Читать книгу The Hometown Hero Returns - Julianna Morris, Julianna Morris - Страница 12

Luke grabbed Nicki’s hand and pulled her into the library lined with books on built-in floor-to-ceiling shelves, then sank into a chair and rubbed his temples.

Nicki watched, trying to understand how she could let him affect her so much, creating a softening that was neither welcome nor wise. He was a bottom-line kind of guy. She’d returned that lovely painting, but the only thing that had caught his attention was its monetary value. Luke McCade was the last man she should find attractive—partly because of his similarity to her ex-husband, partly because of his difference from her. Luke didn’t like small towns, he wasn’t the least bit interested in art, and, despite his concern for his grandfather, he was well-known as a hardheaded businessman. She had a feeling that falling in love with an adult Luke would be much harder to survive than a girlhood crush.

Physical attraction was nice, but it was more important to respect someone and find things in common with them. She probably had no more in common with Luke than her likeness to the footballs he played with. Footballs were ugly things, too—brown and awkward and bumpy.

Of course, Luke wasn’t ugly.

Or the least bit awkward.

And his only bumps were the ones from muscles.

She bit her lip and sat in a nearby chair, wondering how in less than an hour she’d gone from disliking him to…admiring his biceps. She needed to find her willpower. Fast. The thought of being drawn into a relationship with someone like her ex-husband again made her stomach clench.

It didn’t help that Luke had actually apologized. Well, sort of apologized. She’d once thought it was an over-used cliché that men couldn’t say they were sorry, but it seemed to be a true one.

“Thanks for the help,” Luke muttered after a long minute. “We tried hiring a yard service after Grams died, only Granddad would have none of it. We manage to keep the grass mowed and things watered, but that’s all. He didn’t want strangers in her garden. Or in the house, for that matter.”

“But I’m a stranger—as much as anyone else in Divine. People know each other here, and he’d probably be acquainted with someone working for a yard service.”

Luke shook his head. “It’s different with you. I don’t know why—maybe because you were his student and he recommended you for his teaching position. We have a hard time getting a word out of him at the best of times, but he really sparked when he realized who you were.”

“That’s because we have a common point of reference.”

“I know. Art. But we’ve tried to get him reconnected to his friends and other professors at the college, and nothing has worked. There must be something different about you.”

It wasn’t just art, Nicki thought, it was a deep appreciation of love and beauty. Unless someone could connect on that level, it wouldn’t be the same. “Um…the garden seems really important to him.”

“Yes, but don’t worry about working on it.”

“What if I want to work on it?” she asked dryly. “What if keeping my word is important to me?”

“Granddad isn’t himself. He won’t even remember what happened by tomorrow—he probably doesn’t remember now.”

“I’m not so sure of that. But it doesn’t matter, because I’ll remember,” Nicki said as gently as possible. She wasn’t nearly as convinced as Luke that his grandfather would forget. Something in the old professor’s face had suggested much more awareness than his family seemed to believe.

Luke gave her an exasperated look. “And I’m telling you it’s all right.”

She tried not to get angry. Even if Luke was an insensitive jock, she should be understanding. After all, he had come back to Divine to help his grandfather. A lot of people wouldn’t have bothered, or else would have hired someone to take care of everything. “If you don’t want me around that long, then maybe you can help to get it done faster.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you around,” he growled. “But that garden is more work than you seem to realize.”

“That doesn’t matter—I like being busy and having lots to do. My classes are over and I have plenty of free time, except Tuesdays when I deliver meals to shut-ins or when I have meetings for stuff. I also volunteer at the nursing home twice a month, but you don’t garden at night, anyhow.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “What do you do at the nursing home? Some sort of craft class, I suppose.”

Nicki’s face turned warm. Luke hadn’t needed to know about her various volunteer activities, especially since he’d probably think it was provincial to be involved in small-scale community concerns. “I…um, call the bingo games.”

Luke grinned. “You call the bingo games?”

“Well, yes. It’s better than strip poker.”

His grin broadened. “I don’t like bingo, but I wouldn’t mind a game of strip poker. We could play now if you like. Though I have to warn you, I’m damn good at filling an inside straight.”

“You’re pathetic,” she snapped, forgetting she ought to be understanding. “Go play with one of your old girlfriends.”

“They’re all married.”

“Fortunately not to you, right?”

“Yeah. Lucky escape on my part. Besides, can you see me driving a minivan and giving the dog a bath every Saturday?” He shuddered.

“Only if you develop amnesia or have a personality transplant.”

“See how life works itself out? I’ve been saved from a life of domesticity.”

Luke grinned as Nicki rolled her eyes in disgust, yet he also saw a hint of laughter in their depths. After that scene with his grandfather, he’d felt as if a truck had run him over. But Nicki was a breath of fresh air. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having her around for a few days, and if she wanted to work on his grandmother’s garden, then fine. She’d give up soon enough—she was used to teaching, not back-breaking labor.

“So why haven’t you ever gotten married?” he asked.

“Who says I haven’t?”

The idea that Nicki might be married, or even that she’d once been married, disturbed him. “Because you’re using your maiden name and you aren’t wearing a wedding ring.”

“And you think you’re a modern guy. This is the twenty-first century. Lots of women don’t wear rings or take their husband’s name.” Nicki tossed her head, sending gold curls flying, and Luke remembered the way she used to drag her hair back from her face in a ponytail, leaving a set of crooked bangs to hide her eyes.

No one had ever gotten to look at her eyes in the old days. It was a shame, too. They were clear and blue and bright and broadcast every emotion she tried to hide. He was big on eyes. He was also big on other parts of a woman’s body, but eyes were important.

“So you’re telling me you’re married?” He kept a narrow look on her, certain the answer was no but wanting to hear it confirmed. He’d flirted with her, and flirting with married women was a taboo in his book.

“Divorced,” she said, her mouth tightening. “And before you make a dumb assumption, I’m the one who left. It turned out we weren’t compatible.”