by Olivia Miles
An inquisitive smirk passed over Luke’s rugged features. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”
“I’m here for Christmas,” she said tightly.
“Christmas isn’t for another week,” he said gruffly.
“So, it’s still my town.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Is it?”
Grace looked away. “You can be on your way, Luke. I just got off the phone with Jane; she can come and get me.” Her face burned as she fumbled in her handbag for her cell phone, blindly reaching for wherever it had landed.
Luke assessed the situation with a frown. “Looks like you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a jam.” He studied her. “Are you hurt?”
Grace pinched her lips and shifted her gaze from his scrutiny, but her eyes kept flitting back. Despite the winter chill that nipped at her nose and fingers, she felt overheated and stifled. “I’m fine, thank you. Everything is just… fine.” And it was, or it would be, when he left. When he turned his back and walked away, like he had all those years ago.
A hint of a smile passed over his lips. “Really.”
“Yes, really!” With that, Grace raised the window, feeling a moment of relief for the thin glass that separated her from… from the man whose name was never to be mentioned. She knit her brow and turned to glare at the steering wheel. Clenching her teeth, she pulled the car into reverse and hit the accelerator at full throttle. The tires spun loudly, but the car didn’t move.
Heart pounding, she stared despondently at the dashboard for a few seconds before shifting her eyes to Luke’s penetrating gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched, those blue eyes sparked, and Grace dragged a deep sigh, digging her nails into her palms.
He pointed his finger toward the car handle, gesturing for her to unlock it. His intense stare fused with hers, hooded by the point of his brow. His full lips spread thin, giving insight into his displeasure.
Well, the feeling was mutual, Grace thought with a huff. Tearing her attention from him, she unlocked the door. An icy cold wind whipped her in the face as she pushed open the door.
“What were you doing driving on this road in these conditions?” Luke demanded as she climbed out of the car. His dark hair spilled over his forehead, slick with snow. “You should have taken Oak or South Main.”
Grace yanked away his half-hearted gesture to help her, and he let his hand fall at his side. She narrowed her eyes at the smirk that curled at those irresistible lips. The lips she had known as well as her own. Every line, every curve, every taste. She squared her shoulders and met his eye stonily. “Well, I took Mountain Road, okay? Besides, I could say the same thing to you!”
Luke tipped his head. “Not really. I live off Mountain Road. And I have four-wheel drive.”
Grace bristled. She hadn’t even thought to take South Main, even though it would have been a straight shot into town. Somehow, subconsciously, she had driven herself in the direction of the one person she hoped to avoid. The little part of her that longed for something that could never be had overruled all rational thought. And now, well, she supposed she’d gotten what she’d wanted. She was standing here, staring into the face of the man she hadn’t seen, with the exception of that one, fleeting time she’d rather forget, in five years.
“I meant driving in the snow. At… this hour.” She motioned to the darkness all around them.
She watched as Luke fought off a smile. A sheen of amusement lit his eyes. He made a show of checking his watch. “It’s five o’clock,” he said. “And my place is just down that way, as you’ll remember.” The grin finally got the better of him.
“Well.” Grace inhaled sharply, the cold air slicing her lungs, and looked away. The snow was coming down in heavy, thick flakes. The hood of her car had already collected at least an inch, and her hair felt wet and heavy against her gray wool coat. Perfect snowman weather, she couldn’t help thinking. If she were feeling the Christmas spirit, that is—and she wasn’t. She most certainly wasn’t.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“I told you. I’m on my way home.”
His jaw hardened. “Thought you said you were never coming back to Briar Creek.”
She glared at him. That was only half the story, and he knew it. “Jane asked me to come home,” she explained. “With everything that’s happened recently, I couldn’t exactly say no.”
Luke nodded slowly. “I suppose not.” He looked to the ground, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“That’s a surprise. Word usually travels fast around here.” She folded her arms across her chest defensively, eyeing him through the falling snow.
He narrowed his gaze. After a beat, he murmured, “Yes. Yes, it usually does.”
With a sigh he broke her stare and wandered over to inspect the collision site. She waited to see if he would find amusement in her predicament, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood for laughs. The realization disappointed her, all at once reminding her of what they once had and no longer did. Standing here with the one person who knew her best, alone in the dark, on this cold mountain road, she had never felt more alone.
“Well,” Luke said, bending down to inspect the situation more closely. “It doesn’t look like you’re going to get it out of this bank on your own.”
“I’ll call for a tow truck then,” she said, rummaging through her bag and inadvertently setting a candy bar wrapper loose. She watched it whip through the wind, somewhere in the direction of the woods, and she could practically see Luke chuckling from her periphery. Finding her phone, she furiously tapped the number for information and waited. Nothing. Her breath caught in her chest as she pulled the phone from her ear and glanced at the screen. Connection lost. Of course.
She eyed Luke furtively, feeling her anger burn as a twinkle of enjoyment flashed through his blue eyes. Was this so easy for him? Did he not feel anything?
“No connection?”
“I had one a minute ago…” She exhaled deeply, and then rolled back her shoulders to fix her gaze on him. A rumble of something dangerous passed through her stomach as she studied his face. Would he ever not have this effect on her? “If you don’t mind going into town for a tow, I’ll just wait inside the car.” She paused, gritting her teeth as she hesitated on her next words. “Thank you.”
He looked at her like she was half crazy. “You think I’m going to go for help and leave you out here?”
She shrugged. “Why not? You’ve done worse to me.”
A flash of exasperation crossed his rugged features. He rubbed a hand over his tense jaw, his eyes sharp as steel. Grace knew that look, knew it all too well. She’d made him angry. Well, good.
“Get in my car,” he ordered, jutting his chin in the direction of his big black vehicle. “It’s freezing out here.”
Grace tried to suppress the shiver that was building deep within her. She’d be damned if she let him see how cold she was in her simple wool peacoat. She planted her feet to the ground, but it was no use. She shuddered, then inwardly cursed as Luke’s expression softened.
“Here, take my scarf.” He started walking toward her, but she reflexively took a step back. He stopped, his shoulders slumping. “Grace. Take the scarf.”
Grace lifted her chin, her lips thinning. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and her heart panged. There he was. Her sweet love. Luke Hastings. The love of her life. The man who had chased her through the icy waters of the creek in the heat of summer. The man who had taken her to bed in cool, cotton sheets. The man who had kissed her until she wept, the man who had held her until she couldn’t breathe. The man whose smile could warm her heart, and whose frown could stop it. The man who represented every part of her past, and who was supposed to have held every moment of her future. The man no one since had ever been able to live up to.
“Fine,” she muttered, reaching out to take the navy scarf. As she tied it around her neck, she subtly breathed into the fabric, closin
g her eyes to familiarity of the musky scent. She fingered the fringe at the bottom, knowing she had never seen Luke wear this scarf in all the years they were together.
She wondered when he had gotten it. She wondered if his wife had bought it for him.
“Your bags in the trunk?” Luke asked, and Grace nodded. Without another word, he popped the trunk and pulled out two large bags. He carried them low at his sides to his car and then returned for the second round. “You never did pack light,” he grumbled as he brushed past her.
Grace hung back as he loaded her belongings, and glanced despairingly at her rental car, which was obviously not going anywhere on its own. “Should have listened to my gut,” she whispered to herself. Shouldn’t have come here at all.
“You coming or not?” Luke called with obvious impatience.
Grace closed her eyes, shaking her head in the negative even as she began walking toward the glow of his taillights. Each crunch of snow under her boots brought her one step closer to the part of her she had tried to deny since the day she left this town for good. Each inch closer to Luke’s world took her further out of the one she had built for herself.
She reached the passenger door and yanked it open. If she stepped inside this car—Luke’s car—there would be no going back. She paused, her breath coming in ragged spurts. She wiped a strand of cold, wet hair from her forehead. Inside the car, Luke was watching her expectantly, the heat from the vents felt almost suffocating against the crisp evening air.
With one last breath for courage, she climbed inside and left the safety of her world behind with a slam of the door. Like it or not, she was back in Briar Creek. And so far, it was going even worse than expected.
CHAPTER
2
The car was too quiet for his liking. Luke glanced sidelong at Grace, finding her pushed up against the passenger door, staring sadly out the window. His chest constricted at the familiar sight of her profile, the lift of her chin. He fought off a grin. She was still the same girl he’d fallen in love with nearly fifteen years ago. Still willful and proud.
He felt his lips thin. Proud to a fault, that’s what she was. He was never good at dealing with her when she was like this—petulant. Stubborn. Impossible. There had been a time when he’d found this quality in her endearing, but that was a long time ago.
Grace’s chestnut-colored hair hung in thick wet clumps at her shoulders and she combed her fingers through the matted tresses, flashing Luke back to all those summers spent splashing in Cedar Lake, the way she’d climb out of the water in that little red bikini, her long hair dripping down onto his face as she leaned him back on the warm sand, bending forward for a kiss.
She turned her bright green eyes on him, forcing him to look away.
“Music?” he suggested abruptly.
She shrugged. “Sure.” She leaned in to inspect the dashboard, finally finding the switch to the radio. A well-known Christmas carol burst out at maximum volume, startling her enough to jump. She laughed to cover her surprise and he grinned. He’d forgotten the sound of her laugh. Forgotten how much he liked it.
“Sorry,” he said, turning the dial. “I was listening to a rock station before I found you stranded on the side of the road.”
“Sure you were,” Grace bantered, then frowned. “You know, I wasn’t stranded on the—” She stopped herself, laughing under her breath. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.” Luke managed a smile. It felt good. Too good. Like old times, almost.
He stiffened. Those times were better forgotten. Something he should have learned by now.
Tearing his gaze back to the stretch of road in front of him, he gripped the steering wheel. He’d gotten used to life without Grace in it. After the initial pain had worn off, he’d moved on with his life, and he almost appreciated her absence from the town she’d abandoned. The town he still called home. Living here without her around meant he could go about his day without any reminders. It meant temptation never surfaced. It meant guilt could be kept at bay, a niggling sensation in the recesses of his mind.
It meant he didn’t have to work so hard to try not to think of her. It meant he could forget her. In theory.
Without a word, Grace turned the knob to a classical station, and the music settled into the background. She leaned back into her seat and extended her hands to the vents, splaying her fingers.
So she really had been cold—he knew it. Just like he knew she would never admit it. She’d rather get frostbite than let him help her.
The realization saddened him. There was once a time when all she ever wanted was his help. When she turned to him for everything, and he granted her every wish because he just couldn’t say no to her. Then it all went off course.
“How long are you staying?” Luke asked, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, wasn’t sure which response would be worse. The snow was falling harder now, but the four-wheel drive of his SUV had no problem on these back roads. Soon they’d be in town, and Grace would slide through his grip again. He swallowed hard.
It was better that way.
“Just through the holiday,” Grace replied.
He nodded pensively, angry with himself for the disappointment that tugged at his chest. “New Year’s?”
“God, no!” she scoffed.
“Figured as much,” he said flatly. She hadn’t changed—not one bit. And shame on the part of him that wished she had.
“I have to get back to New York soon. I’m only here through Christmas day.”
“I’m surprised no one mentioned it,” he mused as a sneaking suspicion took hold. In Briar Creek, word tended to travel fast, sometimes too fast. People around town must have known that Grace was visiting but made a point not to mention it to him.
Luke frowned. He’d have to have a chat with his sisters to see how deep the secret went. Forcing a smile to lighten the mood, he said, “It’s not often that best-selling author Grace Madison graces us with her presence.”
“Ha!” The one syllable word was sharp with hurt, spoken with such bitterness, that Luke was startled enough to pull his eyes from the road.
She stared ahead, her eyes flat, her mouth a thin line. His own frown deepened. The old Grace would have rolled her eyes, chuckled at his attempt at a corny pun, but he’d obviously hit a nerve.
He’d seen the reviews of her latest book—he followed her career more closely than he should—and he was aware of a fair bit of criticism, but surely that wouldn’t have her so distressed? The Grace he knew would have narrowed her eyes to the naysayers, taking enjoyment in proving them wrong. But the woman sitting beside him looked dejected and lost.
“I was back last spring,” she offered and Luke nodded. They both knew why she had come back then.
“I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his voice. “About your father.”
He glanced at her quickly. She nodded, briefly meeting his eyes before her lids drooped. Her full, pink lips were pulled into a polite smile typically reserved for condolences.
“I paid my respects to your family,” he continued, looking back to the road. “I hope I did the right thing by staying away from the funeral.”
He held his breath, waiting for her response. According to chatter around town, Grace was in and out of Briar Creek in less than thirty-six hours. She’d stayed with her youngest sister, Jane, while Anna had moved in temporarily with their mother. She didn’t reach out to him, and he didn’t go looking for her. After hours of contemplation, he had decided the best thing he could do was to lay low and go about his life in Briar Creek. She knew where to find him; she would seek him out if she wanted to see him.
And she obviously hadn’t.
A part of him feared the message it would send if he didn’t attend the funeral. It would confirm every negative thought she held for him. It would cement him as that guy she thought him to be—the guy he knew he wasn’t. The guy she thought had moved on from her, the guy who had thrown away every memory they shared, every bo
nd they had formed.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
He’d sent a card, but it felt callous, cowardly even, to show support from such a distance. He wanted to be there for her, for all of the Madisons, showing them that he understood. Loss was something he was all too familiar with. He knew how it felt to grieve, to mourn. If Grace hated him the way she claimed to, wasn’t it better to stay away? Had he done the right thing? He wasn’t so sure.
After a pause she said, “You did.”
He tried not to feel the sting of her words. So there it was. He wasn’t sure what he had expected her to say, or what he even wanted her to say, but he knew what she should have said. She should have said that he had every right to be there, more than most in town.
How dare she think it was okay to deprive him of saying goodbye?
It had killed him not to attend Ray Madison’s services. The man had been like a father to him since his own had died when he was only ten. Not long into his courtship with Grace, Ray had taken him under his wing, gently introducing him to the types of hobbies his own dad never had the chance to share. In the Madisons’ garage, Ray had constructed a large workbench, where he tinkered with all sorts of things: from dollhouses when the girls were young to birdhouses and even some attempts at furniture. He’d sit out there for hours, and every so often Luke would join him. Ray would grin and hand him a sheet of sandpaper, sometimes a drill, and guide him through the next steps of whatever project was on hand. Once Luke got a handle on things, he’d set to work, eyes narrowed in concentration. Ray spoke sometimes of his life, of his days in the classroom teaching, of the bookshop he ran by the time Luke had come around. Other times they wouldn’t speak at all, but somehow the silence was companionable, and the hours always flew by.
Thinking back on those times now, Luke felt his chest ache. It still didn’t seem possible that Ray was gone. He’d died way too early. That seemed to be a theme around these parts, he thought as a bitter taste filled his mouth.
“He was a good man.”