Lunchtime Chronicles: Sweet Georgia Peach by POSEY PARKS & Lunchtime Chronicles

Author:POSEY PARKS & Lunchtime Chronicles [Parks, Posey & Chronicles, Lunchtime]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Posey Parks
Published: 2020-11-28T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

WYATT

Sitting in my gray and orange Lamborghini that doubled as my office, I combed through more statements Nancy’s PR team created and the legal forms my attorneys prepared.

Hunched over my laptop in front of Lakelyn’s condo, I hoped to catch her walking to her car. Calling was a bust. She blocked my number.

Sylvie said I should give her time to calm down. No chance of that ever happening. Lakelyn would never forgive me.

Taking a deep breath, I entered her building one night. Standing outside her door, I turned my baseball cap to the back and leaned my forehead against the thick wood.

“Lakelyn, open the door. I need to talk to you.”

“Go away, Wyatt,” she yelled.

“Tend to the other women in your life.” Her voice became clearer as she stepped closer.

“There aren’t any other women, just you. Open the door so we can talk.”

Her open palm slammed against the door. “No. So you can sweet talk me. Get in my head, then between my legs like you did in L.A. You said you didn’t have sex with the groupies, but you did.”

I braced my hands against the door. “Deacon and I hung out that night. He can vouch for me.” But he wouldn’t.

Silence.

“Were you together all night?” My heart beat in my ears.

I exhaled. “No, I texted you from the party.”

Clenching my eyes shut as the words left my lips, I realized that was the wrong choice of words.

“I told you I was coming over─”

Lakelyn cut me off. Her bitter laughter filled my ears. “Oh, and that’s the same night you never showed. You’ve never stood me up, Wyatt.”

She was right. Johnny got in my head and the scotch whisky became my companion that night. “Lakelyn, I can tell you everything that happened play-by-play that night. Baby, please let me in,” I paused.

“I love you.”

“Leave,” she growled. “Before I call the police.”

My heavy fist pounded on the door a final time.

**P**

Uncle Bo and a tall bulky guy who looked to be in his early thirties, sat in the middle of the restaurant deep in a conversation.

I opened the glass door, stepped over the threshold, and sauntered in their direction.

“Hello Uncle Bo and...” I stretched my hand out toward the man.

They stood. That slick smile my uncle often produced appeared. What the fuck was this guy up to?

His rough, callused hand shook mine.

Gripping the football and lifting weights over the years, left my hands rough. Lakelyn never complained. She loved placing my palm against her face and smiling into it. I fucking missed my woman.

Forcing a grin across my lips, I placed thoughts of Lakelyn in a corner pocket in my head.

“Nickulas Pitucco.” He released my hand.

Was this guy in the construction business? Because his hand felt like sandpaper. His tailored blazer, dark slacks, and two-tone oxfords, screamed wealth.

The wheels turned in my head, then my brows lifted. “You’re from my dad and Uncle Bo’s side of the family.”

“Yeah, my dad is Julianno Jr. Your great uncle is my grandfather.”

I nodded, still piecing together parts of my family tree in my head.

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