by Jewel Allen
“Good morning,” Duke said, his voice low and husky.
“Good morning.” Her eyes flicked to his.
The intensity of his gaze made her breath catch in her throat. With some difficulty, she looked away and tried to find breakfast things. Where was anything in this kitchen?
Oscar’s good-natured prattle receded in the background. Even as Brooke took out a loaf of bread, she was only aware of Duke. Of how he swiveled partway toward Oscar, responding to his conversation while casting long, yearning glances at Brooke.
Brooke let her hair fall forward to hide her blushing face as she placed a slice of bread in the toaster.
“I scrambled some eggs,” Duke said, pushing a plate her direction.
She reached for it, and their hands touched. A delicious sensation shot through her arm. “Thanks.”
“You’re lovely, by the way.”
She grabbed her toast as it popped up and took a bite, inclining her head and managing a self-conscious thank you.
What was wrong with her this morning? She was certainly acting like a fool. Over…mmm…a piece of toast and scrambled egg which were, by the way, extremely good.
“What did you put in these?” she asked Duke.
He shrugged. “I just looked through your spice rack.”
She got another helping, aware that he was watching her. She had better get used to him staring at her. It appeared he was going to make it a habit.
As she headed to the sink with her dirty dishes, Duke followed her into the kitchen. The nerve endings of her body pulsed with awareness. She set her dishes in the sink, brushing against him as waited his turn, the warmth of his arm delicious against hers.
If she were to turn to the right, she would end up in his arms. Instead, she twisted to the left and made her escape to the bedroom to finish getting ready for church.
With a little carryover of nerves, she came out of her bedroom. Duke was wearing one of Oscar’s polo shirts, a yellow one, and a pair of blue slacks. Oscar had stepped out of the room.
“Apparently, Oscar owns more than one,” Duke said, adjusting his collar. He looked relaxed and beautiful.
Seeing the collar was slightly askew, Brooke walked over and reached up to straighten it. Duke watched her intently, his breath fanning her face. When she stepped back, his hand circled her wrist, and her breath hitched.
He was going to kiss her, and she wanted him to, badly.
Oscar came blundering out of his room. The two sprang apart, Brooke’s wrist thrilling from Duke’s touch.
At church, Brooke could hardly concentrate on the announcements given at the start of the meeting. Duke had caused a stir at their entrance, and some people came to say hello to him.
Phoebe Ekins came up to greet them. Oscar, trapped between Brooke and Duke, had a panicked look in his eyes.
“How did you like the meatball casserole, Oscar?” Phoebe asked.
“It was, uh…memorable,” Oscar said.
Phoebe beamed and then turned to Duke. “And how are you doing today?”
“Better.” Duke smiled. “Thanks for asking. I’m starting to get my memory back.”
Phoebe covered her mouth with both hands and blinked back happy tears. “That is wonderful! We need to celebrate! I should bring you something fun.”
“Please,” Oscar said, “don’t put yourself out and make your meatball casserole.”
“No, that isn’t fun enough,” she said with a preoccupied expression. “But I can make a cake. Now, which one should I make?”
Oscar brightened. “A cake, huh. Now that I can get behind.”
“Is 8 p.m. okay?” Phoebe asked Duke.
He blinked at her in polite confusion. “For what?”
“To bring the cake over.” Phoebe’s smile could have lit up a moonless night.
“Maybe we can even play a board game,” Brooke said. “Or two.”
Phoebe flashed her a grateful look. Brooke was glad she could help her out. Phoebe was a little too much—like rosemary in some recipes, a little went a long way—but she sure made an impression wherever she went.
Oscar’s forehead creased. He looked worried. Brooke wondered if he suspected that Phoebe liked him and was a little scared of her. Served him right for meddling and wanting to match Brooke up with Duke.
Speaking of whom…his hand had found its way casually to the small of Brooke’s back as the opening hymn to the service began. As soon as they sat down in an empty row of seats, he put an arm across her shoulders and rested it on the back of her chair.
Brooke’s neck prickled. Was it warm in the chapel or what?
The church was a small one consisting mostly of five or six families on a good day, and the rest were tourists dressed anywhere from swimming trunks and T-shirts to Sunday clothes with sandals.
Beside her, Duke adjusted his chair so it was right next to hers, without a gap, causing her to secretly hyperventilate. His fingers touched her shoulder, where they were casually draped, a slow but insistent stroke that burned right through the fabric of her shirt dress.
She glanced at him, and he turned too, his eyes zoning in on her lips. Reminding her of last night.
She tore her gaze away and opened the hymn book. For the life of her, though, she couldn’t concentrate on the words. When Duke joined in, she was struck once again with how beautiful his voice was. Low, husky, masculine. Pitch-perfect.
Chapter Twenty
Duke reluctantly said goodbye to Brooke as the men stayed in the main chapel and the women went into a room for a separate meeting. Luckily with Oscar there, Duke felt comfortable enough to stay. Oscar was visiting with a couple and told Duke to go ahead and sit down. As he did so, someone took the seat next to him, jostling his arm.
“Oh, sorry,” Lee Danson said, his eyes over-bright with insincerity. “I hear you’re working for Oscar now.”
“Yes, I am.” Duke could sense the man’s hostility. He must be really interested in Brooke.
Well, he couldn’t have her. Not if Duke had a say in it.
“Oscar is the kind of guy who’d give the shirt off his back.”
Duke thought of the polo he was wearing and the shirt Oscar gave him the first night at his house. “I can believe it.”
“I’d hate for someone to take advantage of him. And Brooke.”
Duke met his stare head-on. “I certainly wouldn’t.”
Lee adjusted the tie around his beefy neck. “Brooke and I became good friends right after I got here. We didn’t date right away because I was seeing someone else. But now…” He paused. “We’re both free. We’ve gone on dates. We like each other a lot.”
Duke’s voice turned cool. “But she isn’t your girlfriend, is she?”
Lee’s eyes flashed. “Not yet.”
“Too bad. She likes me now.”
A nerve ticked on Lee’s clean-shaven jaw. His whole being seemed to coil with aggression. “You just got here.” He leaned into Duke’s space. “And as soon as we ID you, you’re out of here, man. So stop messing with my Brooke.”
“Are you guys debating scripture?” Oscar butted in. “Scoot over, will you, Duke? Let me break up this fight, er, sit between the two of you.”
“That’s okay, Oscar,” Lee said, shoving his chair back and standing. “I’ll sit in the back.”
“Whoa,” Oscar said after Lee left. “I heard what he said. He’s full of cow pies.”
Duke chuckled and would have asked more about Brooke and Lee, but the teacher stood and began the lesson. His questions would have to wait.
Chapter Twenty-One
At the end of the meeting, the bishop announced there would be a Linger Longer in the Sunday school room. It was more than a Linger Longer; it was an actual meal. Betty brought a spaghetti casserole, and Louise brought her homemade bread. Cecil and his wife contributed their trademark salsa and chips while Roy shared smoked ribs.
Phoebe brought an orange jello salad that might have melted in the middle. “Oh dear,” she sa
id. “It looks like it didn’t set up properly.”
“That’s okay,” Oscar quipped. “I like orange juice.”
Brooke jabbed her brother in the ribs. “He means he would love some.”
A panic filled Oscar’s eyes. “I would?”
Brooke gestured for him to try it.
He poked into the salad with the serving spoon and dished a spoonful or two into a foam cup. He smelled it and made a face. “What’s in this, Phoebe?” he asked.
Phoebe’s expression faltered. “Why?”
“It smells like…gym shoes.”
Phoebe’s large eyes got even larger. With her chin trembling, she took the glass baking pan and disappeared with it into the church kitchen.
“Now you’ve done it,” Brooke said. “Go after her and apologize.”
“But I was just telling the truth.” Oscar rubbed his nape. To his credit, he did go after Phoebe and was gone for a little while.
Which left Brooke to socialize with Duke in tow. Many were curious about him and peppered him with questions. He couldn’t answer most of them, but he was pleasant. Brooke watched him with pride. He seemed to fit in and blend well in her small-town church congregation. If he were to stay…
But more likely, he would go. The thought depressed her.
Some of her law enforcement buddies, the ones she played volleyball with, hailed them from one side of the room. Lee Danson singled her out, going out of his way to say hello. He was a buff, handsome man who had flirted with Brooke when he first moved to Redding two years ago. But he had a girlfriend then, and Brooke put a kibosh quickly on that. They’d since broken up, and Lee sometimes still tried to make overtures, but everyone knew his assignment was only temporary. Brooke naturally categorized him with the fly-by-night tourists.
“You coming to volleyball?” Lee asked Brooke, his dark eyes lingering over her face.
For some strange reason, Brooke turned to Duke as though for approval. “Yes. I think.”
Lee stiffened. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute in private?”
Her instincts told her not to, but curiosity got the better of her. “Okay.”
They went into the hallway to the kitchen where no one was around. Brooke could hear conversation coming from the kitchen—Phoebe’s bubbly voice paired with Oscar’s dry humor. Maybe, just maybe, there was something there…
Lee touched her arm. “I’m worried about you and your brother being taken in by this guy.”
Brooke stared at him. “You mean Duke?”
He nodded. “I think we’re getting closer to figuring out his mystery identity. It’s been a bit of a crazy week, so I couldn’t devote too much time to digging up records. But I was thinking maybe you should have him stay somewhere else.”
“Like where?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “There’s probably room in the shelter.”
“The homeless shelter?” Brooke’s nostrils flared. “Honestly, Lee.”
His jaw tightened. “Well, better than him being under the same roof as you.”
“If I need protection from the bad guys, Lee, don’t worry, I’ll call you.”
“Don’t make light of this, Brooke.” His voice deepened. “I go on calls sometimes…and it ain’t pretty.”
She turned to go. This ridiculous conversation had gone far enough. His hand shot out and curled around her wrist. “Just please consider my advice.”
“I would,” Brooke said with a chill in her voice. “But I can’t help feel it’s more for you than for me.”
She left him stewing and made her way back to Duke.
Chapter Twenty-Two
An older gentleman was talking Duke’s ear off about vintage boats. Duke nodded, but he wasn’t paying close attention to his words. Each moment Brooke spent with that Lee Danson made him more jealous. It was probably irrational. He hadn’t known Brooke all that long, whereas Brooke appeared to have a history with Lee. But he knew competition when he saw it.
She came out of the hallway looking upset, her eyes scouring the crowd and immediately settling onto Duke. Her face sagged with relief, and she made her way to him. He would take the little victory. She wanted to be with him. Lee didn’t mean anything to her. He hoped.
“Hi,” she said, putting her arm through his, filling him with pleasure. “Have you seen Oscar?”
As though summoned by magic, Oscar also came out of the hall with Phoebe, who seemed to be in better spirits. “Well, it’s set,” Oscar said. “Tonight, then, at eight?”
Phoebe glowed. “Yes. I’ll be there with a cake.”
“What were you doing with Phoebe in the kitchen?” Brooke asked as they headed to Oscar’s truck. At the last moment, she slid into the back passenger seat. Beside Duke. Who promptly put an arm around her shoulder. She clasped his hand in hers.
Oscar got in and surveyed the couple with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I should be asking you guys the same thing.”
“I was talking boats with Mr. McGuire,” Duke volunteered.
It was enough of a distraction for Oscar to go on and on about the cool collection Mr. McGuire had and how he wished he would sell him that aluminum boat so he could fix it up and take it fishing.
Brooke relaxed against Duke, letting her brother’s words wash over her. Duke pulled her closer and ran his hand up and down her arm. Too soon, they made it home. She was loathed to leave the truck, but Oscar wouldn’t let them live it down if they parked in the truck for a little while. She slid on the seat after Duke, who held her hand as they walked to the front door.
“Stay out here for a minute, Brooke?” Duke asked.
“Sure.”
It was already a hot day, with the sun bearing down on them from a cloudless sky. There was shade on a bench under a hummingbird bush that their mom had grown years before. Brooke sat beside Duke and waited.
“I was wondering,” he said, “about you and Lee.”
They weren’t touching, and she was kind of glad they weren’t. Because she could sense this was an important question, a make-or-break one in the future of their relationship, if there was to be one.
“We’re just friends,” Brooke said. “We play volleyball together.”
“He seems to like you. A lot.”
“Lee flirts with me all the time, but I’m not interested,” she said flatly.
“He told me that you and he have dated before.”
“What?” She stared. “When did he tell you this?”
“In that men’s meeting.”
“If you count eating a burger after volleyball with all the guys around as a date. And okay, once, we went dancing.”
Duke pictured Lee’s hands touching the small of her back. He gritted his teeth with jealousy. “He also warned me not to do anything funny while living with you and Oscar.”
“Yeah, he told me too.”
Duke looked away and then back. “He might not act that way toward you if you hadn’t given him a reason to believe that you and he were…” He let his words trail, but the implication was there. If Brooke hadn’t encouraged Lee…
The sweetness of the afternoon fled, replaced by disappointment in Duke. “Is your cross-examination done?”
“My what?”
She stood, and he did too. “Listen. I appreciate your concern. Apparently, everyone is worried about me today. Between you and Lee, I should just stay home and knit with blunt instruments.”
Duke said her name and reached for her, but she stepped back. With her mouth in a fixed line, she brushed past him and into the house.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After their little quarrel, Brooke left the house dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, a tackle box in hand.
“You must have made her mad or something,” Oscar observed from the window where Duke stood as Brooke revved the engine and whipped out of the parking lot. “She only fishes on Sunday if she wants to get away and think about things.”
“Yeah,” Duke said, sheepish. “I grilled he
r about Lee Danson.”
Oscar grimaced. “That’s a surefire way to get her goat. Good luck, man.”
“Thanks. Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You hardly know me, but you don’t seem to mind that I…I like Brooke.”
“Why do you think I have you living here? That way I can keep a close eye on you.” Oscar grinned. “Seriously, I don’t really care who Brooke dates. She’s a big girl and can take care of herself. But I can see that you make her happy.” His eyes narrowed. “Your intentions are honorable, aren’t they?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. That’s the way I like it.”
Duke looked out the window again, at the angry tire tracks Brooke left. “Well, I apparently made her mad.”
“Let her blow off steam. She’ll come around.” Oscar jerked his head toward the back of the house. “You want to come help me with this project in the backyard?”
The project turned out to be a small houseboat Oscar had gotten for dirt cheap and wanted to get going for the following summer. Apart from the engine needing to be overhauled, there were cosmetic things to do like chipping off flaking paint and straightening cupboards.
Duke was relieved to be busy. He could take Brooke off his mind, especially since Oscar told him stories from their childhood. Duke hadn’t laughed that much since, well, since he could remember.
It was nearing seven-thirty when Oscar declared them done. Duke was washing his hands in the kitchen when the front door opened. Brooke stood there, looking like a model from an outdoors catalog—her hair in loose curls around her face, her skin golden from the sun, her expression relaxed.
Their eyes met, and he raised a hand in greeting. She gave him a little smile.
He wandered from the kitchen to the living room. “How was fishing?”
“It was good.” She closed the door after her and came closer to him. “Just what the doctor ordered.”
She stopped when she was about arm’s length from him. Up close, she was even more beautiful. Her amazing eyes drew him in, and her body language seemed to say all was forgiven. But he didn’t want to assume. He’d wait for her to make the overture.