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“Well, as long as you’re working here, I’ll be more than happy to provide your lunch.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Together they entered the kitchen, and again Luke smelled the sweet, floral scent of her. The children stood near the table. He greeted them, but neither of them returned the greeting.
“If you’d like to wash up while I get the food on the table, the bathroom is the second door on the right down the hallway.”
He nodded and left the kitchen. As he went down the hallway to the bathroom, his gaze shot into each of the rooms he passed.
The first room on the right obviously belonged to the little girl. It was decorated in shades of pink, and several dolls were on the bed. The first room on the left was the boy’s room, with trucks and cars strewn about and a Kansas City Chiefs bedspread on the bed.
He stepped past the bathroom door to peek at the room at the end of the hallway. A double bed was neatly made up with crisp white sheets, but it was apparent by the stack of boxes that unpacking the children’s things had taken priority over Abigail and her husband’s creature comforts.
Luke liked that. There had been a time in his life when he’d desperately wished he’d been a priority in any adult’s life. It was good and right that parents thought of their children first.
Aware he was out of line peeking into the room, he hurried into the bathroom. The only soap he could find was a bar in the shape of a cartoon character that smelled of bubble gum.
He quickly washed his hands and face, then returned to the kitchen where Abigail was busy pulling things out of the refrigerator and the two kids were setting the table.
His gaze swept around the kitchen. He noted the wooden cabinets looked nearly as weak and rotted as the front porch. The floor was covered with linoleum that was ripped and faded.
“As you can see, we need some work done inside, as well,” she said, apparently noting where his gaze had lingered. “When Jason’s foot went through the porch, getting it fixed was a priority. Sturdy cabinets are next on my list. Please, have a seat.” She gestured him to the table.
“I really appreciate this, Abigail,” he said.
She flashed him one of her gorgeous smiles. “Oh, please call me Abby,” she said as he slid into a chair.
Abby. Yes, it suited her far better than the more formal Abigail. Luke sat at the end of the table, and the two children silently slipped into the chairs on either side of him.
He’d never seen two kids so quiet, nor had he ever seen kids with such shadows in their eyes. He thought of the black eye Abby had sported the day before, a black eye that was less visible today. That, coupled with the unchildlike behavior of the kids, caused a knot to twist in Luke’s stomach.
He knew all about child abuse. His father hadn’t thought twice before backhanding, punching or kicking his kids. The Delaney children had been quiet, too. Quiet and careful, with dark shadows in their eyes.
He frowned and tried to dismiss these thoughts, aware that his own background and experience were probably coloring how he was perceiving things. Besides, thoughts of his father always triggered an unquenchable thirst for a drink of something far stronger than water.
Abby set several more items in the center of the table, then sat across from him. “Please, don’t stand on ceremony. Just help yourself.”
Luke complied, taking a couple slices of bread and building himself a sandwich. He added a squirt of mustard, then turned and smiled at the little girl next to him. “Jessica, you need some mustard on that?”
“She doesn’t talk,” Jason exclaimed. “She doesn’t talk to anyone ’cept me. She won’t talk to you ’cause she doesn’t like you.”
“Jason,” Abby reprimanded softly. Luke looked at the young boy in surprise.
“She probably doesn’t like me because she doesn’t really know me yet. But once she gets to know me, she’ll find out I’m quite lovable.” He winked at Jessica, who quickly stared at her plate.
“You know, I noticed this morning when I was checking out the lumber in the yard that there’s a big old tree in the backyard that looks like it would be perfect for a tire swing,” Luke continued.
“A tire swing?” Jason eyed him with a begrudging curiosity.
“Yeah, you know, a tire on a rope that you can climb in and swing on,” Luke explained.
Jason gazed at him for another long moment then frowned at his plate. “I don’t think we’d like that,” he finally said, but his voice lacked conviction.
“I’ll tell you what, why don’t I bring the stuff to make the swing tomorrow, then if you and Jessica want to swing on it that’s okay, and if you don’t want to, that’s okay, as well.”
“I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” Abby said, her gaze warm on him.
He shrugged. “No trouble. It will just take a few minutes to tie a tire to that tree.” He smiled at her. “I always wanted a tire swing when I was little, but my father wouldn’t let us have one.”
Once again Jason looked at him. “Is your daddy mean?” he asked.
“My daddy was the meanest man on the earth,” Luke replied truthfully.
“No more questions, Jason. Let Mr. Delaney eat his lunch,” Abby said to the child, then turned her gaze once again to Luke. “Would you like some potato salad?”
“Sure. Sounds good.”
She half stood to pass the bowl across the table to him. As she stretched out her arm, her T-shirt sleeve rode up, exposing a livid bruise on her underarm.
That’s why she’d winced when he’d grabbed hold of her earlier, he thought. He took the bowl from her and spooned a portion on his plate, his mind racing.
A black eye, an ugly-looking bruise…was the lovely Abigail Graham being abused by her husband? The bruises, coupled with Jason asking him if his daddy was mean, caused ugly speculation to whirl inside him.
He tried to tell himself it was none of his business. He tried to tell himself to stay out of it. But the thought of some man angrily putting his hands on the delicate, fragile woman before him, or hurting the children beside him, enraged him.
He set his fork down and looked at her. “Uh…could I speak with you for a moment out in the living room?”
She gazed at him curiously, then wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Sure,” she agreed. She stood and looked at the kids. “You guys go ahead and keep eating. We’ll be right back.”
Luke allowed her to precede him into the living room. “Is something wrong?” she asked, a worried frown appearing on her forehead as she turned to face him.
“I don’t know. You tell me.” Luke drew a deep breath, aware that he was about to invade deep into her personal territory. “I know this is really none of my business, but does your husband have a problem?” he finally blurted.
Her eyes widened in obvious surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t help but notice that you have the evidence of a black eye and a big bruise on your arm.” Luke gazed at her intently. “What I really need to know is if you need some help.”
Abby stared at the big, handsome man before her and swallowed hard against the tears that suddenly pressed at her eyes. Help? She needed help in a thousand different ways, but certainly not in the way he meant.
“There is no husband,” she confessed. Shock swept over his features. “There’s no abusive husband, no abusive boyfriend. I’m a widow, and now it’s just the kids and me and I can be incredibly clumsy at times.” The lie tripped smoothly off her tongue but left a bitter taste in her mouth.
She wasn’t sure he believed her, but her heart expanded with warmth that he’d cared enough to ask. She offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “This moving business has been far more physical than I anticipated. A box fell off a shelf and hit me in the eye, and I’m not sure how I got the bruise on my arm. But we’re getting settled in enough that bumps and bruises are at an end.”
She reached out and touched his forearm, trying not to notice the hard muscle beneath the warmth of his skin. “But thank you for asking.” Self-consciously she dropped her hand.
“I just had to make sure nobody was hurting you.”
Abby nodded, finding the fact that he cared far too appealing. “Nobody is hurting me, so that’s that. We’d better go finish our lunch.”
He nodded, and together they returned to the table. The meal was finished in relative silence, and Abby was grateful when the food was once again put away, Luke was back at work, and she could escape to her bedroom to finish unpacking.
It had been slightly disconcerting to sit at the table across from him and feel the silvery gray glow of his eyes on her. She was far more aware of him than she should be.
She pulled her bedspread from a box and opened it up to air out. The room would feel more like her own with her sunflower spread on the bed and her favorite knickknacks and perfumes on the dresser top.
She had peeked in on Jessica and Jason before coming into her room and knew they were having a pretend picnic on the floor in Jason’s room. As usual, Jason was doing all the talking, but occasionally she heard a girlish giggle from Jessica, and the sound warmed her heart.
As she worked unloading the last of the boxes, she heard the sound of banging coming from the porch. For a moment she allowed her mind to visualize Luke swinging the sledgehammer. She could vividly imagine the play of the firm muscles in his arms and across his back. Her fingers tingled as she remembered the warmth of his skin beneath her touch.
From the moment she’d told him she was a widow, she’d sensed a subtle change in him. He seemed less standoffish, smiling at her with a gleam in his eyes that made her breath catch in her chest.
She shook her head, as if to dislodge the thoughts. The last thing she could do was invite a man into any area of her life. She was living a lie, and to allow anyone in meant the possibility of danger and heartbreak.
It was nearly an hour later that she heard the sound of the back door opening and closing and knew Luke had entered the kitchen. She left her bedroom and hurried into the kitchen just in time to see him gulping a glass of water.
“Whew, it’s definitely warm out there,” he said.
Abby nodded, trying to keep her focus on his face. At some point he had taken off his shirt, and his broad, tanned chest shimmered with a light sheen of perspiration. The dark, springy hair that sprinkled his chest formed a valentine pattern, the faint tail disappearing into the waistband of his low-slung tight jeans.
She suddenly realized he was looking at her expectantly as if waiting for her to say something, and a flush of heat warmed her cheeks. She leaned against the table, hoping he hadn’t noticed her intense perusal of his firmly muscled, gorgeous chest. “I meant to ask you, I’m going to take the kids out to dinner tonight, but we haven’t been in town to really see what’s there. Any suggestions on a good place to eat?”
He set the glass on the counter and swiped a hand through his beautiful thick hair. “My personal choice is the diner on Main Street. It’s nothing fancy, but the food is good, and it’s where most everyone in town eats.”
“With two kids, I’m not in the market for fancy. Do they have chocolate shakes?”
He grinned at her, that wide, sexy grin that did amazing things to his sinfully gorgeous eyes. “Do I feel the kinship of another chocolate shake addict?”
“Not me,” she protested with a laugh. “Jason is a chocoholic. I prefer anything with strawberries.”
“Hmm, the best way to eat strawberries is lying down on a blanket beneath a big old shade tree.” His gaze seemed to hold the glint of blatant flirtation.
“And they taste best of all when somebody else is feeding them to you, rather than you eating them by yourself.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” she said, her insides trembling at the picture he’d painted with his words.
“I’ve never had anyone feed me anything.”
“That’s an oversight that will have to be addressed,” he replied. He studied her for a long moment. “You mentioned earlier that you’re a widow. How long has it been?”
There was a gentleness in his voice that made her regret the lies she was about to tell. “A little over a year. He died in a car accident.”
“I’m sorry. It must have been tough for you and the kids.”
She nodded and averted her gaze from his. She didn’t want to see the sympathy there, sympathy for a dead husband who had never existed. “We’ve managed okay on our own.”
“Yeah, well, if you ever need a man around here, you know, to do any heavy lifting or whatever, don’t hesitate to call me.”
She looked at him again, and something in his metal-flecked eyes made her feel as if he were offering her more than strong arms to lift heavy items. Her cheeks burned with a blush as she wondered if perhaps she was reading more into his offer than he’d intended.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“If you really want to eat at the diner, I recommend you go around five. By six the place is packed on most evenings, but Friday night is always the worst.”
She nodded, then turned and headed out the kitchen door. She drew a deep breath as she entered her room, wondering why a man she hadn’t exchanged more than a hundred words with affected her so. Maybe it was because the sight of him evoked thoughts and images that had little to do with conversation.
“Jason,” she said as she entered his room. “Time for a bath, buddy.”
“A bath? But it’s not bedtime,” he protested.
“If I’m taking my best boy into town for dinner, then I want him scrubbed sparkly clean.” His face screwed up for another round of protest. “And I hear the place we’re going to eat has the most super-duper chocolate shakes in the world.” The promise of his favorite drink did the trick, and he headed for the bathroom.
Within minutes Abby had Jason in the tub with Jessica waiting to bathe next. Abby had just pulled Jason from the tub and was fixing fresh water for Jessica when Luke appeared in the doorway.
“Sorry to bother you,” he said, “but I’m going to nail the front door shut, then knock off for the day.”
She quickly turned off the faucets, gestured Jessica to get in the tub, then stepped into the hallway and pulled the bathroom door closed behind her to afford the little girl her privacy.
The first thing she realized was that the hall seemed far too small. He stood close enough to her that she could smell the masculine scent of him, a mixture of fresh cologne and a whisper of hot male. The heat from his body radiated outward. “You’ll be back tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yeah, but before I leave, I wanted to talk to you for a minute about my hours here.”
She wanted to move him out of the hallway, step back enough from him that she didn’t feel so vulnerable, so overwhelmed by his presence.
“If it’s all right with you, I’ll work here each day until about three. Then I need to knock off. I work on the family ranch in the afternoons, then in the evenings I work at the Honky Tonk, a little bar on the edge of town.”
“Three jobs? You must be an overachiever.”
He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed in the pit of his stomach. “Not hardly. In fact, most people would tell you the opposite is true, that I’m just kind of drifting through life, dabbling here and there.”
“And what would be closer to the truth?” she asked curiously.
“I’m not sure. I’m still trying to figure it out,” he admitted with a wry grin. He started down the hallway toward the kitchen, and she followed.
“I’ll be back around seven in the morning,” he said as he reached the door.
“That would be fine,” she agreed.
“Then I’ll see you first thing in the morning.” With another of his beautiful smiles, he turned and left the house.
To Abby, his parting words felt like a nice promise, and that worried her. She closed the door after him and for a moment leaned against it.
What was wrong with her? Why did Luke Delaney make her feel so shaky inside, so vulnerable and needy? And why did she have the feeling that once he’d discovered she wasn’t married, he’d been subtly flirting with her?
She knew exactly what was wrong with her and knew she couldn’t trust her own perceptions. For the first time in a little over a year, she was feeling relatively safe, anticipating the beginning of a normal life…a new beginning.
For a moment, as Luke had looked at her with his flirting gray eyes, she’d been taken back in time, back to a time of innocence, before tragedy had taken its toll.
She responded to Luke because for the first time in a very long time she felt the stir of wonderful, frightening hope. But she knew how quickly hope could be destroyed, how fast lives could shatter. She knew better than to hope for anything.
