by Maria Luis
“Not more so than usual.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Moira said conspiratorially. “A man will never admit it if he’s acting differently.”
“You gave birth to me. Aren’t you supposed to have my side?”
Moira reached over and pinched his cheek, the same way she’d done when he’d been five. “Always,” she promised, before excusing herself to enter the kitchen.
Leaving Anna and Luke alone.
The last time they’d been alone, he’d had her pinned to her car as he worshipped her mouth with his. The last time they’d been alone, she’d informed him that his kisses needed some work.
“You’re wearing jeans.” She sounded surprised, not that he blamed her. For as long as they’d known each other, sweatpants had been his go-to attire.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Luke said, “Figured it was a holiday and I should try to pull myself together.”
In other words, I didn’t want to look like a bum again for you.
“They look nice.”
“Thanks.” He dropped his hand back to his side. “You look nice, too.” Understatement. She looked beautiful, utterly breathtaking. Sometime in the last year he’d apparently lost his ability to compliment a woman.
At the same time that he uttered, “Did you hear about Brady and Shae?” she said, “You’re not using your cane.” Their voices collided, and they both gave an awkward laugh.
“You go first,” he told her, wiping a sweaty hand on his jean-clad leg.
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I mentioned that you don’t have your cane.”
Would him not having a cane make a difference? Luke nodded toward the wall, where the cane in question was propped up against the fireplace. “Still got it. Thought I might see how I do for a few hours without it.”
“Is that smart?” She didn’t sound condescending, just worried. And her worry warmed him. “Shouldn’t you be using it for a while longer?”
“Probably. It’s not far if I need it.”
Luke didn’t think he would. He’d spent the last few days taking walks with Julian and Sassy. Each day they’d tacked on an extra block. Each night he’d sat before his TV with a newly purchased exercise elastic, so that he could run through his physical therapy circuits at home.
When his hip hurt now, it felt sore rather than like burning fire, which Luke assumed was a signal for progress. Plus, now that he was walking more with Julian, he felt less confined. Less confined, and also less frustrated with his circumstances.
Anna shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “If you need me to grab it for you, just let me know. I don’t mind.”
“Thanks, Blondie.” Luke didn’t want her running around for him. “Is Julian here?”
“He is.”
They fell into silence. Luke wouldn’t classify it as uncomfortable, but it definitely wasn’t easy either. He wondered what she was thinking. Was she hoping he’d choke on a turkey bone later? He couldn’t blame her, if she was—he’d been a complete prick the other night.
“What were you going to say,” she said, reigniting the conversation from the ashes. “Something about Brady?”
Luke grasped her metaphorical olive branch with two hands. “Their engagement.”
“Oh, right.” Anna smiled, her teeth flashing white in her face. “Shaelyn would stumble across the ring, right? She planned her wedding at the age of seven, even though she spent years pretending that weddings are pointless ceremonies and all relationships are worthless. Not unlike your perspective on the latter.”
Ouch. Luke flashed her a devil-may-care grin, because he didn’t dare let her see that, for once, her astute read on him no longer sat so well. And because he didn’t dare let her see that her claws had drawn blood, he asked, “Did you plan your wedding at the age of seven?”
“I think I was too busy planning my career as a doctor to be bothered with weddings.” With a self-deprecating laugh, she added, “Funny, don’t you think? I was a debutante and did that whole scene in high school. And there I was the entire time, hoping that I’d have good enough grades to make my dreams a reality.”
“Why didn’t you go to med school, then?” Luke couldn’t recall his dreams as a kid. Food on the table had been what he’d wanted most. A steady job with steady income so he could provide for his family had been the dream which had taken root in high school.
“I tried, at first.” She shook her head, and the blonde hair she’d hooked behind her ear came loose. His fingers itched to tuck the strands back into place, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets for both his and Anna’s sakes. “When I got pregnant, I guess my priorities shifted.” She shrugged. “But, no, I never was the girl with a wedding book tucked away in my closet.”
Unsure if he even wanted the answer, Luke heard himself ask, “Did you want to marry Julian’s father?”
Her blue eyes flared with sudden disgust. “It’s been so long that I can barely remember, but . . . I guess, yeah, I did. At the beginning.” Foreign jealousy flooded Luke, and he cast the emotion aside. “I’m glad now that I didn’t. I would have been miserable.”
In the last few weeks, she’d made similar comments and Luke wanted to ask questions. He wanted to know more. But he couldn’t exactly expect answers if he wasn’t willing to reciprocate.
“So, no wedding planning as a little girl?” he said instead, shifting his weight to his good leg.
“No, no wedding planning. I’m starting to think that maybe weddings and unicorns aren’t for everyone.”
“Unicorns?”
“You know,” she muttered, once again tucking hair behind her ear. This time she lowered her gaze to the floor, and Luke couldn’t help himself—he reached out and cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger. Blue eyes flicked up to his face in surprise, and, Jesus, but Luke felt that one glance all the way down to the dark depths of his soul. “Love. Soul mates. That sort of thing.”
“You’re thirty-two, Blondie.” Her breath shuddered over his knuckles. “You’ve got some time.”
“I have gray hairs.”
He pretended to peer at the top of her head, but even a cursory glance proved what he already knew: Anna Bryce was beautiful. Even if she had a full head of gray hair, he doubted they’d detract from her looks. “I don’t see any.”
“They’re, uh—” She pulled back from his touch, coughing into a closed fist. “Anyway, I think dating past the age of twenty-two is overrated. I’d say that dating in general would be overrated but I don’t want to sound like a grinch.”
No way was he letting her bypass her little slip-up. “You were saying about the gray hairs?”
“Do we have to talk about it?”
“You brought it up.”
“And I’m un-bringing it up,” she snipped, her cheeks flushed.
Luke shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“It does now. So, anyway, dating.”
Sensing her unease, he let her get away with the subject change. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “You did mention something about being over dating.” Had she agreed to a date with that Ajax fellow? He’d thought of nothing else since Julian had first brought it up. Flicking an invisible speck from his button down, he opted for fishing for information. “We’ve got another week left in our challenge—unless you’ve met someone?”
“Actually, I—”
Whatever she would have said faded into silence as the front door burst open and Amy and Robb entered.
“Luke, you’re here!” his sister exclaimed, striding toward him with a bright, flashy grin. Her brown hair was pulled onto the top of her head in a bun, and she wore a slim-fitting dress the color of a pumpkin. He grimaced. It was a bit of an eyesore, but he doubted the women in the house would agree with him on that.
Amy yanked him down into a tight, suffocating hug—her signature greeting. Over her shoulder, Robb gave him an apologetic smile and mouthed, “sorry.”
Luke would be
t his life that Robb Hampton wasn’t sorry at all.
“Good to see you, Ames.” He bracketed her hands with his and unhooked them from their death grip around his neck. “You’re looking in the holiday spirit.”
“Robb said my dress looks like a pumpkin.”
Thank you. Nice to know that he wasn’t the only person around here who thought so. Not that he’d ever say so out loud—that was Robb’s first mistake. “Nah, sis,” he murmured, “the color works with, uh, your hair.”
“My hair is brown, Luke.”
He sent a plaintive look to Anna, who only held up her hands, palms out, and shook her head. To his sister, he said, “You look like fall.”
Robb released a bark of laughter. “You’re no better than I am, O’Connor. It’s a good thing I’ve already made your sister a happy woman today.”
Luke tensed, shoulders stiffening. He could tell himself every day that Robb Hampton meant well, but when the guy issued flippant comments like that . . . it begged the question of whether Amy knew she was dating a complete a-hole. At this point, she’d be better off with Trinket or one of Luke’s brothers in uniform. Then again, it was her life—she’d allegedly been dating the guy for years . . . happily. If Robb was who Amy wanted, then at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered.
A small hand—Anna’s hand—settled on his lower back at the same time that Amy said, “Where’s Mom? Is she in the kitchen? I’ve got something to show y’all.”
He didn’t like the sound of that.
From beside him, Anna murmured, “I don’t think we’ve met?” She held out a hand to Amy, then to Robb. He recognized her smile as the professional one she’d given Jas. Luke took solace in the fact that she’d never turned that cool smile his way. “I’m Anna,” she continued, “Shaelyn’s cousin.”
Amy and Robb introduced themselves, and as Amy gushed over Anna’s dress, Luke wondered if he’d entered the Twilight zone. Four months ago, he’d been sweating his ass off in the Middle East, shooting the shit with his brothers, and dreaming of a time when he wouldn’t have to sleep with his rifle and a magazine next to him.
Fast forward four months and here he was: still sleeping with his rifle (at least, it was in the same room) and listening to his sister shoot the shit with a woman who—
A woman who what? Luke scrubbed a hand over his freshly shaven jaw. He didn’t have an answer for what Anna was to him, but he knew that he liked the feel of her hand on his back, and he knew, without doubt, that the last few days without speaking to her had been hell.
Despite Sassy’s slobber and unconditional love, the lonely sensation he’d thought he’d shed had returned with a vengeance. Brady was always busy with Shaelyn or work, and while Luke spent his days at Herbal Heaven manning the register . . . Maybe it was sad to admit, but a fourteen-year-old kid had become his closest friend.
The fact that the kid was the by-product of the woman standing next to him—a woman who smelled as delicious as she looked—threatened to unman him.
Anna Bryce was turning his life upside-down and she didn’t even know it.
“We’ve got to get Mom,” Amy said, ushering the lot of them through the tight doorway and into the kitchen.
Arthur Taylor carved the turkey while Brady supervised nearby; Shaelyn and her grandmother seemed to be in a heated discussion about something or another, while Julian sat at the table with a bowl of chips in his lap. Off to the side, Moira and Mary Taylor were keeping watch over the stove.
The lonely sensation didn’t flee, and Luke just barely caught himself from reaching for Anna’s hand.
“Mom!” Amy said, bustling forward with Robb trailing at her heels like an obedient pup.
Moira turned, her face brightening at the sight of her daughter. “Hey honey, Happy Thanksgiving.”
Amy dutifully kissed their mother’s cheek, then did the same for Mary Taylor. “Mom, I’ve got to show you something,” Luke’s sister said, grabbing at Robb’s hand to yank him forward.
“Actually, two things.” Robb smiled nervously and red alarms burst in Luke’s head.
He met his mother’s gaze over Amy’s head. Something told him he was going to need his cane for this. Amy O’Connor loved big announcements. At the age of seven, she’d announced her first baby tooth falling out of her mouth. At the age of twelve, she’d announced her first period with none of the embarrassment that girls tended to exhibit. At sixteen, she’d announced experiencing her first kiss, and, subsequently, the first time she had sex (Moira had immediately set her daughter up on birth control with a threat to bar her bedroom doors shut). At eighteen, she’d announced her plans to attend university—surprising them when she’d rejected Louisiana State University’s offer for Alabama.
Amy was a big personality in a small package, and Luke had a sneaking suspicion that she was about to pull another Alabama-sized “blindside” on them all.
“Do we need champagne for this?” asked Mary Taylor, already moving toward the cabinets. “Arthur, help me with the flutes.”
“Shaelyn, take note of Miz Mary’s tendency to instruct her husband,” Elaine Lawrence said, tapping her granddaughter on the hand with a fork. “Obedient husband equals happy marriage. It’s why your poor grandfather only made it to the age of forty-five before he keeled over.”
Shaelyn snorted into her wine. “Meme,” she exclaimed, “it’s a holiday.”
“Just a suggestion, that’s all, cher.”
“Champagne?” Mary asked Luke, interpreting his hesitation as a yes. She shoved a flute into his hand, and his fingers immediately wrapped around the stem.
Anna bumped his good hip with hers, drawing his gaze down to her blue eyes. “Big announcement, right? Any idea what it might be?”
Amy didn’t give Luke the chance to answer. His sister squeezed her eyes shut, turned to the side, and then brandished her hand in the air. “I’m engaged!”
The room erupted into a commotion of congratulations and air kisses. Luke’s feet were rooted to the floor. Robb had said that they had two announcements. The engagement, which he’d expected after his last conversation with Hampton, only accounted for one announcement. Not two.
“Luke?”
She placed her hand on his back again, and this time he didn’t stop himself. Still staring straightforward, his right hand found hers. He felt her initial flinch and he immediately released his hold, silently cursing his own idiocy for making a move she obviously didn’t want. He’d had his chance and he’d fucked it up, and it would be best if he got that through his thick skull now—
Her pinky hooked around his, and the breath whooshed out of Luke. Around him, everything was chaos. Anna was—hell, he still didn’t know. His gaze snagged on a flower pot by the sink window. An orchid. That was the flower he couldn’t name for Julian the other day. Anna Bryce was an orchid, beautiful and dainty, and yet still powerful and independent.
And right now, even with just her pinky latched onto his, Luke felt invincible. Stronger than he’d felt in weeks, if not months. He didn’t care how pathetic that sounded, or why a relationship with Anna Bryce was not feasible in any way, shape or form.
Amy grabbed a fork from the kitchen countertop and clanged Robb’s glass, wedding-toast style. “I’ve got one more surprise for the day!”
Moira glanced his way, her gaze darting down to where he and Anna held pinkies, before flicking up to his face. Her familiar green eyes were worried and Luke felt his stomach plummet.
“Tell us already!” Elaine Lawrence hollered from the back. “I’m aging faster than a dog in heat the longer I sit here.”
No one mentioned that the comment made not a single lick of sense. No, their attention was fixed elsewhere, on Luke’s sister. And on the thermometer-looking object she’d whipped out from her purse and was now waving about in the air.
Anna wrapped her ring finger around his.
Luke wondered how quickly a guy his size could get wasted off of champagne.
“I’m pregna
nt!”
21
“Damn.”
Anna heard Luke’s softly uttered curse as loudly as a foghorn at one of Julian’s football games. While his sister was swarmed with hugs and kisses and more than a few champagne toasts, Luke remained by her side. Remote. Quiet.
The only signals he’d given that he was still alive—besides the fact that he was standing—was the barely-there curse and the fact that his hand had now completely enveloped hers.
She tried, and failed, not to think too much into the handhold.
Heart, stop going crazy.
The stupid organ didn’t listen, and she wouldn’t have been surprised had Luke heard the blasted thing thumping in her chest.
“Two engagements in one day,” grumbled Brady’s grandfather, Mr. Arthur, as he approached them. “You’d think they coordinated dates or something.”
Needing to fill Luke’s stunned silence, Anna replied, “As long as they don’t plan a wedding on the same day, I think we’ll be okay.”
Arthur Taylor’s lips thinned. “You don’t think Shaelyn is expecting, do you? Mary’s old-fashioned. Them living together before marriage nearly sent her to an early grave.”
Anna glanced at her petite cousin. “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” she said. “Shaelyn would never get pregnant outside of marriage.”
Not like how I did.
Apparently satisfied with her answer, Mr. Arthur nodded sagely and excused himself to go smoke a cigar away from the too-happy couples. His words, not hers. Anna could appreciate the engagements for what they were, even if she did feel a sliver of envy that she’d yet to meet her Mr. Right.
Luke’s thumb slipped over the pulse of her inner wrist.
Anna’s breath caught at the innocent touch. Maybe Mr. Right was overrated. Maybe she shouldn’t be looking for forever and instead should be looking for right now. Had she ever lived in the moment? She glanced down at her and Luke’s entwined fingers. His skin was an olive tone, a clear indication that he’d spent most of his time outside prior to his injury.