He put his palms out in a gesture of truce. “I just want what’s best for you.”
She put a hand to her chest, all the hope and happiness turning gray. “I know what’s best for me. Not you. Not my mother. Please, just let me figure it out.”
His lips were set as if he had more to say, but he shook it off. “Okay. Absolutely.” His hands smoothed over her upper arms. “You’re freezing. Let’s take a shower. I’ll scrub you up.”
She let him lead her to the shower. She let him position her under the water, and enjoyed the pleasure of his soapy hands on her body, in her hair. She let him wash away the paint.
But she wasn’t going to let him decide how her life turned out. For years she’d already quietly given him her love. The rest was her choice.
“Did you mean it?” She wiped droplets from his cheeks. “That you want more with me?”
Gripping her wrists, he slid his hands down her arms and around her. “Yes. But I want to be the man you need.”
Him and his pride. She was about to protest, but his lips pressed into hers. “You’re already that man,” she said between kisses.
“No, but I will be.”
“Luke,” she argued, but the determined set of his mouth stopped her. This was important to him, so it would be important to her, too.
“Do you want to work toward more with me?”
Work toward… So, if he didn’t get the promotion, did that mean they’d be back as normal? Just friends? He seemed to be forgetting that she had the education and skills to more than provide for them, if she began practicing law. If it meant having a future with him, maybe it wasn’t such a bad prospect.
“Yes, of course I do!”
His embrace tightened, holding her securely against his body, her face pressed against the beat of his heart.
Her chest swelled, her body pumping with a natural high. There was more promise for them right now than there had ever been. There were also decisions to make, things to figure out, but they’d do it together, while she helped him look past his pride to see he was already perfect for her, just the way he was.
But tonight she wanted to be wrapped in his arms and ride this high, if possible.
Luke wanted more, and nothing was going to make this crash and burn.
Chapter Sixteen
I am yours.
Luke navigated the hallway in the administrative office complex, sidestepping some boxes piled up against the wall. The replay of Greer’s words gave him a shot of joy, every damn time. Two men in blue overalls carried a desk from one room to the other, while another set of guys in white coveralls removed the pictures from the wall.
It looked empty without all the framed certificates and pictures of past fire chiefs.
“I’ve been looking at those same creepy faces for thirty years.” Barbara, one of the secretaries, chuckled as she greeted him at the desk. “I hope they replace them with something prettier. How can I help you?”
He scratched his temple, trying to get a grip on the nerves that wouldn’t go away. He’d come up here to turn in a supply order, but also had hopes of catching Chief Jeffers for a moment to thank him for the second-round interview…and maybe feel out what, or rather who, the final decision was. Now that he was here, he decided against it. No sense in adding fuel to the anxious fire inside him. The interview team said he’d hear something by five o’clock today, so he’d wait, and pray he didn’t get an ulcer.
Handing over the order slip, he wished Barbara a good day and headed out, glad to have the day off. He’d covertly spent the last three evenings with Greer. They’d watched movies, had dinner, done laundry. And he’d sat quietly in her little studio, checking baseball scores on his phone while she painted. She shooed him away each time he’d tried to get a good look at what she was creating, but he’d caught a glimpse of angel wings last night.
She was so serene and peaceful while she was painting. It pulled her into a separate world, one so deep inside her head that she seemed to forget that he was there. It warmed him to see her like that, to know she was loving what she was doing. He hadn’t brought up their relationship again, and neither had she. Maybe she was content to wait and see how his promotion went, after all. They’d been so content together, really, that talking about more didn’t seem necessary. They were already doing it.
She was going to need a hefty dose of that inner peace to get through her mother’s birthday party tomorrow.
He’d called his mother this morning to see if she and his dad were planning on attending. She’d quietly admitted that they’d like to go, but she had nothing to wear. She had plenty of clothes, and “I don’t have anything to wear” seemed to be a standard excuse for women anytime they went anywhere. But Luke heard what she didn’t say: she couldn’t afford to buy anything appropriate.
He’d be damned if she was going to miss another Worth shindig because of money.
Pulling into his parents’ driveway, he parked and let himself into the house.
“Ma? You ready?”
He wandered through the house—it was immaculate as usual—until he found her in the kitchen. On a stool. Reaching way above her five-foot-three frame to try and dust the top of the cabinets. He sighed and plucked the duster out of her hand.
“Get down before you fall and break a hip.”
She wacked him good-naturedly. “What are you doing here?”
He reached up and ran the duster over the tops of the cabinets. She always said he got his height from his grandfather. Six three and counting.
“Waiting for you to get ready to go.”
Her face scrunched. “Where?”
“Shopping, Ma. Let’s go. I’m itchy just thinking about it.”
She waved him off. “I don’t need anything. Go find something better to do on your day off.”
Luke set down the duster and put an arm around his mom. Her brown hair was pulled back into her everyday bun, the temples streaked grayer than he remembered. He pulled out his cell phone and sent Greer a covert message.
Ma needs one of them spa appointments for her hair. Today. Help?
She tried to take the duster, but he put it behind his back. “I’m doing exactly what I want to do today. Now, go put your orthopedic shoes on, get your purse, and let’s go.”
She huffed a laugh. “Orthopedic shoes? You brat!”
He chucked and endured another playful whack as she walked out of the room. His phone buzzed.
La Petite Rose on Fifth and Blackwood. Ten o’clock. It’s fancy.
I owe you one.
She sent a smiley face. I lost count a long time ago.
Luke grinned and met his mom at the door. She talked his ear off about a neighbor who had a new grandbaby, and a loose dog in the neighborhood that kept digging up her flowers. He listened quietly, warm from the sound of her voice. He didn’t spend enough time at home anymore. The seemingly nonstop string of shifts left him with little time to stop by for her homemade peanut-butter cookies, or to help his dad tinker in the garage.
They pulled into the Macy’s parking lot, and her jaw dropped.
“No, honey I can’t shop here.”
He undid his seat belt. “That’s okay. I can.”
She pulled the sides of her light jacket together and worried her lower lip between her teeth. Luke melted a little.
“Ma, I want to give you something nice. It makes me happy, okay? You want me to be happy, don’t you?”
She half-rolled her eyes. “You’re guilt-tripping me into letting you spend money on something I’ll wear once?”
“Is it working?”
“Lucas…”
If she was being this stubborn over a damn dress, how would she react when he gave her the fancy cruise tickets? He winked at her.
“You’ll wear it again. I promise.”
An hour in, he was slightly regretting that he didn’t ask Greer to do this shopping thing in his place. Women and shopping. Oh Christ. His mom lit up like a teenager as she riffle
d through the racks, chatting nearly nonstop about everything she saw.
She finally, finally, pulled out a couple to try on.
He gave her a push toward the fitting rooms. “Go, like the wind. Try them on. Please.”
“Okay,” she said excitedly. “Wait right here so you can help me pick.”
He’d rather stab himself in the eye with an ice pick right now. But he sat on a cushy bench thing and only cringed once as his mom dropped her suitcase-size purse onto his lap. Then, he waited. And waited.
“Are you remodeling in there? Baking a cake? Writing a novel?” he called out.
She snorted and slowly pulled the curtain aside. “Is orange a pastel?”
It didn’t matter. The dress was awful. The color was a weird mix of peachy-orange and bronze, maybe. It covered her body in a shimmery blob.
“Ma, no. You look like a construction cone.”
She shrugged and disappeared behind the curtain again. After a few minutes of rustling, he heard her sharp intake of breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just…well…” She stepped out of the dressing room.
Luke sat up straight. Huh. His mom actually had a figure.
The dress was a pale lilac and had a deep V-neck wrap top, and flouncy skirt with a peek of tulle beneath the hem. The fabric had a slight shimmer that would really sparkle in the sunlight. It complemented her tan skin, and heaven help his father, gave her a bit of a pinup look.
“Dad’s not going to know what to do with you in that dress.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He wagged his eyebrows. She blushed and shook her head. Smoothing her hands over her middle, she glanced down at herself.
“It looks okay?”
“You look stunning, Ma. Really. It’s perfect.”
She hugged him and turned to the curtain. She stopped as her fingers found the price tag hanging down. He tried to stop her from looking at it, but her face paled and the joy melted from her face.
“It’s…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “It’s two hundred dollars.”
He leaned in and whispered back. “I don’t care. Happy birthday. Merry Christmas. Blessed Easter. Happy Hanukkah—”
“Okay.” She laughed. “Okay.”
He paid with a hefty helping of satisfaction at making his mom happy. This was what he wanted—to be able to support the people he loved. And Greer? He wanted to give her the life she was used to. It filled him up in a way he couldn’t explain. It made him feel…useful, and in his mind, a man should feel proud of his ability to give to his loved ones.
They bought a matching lilac tie for his dad, who apparently had a suit that still fit him well. Luke drove her to the salon where she had her hair dyed a beautiful shade of walnut. The stylist gave her some makeup samples in spring colors—pink mostly—to coordinate with her dress. Which reminded him. He threw Greer a text.
Are you really wearing that pink dress tomorrow?
Her reply came immediately.
No, I’m wearing black.
He read that again. She couldn’t be serious. Her mother would come unglued.
Just tell me what color tie to wear.
Light pink.
God, what was with the pink? He waited for his mom to slip on her coat, and paid before they went out into the sunshine. His phone rang.
Thinking it was Greer calling to fill him in on what she was really wearing tomorrow, he answered it without looking at the number.
“Luke? Jim Cane. I’d like to talk about your application for director.”
His heart jumped into his throat. “Yes, sir.”
The air stilled around him as he listened. Cars went by on the street. His mom was talking rapid-fire, oblivious to the fact that he was on the phone. A child cried somewhere. Noise.
All fucking noise.
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” The words were cardboard going over numb lips. Branches from the carefully trimmed tree in front of him swayed in the light wind. Back and forth. Back and forth.
“Everything okay?”
He snapped his attention to his mother and kicked down the daze that wanted to pull him to the ground. He put his phone in his pocket and opened the car door for her, feeling like the rusted Tin Man who had to fight for every movement.
“Perfect. Everything is perfect.”
Chapter Seventeen
Greer parked on the street instead of going up her parents’ gated drive. She wasn’t ready to get out of the car yet and didn’t need a valet breathing down her neck.
Leaning her head against the back of her seat, she didn’t care about flattening her hair. Sleeping in rollers had resulted in long curls that her mom would approve of. At least she had that going for her, since she was wearing a black dress, and flats instead of heels. The pink dress hung on the garment hook in the backseat, along with three-inch nude Louboutin’s. She’d change.
Eventually.
First, she was going to finish processing. Luke hadn’t showed for the funeral this morning, nor had he answered her texts or phone calls. She’d waited for him until she couldn’t wait any longer, then went alone. Steaming. Hurt. Confused.
It wasn’t like him to ditch her. Was he going to show up for this damn party, or was he going to skip out on that, too? She checked her phone in case he’d texted. Nothing. This wasn’t like him. Should she drive to his place and check on him? What if something had happened, and he couldn’t call? Maybe he fell, or had an accident, or…
“Stop it,” she chided herself. He was fine. Being an ass for some reason, but fine. She was just in knots over the funeral, and her lover’s vanishing act was making it worse.
The funeral had been beautiful, the church packed with Eugene’s friends and family. She’d found a seat in the very back, taking care to stay to herself. The service passed with her safely inside an introverted bubble, no one approaching her to talk about the accident as she’d feared they might. She’d given Brent a hug on her way out and held back tears as she exited the church.
Coming face-to-face with the emotions of Brent’s family and the rawness of the way he passed didn’t offer any peace, or the closure she had hoped she’d feel.
Luke had told her early on in her training, “Don’t get involved. Drop them off at the hospital and forget about it.”
The advice had seemed callous at the time, but she saw the sense in it now. She was way too emotionally invested, and nothing was making it better.
She pulled her hair over one shoulder and grabbed her purse. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this job. There was an intimacy to helping someone in their darkest moment, to holding the balance of their life in your hands, that made it impossible not to get involved. How did you just forget and move on to the next patient as if the patient before had never existed? It seemed cruel and impersonal. At least in law, she followed through with every client. From beginning to court to the final ruling, she was by their side. When the ruling came, it was done. Bam. Closure.
A knock on her window made her jump. Luke’s handsome face was close to the glass, his features etched with tight lines. Clearing her throat to steady herself, she opened the door and stepped out.
“I’ve been calling you all morning.”
He tried to smile, but it was as flat as cardboard. “You’re really wearing black.”
His black suit was perfectly cut and tailored to his athletic form. Greer wet her lower lip, taking in the gray vest that peeked beneath his suit coat, and the pop of his pale pink tie. The colors complemented his golden hair and tan skin. It was really, really hard to stay angry at him when he looked this good.
Adult, dressed-up bestie was freaking stunning.
“I had a funeral this morning,” she said. “Remember? The one you forgot to attend?”
He looked to the side and then to the ground. “Yeah, right. Sorry about that.”
She lightly gripped his tie and ran her fingers down its silky le
ngth. He wore a heavy air of sadness and, if the tense lines of his shoulders were an indication, anger. Soothing him, comforting his unknown demons, seemed incredibly important just then. Whatever had happened to him was profound enough to cause this change. Stepping into him, Greer tipped her face to give him a kiss, but he stepped back. Her brow fell at his blatant refusal.
“Luke?”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t go with you. I should have. Come on, your mom has been asking for you.”
He’d professed his desire to make her his, and today he was colder than a meat locker. He’d never been one for cat and mouse, so what the hell was this about? He wasn’t looking at her, seemed to be making a point of it, and kept his hands to himself.
Fine. She’d feel him out later. Considering she was already an hour late, Greer shouldn’t keep her mother waiting any longer. She grabbed her proper dress and shoes from the backseat and gave him a glance. He took her dress from her, and offered his arm as they walked to the open gate.
“Christ,” she breathed. The place was packed. As she’d expected, a valet waited at the curve of the circle drive. The property was immaculate, fancy people milling about everywhere, sipping from expensive, rented flutes. She’d always hated her mother’s parties. They were nothing more than an opportunity to throw money around and compare cars, homes, and vacation destinations. She’d never had a stomach for conceited extravagance, yet she’d lived with it her entire life.
So, she’d escaped to paramedic school and started living life on her own terms.
They stepped onto the lawn and were immediately swallowed up by a sea of pastel-clad money huggers. Moving away from her, Luke dropped his arm, and her hand fell away. She gave him a questioning look, but he avoided her eyes again. The sinking feeling in her gut became worse. Had he changed his mind about wanting her?
“Greer Imogen Worth, it’s about time!”
Shocking the Medic (Pulse series) Page 12