Chapter 9 #2
“Thanks, Mom.” I’m not sure how I feel about Lucas at my family dinner.
But there’s something about watching him getting along with my brothers that warms my insides.
Especially since they have been so loyal to Jeremy for so long.
But wait. It’s not like I’m dating Lucas.
That can’t happen. Grant is right. Lucas is Nolan’s mentor, and I have no business thinking about him in any way other than someone helping my son.
After family dinner, I head home by myself, which is both lonely and nice.
My porch light is one that turns on automatically, which I use for security purposes, but when I walk up to the house it doesn’t turn on and I have to open the front door in the pitch dark.
I go to get a spare bulb and change it out, but it still doesn’t work.
I hop on social media and post about solutions to see if anyone knows how to fix it. It’s crazy how many people have helped me when I’ve done this in the past.
My clothes are in my mom’s wash, and I’ve borrowed clothes from her in the meantime. I pour a glass of wine and settle in front of the TV with a romcom. Nolan hates it when I put these on, so it’s a nice break to get to watch one in peace.
But right as the characters stumble into each other’s arms for the first time, there’s a knock at my door. I pause the movie and climb from the couch to get it.
I peek through the peephole, but since the light is out, I can’t see who it is. “Who is it?” I call through the door.
“It’s Lucas.”
I swing the door open. “What’s up?”
“You have a broken light.”
I blink at him from the doorway. “You . . . follow me on social media?”
His mouth twitches, finally showing a hint of something that might be a smile. “Guilty.”
Okay, that shouldn’t make me feel warm, but it kind of does.
“Want some help?” he adds.
“Sure,” I say, brushing my hair off my face.
“Tools are in the truck.” He nods toward the street where he’s parked.
“I can shine a flashlight or something,” I offer.
“Brought a lamp,” he tosses over his shoulder.
I sit on the porch swing until he comes back, arms loaded in the moonlight. He dives into the project, with a construction lamp illuminating his workspace.
“Need any help?” I ask. “I’m not one to stand by while someone else does everything.”
“Can you hand me my drill?”
I grab it and pause before handing it to him. “You sure this isn’t some excuse to come see me again?”
This time, his grin breaks through completely. “Guilty,” he says again.
I pass it to him, our fingers brushing as he takes it from me, and my breath catches. Why does this man have such an effect on me?
In a different way, he has an effect on Nolan. I don’t miss the way my son’s face lights up when he sees Lucas. He’s getting more attached daily, and Lucas needs to understand how vulnerable the kid is. “Nolan has been having a hard time,” I admit.
“With his dad being gone?” He unwinds a screw with the drill.
“Kids have been bullying him about it, and my brothers keep acting like it’s my fault.”
“Your fault he’s getting bullied, or your fault the divorce happened?” Lucas hands me the drill.
“Both.”
Lucas grunts but stays silent for a moment. “And you don’t think it’s your fault?”
“I know it’s not,” I say. “Jeremy was tired of being in Maple Creek. And honestly, I think he was tired of me.”
“Who could be tired of you?” he asks simply as he examines some of the wiring before making a few small tweaks.
His words have built a fire inside me.
“My dad left when I was small,” he admits. “He never came back.”
My breath catches at his admission. “I had no idea.”
“I don’t talk about it much.”
“Did your mom ever remarry?” I ask.
“Yup.”
He flicks the switch again, and the porch light flares to life.
“Success!” I say, grinning.
We’re standing close. Inches, maybe less, and his exhale brushes across my cheek, warm and startling.
I should step away, but I don’t. I give in for one tiny sliver of a moment. It may be a mistake, but I don’t care right now.
His gaze locks on mine, and something in his eyes softens—melts even, like he’s letting me in for the briefest second.
“Maple Creek is starting to grow on me,” he breathes.
My breath stutters, and I can barely stand because my knees are fighting to buckle like they’ve forgotten how to hold me up.
His hands come up—slow, hesitant, like he’s checking for permission—and cup my face. His thumbs brush along my cheeks, and I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
I want him to kiss me—I ache for it. But then the doubts crash in. I haven’t kissed anyone since Jeremy left, and I might not remember how to kiss someone who isn’t my husband. I have no idea what I’m doing.
All I know is, I’m desperate for his kiss. I need to know what his lips will feel like on mine. Will they be soft and gentle or firm and demanding?
He leans toward me, and his forehead touches mine just barely, our breath mingling as the air sizzles between us.
Right before his lips brush mine?—
My phone rings. Loud. Sharp. Jarring.
Nolan’s face lights up the screen.
“Oh.” My voice cracks. “I should probably get that.”
He steps away from me, taking that delicious kiss with him.