a stupid name.”
Such a cheery girl. “It’s a nickname. My real name’s Austin, but nobody ever calls me that.”
Heck, most people didn’t even know it.
“My grandpa McCord gave me the name when I was just three years old,” he explained. “I somehow managed to get into the corral with a mean bull. And despite the fact I was waving a red shirt at him so I could play matador, I came out without a scratch.”
Lucky, indeed. His grandpa could have just called him stupid considering the idiotic thing he’d done.
“What about the lady doctor?” Mackenzie asked, clearly not impressed with his story. She folded her arms over her chest. “Has she been arrested, too?”
“Can’t say,” Lucky answered honestly. “But I doubt it.” Though something was going on with Cassie. Those breathe mumblings weren’t a good sign.
“Is she gay?” Mackenzie continued.
“No,” he said, way too loud and way too fast. He paused. “Why do you ask?”
“Her shoes and clothes,” Mackenzie quickly supplied.
Lucky groaned. “It’s never a good idea to stereotype people.” That was the second time today he’d given such a warning, though Mackenzie probably didn’t have a clue what that word meant. She didn’t seem the sort to work on building her vocabulary.
He cursed himself. Huffed. He needed to take his own advice. Yeah, stereotypes weren’t a good idea.
