by Lisa Plumley
Happy, Josie maneuvered the sloppy burger out of the container with both hands. It smelled divine. She took a bite.
“Mmmm.” Suddenly, she couldn’t get enough. “Yum.”
Bemused, Luke watched her. “You looked like an ‘everything on it’ kind of girl to me. I got ketchup, mustard, relish, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, pickles—”
“Lots of pickles. Perfect!”
She munched her way through half the cheeseburger. It could have been hotter or less greasier, but to Josie it was the tastiest thing she’d eaten all day. She didn’t know how Luke had known she was craving this, but she was glad he had.
“You’re not one of those girls who orders salad on a date, then,” he observed, reaching in the paper sack for a napkin to give her. “You eat real food. I like that.”
“Are you kidding me? I hate salad. It’s so…healthy.” She shuddered. “Seriously. If salad were actually good, would people have to put all that stuff on it? Dressing and croutons and bacon bits? No, they’d wouldn’t. I say, skip the salad and go straight to the bacon bits.”
“Interesting theory.”
“I’ve got a million of ‘em.” Happily, Josie took another cheeseburger bite. This was nice, actually. Friendly. With Luke she felt comfortable, even while swabbing up a ketchup drip. “Mmm-mmm.”
“Good?”
“Delicious.”
“Good.” Luke paused. “Luanne says you’re a stripper.”
“Gaaack.” Josie put a hand to her throat, sure she must have choked on that blunt statement. She swiveled to face Luke, heedless that she was still mid-bite. “A stripper?”
He shrugged. “That’s what everyone in town is—”
“Hang on.” She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know Luanne?”
“I go to Frank’s sometimes. It’s no big deal.”
Josie’s bite of cheeseburger suddenly seemed way too big to handle. It tasted exactly like the Styrofoam it had come in, too. Chewing mightily, she forced it down. She dropped the rest of the burger into the takeout container, then daintily wiped her pickle-juice-smeared fingers on a napkin and dropped it inside, too. She snapped the lid closed. Shoved the whole thing back to Luke.
“You can keep your pity burger. I don’t need it.”
“‘Pity burger’? What the—?”
But Josie was already on her feet. Already heading for the front door. He’d been there. Luke had been there at Frank’s Diner when half the town had given her the cold shoulder. The feeling of humiliation that had swamped her then was nothing compared with the embarrassment she felt now. She didn’t know why his opinion of her mattered—only that she didn’t want it to.
This was way more than the “reward” she’d signed up for. It was past time to get her stuff and clear out. Josie jammed her key in the lock and rattled it, trying to remember the secret method Luke had shared with her during her tour of Blue Moon. Was it turn-jiggle-turn? Or jiggle-turn-jiggle? Damn. He was headed right for her. But she was ready for him.
Josie whirled. If there was any feminine justice in the world, there’d be sparks shooting from her eyeballs. Just to scare him.
He didn’t even look alarmed.
“Hey.” Luke held up both hands in surrender. He even had the gall to grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t be mad at me. I like strippers.”
“I’m not a stripper!”
His gaze zipped to her hips, then back again. “You sure about that? Because you’ve got all the right equipment.”
“So do you. I’ll alert Chippendales.”
“Thanks. But I like my job here.” He leaned his shoulder against the porch post, as aggravatingly relaxed as ever. Clearly, feminine justice was busy elsewhere. “I guess you prefer to be called ‘exotic dancers’ these days, right?”
“Unless you’re stocked up on fivers for my G-string.” Josie pantomimed tucking money in her imaginary stripper regalia, then offered up an over-the-top hip swivel. “Then you can call me whatever you want.” She batted her eyelashes.
He frowned over her sarcasm. “I like…Josie.”
“Awww. Even though you think I take my clothes off for money, you still see me as a real person. That’s sweet.” Josie rolled her eyes. “Nice try, Lothario. Save it for the local girls. I moved out of Completely Gullible a long time ago.”
Feeling battered, she shook the doorknob again. Nada.
Fine. She’d overcome difficult odds before. She could do it again. Josie wrenched out her keys, lifted her chin, and marched to the parlor window overlooking the porch. There was more than one way into this dump, and she was about to prove it.
“What’s got me stumped,” Luke mused from behind her, “is how you met my—Tallulah. She’s not much into girlie shows.”
“It wasn’t a ‘girlie show,’ you Neanderthal. It wasn’t even topless. I don’t ‘do’ topless.”
God, she couldn’t wait to get out of here. Gritting her teeth, Josie raised the window sash. She threw her keys on the parlor floorboards inside, then hoisted herself on the windowsill in a straddle position. With dignity, she pushed her chin a notch higher. “It,” she informed him, “was a revue.”
As a snappy comeback, it was short-lived. Because the minute Josie toed the floorboards and stepped into the house, her ankle went pop. It gave way beneath her.
With a yelp, Josie fell.
Luke sprawled in one of the beat-up waiting room chairs at Donovan’s Corner General, a six-month-old issue of Sports Illustrated on his lap. Not surprisingly, articles about last season’s NFC playoffs weren’t exactly riveting. He stared at them anyway, trying to take his mind off Josie.
No good. Tossing the magazine on a side table, he looked around. Unless you counted one grubby rug rat with a runny nose, the kid’s harried-looking mom, and two construction workers—one with his thumb wrapped in a makeshift tube sock bandage—the place didn’t offer much in the way of distraction.
He drummed his fingers on the chair arm. Propped one booted ankle on his bent knee. Switched legs. Stood, stretched, and paced the cramped length of the emergency room waiting area.
That weird hospital smell lingered in the air, some unavoidable combination of antiseptic cleaners and cafeteria food. The overhead intercom crackled with calls for doctors to come to various departments, and the receptionist tapped on her computer keyboard. Somewhere down the long mustard-colored corridor to his left, an alarm buzzed. In the curtained-off room to his right, Josie was being examined.
The glass double doors at the entrance swooshed open, admitting a jingly middle-aged brunette. She made a beeline for the reception desk. Her movements—brisk, no-nonsense, and vaguely tottering due to her high heels—made sunlight glint from her gold jewelry. She was covered in the stuff. Two thick necklaces, big dangly earrings, a pair of bracelets on one wrist and a shiny watch on the other, a lapel pin. In a town other than Donovan’s Corner, that might not have been unusual. But around here, women didn’t get gussied up much. She stood out.
“I’m Nancy Day,” she told the receptionist, hitching her purse on her shoulder. “Here to see my daughter, Josie.”
Luke’s ears perked up. Josie’s mother? No wonder she’d stood out. It ran in the family.
“Your daughter’s being examined.” The receptionist shot a curious glance at Luke—no doubt wondering why Josie’s two visitors didn’t seem to know each other. “She should be out in a few minutes, if you’d like to wait, ma’am.”
With a hushed thank-you, Nancy Day teetered to the waiting area. Her bright clothes were as dressed-up as her jewelry was—several heads turned as she examined the available chairs. Seeing her hesitate, one of the construction workers rose partway. He cleared away a newspaper from a nearby chair, then motioned chivalrously for Nancy to take the seat.
Special treatment. Luke didn’t doubt that Josie’s mother received it all the time. She definitely seemed to accept it as her due—a lot like Josie probably would have. She smiled, then offered a gracious murmured comment to th
e construction worker. He grinned in a bashful, secretly pleased way—just like all the retirees at Frank’s Diner had when Josie had greeted them. Nancy sat and crossed her legs, staring intently toward the examining area.
As though she’d willed him to do so, a doctor emerged.
Luke glanced from the familiar doctor to Nancy. He looked back again, impressed. Handy trick. If he could do that with his refrigerator and an endless supply of Budweisers, he’d be the most popular man in town.
“We’re all set here,” the doctor told Luke, obviously recognizing him as the man who’d all but carried the patient over the emergency room threshold. “You can see Josie now.”
The doctor held back the curtain, indicating that Luke should follow him inside. Was that a frown on his face? Was the news bad? Luke bolted for the examining area.
He arrived there only moments before Nancy did. Despite that she was a head shorter and about sixty pounds lighter, she paused and raised an eyebrow at him. Clearly she expected him to make way for her to see her daughter.
“He was talking to me,” they said in unison.
Nancy blinked in surprise. Then, evidently deciding Luke was delusional, she turned to the doctor.
“Is it bad? How is she?”
The doctor hesitated, looking confused.
“Oh, God,” groaned a voice from inside the examining room. “Mom, is that you?”
“No need to sound so petulant, young lady.” With a victorious glance at Luke and the doctor, Nancy swept past the curtain. Her high heels clip-clopped against the tile. “Of course it’s me. I came as soon as I heard. Left in the middle of showing a new listing, in fact.”
Luke followed. Josie sat on a padded green examining table in the middle of the tight-squeezed room, her leg extended and her pink track pants rolled up to the knee. Her ankle was wrapped in what looked like a stretchy Ace bandage. She seemed uncomfortable—although whether that was due to pain or her mother’s arrival, Luke couldn’t tell.
At the sight of her vulnerable bare leg and cantaloupe-size ankle, the lump of guilt in his gut got worse. He should have fixed the floorboards. Or warned Josie not to go gallivanting over the windowsill like that. But she’d looked so damned cute, all cocksure and full of determination. He hadn’t thought twice about the potential condition of the flooring, so he hadn’t tried to stop her.
Self-importantly, Nancy stepped forward. “Did Josie give you any trouble”—she squinted at the doctor’s name badge—“Doctor Villanova? I’m afraid my daughter has never been the most cooperative of patients.”
“Mom.” Josie crossed her arms. She rolled her eyes.
The doctor looked nonplussed. “She was fine. Now, about—”
“Oh, that’s so kind of you to say so.” Nancy winked, as though sharing a private joke with everyone. “I have to tell you, some people just don’t quite understand my Josie.”
Sensing his opportunity, Luke jumped in. “Especially people who think she’s a stripper.” With a knowledgeable shake of his head, he moved to stand closer to Josie. “They don’t understand her at all.”
Josie, Nancy, and the doctor all gaped at him.
“She doesn’t even ‘do’ the topless stuff,” he added. That was going to score points, big time. It might even make up for the crumbling floorboard Josie’s foot had plowed through. He glanced at her injured ankle. It looked swollen to the size of the moose head on the billiard room wall. “Or girlie shows. She’s in a revue.”
Silence.
“Tell me, Luke.” Josie cocked her head toward him, looking as though she was stifling a wiseass smile. “Exactly what is a revue?”
Crap. Didn’t she know he was trying to help her out, here?
“It’s a…” Remembering her plans for Blue Moon’s abandoned ballroom, he decided to take a shot in the dark. He was good at improvising. “Dance…thing.”
He didn’t know if it was his delivery or his stance or just dumb luck, but Josie bought it. So did Nancy and the doctor, judging by their awed expressions. He felt as though he’d just rebuilt a vintage Indian Scout 741. Blindfolded.
Josie got over it quickly. She straightened atop the examining table with practiced—and, Luke would have sworn, exotic dancer-style—elegance. She addressed the doctor.
“So, what’s the story?”
“Yes, is it serious?” Nancy cast a dramatic, concerned glance at her daughter’s wrapped ankle. “Will she ever dance again?”
All that was missing was the violin music.
“It’s just a sprain,” Luke assured Nancy. “She’ll tough it out.”
Josie’s mother looked at him as though he’d just pulled down his pants and flashed her.
“Er, who are you, again?”
“Luke Donovan. I’m Josie’s—”
“Friend,” Josie interrupted hurriedly. “He’s my friend.”
Not handyman, her fierce gaze telegraphed to him.
Whatever. Luke extended his arm to shake Nancy’s decked out hand. He’d forgotten to account for the two rings on her right hand and the three on the left. Jesus. The woman was a walking QVC special.
Her smile enveloped him. It was like being walloped with a charm stick.
“Nancy Day. Sunshine Realty.” Somehow she palmed over her business card in one deft move. “If you’re ever in the market for a new home, please keep me in mind. I cover the entire county, including condos, vacation homes, and rentals.”
Damn. For an older broad, she was dazzling. Also a little scary in her intensity. Luke would have gone back to roof shingling before admitting it.
“Mom, save the sales pitch. I promise you, Luke isn’t interested in a new house.” Josie looked at the ever-patient Doctor Villanova. “I’m okay to leave now, right?”
“Yes.” He consulted his chart. “You have a mild sprain. I ordered some precautionary X-rays, but no bones are broken. Your ankle is wrapped up now, but you should stay off your feet as much as possible for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.” He explained procedures for icing and elevating the injury. “You can take an over the counter pain reliever as needed for any discomfort.”
“Fine, I will. I know the drill. Thanks, Doc.” Josie offered him a handshake, then watched him leave. The moment he disappeared through the curtain, she slid to the edge of the table, clearly intending to get down and—what? Hop to the exit?
“Hey.” Luke lunged forward. “Stop right there. Are you trying to mangle the other ankle, too?”
He held out his arms. Josie regarded him mulishly.
“You’re not carrying me out of here.”
“Until you get a pair of crutches, I am.”
“Wow, Josie. What a perfect gentleman. I think this one’s a keeper!” Nancy beamed. She leaned conspiratorially toward him. “Let me ask you something, Luke. Do you rent or own? Have you ever considered lakefront property? It never fails to appreciate in value, you know.”
“Mom!” Poised on the edge of the examining table, Josie speared her mother with an aggravated look. “What are you doing here, anyway? You weren’t even supposed to know I was in town.”
Nancy lifted her chin. Luke recognized the stubborn gesture. It had to be genetic.
“One of my clients heard you were back in town while she was IM-ing the members of her son’s after-school playgroup,” Nancy said with dignity. “Apparently, little Andrew Toureno’s mother was in the waiting room when you came in.”
Josie raised her eyebrows.
“Donovan’s Corner is not the back of beyond, dear. We have the Internet now. Haven’t you seen my Realtor web page?”
Josie shrugged. “I’m not an Internet person, Mom. You know I don’t like computers.”
“Hmmm. Yes, that’s right. Brainpower never was your strong suit. Well. We can’t all be good at everything, can we?” Brightly, Nancy patted her daughter on the knee. “I’ll just have to show you my Web site when we get home, then.”
“Uhhh—”
“Of course you’ll be st
aying with your father and me until you’re recovered. I positively insist.”
Josie’s panicked gaze slid to Luke. She must have viewed him as the lesser of two evils, because her decision was immediate.
“Steady, there, Incredible Hulk. I’m coming your way.”
She all but leaped into Luke’s arms. He caught her with a grunt, then waited while she grabbed her purse, her abandoned rainbow sandal, and a sheaf of doctor’s instructions. He liked holding her. She didn’t squeal or pretend she might be crushing him or catch him in a stranglehold. She just held on, trusting he would carry her safely.
“We’re out of here,” she announced. “Mush, Hulk.”
Great. He was getting sappy. She was getting bossy.
But he couldn’t leave her to fend for herself. Especially not when her accident had been partly his fault. Luke headed for the door.
“Good idea,” Nancy said, nodding from beside it. “You carrying her, I mean. Josie definitely shouldn’t walk until we get a pair of crutches at the drugstore.” With evident approval, she led the way out of the examining room. “My car is parked on the left side of the parking lot, Luke. It’s a special zone for chamber of commerce members only.” She spared him a proud over-the-shoulder glance as she tottered in the lead, showing how pleased she was to be among Donovan’s Corner’s finest businesses. “Follow me. I’ll show you the way.”
They stopped beside a shiny white Cadillac, a few years old but obviously well cared for. The driver’s-side door sported a huge magnetized Sunshine Realty advertisement. From its center, Nancy Day’s cheerful, makeup-spackled face beamed back at them.
“Well, here we are!”
“I see you’re still driving the pimpmobile,” Josie said.
“My clients are all terribly impressed with this car. They love riding in it when I show houses.”
“That’s because they’re hoping to get lucky in the back seat. It’s as big as my bedroom in Vegas.”
Nancy pursed her lips. She gave Luke one of those Kids. What can you do? looks.
“Luke, I’ll just get in and roll down the backseat window. You can shove Josie in that way. All right?”
He chuckled. Josie whapped him.