by Linda Joyce
“Does Craig help you clean when he comes home?” Zoë asked, running a finger along the edge of a bookshelf. She raised a spotless finger.
“What are you? The white-glove brigade?” Like her mother, who always had a clean house, Lia had stayed up late to tidy the place after the party. “Don’t tell anyone. He’ll only deny it, but he cleaned the downstairs hall bathroom, scrubbed the floor and all. He also cleaned his room. I don’t go in there. I keep the door closed when he’s gone. He’s responsible for it.”
“Mister Suit remembers his roots. Maybe the big city hasn’t changed him as much as I’d thought.”
“Maybe. Set the table. I’ll reheat some food.”
Zoë pulled blue and white Currier and Ives plates from the cabinet, utensils from the drawer, and two napkins from the holder. “So about yesterday. How interested are you in Karl?” she asked, placing the table settings on the breakfast counter.
“Will you pull the potato salad from the fridge?”
Closing the short distance, Zoë did as she requested. “Now, tell me. What about Karl?”
“I don’t know.” Lia stood by the stove and placed slices of ham into a frying pan. “I’ll tell you more after my date next Saturday.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“Ask Karl out?”
“We always celebrate birthdays together. I’m feeling like a third wheel.”
“That would mean you’d be on the date with me and him, and that’s not going to happen. I apologize. I should have talked to you about changing things up. However, if I’d told you what I had planned before I did it, I might have lost my nerve.” It took all the bravado she could muster to ask a man out.
“I have to admit, that’s pretty audacious for you. So, how would you feel if someone else was interested in him? Like really, truly interested.”
Lia didn’t need to ponder the question, but she wasn’t yet ready to share the full truth. “Well, since I haven’t kissed him yet, I don’t have anything to compare him to.”
Zoë grinned. “And whom might you be comparing him to?”
Lia turned away from her friend as heat flooded her cheeks.
“Lia Britton, you’re holding out on me.’
“No. I’m. Not.”
Zoë moved in close. Lia tried to turn away, but Zoë was nose-to-nose with her, staring her straight in the eye.
“You, like Lucas, never tell a lie. What gives?”
Lia turned back to the stove. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing Lucas,” she whispered. When she turned back to Zoë’s widening grin, she wasn’t sure which bothered her more, the smugness spread across Zoë’s face or the unraveling of the façade she’d guarded for so many years. Her pulse raced.
Would Lucas reject her again?
Chapter 9
The next day, Lia backed the truck and U-Haul trailer from the barn to the driveway at the house. After opening the rear doors of the enclosed trailer, she rolled up the garage door. Donning leather work gloves, she dragged out a wooden rack designed to hold paintings upright while being transported. She broke a sweat wrestling the rack into place in the back of the trailer. Clearly, she needed a part-time job stacking hay. Working out regularly would make the loading process easier. Wouldn’t Craig love to know a well-appointed gym and a personal trainer were things she missed about her life in the city? She’d never hear the end of it.
Sliding the contraption into position, she cinched it down with retractable straps. She stepped back to inspect her work. If a strap broke loose, it could mean disaster, unrepairable damage to one or more of her paintings. She’d only used the wood rack twice before, and then, had only carried four paintings on those trips to town, although, thank goodness, she had the foresight to design the holder for a dozen pieces of artwork—the exact number she needed to present to the gallery in Kansas City. The gallery owner hinted during their last phone call she may have already sold two or three based solely on the photographs Lia had sent.
Testing the straps one last time, Lia paused and wiped perspiration from her brow. What had her mother always said? Men sweat. Ladies mist. At this rate, she’d need another shower. Excessive misting had ruined her makeup. The September sun beat down as though it confused arid Arizona with the green plains of the Midwest. Deodorant hadn’t been designed to work miracles.
“I might as well finish the job before showering again,” she muttered, scanning the yard. If the corn in the field or the hummingbirds flitting around the feeders heard her talking to herself, none seemed to mind.
Opening the door to the sun porch, she stepped aside when Gentleman Jack bolted past her, his ears flopping and feet flying so quickly only two touched the ground at any one time. Zipping along, he galloped his way around the corner of the house and out of sight.
“You’ll be back,” Lia shouted after him.
Taking care, she wrapped each delicate painting to prevent damage. One by one, she loaded them onto the rack inside the trailer. The larger ones at one end, the rest in descending size order. When she finished laboring over the project, Jack reappeared. Panting hard, he dropped to the ground at her feet. He looked up at her as if to confirm he’d run the perimeter of the premises and all was in order. He was ready and waiting on her.
“Good fella.” She bent and scratched behind his ear. “Want a cookie before I shower?”
Jack followed her inside where she treated him, then treated herself to a quick, cool rinse. She selected an outfit of black slacks and a pink and orange flowered top that said summer. While dressing, she replayed in her mind the conversation she’d shared yesterday with Zoë. Her friend’s expressed shock over the confession about Lucas’s innocent kiss surprised her. She still hadn’t shaken off the uncomfortable feeling. Vulnerability made her want to hide.
“Lucas. Lucas Dwyer,” Zoë had said. “No wonder you and he have acted so strange, especially lately. He’s like a big brother to you. If we were back in grade school, I would’ve guessed you liked each other. Classic behavior. Now, whenever he’s around, you zip it and either frown or just ignore him.”
“You’ve got a vivid imagination.”
“I’m not the one who paints pictures.”
“Wait now. My paintings are my interpretation of what I see around me. Not some embellishment of the truth.”
“Well, I’ve been blind all this time. I couldn’t see what was in front of me. You like Lucas.”
“Of course, I like him. As you said, he’s like a brother to me.”
“I’m thinking your feelings fail to fit into the la familia category.”
Lia hadn’t wanted to lie, so instead, she’d zipped it. Zoë was right. She did have feelings for Lucas. Deep ones. And some seesawed back and forth. She wanted him to fold her into his arms and kiss her again, not to offer a grieving woman comfort, but to offer love and happiness. A future together. At the same time, she wanted to swat him hard for interfering with her life, behind her back no less, at her brother’s request. Could Lucas ever truly see her as more than Craig’s sister? Was that hope a pipe dream? Lucas was right. Craig wouldn’t like it.
Lia brushed her hair. Her mind continued its focus on Lucas Dwyer. Funny that her very first kiss has come from him back when she was a junior in high school and her prom date dumped her at the last minute for the hottest cheerleader on the Varsity squad. Lucas kissed her out of pity then. Somehow Craig learned of it and butted in, teasing Lucas so bad he hadn’t spoken to her all summer, in fact, hadn’t talked to her like she was anything more than a good buddy, never with any hint of recognition that she was female. It wasn’t until he came home from college at Christmas during his freshman year that her heart, bursting with unrequited love, broke a second time.
When she caught him under the fake mistletoe hanging from the chandelier in the foyer, she kissed him. Mere contact of her lips to his, warm and gentle, sent shivers to her toes, and not because of the howling north wind descending from the Arctic on Kansas. Lucas’s reaction e
mbarrassed her. He pushed her away. His wide-eyed shock and surprise pained her like a knife to the heart. It hurt even more when he refused to talk about it. Not at the party or any time while he had visited over the holiday.
Was he shocked because she was a bad kisser? Or because he didn’t feel the same chemistry racing through her veins?
The kiss from a year ago burned into her mind and forever sealed her heart. Lucas asked her to take a break from the funeral crowd gathered at the house and walk to the creek. They made their way in silence through the ankle-high grass while breezes brushed the hem of her black dress. Grief created a tension. Her entire body ached. It began the moment she heard the news of her parents’ death and climbed each day. That afternoon, Lucas offered a safety net. The vibrating anxiety quieted a bit. With him, she could be herself and drop the too-brave veneer worn for everyone else’s benefit.
When they were over the hill and beyond the prying eyes of the crowd, Lucas reached for her hand, a gentle gesture providing human contact she needed so badly. Still, he remained silent. Not wanting to break the peace of the moment, she made no comment. In the shadows of the tree line, they sat side by side on a large oak branch growing horizontally over the creek’s slow trickling water, just as they had done as very young kids.
Cocooned from reality, submerged in temporary tranquility, Lucas quietly asked about her feelings. Her loss. Her grief. He urged her to talk even when she resisted. After a few false starts, she poured her heart out to him, sobbing over the pain of losing her parents. The boulders of her life had been forever removed. Her father represented stability. He plodded along, always on the straight and narrow, enjoying the benefits of a dutiful life. Her mother, the heartbeat of their family, the star casting a bright light over everyone, had ceased to shine, leaving drab emptiness.
With an arm draped around her shoulder, Lucas wiped away her tears just as he had at the funeral. Her skin warmed wherever he touched her. He cradled her face in his hands. Gently, he put his lips to hers. His touch seared. Her insides quivered and melted. He deepened the kiss. Her bones turned to Jello. Her heart pulsed as fast as hummingbird wings fluttering in flight. The gripping tension nearly strangling her since her parents’ death let go. In those few moments with Lucas, the entire world slipped away—the ache of grief, the maddening pain, the fear of a bleak future—and melted into a bliss she’d never known.
They didn’t speak, but continued to kiss. He seemed to savor the taste of her lips. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs as though marveling at the smoothness of her skin. She deepened the kisses, brazenly caressing his lips with her tongue and sucking on his bottom lip. He moved, shifting his body. He pulled her closer.
All thoughts dissolved. Only need of Lucas remained. When she reached for the first button on his shirt, the need to feel his skin daringly urged her on. Passion flared like a bonfire. It demanded satisfaction. How she craved what could come next. Her heart pounded, a resounding thud to a deep thundering. Desire fueled her actions, blinding her to only that moment.
But Lucas captured her hands with his and kissed her palms. With extreme gentleness, he pressed her head to his shoulder.
It wasn’t outright rejection.
She understood his actions. If anyone wandered down to the creek and discovered them, gossip would shoot rocket high. He meant to protect her from embarrassment. That elevated him to hero in her book. A seed of hope lodged itself in her heart. Maybe Lucas did see her as a woman, someone with whom he could have a relationship. At the very least, he’d enjoyed kissing her.
A quiet closeness settled between them on their return walk to the house. However, halfway there, Craig again ruined everything. From the back deck, he’d hollered for help and Lucas had dropped her hand and went running at her brother’s beck and call. The big emergency? A flame up on the grill.
Lia grabbed her keys and sighed. After that day, Lucas had maintained a respectable distance. And the only three kisses she’d shared with other men since his soul-melting ones were chaste goodnight kisses only after a second date. Never on the first. And no guy had asked her out beyond a second time.
Now she understood why.
Lucas had followed her brother’s orders and made her a local dating pariah.
Picking up her purse and a portfolio of photos showing her paintings, she searched for Jack. “Males,” she huffed. As for meddling male big brothers, Craig had skipped out yesterday before she could lay down the law to him about not poking around in her life. The weekend memorial service had her on emotional overload, which hadn’t left her in the right mind to do battle with him. Soon, she’d confront him, just like David standing up to Goliath, and everyone knows who won that battle. Craig had better beware.
“Here, Gentleman Jack!” Lia called, wondering if the dog had snuck out the dog door and run off to the creek. She shaded her eyes and squinted in the noonish light, scanning the yard and nearest field. Unable to spot the four-legged ball of energy, she walked around the side of the house. A hint of an early fall breeze caressed her face. She soaked in the change of season, hoping the last of scorching summer had slid away. Scanning the landscape, she called for Jack. Finally, she spied him at the edge of the back deck guarding a pile of toys. He’d harvested them from hiding places in the yard.
“Pick one, and let’s go if you want to ride. Otherwise, I’ll drop you off at Zoë’s for the night.”
Gentleman Jack barked, picked up a stuffed toy pheasant, then dropped it, picking up a blue rubber ball. He dropped that, too. He looked at her as if to say he was unable to choose only one of his prize possessions, and why didn’t she help him by bringing them all along.
Lia bent down and grabbed a thick rope knotted at both ends. She held one end and dangled the other. After she took a few steps, her traveling partner grabbed the loose end. They walked rope-in-hand and rope-in-mouth to the truck.
“Load,” Lia ordered. Jack dropped his end, backed up, and with a running start, hopped onto the backseat of the cab. Lia tossed in the rope and closed the truck door behind him.
She returned to the house. Checking the door to the sun porch, she didn’t bother locking it. No one ever came nosing around. If a criminal wanted to rob the place, it would take work to find the house and for not much gain. After climbing into the cab, she started the truck and crept along the long gravel drive to the packed hard road, careful to avoid ruts. Her future rested inside the trailer. The precious cargo equaled money. Money to pay the bills all winter, painting supplies, plus pay for seed and the spring planting. In a couple of weeks, Gus, an old family friend, would begin harvesting. A small portion of the corn crop sale would pay his fees. The rest would pay the mortgage for six to eight months and provide a reasonable cushion to reinvest in the farm.
Lia shook her head. The whole delicate cycle reminded her of her students’ working mothers trying to make ends meet. They worked to pay bills, but paying high costs for afterschool childcare left them with barely enough to meet household expense. Still, they chose to work. It gave them a sense of pride and demonstrated perseverance to their children. She understood their struggles better now.
When she reached the blacktop road, a plume of dust rose around her. Someone bumped along the same road. Yet due to the hill and the breeze, she couldn’t determine if they traveled in the same direction or were coming at her head-to-head. She slowed the truck to a crawl. As she topped a small rise, she met the other vehicle.
Lucas.
He beeped the horn and skidded to a stop, kicking up even more dust. She moved inches at a time until they were side by side, waiting for the wind to carry away the haze of dust before rolling down the window.
“You on your way to KC by yourself?” Lucas asked. It sounded like an accusation and she bristled.
“Yes, taking Gentleman Jack with me. Good guard protection…and just in case there’s a pheasant or quail to point.”
“I don’t know why you have to be so stubborn. I told I’d come over to he
lp load your paintings and drive you over. It isn’t easy navigating a trailer through the city, especially on that narrow bridge.”
“Semis do it all the time. I’ve had a lot of trailer practice in the last year. The tailgate on the truck is proof enough. When I return, I’ll take it in for repairs. That will erase the obvious reminder. Besides, I’m staying overnight with a girlfriend.” If things were different, she would’ve welcomed his company. But now it wouldn’t be a good idea for her to be in such close quarters with him for a whole twenty-four hours. No way to remove temptation. The risk of her embarrassing herself by doing something stupid, like kissing him again, was very high. Who was she kidding? She’d love nothing more than an opportunity to seduce him. She would make the first move. This man of integrity and impeccable reputation would never put a move on his best friend’s sister, even if she stood naked in front of him. Darn man with his high morals. It had to be a sin to be that good.
If she did seduce him, where would things go from there? A one-night stand wasn’t in character for either of them. If they ever did make love, then what?
“How about humoring me?” Lucas said dryly. “Call me when you get there. I like knowing you’re safe.”
Lia shook her head. “I’m a big girl now. I appreciate your concern, but even Craig doesn’t insist I check in with him when I travel.” She paused, a daring urge hitting her. “Or do you want to come spend the night with me?”
Lucas glared. Had he growled? Was it a frustrated groan? She couldn’t be sure, but what did that mean regarding the big brother responsibilities Craig had foisted on him?
“Call me, or”—Lucas pointed a finger—“I’ll. Call. You.” He rolled up the window and pulled away.
Had he actually given her an order?
Lia drove through Harvest. She waved at Helen who stood in the window at the café. She beeped the horn at Zoë as she passed the post office, and Gentleman Jack barked his greeting. Without hitting a single red light in Harvest, she made it all the way through Atchison, and then she left Kansas behind via the tall metal bridge spanning the Missouri River and linking two states together. When she finally hit the interstate, her confidence about the future anchored solidly in her heart as strong as steel-tough chert found in the Flint Hills.