Chapter 21 #3
Because there was no place for her, anywhere. She didn’t want to be the “new person” in a town where she should have been a townie all along. There was no place where she really fit in. Avoiding rejection was easier.
Instead, she said, “And then, after Perry dumped me, I wasn’t exactly interested in coming back with my tail between my legs.”
He grimaced. “Ouch. Yeah. I can see that.”
“Luke.” She covered the back of his hand with her palm. “How did Amber die?”
“Car accident.”
“Was she driving?”
“No. She was walking on the side of the road and a car hit her.”
“Oh, no.” Shock hit her, hard. “That’s why you were so upset about Harriet at Murphy’s Curve.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Luke.”
A long, slow, deep breath came out of him, echoing in his throat like it was calling into the past. “Amber liked to take long walks. It was Thanksgiving, so there wasn’t much traffic. Big shoulder, plenty of room. And she wore that crazy red poncho.”
“Red poncho?”
“The one you put on in the donation box.”
“That was hers?”
“Yep. I–that night, I was donating what she and I were wearing the day she died.”
“Luke, I’m–”
“Can you let me finish the story? It’s not the kind that’s easy to tell with lots of interruptions.”
“Of course. And you don’t have to tell it if you don’t want–”
His fingers pressed against her lips, eyes searching, filled with a combination of attraction and grief, and she wanted to wash away all of the misery he carried in him.
“Let me finish.”
She nodded.
“The guy who hit her had a heart attack at the wheel. They say he was dead before his head hit the steering wheel. He lost control of the car, but his weight pushed on the accelerator. Amber couldn’t even jump out of the way in time, he was going so fast. She was dead instantly.”
“I’m so sorry.” Garbled sounds came out of her, because Luke’s hand still covered her mouth, but she didn’t care. The impulse to say something, to connect, to be with him in feeling was too great.
“Thank you. But do you see why I can’t be mad?” Plaintive pain came through in his voice, his hand dropping from her mouth, her hand squeezing his, hard.
“So much pain.”
“That’s an understatement. The driver was a local, too.”
“Oh, no! Who?”
“The town clerk. Stan Petrinelli.”
“Mrs. Petrinelli’s husband?” Kylie gasped. “She–she lives down the street from you! Babysits for you! She’s–oh, wow.”
He nodded, jaw tight but moving, his attempt to control his emotions achingly difficult to watch. All she wanted was to make his hurt go away.
“Yes. Anne carries a lot of misplaced guilt about it. Not her fault, for goodness sake. Stan had been to a cardiologist. Went faithfully. Took medication for some condition. No one knows why, but that was the exact moment his heart just… gave out.” His voice cracked. “And ripped mine out of my chest.”
“Oh, Luke.” She squeezed his hands, feeling helpless.
“Wasn’t the driver’s fault. Wasn’t Amber’s fault. Suddenly, the town had two people to grieve.” He dipped his head and whispered softly, “Only it was really three.”
“Three?”
Another long sigh, then he looked up at her, eyes shining, as he gripped her hand. “Amber was pregnant.”
Kylie was speechless.
“We were about to announce the pregnancy that afternoon at our Thanksgiving celebration with family.”
Full-throated pain filled her, eyes overflowing with tears that spilled onto her cheeks before the first gasp escaped her. Squeezing his hand, she reached for him by instinct, to hold this man who had experienced too much tragedy.
Too much to bear alone.
They breathed together, her arms around his shoulders, his wrapped about her waist, the contact nothing more than comfort, a recognition of his pain. Luke’s pain was hers, too, in this moment. So much lost. So much he and Harriet could never get back.
So much loneliness.
His body loosened in her embrace, Luke’s hot breath on her neck smelling like lemon and vanilla, her own body melting into his arms. Sharing this space together, they just breathed, as if being present for each other were enough.
Because it was.
Luke took the first step to break the hug, pulling back but stopping her as Kylie tried to untangle herself fully. His hands went up the side of her arms, resting on her shoulders, then cupped her jaw, tips of his fingers sliding behind her ears, their eyes locked.
The second kiss Luke and Kylie ever shared wasn’t one she ever expected, but it was one the universe sent to them, inspired by the past, by grief, by shared longing, by serendipity.
His lips were warm and strong, the rasp of his inhale intense as he deepened his attention, chest against chest, his hands buried in her hair now, tongue against hers, the heat of their mouths melting everything else away.
“Kylie,” he murmured against her mouth, then kissed her again, as if he had to name this to believe it. Her hands wandered the broad muscle of his back, mind repeating his name over and over until the words changed from Luke Luke Luke to Oh Oh Oh.
Oh, yes.
Oh, please.
Oh, more.
He pulled back, forehead touching hers, breath ragged as his hands dropped to clasp hers, their panting filling the air with warmth, with sweet citrus, with the unmistakable energy of two people on the cusp of something new.
Something wonderful.
Or a terrible mistake.
“I’m sorry,” he said slowly, pulling back to look her in the eye. Luke wasn’t a man who shied away from owning his own actions, or emotions. “That was–”
“Amazing,” she jumped in with a sad smile. “But not allowed.”
“Number 14, Part A,” they said in unison, the moment snapping clean in half, her nervousness taking over as she shifted away from him.
Luke stood abruptly, but reached down to lift another lemon bar from the plate, take a huge bite, and give her a chipmunk-cheek grin. Turning away, he put on his coat and hat and walked to the door.
“Thank you for everything, Kylie,” he said, body taut with a coiled, repressed energy that made her want to strip naked and beg him to stay.
“I–”
“I’m leaving now. Not because I want to leave.
What I want to do, very much, is stay. I want to stay and carry you into the bedroom.
I want to undress you and watch you as I undress.
I want to see the desire I just felt in your kiss.
I want to spend hours making love with you, then hours more just being with you.
I want lemon bars and goofy movies in bed, then I want to make pancakes and bacon for you in the morning while we make love some more, share the newspaper, just…
be. But I won’t do any of that. I want a lot of things life won’t let me have, Kylie.
And right now, unfortunately, you’re one of them. ”
Stomach sinking, heart soaring, his words touched a place inside her that wanted nothing more than to be seen. Observed. Adored and known, accepted and embraced. He was more than she’d ever hoped for, the taste of him on her tongue, her heart ready to leap into his arms.
Perry never gave her anything close to what Luke had just offered, and she’d been with him for seven years. How could a handful of weeks and a single kiss from Luke feel like it was so much more?
“No one’s ever said anything like that to me,” she replied, the words lacking, but as she stood before him, stunned and excited, they were true.
Too true.
For years she’d settled for Perry, knowing it wasn’t quite right, never quite enough, but the best she deserved.
And now, Luke was here, offering more. Telling her she deserved more. The closed-off guy who shouldered so many responsibilities had just opened up to her, and what a confession.
Luke was a forever guy. The kind you settled down with, your life planned out before you start. Being with him was no mystery. The entire blueprint of their forever filled in her mind’s eye as they breathed together, his hand on her doorknob, his eyes at war.
Fighting himself. She felt it, too, a battle inside, warring priorities always defaulting to responsibility. Luke was no fling, and Kylie was no fool.
She couldn’t hurt him or Harriet just because she was lonely.
Something more held him back, too. He was saying life wouldn’t let him have her. Whatever that meant, his message was clear:
No sex. Even if they both wanted each other desperately.
Respect filled her, along with a thousand searching questions she wanted to ask him, not to pin him down or convince him to sleep with her, but to understand.
And to make him feel understood.
Instead, she took the emotionally safer route.
“Don’t bang your boss,” she blurted aloud, using humor to break the tension, taking the coward’s way out.
Luke’s entire demeanor startled, like a knight in shining armor being shoved to the right a foot by an unseen force. He opened her front door, a blistering wind shoving a blast of cold air on her, for which she was suddenly grateful.
Then one corner of Luke’s mouth went up in a luscious, extraordinary grin as he left her with the parting words:
“Don’t bang your nanny.”
Her heart slammed in her chest as he left, but he turned back to add:
“No matter how much you want to.”