7. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Nancy
L uke takes a slow sip of his beer, gaze drifting across the beer garden as if he’s perfectly content with the quiet.
I watch him, letting my eyes settle on the details I hadn’t really noticed before. The way the stubble along his jaw catches the afternoon light, a few days past clean-shaven but neatly kept. The way his dark blue eyes shift, always taking things in, sharp, even when he isn’t saying much.
My gaze drifts lower. His hands rest around his pint, fingers long and strong but not oversized, not the kind that swallow everything they hold. They look steady, the kind of hands that could fix something, hold something, touch something—
I catch myself.
The thought comes out of nowhere, landing in my chest like a misplaced step on a staircase. A quiet jolt that shoots straight down between my legs and makes my clit perk up. Heat creeps up my neck.
I reach for my shandy, lifting it too quickly, the glass almost clinking against my teeth as I take a sip.
Luke’s eyes flick to me, his brow lifting slightly. “What?”
I grip my glass, forcing myself to look unimpressed. “Nothing.”
His mouth twitches like he doesn’t believe me. “Didn’t look like nothing.”
“It was.”
He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, watching me with quiet amusement. “You blushed.”
I scoff, even as my skin betrays me. “I did not.”
His head tilts, eyes still locked on mine. “You did. You are still blushing.”
I shake my head and set my drink down with more force than necessary. “You’re imagining things.”
Luke doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t look convinced either. Instead, he lets out a quiet chuckle and shifts back slightly. “Alright then, not-blushing Nancy, tell me something about yourself.”
I arch an eyebrow. “What kind of something?”
He shrugs, running a thumb absently along the condensation on his pint glass. “Anything. Something I wouldn’t hear from Mrs Higgins.”
I exhale a laugh, leaning back in my chair. “You’re assuming she doesn’t already know everything about me.”
Luke smirks. “She probably does. But let’s pretend she doesn’t.”
I tap my fingers against my glass, thinking. “Alright. I used to work in corporate marketing in Leeds, but I got sick of the back-to-back meetings about meetings, so I went freelance.”
He nods. “Regrets?”
“Only that I didn’t do it sooner.”
His gaze flicks over me, considering. “So, you like working for yourself?”
“Love it. I get to choose my clients, work in my pyjamas if I want to.”
Luke takes another sip of his beer, waiting, like he knows I have more to say.
I set my pint down and lean back slightly. “Only downside to working from home is the food situation. I can’t cook. At all.”
“So I’ve heard,” he laughs. He actually laughs.
I shake my head. “I mean, I can put things in the oven, but that’s just heating stuff up. Actual cooking, from scratch? No.”
Luke tilts his glass slightly, watching me over the rim. “In that case the shop-bought sandwich was definitely the safer option.”
I point at him. “Exactly. It’s survival.”
He smirks, setting his pint down. “So, how do you manage? Survive on meal deals?”
“No. Well… sometimes.” I huff a laugh. “But my sister, Abby, is an amazing cook. She runs a B&B in a hamlet just outside St Claire, and she’s always feeding me. Says I’d waste away otherwise.”
Luke rests an arm against the back of his chair. “What’s it called… the B&B?”
“Sunshine Cottage Bed & Breakfast.”
His brows lift slightly. “Sounds… cheerful.”
“It is. Too cheerful, actually. She’s got those ridiculous floral teacups, checkered tablecloths, fairy lights everywhere. The whole place smells like fresh bread and homemade jam. It’s all very wholesome.”
He tilts his head. “And that bothers you?”
I scoff. “No, I love it. It’s just that she’s a proper domestic goddess and I’m over here setting fire to jacket potatoes.”
Luke exhales a quiet chuckle. “So, she’s the responsible one?”
“Oh, definitely. Abby’s the one who’s always got everything together. I’m the one who turns up for free food and lets her tell me how to live my life.”
His gaze lingers on mine for a second, as if he’s picturing it. “You two close, then?”
I nod. “Always have been. It was just the two of us growing up, so we kind of had to be. She’s a couple of years younger than me, but sometimes I think she’s actually the older sister, especially since her husband passed away.”
Luke studies me like he’s filing that information away somewhere.
I sip my drink, then add, “She’s got a daughter, too. Layla. My niece. She’s six, chaotic, and smarter than any of us.”
Luke’s mouth twitches. “Sounds dangerous.”
“Oh, she is. She’s the only person I know who can hold a full conversation while hanging upside down from the back of a sofa. I don’t know how my sister keeps up.”
Luke shakes his head slightly. “Six-year-olds seem exhausting.”
“She is. But in the best way.” I smile, thinking of her. “She’s already decided she’s going to be a ‘famous explorer’ when she grows up, which I think is just an excuse to climb things she shouldn’t.”
Luke exhales a small laugh. “Reckon she’ll join the walking group?”
“She’d love to, but she’d spend more time jumping in puddles than actually walking.”
He takes another sip of his pint, watching me as I talk. I get the sense that he’s actually listening, not just being polite.
I glance down, running my fingers along the condensation on my glass. “Anyway, that’s the family. Just the three of us, really. No long-lost cousins, no interfering aunts. Which is probably a blessing.”
Luke nods, like he understands that more than he’s letting on. “Sounds like a good setup.”
“It is.” I pause, watching the way his fingers tap lightly against his glass. “What about you? Any siblings?”
His grip tightens slightly, just for a second. Then he shakes his head. “No. Just me.”
Something shifts in his tone, but before I can press, he lifts his pint again, like that’s the end of it.
I let the silence settle, watching as he takes another slow sip.
There’s more to that answer. I just don’t think he’s ready to tell me yet.
The sun has dipped slightly, casting long golden streaks across the village as we walk side by side down the quiet lane. The warmth of the afternoon still lingers in the air, a soft breeze stirring the hedgerows.
Luke walks with his hands in his pockets, his pace unhurried. He seems… settled. Lighter, even. The gruff reluctance that had been there at the start of the walk has faded, replaced by something else.
I steal a glance at him as we near my cottage. The slight crease in his brow is gone, and there’s a faint, almost reluctant curve at the corner of his mouth.
When we reach my gate, we stop.
Luke rocks back on his heels slightly, glancing at my door before meeting my eyes again. “Thanks for today,” he says. “It was…” He pauses, then exhales a short laugh, as if he can’t quite believe his own words. “I actually enjoyed it.”
I grin. “Even with Bernard’s crimes?”
He lets out a dry chuckle. “Even with Bernard’s crimes.”
His hand comes out of his pocket, and for a second, I think he might shake mine, but he just runs it over the back of his neck instead. “I’ll come to the next one.”
I blink. “You will?”
He nods, looking almost resigned to it. “Yeah. Seems like I survived this one.”
I cross my arms. “That sounds dangerously close to enthusiasm.”
Luke smirks. “Let’s not get carried away.” His eyes drift to the little weatherproof cabinet at the entrance to my drive. “What’s that?” he asks, stepping closer.
“Oh, that’s my little library. I put books in, and people can take them, borrow them, or add their own. People love it,” I explain. I saw the idea online last year and thought it was brilliant.
“So, you give away books… for free?” His gaze lingers on me, unreadable. One of his fingers drifts over the spines, pausing briefly on a John Brooks crime novel.
“Well, most people add their own books too, so it’s more of a book exchange,” I shrug.
He doesn’t reply. I can’t tell from his expression whether he thinks it’s a great idea or a completely ridiculous one.
Silence settles between us. Not awkward, just… charged. His eyes hold mine, the dark blue appearing brighter. They are filled with something I can’t quite put my finger on. There’s a weight to the moment, like something is teetering on the edge of happening, but neither of us is sure what.
I swallow, suddenly aware of the way he’s looking at me. And the way I’m looking back.
I clear my throat, breaking the moment before it can stretch too far.
Then, before I even realise what I’m doing, I lift a hand and pat him lightly on the chest.
His very firm, very solid chest.
My palm meets warm muscle, and it takes everything in me not to let out some kind of noise.
Oh. Oh, wow.
A tiny part of me debates fanning myself on the spot.
Luke blinks, clearly not expecting the contact, and I realise I should probably remove my hand before this goes from mild flirtation to outright groping.
I step back, letting my hand drop, forcing myself into nonchalance. “See you next time, then.”
Luke watches me for a second longer, his smile returning, this time slower. “See you.”
I turn, heading up the drive to my cottage, willing my heart rate to calm down.
As I close the door behind me, I lean against it, exhaling sharply.
First hike? Definitely a success.
Dog farts aside.
I stand outside Luke’s house, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, staring up at the stone facade that looms over me. It’s nothing like my cottage. Where mine is small, warm, and full of mismatched charm, his is… grand. Imposing. The kind of house that makes you instinctively stand up straighter just being near it.
He clearly has money. But then, I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s a lawyer, after all. He must be into corporate law or something.
Somehow, I can’t really picture him as a corporate lawyer. Trying to screw over someone or find a loophole for his clients to avoid tax. No, that so doesn’t sound like the man that joined my walking group a week ago.
I hesitate, fingers hovering over the doorbell.
Is this a terrible idea?
Possibly.
I chew my lip, then, before I can talk myself out of it, I press the bell.
Nothing.
I shift on my feet, waiting. Still nothing.
I frown and ring it again, this time holding the button down just a fraction longer.
There’s movement. A low, muttered curse. Then, the distinct sound of heavy footsteps approaching.
The door swings open.
Luke stands there, gym shorts slung low on his hips, chest bare, skin damp with sweat. His hair, usually tousled in a way that seems unintentional, is now slightly damp, sticking to his forehead. A faint sheen clings to the lean, defined muscles of his torso, his breathing still slightly uneven.
I take all of this in within the span of a second.
My brain, very helpfully, short-circuits.
He looks grumpy at first, brows furrowed like he’s fully prepared to tell off whoever dared to interrupt him.
Then, his eyes land on me.
The furrow eases. His expression flickers with surprise. The corners of his mouth lift into a smile and that does it.
My heart hammers. My stomach's full of butterflies, and words have officially packed up and left the building.