by Morgan Blaze
“Mmph.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Fine. Just shut up, twerp.”
“See? Told you.” Grinning, Gage pushed back from the table. “I’m going to go load up the Beast,” he said. “Eat faster, Jonah. We’re gonna be late.”
“Mmph.”
Luka poured two cups of coffee and set one down next to Jonah. He mumbled something that might’ve been thanks.
“You’re welcome.” Flashing an exasperated smile, she started around the table to grab Gage’s dishes.
Mark held a hand out and stood. “I’ve got it, Lu,” he said. “Drink your coffee.”
“Thanks. You’re awesome.”
“I know.” Mark grinned and started clearing up around Jonah, who was eating with a kind of grim, robotic determination. As Mark headed for the dishwasher, he said, “So, are you and Al hitting the bar alone?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I might stop and grab Sydney, if she’s not holed up with her fiancé somewhere.”
“Tommy Lowell, right?”
Jonah’s head came up sharply at the mention of the name. He lowered it again when he saw Luka watching. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Yeah, him. Apparently, Jonah does not approve.”
“He’s a punk,” Jonah muttered.
“Look who’s talking.” She took a long swallow of coffee and leaned against the counter. “How about you, Mark? Got a hot date tonight?”
“Yup. Me and my spreadsheets.” He slid the last plate in and headed for the sink. “So…I heard Reese Mathers is back in town.”
Luka froze with her mug halfway to her lips. “Guess he is,” she said. “I saw him at the post office Monday.”
And her heart had stopped, her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth, and she’d had to run right back out before he saw her. Five years of telling herself she didn’t care, and her body had betrayed her in five seconds flat.
Now Mark and Jonah were both staring at her. “Maybe you should ask him out, instead of Al,” Mark said.
“He just wants to be friends.” God, how could it still hurt to say that?
“Well, what’s wrong with asking him as a friend?”
“Don’t you start, Mr. Date-with-a-spreadsheet. I’m fine going out alone.”
“Luka…”
“I mean it.” She drained the rest of her coffee and shot him a glare. Mark was the listener, the confidant. And he knew exactly how she felt—used to feel—about Reese Mathers. When she’d come home that day, she’d screamed at all three of them, accused them of roughing him up to keep him away from her. They’d sworn on their mother’s grave that they hadn’t. And then Mark sat her down, and she poured everything out.
She was starting to regret that. Especially if he was going to be on her case like this.
“I’m over him,” she said. “And I’m late. Your lunches are in the fridge. Goodbye.”
Mark nodded. “All right. Later, Lu.”
She tossed a wave over her shoulder and all but ran out the door. She was a Dawson, and Dawsons didn’t cry.
At least, not when anyone was looking.
* * * *
As usual on Fridays, Sweet Sensations had drawn a crowd. Luka almost changed her mind when she saw how many people were in the bakery, but she’d promised to bring in donuts today and the Stop ‘n Shop only had the crappy boxed kind.
She went in—and froze when she spotted Reese Mathers sitting at a table.
This time, she couldn’t run. He’d already seen her. In fact, he was staring at her with as much surprise as she felt. But he rearranged his expression into something like a smile, then stood and approached her with his hands shoved in his pockets.
Oh, God. He was hot when he left—now he was gorgeous beyond words. He looked carved from stone, not a trace of softness left in him. And those brilliant blue eyes flashed like steel. Just as hard as the rest of him.
She couldn’t say a word.
“Hey, Luka.” His voice had deepened, too. There was a dismissive confidence in it, like he knew exactly what kind of image he projected. The pure sex and power kind. “Nice to see a familiar face.”
Talk, you idiot. “Hi, Reese.” She only squeaked a little. “When did you get back?”
“Been back for a month.”
“Oh. Well, welcome back.”
“Thanks.”
Great. This couldn’t be any more awkward if she tried. “Um. So what are you doing here? At the bakery, I mean.”
“Drinking coffee.” He flashed a bemused smile. “How about you?”
“Getting donuts. For the girls.”
He glanced around a little. “How many do you have?”
“Huh?” It hit her a few seconds later, and she was actually mad before she remembered he’d been away for five years—and they were just friends. Thinking she’d gone and had kids was a reasonable assumption, she supposed. “The girls at Magic Mags,” she said.
“Oh. You still work there?”
Another flash of anger. This one lasted a little longer, but it was mostly at herself. Yes, she still worked at a stupid beauty salon, but now she did nails and hair. So impressive. “Yeah, and I’m late,” she said. “So I’d better get in line.”
His lips twitched down—or did she imagine it? “All right,” he said. “Good to see you, Luka.”
He turned away and started picking things up from the table where he’d been sitting. An empty cup, a napkin, a folded newspaper, a small wax bag. He moved slowly, and his broad shoulders drooped just a little. She thought she heard him sigh.
Damn it.
“Reese?”
It took him a minute to react, but he faced her with eyebrows raised.
“I’m going to The Klinker for a while tonight,” she said. “If you feel like stopping in, I’ll buy you a beer. Maybe we could catch up or something.”
If that was a smile, it was the saddest one she’d ever seen. “Still friends?”
“Still friends.” She managed to sound casual.
“Maybe I will, then.” He tucked the newspaper under an arm—a large, very muscled arm—and nodded. “See you around.”
He headed outside, and Luka made her way to the end of the line, silently berating herself. That was a really stupid idea. She felt bad for snapping at him, but she could have just apologized and moved on with her Reese-free life. Instead, she’d sort of invited him out, and he hadn’t exactly said no.
She couldn’t afford to get her hopes up. If he showed tonight, she’d just have to make uncomfortable small talk and find a way to excuse herself.
It hurt too much to remember when they’d been more than friends—and to wonder why they couldn’t be now.
Chapter 2
It was just before eight when Reese walked into the house. He headed straight for the kitchen and stopped in the doorway, taking in the quiet scene at the breakfast table. Finally, he held up the wax bag and said, “How are my favorite girls this morning? I brought donuts.”
Georgia jumped up from the table and tackle-hugged him. “From Sweet Sensations?” she said. “You’re the best.”
“Boston Crème for you.” He winked and handed her the bag, then went over and kissed the top of his mother’s head. “Morning, Mom. I got you a croissant.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Anna Mathers pointed her fork at the counter. “There’s fresh coffee, if you want some.”
“Sounds great.”
He headed that way and stood staring out the kitchen window for a few minutes, trying to compose himself a little more. After nearly five years in the Marines, he thought he could handle anything. But just the sight of Luka Dawson sent him back to that night, when he’d lost control of everything.
The beautiful green-eyed girl had become a breathtaking, full-fledged woman. Still tough as nails, with a mind of her own and the will to use it.
He wondered if she still painted.
When he’d calmed down, he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. Georgia
was happily devouring her donut, alternating bites with sips of milk. At thirteen, she was already blossoming into the woman he’d have to beat boys away from with a stick. Seeing her after five years had actually brought tears to his eyes.
He was damned glad their father wasn’t around anymore to watch her grow. Because if that bastard ever touched her, he’d kill him.
After a few minutes of companionable silence, Georgia pushed her chair back and grabbed the book bag at her feet. “I gotta go.”
“Want a ride to school?” Reese said.
“That’s okay. I’m walking with Jeremy.”
“Jeremy who?” he said in a mock growl. “Maybe I should chaperone you two.”
“Reese! Don’t be a jerk.” Laughing, she kissed his cheek, and then Anna’s. “Bye, Mom. Bye, Reese. Leave Jeremy alone, okay?”
“No promises.”
She giggled and bolted for the door.
When he heard the door close, Reese sighed and shook his head. “When did she get so old?” he said.
“Yesterday, I think.” His mother smiled and pushed some eggs around on her plate. “It goes so fast sometimes,” she said. Her gaze grew distant, and she stopped moving.
“Mom?”
She blinked and looked at him quizzically, and he breathed an inward sigh of relief. When he’d come back, Georgia told him that sometimes she just spaced out. It might last for minutes, or hours. He’d seen it once a few days ago, and it scared the hell out of him—mostly because she didn’t realize it was happening.
“What is it?” she said when he didn’t keep going.
He shrugged. “Nothing. I can’t remember what I was going to say.”
“Must’ve been a lie, then.”
“You’re right. I was going to say I’d won the lottery.” He managed a real smile. It was good to hear his mother teasing again. She hadn’t done that since he was in middle school, at least. That was when his father had stopped trying to control himself, and started ruling the house with his fists.
He finished the last of his coffee and stood to clear the table. As he headed for the sink, Anna said, “What are you up to today?”
“Not sure,” he said. “I’m going to work on the house for a while, and I have a few errands to run in town.” He’d just bought the rundown place next door and started fixing it up. He wanted to stay close to his family—but he needed his own space, too. Sometimes he just wasn’t fit for company.
“How’s that going?”
“Not bad.” He’d gotten a great deal on it, but the money wouldn’t last forever. After the down payment on that and paying off his mother’s bills, he’d have to start job-hunting a lot sooner than he’d expected. “So that’s what I’m doing,” he said. “How about you?”
“Oh, I’ll probably clean a while. Hattie’s coming over for lunch. Those are my grand plans.”
“At least you’ve got some.” He smirked and moved to put the stack of dishes down, but the mug slid off the plate and shattered on the floor.
Anna stood like a shot. “I’ll get it,” she said, her voice strained and fluttering. “It’s fine. You sit down and—”
“Mom.” His heart broke to see her revert to the terror of living with James Mathers. He took her arm gently and steered her back to the table. “We’re okay,” he said. “It’s only you and me here. And it’s just a cup.”
She sat down slowly and brought a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t stop…I’m sorry.”
He smiled at her. “You don’t have to apologize anymore,” he said.
“All right.”
When she’d settled down, he grabbed the broom and dustpan and made short work of the shattered mug. Anna gave him a grateful smile, but then her expression turned serious. “Have you…been to see your father, since you came back?”
“No, I haven’t.” And he wouldn’t, if he could help it. Far as he was concerned, Gunnery Sergeant James Mathers could rot in the VA hospital alone. They’d admitted him while Reese was still in boot camp and decided it was best to keep him permanently, which was the best damned thing that’d ever happened to this family.
Reese wasn’t about to visit and give him the satisfaction of gloating over “his son, the Marine.”
“He’s dying, you know.”
Good riddance. He managed not to say that out loud. “I can’t, Mom,” he said. “Not yet.”
“I understand.”
“I know you do.” He dried his hands and went over to give her a quick hug. “I’m going to get over to the house,” he said. “You know where I am if you need me. I’ll stop in later, okay?”
She smiled. “Okay. See you later.”
As he headed outside, he pushed away thoughts of his father relentlessly. The irony of it was, he’d stopped giving a damn what the man thought about his life, his choices—but he still couldn’t have what he wanted. His father had seen to that without even trying.
But hell, he could still use a friend. Maybe he’d take Luka up on that beer after all.
It had to stop hurting eventually.
* * * *
Luka finished her last appointment around four that afternoon, and decided to stop by her brothers’ job site—mostly to make sure Jonah and Gage hadn’t killed each other. It was on the way home, so she could pretend she wasn’t making a special trip.
They were building a custom house for a local family who’d just found themselves expecting twins, and suddenly needed a lot more space. The site was a nice piece of land just outside the heart of town, with a good-sized yard and a couple of great trees. They’d already finished the foundation, and got the frame and most of the walls up, but it’d be another month before it was finished.
Luka parked at the curb in front of the house-to-be and climbed out. She spotted Mark next to the trailer they’d parked on the property as a temporary office, frowning over a bunch of papers. Gage was banging away on the roof. Jonah was nowhere in sight. With Gage in a precarious position, that was probably a good thing.
“Getting an early start on your date?” she called as she approached.
Mark looked up and smiled. “Hey, Lu. What’s wrong, did somebody leave the toilet seat up at home? I swear it wasn’t me.”
“For once, I didn’t come to yell at anyone.” She leaned against the trailer and glanced at Mark’s papers—blueprints, for the ground floor. “You look like you might, though. Have those blueprints insulted you?”
He sighed. “They’re mocking me.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re not going to finish this on deadline.” The frown returned, and he rolled the papers up and stuffed them in a pouch that hung from the table. “Three guys are enough for a kitchen remodel. But this is a whole house, from the ground up.”
“I only see two of you. Where’s Jonah?”
“Inside. He’s wiring, Gage is roofing, I’m paving.” He walked to a wheelbarrow full of wet cement with a shovel stuck in it, and started pushing it across the grass. “But there’s still insulation, plumbing, drywall, siding, flooring…you get the picture.” He grabbed the shovel and stirred. “I think we’ll have to hire some help,” he said. “Know anybody who’s looking for work?”
She shook her head slowly. “I can’t think of anyone, but I’ll ask around.”
“Thanks.” Mark tipped the wheelbarrow toward the wooden frames in the ground for the front walk, and eased a mound of concrete out with the shovel. “So, did you take my suggestion?”
“What suggestion?”
“You, Al, and Reese Mathers. At the bar, with a drink.”
“Hey. I told you, we’re just friends.”
“And?”
“You jerk.” She batted his arm, but flashed a quick smile. “I might have seen him at the bakery this morning. And I might have mentioned something about buying him a beer, if he wanted to stop by The Klinker.”
Mark gave her a serious look. “You forgot something important.”
“What?”
“I don’t see any donuts for me.”
“And they were delicious, too.” She stuck her tongue out, and they both laughed. “I’m going to head home,” she said. “If you guys aren’t back when I go out, I’ll leave dinner in the oven. Oh, and remind Gage it’s his turn to cook tomorrow.”
“Great. I guess we’re having hot dogs and chips, then.”
“Or takeout.” She grinned and started back to her car. “See you later,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” Mark called after her.
Shaking her head, she climbed in and headed home, a little excited in spite of herself. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all.
Chapter 3
So much for avoiding disaster.
Reese hadn’t shown up, but that didn’t even matter right now. Luka sat at a table in The Klinker, trying to console Sydney after her fiancé had almost gotten in a fistfight with Cameron Thatcher, the guy her best friend had desperately loved in high school. The guy who’d broken Syd’s heart, went from town heartthrob to town hermit—and had just threatened to shoot Tommy Lowell in cold blood.
And Sydney had apparently drank way too much, because she’d stuck up for Cam instead of Tommy. At least now she seemed to be regretting that.
“Well,” Luka said. “I guess the whole town’s got something to talk about for the rest of the year.”
Sydney groaned and dropped her head on her arms. “Great,” she muttered. “I’m locking myself in my room until the wedding.”
Luka picked at the plate of nachos that neither of them had really touched, and glanced at the door for the millionth time. No Reese—and damn it, she was going to stop looking and focus on Syd. “What am I going to do with you, girl?” she sighed. “You defended Cam Thatcher. Your mortal enemy. I don’t know what to think now.”
“Neither do I.” Sydney drained the rest of her third or fourth drink and pushed the glass aside. “Luka…what if we’re all wrong about him?”
“Okay,” she said. “Now you’re scaring me.” Cam was gruff, rude, and hated everybody—especially Sydney. He’d made that clear in high school. But here she was, acting like she might still have feelings for him after all this time.