Damned If I Do (The Devilish Divas Series, Book 2)

By M.J. Schiller

The Lunch Ladies are Back in DAMNED IF I DO--And They Might Be Damned If They Say I Do

Dogged by past heartache, Dani returns to the hotel to win Tucker back. But her hot roadie is nowhere to be found. Picking up a few clues, Dani goes in hot pursuit, but will it be for better or for worse?

Sam has pushed her man Kyle away. And when the Canadian hockey referee reappears, he faces an icy reception. Now Sam must decide if she wants to turn her "I don't" into "I do".

But whatever Dani and Sam come up with, you're in for a wild ride with the lunch ladies! Better buckle your seatbelt...


THE DEVILISH DIVAS SERIES, in order
To Hell in a Coach Bag
Damned if I Do
The Devil You Know
Satan, Line One

• Language: English
• Publisher: ePublishing Works
• Release date: Jul 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781614179801

M.J. Schiller

Bestselling author M.J. Schiller is a retired lunch lady/romance-romantic suspense writer. She enjoys writing novels whose characters include rock stars, desert princes, teachers, futuristic Knights, construction workers, cops, and a wide variety of others. In her mind everybody has a romance. She is the mother of a twenty-two-year-old and three twenty-year-olds. That's right, triplets! So having recently taught four children to drive, she likes to escape from life on occasion by pretending to be a rock star at karaoke. However…you won’t be seeing her name on any record labels soon.

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Author

Chapter 1

Danielle

Yes, I'd been through Hell, but I had a glimpse of a way out. I'd stumbled upon the roadmap recently in the form of one Tucker McCord. A gorgeous form, I might add. Then, a few days ago, when we were getting close, I pushed him away. I wadded up my roadmap and pitched it out the window to watch it roll like tumbleweed down the shoulder.

And now I was lost.

From Lincoln, Nebraska, Tucker possessed a sunny, country boy charm mixed with enough wow factor to make him irresistible. Not only was he built, but he was also the kind of guy you could wake in the middle of the night because your cat got stuck in a tree, and he would be there in minutes joking around with you and saving the day at the same time. He was sweet, fun, and sexy as hell.

To say I'd made a mistake was an understatement the size of Denver.

I shook my head as I sprayed taco meat off a pan with an industrial sprayer. It was my first day back to my lunch lady job after returning from spring break. As I stared into the depths of the stainless steel pan, it was as if I could see Tucker staring at me in the reflection. His blond surfer boy hair was long enough on top to fall into his eyes at times. And what eyes. They were a mesmerizing green-gray that often made me lose my train of thought.

You okay?

I jumped. I was so caught up in my musings I didn't realize Alexis had entered the dish room. She stood at my left elbow. Oh, man. I didn't hear you over the dishwasher. Sure, I'm okay. Why?

She nodded to the pan in my hand. That's been clean for like five minutes.

Oh.

She set an identical pan on the stainless steel counter, walking taco residue still clinging to the rim. "Man. Between you and Sam, I don't know who's more out of it. I know what's on your mind. What's up with her?"

Alex knew my story with Tucker. How we met when he threw me and Samantha out of a backstage area at a Chase Hatton concert in Chicago. He was a roadie, and we didn't have passes. Even in those first few seconds, I sensed something was different about him. He was the first guy I'd felt anything for since my husband, Darren, died.

She knew all this because I was an open book. Sam? Not so much.

Yeah. Give us the scoop, our boss, Maxine, said as she toted in a stack of cookie sheets, hefting them onto the counter beside me, next to Alex's pan.

They both stared at me like expectant puppies waiting for their treat. You guys, I know you think I know more than you, but I don't. They looked at each other, Max raising an eyebrow, before turning back to me. I'm serious. Sam and I go to concerts together, but she's an intensely private person. She doesn't share with me either. I looked up. Oh. Got one more pan?

Sam, my gorgeous friend, waltzed in, swinging a bin by her side. Alex and Max scurried away from me, trying to look busy, but their movements were totally suspicious.

Sam eyed them, then looked at me. Yeah. Sorry.

I shrugged. I just look at it as job security.

She handed me the bin, holding on to it for a beat to get my attention and making eye contact before she let go. She gestured to Alex and Max and held her hands out, palm up, mouthing What?

I shook my head and lifted my shoulders. She gave their backs one last stare. They had found some towels to fold and were being very meticulous in doing so. She frowned, spun on her heel, and left the dish room. She'd definitely be asking me to fill her in later.

So?

The girls stood at my side again, having abandoned their ruse of folding laundry. The eager puppy image they again conjured up was so strong, it was as if I could see tails wagging behind them.

What happened between her and Kyle in Denver? You never told us. Alex leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. Kyle was the cute Canadian referee that had a thing for Sam. And if Sam were being honest with herself, she'd admit that she was just as smitten. But she'd chased Kyle away the same weekend I told Tucker I couldn't handle a relationship with him.

I cocked a hip. Come on. They stared at me. They couldn't be that stupid. You know what Sam's been through. Sam caught her ex, the scum, with her best friend, leading to their divorce a few years back.

Alex's face fell and she uncrossed her arms. Yeah. I guess if Chris had slept around on me, I'd be a little gun shy with guys, too.

Gun shy? Sam?

And if she was, is that what I was, too? The moment I started having feelings for Tucker beyond He's so hot, the dreams began again. Dreams about the day Darren died in my arms. Yep, I was screwed up. But as Kyle said when I told him my story, seeing the love of your life die? That would mess anyone up.

At least I'd realized my mistake in dumping Tucker. Within hours, I decided to go back and apologize to him.

What a surprise to find he'd checked out of the hotel we were staying at.

After the initial shock, I eventually cut through the I'll never see him again, haze in my mind and thought, okay, Lincoln is a big city, but I can find him.

I had to believe that.

* * *

After work, I returned home and started making my way through all the McCords I could find online. It wasn't until I'd gotten through nearly half, (forty-five!), that I had the brilliant idea of limiting my calls to lawyers' offices. Tucker only worked as a roadie to earn some extra cash for his kids' college education. His full-time job was in the legal field. He was an attorney. Only fourteen of those were listed in Lincoln.

Good morning, I said dully, becoming discouraged after only seven calls to lawyers' offices. I lay in my bed, watching my ceiling fan blades circle around and around, feeling as if that was what I'd been doing all afternoon. Spinning endlessly from one call to the next. I tried to brainstorm another way to find Tucker if this tactic didn't pan out. I would like to speak with Tucker McCord, please. Maybe hire a detective? I was so distracted, her response didn't register at first.

Are you a client of his?

My heart flew into overdrive, and I sprung so quickly to a seated position I got a head rush. I put a hand to my head to steady it. Actually, no. My name is Danielle Capodice. I'm a... friend of Tucker's. We ran into each other in Denver last week, and I forgot to get his number before he left. I thought fast. And umm... I needed to try to pay for his dry cleaning. You see, he rescued a friend's purse, and fell into the creek in the process—

The secretary laughed. That sounds like something Tucker would do. He's left for the day, but... wait, you said your name is Danielle?

Yes. I—

He mentioned you. She spoke the three words slowly, her voice rising in the end, making them sound like a question. He said if anyone should call by that name he wanted to speak to her. She hesitated, and I held my breath. If you can wait for a moment, I'll look up his home number.

I found him.

Tucker

I lounged at my kitchen table staring off in the direction of the little window to our backyard, but not really seeing anything. A Budweiser was popped open in my left hand, and my legs were stretched out underneath the table. The tie I put on in the morning had come to rest in the pocket of my gray suit coat, and my white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar as I sat and thought about Dani.

It had been days since I returned from Colorado, and I thought of her practically non-stop, imagining conversations we had going in different directions than they did, imagining fate-filled reunions in various places from the grocery store to Turkey—don't ask me how my harem girl Dani became a part of my fantasies, she just did. I couldn't quite believe it was over between us. I mean, I know we'd only known each other for a brief period—this could hardly even be considered a break-up as, technically, we'd never really been together, much to my regret. But I couldn't help but think something timeless was lost. She was, after all, the only girl who caught my attention in fifteen years—that had to count for something. And the way I couldn't stop thinking about her, it was like an insidious infection lurking in my blood stream. It made me kick off my covers at night, frustrated from my sleep, and miss conversations during the day, like a man whose hearing aid is stuck on low. In depositions I'd find long pauses between questions because I couldn't focus on the material in front of me. My only comfort was returning to my two kids, who I could hear screaming and running around upstairs.

Hey! I yelled, only mildly irritated at them, but afraid some of the masonry in the old farmhouse would fall on my head.

A minute later, Scooter rushed in, sliding across the linoleum in his socks, holding out his ragged green backpack, his face red, and deep creases furrowing his brow. Look what Zoe did to my backpack.

He held the flap open so I could see. On the sewn-on tag where a student could put their name and address, my sweet, teenage daughter wrote: Scottie McCord, 22 Dork Lane, Loserville, Turdland. You had to give her points for creativity. I smothered a laugh. Come on, Scoots. I know she shouldn't have done that, but you kind of need a new backpack for school next year anyway, don't ya?

I guess, he said begrudgingly. But while you were gone she took all my baseball cards and threw them down the stairs.

My eyes widened. And she's still breathing? Scottie's baseball card collection was his pride and joy. And mine, too, since I'd given him all of my own collection as a starter set. I patted the bill of his baseball cap as he tried to wipe away the permanent marker his sister applied to his backpack. I'll talk to her. Send her down. He flew off, content justice would finally be meted out in the McCord household. And just tell her I want to see her, don't add any 'nah-nah-nah-nah-nah's.'

Whatever.

I rolled my eyes. Apparently his sister taught him her favorite phrase while I'd been gone. Another reason to avoid leaving the two of them alone. I took a swig of my beer to bolster myself for the confrontation with Zoe and wondered if Dani was trying to have some sort of similar conversation with her little Tabby right now. Probably not. Probably their biggest problem at this point was deciding the sex of a roly-poly, or figuring out how to free a kite tangled in a tree. Oh, for those days again. Thinking of the kite in the tree made me remember Sam's purse stuck on a branch, and I was quietly chuckling when Zoe entered, defiance written across every feature. She stomped past me to the kitchen counter and slammed a cabinet open, then retrieved a package of popcorn, and banged it shut again. My eardrums protested. She yanked open the microwave, and I cringed, imaging the door coming off in her hands. It crashed closed, buttons beeped, and the familiar buzzing filled the room. She turned and leaned against the countertop, her arms crossed in front of her, staring at me balefully.

I sighed. Another one of those conversations. You want to tell me why you added the colorful remarks to your brother's backpack?

To my surprise she sputtered and burst out in laughter. I'd never figure women out. I'm sorry, Daddy. I couldn't help myself.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if Scottie was around, then leaned forward. That was pretty good. Loserville, Turdland. Where do you come up with that stuff?

She shrugged, but a smug smile crossed her face. I don't know. I was inspired, I guess.

I grinned, then cleared my throat, trying to shift back into my authority figure persona, and almost accomplishing it. You know, Zo, he's pretty upset. And he told me you dumped his baseball cards down the stairs while I was gone, too.

She laughed again. You should have seen them, fluttering all over the little twerp's head— She changed her tone when she saw I was not amused. Outwardly, that is. He was so pissed. Did he tell you he chased me with a baseball bat, and I had to lock myself in the scary basement?

No, he left that little detail out, I returned with a frown. And, you know I don't like you using that word, Zo, I added sternly. The smell of buttery popcorn made my stomach rumble.

What? Pissed?

Yes. It's not very ladylike.

Whatever. Probably seeing my eyes light up, she backtracked. Okay, Dad. I'll try to use some other word, happy?

Ecstatic. Now, about the backpack and baseball cards—

What? You aren't gonna talk to the little maniac about almost bashing my skull in with a baseball bat?

"Whether I do or not is really none of your concern. We're talking about your behavior right now. I got so tired of having my every parental decision questioned. And he didn't actually take a swing at you, did he?" I asked with belated concern.

No. But he wanted to.

Then I applaud his restraint.

Look. Just because you're upset about some girl you got it on with in Denver—

I gawked. I didn't understand why she couldn't see when she crossed the line. What did you say? I roared. Don't you talk to me like that. I did not 'get it on' with some girl in Denver, for your information.

So, even worse. You wanted to get it on and you didn't, so you're taking your sexual frustrations out on us.

I was flabbergasted. Zoe Marie McCord! I knew if I went further than that at the moment I'd really blow a gasket. To your room. NOW!

Can't I wait for my popcorn?

I growled.

Oh, fine. If I had a nickel for every fine or whatever she uttered, I'd have enough money to buy Orlando Bloom's affection for her, and we'd have world peace. Having made her pronouncement, she stormed out, but I noticed she was smart enough to give my chair wide berth, just in case. She was mouthy, not stupid.

Man! I said to the empty kitchen table. Where did she learn about 'getting it on' and 'sexual frustrations' in the first place?

I'd tried to have The Talk with her, but I knew it would be much easier with Scott. I understood things from the guy point of view; I was a bit more uncomfortable with the other part. She was blowing off teenaged steam, but it really ticked me off to hear her talking about my relationship—or non-relationship—with Dani that way. It wasn't about the sex. Okay, it wasn't solely about the sex, anyway. And I didn't want to have the memory of our time together cheapened.

My phone buzzed in the pocket of my coat, draped over the back of my chair. I hurriedly fished it out, bobbling it and not getting to it on time. I set it on the table to wait for it to buzz with a message. Ten seconds later it did, but with a text, not a voice message. I opened the menu. From Zoe. This ought to be good. I pressed the button to read it.

HAPPY NOW, HITLER?

I pushed buttons and sent my answer.

THRILLED. YOU LOST YOUR PHONE NOW, TOO. PUT IT ON MY DRESSER.

The easily discernible sound of my baby girl tramping across to my bedroom pounded on the ceiling. Then, right on time, the crash of her door. I imagined Zoe throwing herself on the sunny pink quilt her grandma made her.

I finished my beer and got a second one. I wasn't driving anywhere else tonight, so I thought I deserved one. I leaned against the kitchen sink, looking out the window again at the swing blowing in the newly stirred breeze, imagining Zoe there as a little girl and wondering where that little girl went.

My phone buzzed again, and I snapped it up, angry Zoe actually didn't turn over her phone like I told her to do. But when I thumbed open the cover, an unknown, long-distance number was displayed. Warily I pushed receive, barking hello.

Man. Do you know how many T. McCords live in Lincoln?

It was Dani.

Kyle

Chicago was too close to Bloomington, and Sam, for me not to be thinking of her. Hell, I'd thought about her since she closed the door in my face in Denver. Especially since Dani told me what she went through. I figured out before that conversation something in her past kept Sam from opening up, but I would have never guessed someone slept around on her. What kind of idiot would cheat on a woman like Samantha? And not just because she was a looker—although I may seem as shallow as that, I'm not. What attracted me to Sam was her love of life and sense of humor. And simply her sass and flair, and the fact that, underneath all that crap, I sensed she possessed a heart of gold. The question remained—how was I supposed to win over that heart?

I kept returning to the fact she told me to act like a Canadian Mounty and mount some other woman. That really ticked me off. To have her cheapen what happened between us. I mean, it was hot. Definitely hot. But it wasn't cheap, and I couldn't stand to hear her talk about it like that. I know it meant much more to her than that. Or at least I felt that way. Maybe I deluded myself. Funny thing is, if she were talking about any of my other relationships, she would be dead right. They were empty and meaningless. Why was this any different? Why did it matter so much to me? It was only one night. But something happened that night. Something changed inside me.

So that's what I thought about the day after I reffed a Blackhawks game. I paced my hotel room like a caged panther, looking back at the way I reacted when a girl came on to me after the game. She was built and gorgeous, and I met her for a drink. But it all left a sour taste in my mouth, and I went back to my place alone. Dancing with her felt wrong and stirred up memories of Sam and our time together in Denver. As I thought about that now, I kept getting more and more keyed up. Finally, with a frustrated huff, I snatched the keys to my rental car off the dresser and flew out the door, letting it slam behind me.

Chapter 2

Danielle

It had been a week since Denver. I'd finally located Tucker, and we'd talked every day since. Or every night since. We'd decided it would be easier to talk after little ears were in bed. I anticipated meeting him in the Dells as soon as school finished. He would bring his kids, and I would bring Tabby. Thinking about it made my stomach flutter, but my desire to be with him outweighed my fears his kids wouldn't like me. I don't know why I worried so much. I got along with kids. But I knew there was a chance they would resent anyone coming into their lives at this point, and perhaps think I would come between them and their dad. But being with Tucker had become too important to me to back away. The closer the time got, the harder it was for me to put in my hours at work.

But, that's exactly what I was doing one morning when the phone rang.

Dani, your phone is ringing, Max grumped as she wrestled with filling out each box on the final menu of the year.

I snatched it off the shelf where we all set our cells and glanced at the number, which was unfamiliar, but the programmed name popped up with it, and I clicked to receive the call.

Kyle! I screamed in delight. I turned around and caught sight of Sam coming to an abrupt halt as she walked