Читать книгу To Wed and Protect - Carla Cassidy - Страница 8

For the thirty-sixth day in a row, Luke woke up stone-cold sober. He opened his eyes and waited for the familiar banging in his head to begin, anticipated the nasty stale taste in his mouth.

Then he remembered. He didn’t drink anymore.

He sat on the edge of his bed and looked around. There was no denying it, without the hazy, rosy glow of an alcoholic buzz, the room where he lived in the back of the Honky Tonk looked grim.

The room was tiny and held the battle scars of a thousand previous occupants. It boasted only a single bed, a rickety nightstand and chest of drawers and its own bathroom.

He’d taken the room because he’d wanted to be off the family ranch and because most nights he worked at the Honky Tonk, playing his guitar and singing and, until a little over a month ago, drinking too much.

Until a little over a month ago he’d thought he’d had a perfect life. He’d had his music and he’d had his booze and there had been nights when he hadn’t been sure what was more important to him.

It had taken a crazy deputy trying to kill his sister, Johnna, to change Luke’s life.

Luke had stumbled into the scene of the almost crime and, had he not immediately beforehand downed a couple of beers, he might have realized Johnna was in trouble. But, with reflexes too slow and a slightly foggy brain, Luke had become a victim, as well. He’d been knocked unconscious, and it had been up to somebody else to save not only Johnna, but Luke, as well.

He’d awakened in the hospital with a concussion and a firm commitment to change his life. He was twenty-nine years old, and it was time to get his life together. And part of that new commitment included no more drinking, and working hard at his carpentry business, buying time until he could leave Inferno behind forever.

But making the choice to change his life and actually doing it were two different things. There wasn’t a moment of the day that went by that he didn’t want a drink, had to consciously fight the seductive call of a bottle of Scotch or whiskey.

He gazed at the clock on the scarred nightstand. After seven. He’d shower, dress and get right out to the Graham place to start work. Old Walt Macullough, who owned the lumberyard, liked to get his deliveries done early, before the infamous Inferno heat peaked midday.

It wasn’t until he was standing beneath a hot spray of water that he remembered the dreams he’d had the night before. Crazy dreams…erotic dreams of a dark-haired woman with sexy spring-green eyes.

He adjusted the temperature of the water to a cooler spray as his memories of the dream hiked his body temperature higher. In the dream he and Abigail had been splendidly naked and locked in an intimate embrace.

His fingers tingled with the imaginary pleasure of stroking her silky skin, tangling in her length of rich, thick hair. And in his dream her sexy, husky voice had cried out with pleasure as he’d taken complete and total possession of her.

Crazy. He shut off the water and grabbed a towel, shoving away the sensual imaginings. All the crazy dreams proved only that he’d been incredibly physically attracted to Mrs. Abigail Graham, but he certainly didn’t intend to follow through on his attraction. After all, she was a married lady, and Luke had never and would never mess with any woman who was married.

But one thing was certain. Luke loved women. Maybe it was because his mother had died when giving birth to Luke’s sister, Johnna. Luke had only been a year old.

He’d been raised by a parade of housekeepers, most of whom had stayed only for a month or two before being driven away by Luke’s father. Adam Delaney had been a son of a bitch, and keeping household help had been a real problem.

The result was that women entranced Luke. He liked the way they smelled, the feel of their soft skin. He was fascinated by the way their minds worked, but that didn’t mean he wanted to bind himself to any woman for anything remotely resembling forever.

Within minutes he was in his truck and headed for the Graham place, pleased to have a big job to keep him busy even though he would have to divide his time between the Graham house and the ranch.

Still, there was nothing Luke liked better than working with his hands. At the family ranch he was in charge of maintenance, mending fences and outbuildings. But what he loved the most was cabinetry work, taking a piece of wood and transforming it into a piece of furniture.

Macullough had already been there, Luke discovered as he parked in front of the ramshackle Graham place. A large pile of supplies had been unloaded by one side of the house.

Before letting Abigail know he’d arrived, Luke walked to the supplies and did a mental checklist, making sure everything he needed had been delivered. In the back of his truck he’d loaded the power tools he knew he would need.

When he was finished with the inventory, he grabbed his bulky toolbox from the truck bed, then approached the front door and knocked. Abigail answered the knock wearing a pink T-shirt and jeans and a warm, inviting smile.

“Mr. Delaney.”

“Good morning, and please make it Luke. I just thought I’d tell you that I was here.” He tried not to focus on the sweet scent of her that seemed to waft in the air all around him.

“You weren’t kidding when you said the lumberyard would probably be here early,” she said as she stepped across the hole in the porch and pulled the door closed behind her. “The truck pulled up at six-thirty this morning. How about a cup of coffee before you get started?”

“No, thanks,” Luke replied. “I’d like to get most of this porch torn down before the heat of the day gets too intense. Are your kids still in bed?”

She smiled. “Not hardly. For the most part they’re on the same schedule as the sun…up at dawn and in bed at dusk. I’ve got them unloading boxes in their rooms.”

Pink was definitely her color, he silently observed. The T-shirt put the hint of roses in her cheeks and made the green of her eyes appear more intense. He couldn’t help but notice the firm thrust of her breasts against the cotton material.

He wondered where her husband was, if he’d already left for work or if it was possible he hadn’t yet joined his family in their new home. None of my business, he reminded himself firmly.

“I think probably the best thing to do is once I get this all torn down, I’ll nail your front door shut so your children don’t forget and try to exit the house this way,” he said in an attempt to focus his thoughts on the task at hand. “You said you have a back door you can use to exit and enter the house?”

“Yes, a door in the kitchen, and I think nailing this door shut is a terrific idea. As much as I like to think I’m always in control of the children, sometimes they escape my radar.” She flashed him a gorgeous smile that shot an arrow of heat directly into the pit of his stomach. “Do you have children?”

“Nope. No children, no wife. I’m just footloose and fancy-free.”

She nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll just go inside and let you get to work. Don’t hesitate to come on in if you need anything.” She took a step backward and instantly teetered on the edge of the hole in the wood.

“Whoa,” Luke exclaimed. He reached out and grabbed her by the upper arms to steady her. Instantly she winced, and he quickly released her. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” he asked, wondering if he’d used more force than he’d intended in grabbing her.

“No…no, I’m fine.” She carefully stepped over the hole and flashed him a quick smile that did nothing to reassure him. “I’ll just be inside if you need anything.” With those words she disappeared into the house.

Luke expelled a deep breath, trying not to think about the fact that her skin had been as soft, as silky, as he’d imagined in his crazy dreams the night before.

And, in that moment when his hands were on her, he’d felt an unexpected quickening of his pulse, an instantaneous surge of heat rising inside him.

She was definitely a sweet temptation, but Luke had fought against temptation before. Besides, he was certain it was because he’d dreamed about her so intimately the night before that he was slightly unsettled around her this morning. Of course, that didn’t explain what on earth had prompted him to dream about the woman.

He pulled a sledgehammer from his truck bed. A little hard physical labor, that’s all he needed. With grim determination, he set about pulling down the rotting old porch.

For the next couple of hours, Luke worked nonstop. The sun rose higher in the sky, relentless in intensity. It was just before noon when he decided he needed a tall glass of iced water before doing another lick of work.

He walked around the house and nearly ran into Abigail, who was coming out the back door. “I wondered if I could get a glass of iced water,” he said.

“Of course. I was just coming around to ask you if you’d like to eat lunch with us,” she replied. “I can’t offer you anything extravagant, but if you like ham and cheese sandwiches, you’re welcome to eat lunch here.”

“Sounds good,” he agreed. “Normally, I just take a quick break and drive through someplace for a burger.”

“Well, as long as you’re working here, I’ll be more than happy to provide your lunch.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Together they entered the kitchen, and again Luke smelled the sweet, floral scent of her. The children stood near the table. He greeted them, but neither of them returned the greeting.

“If you’d like to wash up while I get the food on the table, the bathroom is the second door on the right down the hallway.”

He nodded and left the kitchen. As he went down the hallway to the bathroom, his gaze shot into each of the rooms he passed.

The first room on the right obviously belonged to the little girl. It was decorated in shades of pink, and several dolls were on the bed. The first room on the left was the boy’s room, with trucks and cars strewn about and a Kansas City Chiefs bedspread on the bed.

He stepped past the bathroom door to peek at the room at the end of the hallway. A double bed was neatly made up with crisp white sheets, but it was apparent by the stack of boxes that unpacking the children’s things had taken priority over Abigail and her husband’s creature comforts.

Luke liked that. There had been a time in his life when he’d desperately wished he’d been a priority in any adult’s life. It was good and right that parents thought of their children first.

Aware he was out of line peeking into the room, he hurried into the bathroom. The only soap he could find was a bar in the shape of a cartoon character that smelled of bubble gum.

He quickly washed his hands and face, then returned to the kitchen where Abigail was busy pulling things out of the refrigerator and the two kids were setting the table.

His gaze swept around the kitchen. He noted the wooden cabinets looked nearly as weak and rotted as the front porch. The floor was covered with linoleum that was ripped and faded.

“As you can see, we need some work done inside, as well,” she said, apparently noting where his gaze had lingered. “When Jason’s foot went through the porch, getting it fixed was a priority. Sturdy cabinets are next on my list. Please, have a seat.” She gestured him to the table.

“I really appreciate this, Abigail,” he said.

She flashed him one of her gorgeous smiles. “Oh, please call me Abby,” she said as he slid into a chair.

Abby. Yes, it suited her far better than the more formal Abigail. Luke sat at the end of the table, and the two children silently slipped into the chairs on either side of him.

He’d never seen two kids so quiet, nor had he ever seen kids with such shadows in their eyes. He thought of the black eye Abby had sported the day before, a black eye that was less visible today. That, coupled with the unchildlike behavior of the kids, caused a knot to twist in Luke’s stomach.

He knew all about child abuse. His father hadn’t thought twice before backhanding, punching or kicking his kids. The Delaney children had been quiet, too. Quiet and careful, with dark shadows in their eyes.

He frowned and tried to dismiss these thoughts, aware that his own background and experience were probably coloring how he was perceiving things. Besides, thoughts of his father always triggered an unquenchable thirst for a drink of something far stronger than water.

Abby set several more items in the center of the table, then sat across from him. “Please, don’t stand on ceremony. Just help yourself.”

Luke complied, taking a couple slices of bread and building himself a sandwich. He added a squirt of mustard, then turned and smiled at the little girl next to him. “Jessica, you need some mustard on that?”

“She doesn’t talk,” Jason exclaimed. “She doesn’t talk to anyone ’cept me. She won’t talk to you ’cause she doesn’t like you.”

“Jason,” Abby reprimanded softly. Luke looked at the young boy in surprise.

“She probably doesn’t like me because she doesn’t really know me yet. But once she gets to know me, she’ll find out I’m quite lovable.” He winked at Jessica, who quickly stared at her plate.

“You know, I noticed this morning when I was checking out the lumber in the yard that there’s a big old tree in the backyard that looks like it would be perfect for a tire swing,” Luke continued.

“A tire swing?” Jason eyed him with a begrudging curiosity.

“Yeah, you know, a tire on a rope that you can climb in and swing on,” Luke explained.

Jason gazed at him for another long moment then frowned at his plate. “I don’t think we’d like that,” he finally said, but his voice lacked conviction.

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t I bring the stuff to make the swing tomorrow, then if you and Jessica want to swing on it that’s okay, and if you don’t want to, that’s okay, as well.”

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” Abby said, her gaze warm on him.

He shrugged. “No trouble. It will just take a few minutes to tie a tire to that tree.” He smiled at her. “I always wanted a tire swing when I was little, but my father wouldn’t let us have one.”

Once again Jason looked at him. “Is your daddy mean?” he asked.

“My daddy was the meanest man on the earth,” Luke replied truthfully.

“No more questions, Jason. Let Mr. Delaney eat his lunch,” Abby said to the child, then turned her gaze once again to Luke. “Would you like some potato salad?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

She half stood to pass the bowl across the table to him. As she stretched out her arm, her T-shirt sleeve rode up, exposing a livid bruise on her underarm.

That’s why she’d winced when he’d grabbed hold of her earlier, he thought. He took the bowl from her and spooned a portion on his plate, his mind racing.

A black eye, an ugly-looking bruise…was the lovely Abigail Graham being abused by her husband? The bruises, coupled with Jason asking him if his daddy was mean, caused ugly speculation to whirl inside him.

He tried to tell himself it was none of his business. He tried to tell himself to stay out of it. But the thought of some man angrily putting his hands on the delicate, fragile woman before him, or hurting the children beside him, enraged him.

He set his fork down and looked at her. “Uh…could I speak with you for a moment out in the living room?”

She gazed at him curiously, then wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Sure,” she agreed. She stood and looked at the kids. “You guys go ahead and keep eating. We’ll be right back.”

Luke allowed her to precede him into the living room. “Is something wrong?” she asked, a worried frown appearing on her forehead as she turned to face him.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Luke drew a deep breath, aware that he was about to invade deep into her personal territory. “I know this is really none of my business, but does your husband have a problem?” he finally blurted.

Her eyes widened in obvious surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you have the evidence of a black eye and a big bruise on your arm.” Luke gazed at her intently. “What I really need to know is if you need some help.”

Abby stared at the big, handsome man before her and swallowed hard against the tears that suddenly pressed at her eyes. Help? She needed help in a thousand different ways, but certainly not in the way he meant.

“There is no husband,” she confessed. Shock swept over his features. “There’s no abusive husband, no abusive boyfriend. I’m a widow, and now it’s just the kids and me and I can be incredibly clumsy at times.” The lie tripped smoothly off her tongue but left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She wasn’t sure he believed her, but her heart expanded with warmth that he’d cared enough to ask. She offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “This moving business has been far more physical than I anticipated. A box fell off a shelf and hit me in the eye, and I’m not sure how I got the bruise on my arm. But we’re getting settled in enough that bumps and bruises are at an end.”

She reached out and touched his forearm, trying not to notice the hard muscle beneath the warmth of his skin. “But thank you for asking.” Self-consciously she dropped her hand.

“I just had to make sure nobody was hurting you.”

Abby nodded, finding the fact that he cared far too appealing. “Nobody is hurting me, so that’s that. We’d better go finish our lunch.”

He nodded, and together they returned to the table. The meal was finished in relative silence, and Abby was grateful when the food was once again put away, Luke was back at work, and she could escape to her bedroom to finish unpacking.

It had been slightly disconcerting to sit at the table across from him and feel the silvery gray glow of his eyes on her. She was far more aware of him than she should be.

She pulled her bedspread from a box and opened it up to air out. The room would feel more like her own with her sunflower spread on the bed and her favorite knickknacks and perfumes on the dresser top.

She had peeked in on Jessica and Jason before coming into her room and knew they were having a pretend picnic on the floor in Jason’s room. As usual, Jason was doing all the talking, but occasionally she heard a girlish giggle from Jessica, and the sound warmed her heart.

As she worked unloading the last of the boxes, she heard the sound of banging coming from the porch. For a moment she allowed her mind to visualize Luke swinging the sledgehammer. She could vividly imagine the play of the firm muscles in his arms and across his back. Her fingers tingled as she remembered the warmth of his skin beneath her touch.

From the moment she’d told him she was a widow, she’d sensed a subtle change in him. He seemed less standoffish, smiling at her with a gleam in his eyes that made her breath catch in her chest.

She shook her head, as if to dislodge the thoughts. The last thing she could do was invite a man into any area of her life. She was living a lie, and to allow anyone in meant the possibility of danger and heartbreak.

It was nearly an hour later that she heard the sound of the back door opening and closing and knew Luke had entered the kitchen. She left her bedroom and hurried into the kitchen just in time to see him gulping a glass of water.

“Whew, it’s definitely warm out there,” he said.

Abby nodded, trying to keep her focus on his face. At some point he had taken off his shirt, and his broad, tanned chest shimmered with a light sheen of perspiration. The dark, springy hair that sprinkled his chest formed a valentine pattern, the faint tail disappearing into the waistband of his low-slung tight jeans.

She suddenly realized he was looking at her expectantly as if waiting for her to say something, and a flush of heat warmed her cheeks. She leaned against the table, hoping he hadn’t noticed her intense perusal of his firmly muscled, gorgeous chest. “I meant to ask you, I’m going to take the kids out to dinner tonight, but we haven’t been in town to really see what’s there. Any suggestions on a good place to eat?”

He set the glass on the counter and swiped a hand through his beautiful thick hair. “My personal choice is the diner on Main Street. It’s nothing fancy, but the food is good, and it’s where most everyone in town eats.”

“With two kids, I’m not in the market for fancy. Do they have chocolate shakes?”

He grinned at her, that wide, sexy grin that did amazing things to his sinfully gorgeous eyes. “Do I feel the kinship of another chocolate shake addict?”

“Not me,” she protested with a laugh. “Jason is a chocoholic. I prefer anything with strawberries.”

“Hmm, the best way to eat strawberries is lying down on a blanket beneath a big old shade tree.” His gaze seemed to hold the glint of blatant flirtation.

“And they taste best of all when somebody else is feeding them to you, rather than you eating them by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” she said, her insides trembling at the picture he’d painted with his words.

“I’ve never had anyone feed me anything.”

“That’s an oversight that will have to be addressed,” he replied. He studied her for a long moment. “You mentioned earlier that you’re a widow. How long has it been?”

There was a gentleness in his voice that made her regret the lies she was about to tell. “A little over a year. He died in a car accident.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been tough for you and the kids.”

She nodded and averted her gaze from his. She didn’t want to see the sympathy there, sympathy for a dead husband who had never existed. “We’ve managed okay on our own.”

“Yeah, well, if you ever need a man around here, you know, to do any heavy lifting or whatever, don’t hesitate to call me.”

She looked at him again, and something in his metal-flecked eyes made her feel as if he were offering her more than strong arms to lift heavy items. Her cheeks burned with a blush as she wondered if perhaps she was reading more into his offer than he’d intended.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you really want to eat at the diner, I recommend you go around five. By six the place is packed on most evenings, but Friday night is always the worst.”

She nodded, then turned and headed out the kitchen door. She drew a deep breath as she entered her room, wondering why a man she hadn’t exchanged more than a hundred words with affected her so. Maybe it was because the sight of him evoked thoughts and images that had little to do with conversation.

“Jason,” she said as she entered his room. “Time for a bath, buddy.”

“A bath? But it’s not bedtime,” he protested.

“If I’m taking my best boy into town for dinner, then I want him scrubbed sparkly clean.” His face screwed up for another round of protest. “And I hear the place we’re going to eat has the most super-duper chocolate shakes in the world.” The promise of his favorite drink did the trick, and he headed for the bathroom.

Within minutes Abby had Jason in the tub with Jessica waiting to bathe next. Abby had just pulled Jason from the tub and was fixing fresh water for Jessica when Luke appeared in the doorway.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said, “but I’m going to nail the front door shut, then knock off for the day.”

She quickly turned off the faucets, gestured Jessica to get in the tub, then stepped into the hallway and pulled the bathroom door closed behind her to afford the little girl her privacy.

The first thing she realized was that the hall seemed far too small. He stood close enough to her that she could smell the masculine scent of him, a mixture of fresh cologne and a whisper of hot male. The heat from his body radiated outward. “You’ll be back tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yeah, but before I leave, I wanted to talk to you for a minute about my hours here.”

She wanted to move him out of the hallway, step back enough from him that she didn’t feel so vulnerable, so overwhelmed by his presence.

“If it’s all right with you, I’ll work here each day until about three. Then I need to knock off. I work on the family ranch in the afternoons, then in the evenings I work at the Honky Tonk, a little bar on the edge of town.”

“Three jobs? You must be an overachiever.”

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed in the pit of his stomach. “Not hardly. In fact, most people would tell you the opposite is true, that I’m just kind of drifting through life, dabbling here and there.”

“And what would be closer to the truth?” she asked curiously.

“I’m not sure. I’m still trying to figure it out,” he admitted with a wry grin. He started down the hallway toward the kitchen, and she followed.

“I’ll be back around seven in the morning,” he said as he reached the door.

“That would be fine,” she agreed.

“Then I’ll see you first thing in the morning.” With another of his beautiful smiles, he turned and left the house.

To Abby, his parting words felt like a nice promise, and that worried her. She closed the door after him and for a moment leaned against it.

What was wrong with her? Why did Luke Delaney make her feel so shaky inside, so vulnerable and needy? And why did she have the feeling that once he’d discovered she wasn’t married, he’d been subtly flirting with her?

She knew exactly what was wrong with her and knew she couldn’t trust her own perceptions. For the first time in a little over a year, she was feeling relatively safe, anticipating the beginning of a normal life…a new beginning.

For a moment, as Luke had looked at her with his flirting gray eyes, she’d been taken back in time, back to a time of innocence, before tragedy had taken its toll.

She responded to Luke because for the first time in a very long time she felt the stir of wonderful, frightening hope. But she knew how quickly hope could be destroyed, how fast lives could shatter. She knew better than to hope for anything.