Luke (7 Brides for 7 Brothers Book 1)

by Barbara Freethy

  "You never talked about your mom when we were together."

  "Not much to talk about. I barely remember her. Just bits and pieces come into my head, usually only when I'm around family or the house where I grew up, but being here reminds me of those family trips we used to take together."

  "It's nice to have some memories. I don't remember my father at all. He didn't die, but he was gone before my third birthday."

  "Do you know where he is? Have you ever seen him?"

  "No to both questions. I have no interest in looking for him. He abandoned us. There's really nothing more to know."

  "How's your mother?"

  "She's the same. She still works at the salon, at least a couple of days a week. She has her battles with depression and alcohol. She can be good for a while, and then she's not. She fell apart after Kelly died. Kelly didn't just take care of me when we were growing up; she took care of my mom, too. But I think she's pulling herself out of the deep sadness. She called the other day to ask how Kaitlyn was; I thought that was a good sign."

  He thought it was impressive that Lizzie had always been able to cut her mother slack for not being that great of a mom. But Lizzie had a big heart and the ability to understand that everyone had a weakness, everyone had a flaw. She used to tell him that she really believed the other side of a weakness was a strength, and you just have to find it.

  Funny, he hadn't remembered that until now, but it was something that had helped him persevere when he thought he was too tired or too frustrated or too impatient to get to where he needed to go. Certainly impatience to have it all was one of his flaws. On the other hand, it was that impatience that drove him.

  Lizzie had never been impatient. She'd been driven to succeed in music, but she'd been willing to play the scales over and over again, go to class, take tests, prepare and prepare and prepare. That dedication probably wasn't her flaw, but it had sometimes annoyed him when he'd wanted her to jump or take a risk and she'd wanted to assess every potential outcome, which usually meant he went ahead without her.

  "What are you thinking about?" she asked curiously. "You have an odd look on your face."

  "Just remembering how we used to be together."

  "You really shouldn't keep going back there, Luke. We're not those people anymore. We've both changed. We've grown up."

  He smiled. "You probably more than me."

  She smiled back at him. "You said it; I didn't."

  "Why don't you play something for me?"

  "No," she said quickly, giving a vehement shake of her head. "I don't play that piano."

  "Why? Is it out of tune?"

  "No, but I just don't play it." Shadows filled her eyes. "I can't, Luke."

  "Why? Are you afraid you'll want your old life back?"

  "Maybe."

  "Music can still be in your life even if you're not playing in an orchestra."

  "I don't think it can."

  "But you love to play. When I used to watch you…I sometimes felt a little jealous."

  Surprise passed through her eyes. "Why?"

  "Because the music transported you. It took you away from me—to a place I couldn't go. You'd get this look on your face, and you were gone. I didn't like that."

  "I was probably thinking about you, Luke. That happened a lot back then—even when I was playing. For a while there, you were in every breath I took." She paused. "Love is different when you're young, when you have everything in front of you."

  "You're not exactly old now, Lizzie. You don't turn thirty for another month."

  "Some days I feel like I'm a hundred. Anyway…" She moved toward the staircase in the lobby. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  As she went upstairs, he found himself watching her until she disappeared from view, remembering her words—you were in every breath I took.

  She'd been in every breath he'd taken, too. He hadn't really thought of it that way, but it was true.

  On the other hand, if their love had been that strong, why hadn't either of them fought for it? Maybe it was only now that they could see what they'd had. But it didn't matter.

  It was too late to go back. Wasn't it?

  Six

  Liz forced herself not to look back at Luke as she went up the stairs and entered the two-bedroom apartment on the top floor that she shared with Kaitlyn. Their bedrooms were separated by a living room and kitchenette, which they rarely occupied at the same time. In fact, Kaitlyn was usually in her room with the door closed, her headphones on, and either her phone or computer holding all of her attention.

  She should probably force Kaitlyn to use the computer in a more public space, but she had so many battles to fight on so many fronts that she just hadn't gotten to that one yet. She knocked on Kaitlyn's door and then pushed it open when she didn't get an answer. Kaitlyn rarely answered since she usually couldn't hear the knock, or at least she pretended not to.

  She walked into the room, seeing her niece sitting back against the pillows on her bed, looking at something on her computer with her headphones on, as she'd predicted.

  "I want to talk to you," she said loudly, taking a seat on the bed.

  "What?" Kaitlyn asked aggressively, pulling her headphones off. She gave Liz a burning glare, as if she'd decided that offense was the best defense.

  "You lied to me, Kaitlyn. You went to the river with two boys and a bottle of alcohol."

  "I knew he'd tell you."

  "Of course Luke told me. What you did was reckless and possibly dangerous."

  "It was no big deal. They're just kids."

  "What happened?"

  "Nothing. We were talking."

  "And drinking."

  "I wasn't drinking."

  "But they were."

  Kaitlyn shrugged. "Everyone drinks. It's not a big deal."

  "At thirteen? I don't think that's true."

  "You never believe me, so why should now be different?"

  Lizzie frowned at the accusation. "What do you mean I never believe you? What are you talking about?"

  "Nothing."

  "Dammit, Kaitlyn. You have to talk to me."

  "We are talking. You just don't like what you're hearing," Kaitlyn retorted.

  She let out a sigh. "I want you to be safe, honey. You've been through the worst kind of pain, and I know you're still hurting. I want to help." There was no response from her niece. Liz stared at the hard wall of defiance in Kaitlyn's eyes and didn't even see one tiny crack she could wiggle through, but she still had to try. "It's up to me to protect you now. That's what your mom would want. But I need your help; I can't do it alone."

  Kaitlyn shook her head, her lips tightening with scorn. "You have no idea what my mom would want. You saw us like three times in the last six years. Mom used to cry because you wouldn't come visit for Christmas. She said you were too busy for us."

  "That's…" She floundered, searching for the right words. It was true that she'd missed the last few Christmas holidays, but she'd kept in touch with Kelly. "We talked on the phone, Kaitlyn. Your mom and I kept in touch even when we weren't together."

  "Yeah, and then she'd hang up the phone and cry. She said you loved music more than us."

  She was stunned and hurt by Kaitlyn's words. Were they true? Had Kelly cried because they didn't see each other that often? Had she put her own needs ahead of her sister? Had she loved music more than her family?

  "Are we done now?" Kaitlyn demanded.

  Since she was still somewhat speechless, she got up from the bed and walked to the door. Then she paused. Was her niece playing her? Had she drummed up a story to turn the conversation away from her bad behavior?

  Unfortunately, there was no way to be sure.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she walked back to the bed.

  Kaitlyn gave her another long-suffering sigh.

  "You lied to me, Kaitlyn," she said. "To make up for that, you're going to help Tom clean out the stables in the morning. Seven a.m.; don't be late."

  Kaitlyn star
ed back at her, but she didn't say anything.

  Lizzie walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. She let out a breath, wondering if she was doing the right thing or the wrong thing. Being a mother was a lot more complicated and far more difficult than she'd ever imagined, especially when the kid she was trying to mother hated her guts.

  * * *

  Luke walked into the stables early Thursday morning. Tom gave him a friendly smile as he finished feeding carrots to a beautiful brown horse.

  "Morning," Tom said. "Rumor has it you're the new boss."

  "Luke Brannigan," he said, extending his hand.

  "Tom Gordon. I remember you. Daredevil boy. Wanted to jump over a fence at the end of your first riding lesson."

  Tom's words took him a long way back. "How could you possibly remember that?" he asked.

  "Faces stick in my head—names not so much. Plus, there was a bunch of you boys running around. You used to come twice a year until your mom died. She was a sweetheart. Your dad was head over heels for her. Never thought he liked the place that much, but she did. Was shocked as could be when he bought it two years ago."

  "I was surprised about that, too. I didn't actually learn about it until a few days ago."

  "I'm sorry about his passing."

  "Thanks," he said shortly.

  "What can I do for you today?" Tom asked.

  "I was thinking about taking a ride, but I haven't been on a horse in about twenty years."

  "It's just like riding a bike."

  He smiled. "I certainly hope so."

  "We've got a couple of nice, easy-going mares, but somehow I don't think they'll be to your taste, not if you're the way you used to be."

  "If you mean reckless and addicted to speed, then you'd be right," Lizzie interrupted with a smile.

  "I have never been reckless on a horse," he said, a little unsettled by how happy he was to see her. Even in faded jeans and a T-shirt, little makeup on, and her blonde hair in a ponytail, she was breathtakingly pretty.

  "That might be the only place you've been cautious," she retorted. She looked at Tom. "Maybe Daisy?"

  Tom nodded. "I was thinking the same. I'll saddle her up. You'll want Vixen, of course."

  "Hang on, I get a horse named Daisy and Liz gets one named Vixen? That doesn't seem right," he said.

  Liz smiled. "I'm not riding with you, and if you want Vixen, you can have her, but sometimes she gets stubborn and just decides to take a break until you sweet-talk her into moving again. That's why she's called Vixen."

  "The last thing I want to do this morning is sweet-talk a horse, so I'll take Daisy, but you are coming with me."

  "I have work to do."

  "It's seven."

  "And breakfast is starting."

  "You don't run the kitchen, do you?" he challenged.

  "I help out," she said defensively. "I came down here to check on Kaitlyn. She's supposed to be helping Tom clean out the stalls as punishment for lying to me last night." She looked around the barn. "I don't see her, but she's not in her room."

  "She's out back," Tom said. "She's brushing down Chestnut."

  "Hopefully with not too much attitude," Lizzie said.

  "She's different with the horses," Tom replied. "They speak her language."

  "I wish I did," Lizzie muttered. "But I guess I'll leave her alone."

  "Great, then you're coming with me," Luke said. "You want me to see everything the resort has to offer, so let's take a ride."

  She hesitated, obviously torn between wanting to keep her distance and wanting to get him on her side.

  "I'll get Daisy and Vixen ready," Tom said with a knowing smile. "You two can figure out the rest."

  * * *

  "I think you sold Vixen short," Luke told Liz as they made their way down a shady trail a half hour later. "She seems more than happy to lead the way whereas Daisy seems half asleep. Can we go any slower?"

  Liz flung him a smile. "Don't worry. Daisy can run. She just needs a little space, a wider trail; she doesn't like to force anything."

  "You know a lot about your horses."

  "I've spent some time riding. The horses are the only thing Kaitlyn likes about the resort, so I've actually gotten her to go riding a few times."

  "So mucking out stalls might not have been much of a punishment," he said.

  "Well, she hates getting up early, so I thought that might be worth something."

  "I don't remember you getting up this early back in the day." He thought about all the lazy mornings they'd spent in bed together, usually because Lizzie just hadn't been ready to get up yet. Sometimes he'd hold a cup of coffee hostage just so he could fool around with her a bit more. He smiled at the memory.

  "My sleepy mornings were one of the things you didn't like about me," she said lightly.

  "I'm sure I never said I wanted you out of my bed."

  "You know what I mean. You were usually impatient to get on with the day. When we weren't going to class, you had something planned: a hike, a run, a surfing lesson, bike riding down the coast…you never sat still."

  "That's called living, Lizzie."

  "You can relax and enjoy life, too. You don't have to take everything at a dead sprint."

  "Only way I know how to do it." He paused. "Are you still a caffeine addict?"

  "Guilty. I love coffee. I can't deny it. My brain doesn't work until I have my first cup."

  "How many cups have you had today?"

  "Only one. I try to pace myself." She glanced at him, then waved her hand at the trees surrounding them. "It is beautiful here, don't you think?"

  He nodded. "You don't have to sell me on one of the most beautiful valleys in the world."

  "What do I need to sell you on?"

  Her question made him think for a moment. "I don't really know."

  "Your dad must have had a reason for leaving you this particular piece of property. What do you think that was?"

  He gave her a smile. "I think the reason was you."

  "Don't be ridiculous," she said, shaking her head. "I wouldn't have been a factor. I'm sure it had more to do with your love of the outdoors than anything else. He probably thought you would love it here."

  "That might have been his second thought; his first thought was you, throwing us back together."

  "Why?"

  "Because he liked you. He thought you were good for me. You had your feet on the ground. You weren't going to do something stupid."

  She frowned. "That makes me sound like a really boring and very heavy anchor."

  "Well, if it makes you feel better, I didn't see you that way."

  "Good. I know I'm not as daring as you, but I did sneak into the cafeteria after hours with you. Let's not forget that. And what about that time I prank-called your brother James and pretended to be a collection agency?"

  He laughed at the memory. James had been acting so cocky about his early business decisions that he'd decided to throw him a curve ball. "I forgot about that. You were very convincing. And James never knew it was me, either."

  "So I wasn't that boring, right?"

  He sensed there was more behind the question than she wanted to admit. He met her gaze and said, "You were never boring, Lizzie."

  "I sense there's a but coming after that statement."

  "But," he said. "My dad was right. You were more grounded than me, more practical, more focused on the details and I was all big picture."

  "Maybe that's because we grew up so differently. I didn't have the kind of money you had. There was no one around who would or could bail me out if I got into trouble."

  "I never asked anyone to bail me out, either," he returned quickly.

  "I know you didn't, because you're proud and you don't like to ask for help, but still you didn't have to worry about your tuition for the next semester, or your rent money. You didn't have to make bean and cheese burritos every day and go home with the smell clinging to your hands and your clothes."

  "Those
burritos were good."

  "Yours were good, because I made them extra special," she said, smiling back at him. "Sometimes I even snuck in some chicken."

  "I appreciated that. And you're right, you did have to work harder than me back then. I took some of the basics in life for granted." He paused. "My dad wasn't wrong about you, Lizzie. You were good for me. You pushed me to try new things. Remember the ballroom dancing class? And all those concerts you took me to so I could listen to Bach, and Beethoven, and Mozart? I even took that music appreciation class with you."

  She smiled. "I forgot about that. You used to complain, but I think you secretly liked it."

  "I liked you." He drew in a breath. "We were good together." He realized now that the blinding anger over the way things had ended had prevented him from remembering the happier times.

  "For a while anyway," she agreed. "We balanced each other out. But we ended up going in different directions."

  "Until now," he said with a smile as Vixen came to an abrupt stop to inspect some low-hanging branches.

  "Damn," she said. "We were doing so well. I thought Vixen would behave."

  "And here I thought you were more worried that I'd behave." He pulled Daisy up next to Vixen. "So what do we do?"

  "She'll move along in a minute."

  "Sure about that?" he teased. "Maybe you should try some sweet talk. You could always get me revved up."

  She shot him a dark look. "You were always revved up."

  He laughed. "That's probably true. A smile from you was all it took."

  She shook her head and patted Vixen. "Come on, baby, let's keep walking. More trees ahead."

  Finally, Vixen lifted her head and began to move slowly down the path. Lizzie glanced over at him. "Tell me what you're working on now, Luke. Do you have a new film coming out?"

  "In a few months, yes. We just finished the last shot. I did a base jump off a mountain in Norway."

  "Of course you did," she said dryly.

  "I think we got some great footage. My partner Pete was operating a camera via drone, which now allows us to capture new, exciting angles."

  "So you don't have to actually jump anymore?"

  "Well, I don't have to…"