Читать книгу A Family for the Rugged Rancher / Soldier on Her Doorstep - Сорейя Лейн - Страница 11

LUKE GAVE THE ratchet another turn and adjusted the trouble light. When had it gotten so dark? He stood back, staring at the rusted parts that made up the baler. It needed love. It needed replacing. But this repair would hold him through this season. And if things went well, he’d talk Joe into a discount and buy a new one next year.

He made a few final adjustments and straightened, rubbing the small of his back. Between the trip to town, Cait and the baler, he’d spent all of half an hour in the fields today. He frowned. It wasn’t how he liked to run things. He wasn’t a boss who gave orders and disappeared. Here everyone worked together and shared the load. But what could he do? He’d left the repairs until after dinner as it was, working in the dim light.

“Hi.”

He spun at the sound of the small voice and saw Sam standing before him in his bare feet and a pair of cotton pajamas. The boy was cute as a bug’s ear, Luke acknowledged, with his brown curls and wide chocolate eyes like his mother’s. Eyes that seemed to see everything. Luke wiped his hands on a rag and tucked the end into his back pocket. “Shouldn’t you be up at the house? In bed?”

A light blush darkened Sam’s cheeks as his gaze skittered away for a moment. “I couldn’t sleep. It’s too hot.”

“Your mom would open the window.”

“She said she didn’t want to hear a peep out of me,” Sam admitted, and Luke hid a smile. Not hear a peep, so sneaking out of the house was okay?

“Then you’d better hightail it back in there, don’t you think? You don’t want your mom to be mad.”

Sam swallowed and nodded and turned away, only to turn back again. “Why don’t you like my mama?”

Luke’s hands dropped to his sides as Sam asked the pointblank question. “What makes you think I don’t like her?” he asked.

“Because you never said anything to her at supper. And she made veal. I helped. She only does that when it’s special.”

The veal had been good, as had the pasta and salad. Certainly much fancier than he was used to making for himself. “I suppose I had my head full of everything I need to do. I don’t usually have company at the dinner table. I guess I’m not one for conversation.”

Why on earth was he explaining this to a five-year-old boy? Besides, he knew it was a feeble excuse. He hadn’t known what to say to her. He’d walked in to a house smelling of furniture polish and the fragrant lilacs she’d cut and put in one of his mother’s vases she’d unearthed from somewhere. He’d instantly been transported to a time when the house had been filled with family. His mother’s warm smiles. His dad’s teasing. All of it had been taken from him in what felt like an instant, and he knew the chances of history repeating itself were too good to fool around with. But today he’d been taken back to a happier time.

He’d looked at Emily and felt the noose tightening. All through the meal he thought of her as she’d looked that morning as they ate alone in the quiet kitchen, with her pretty smiles and soft voice. It had felt domestic. Alarm bells had gone off like crazy in his head. He knew the signs. Watchfulness. Blushes. He was as guilty of it as she was, and he had kept his distance ever since very deliberately. He’d had no idea what to say to her.

“I think you hurt her feelings,” Sam persisted. His tone turned defensive and his brown eyes snapped. “My mama’s a nice lady,” he announced, lifting his chin as if daring Luke to dispute it, an action so like his mother Luke found it hard not to smile. “She cooks good and reads me stories and does all the best voices with my dinosaur puppets.”

This was Luke’s problem. He was too soft. He already felt sorry for the pair of them, and he didn’t even really know the extent of their situation. Nor did he want to. He knew he shouldn’t get involved. They were not his responsibility, and he didn’t want them to be. He’d had enough responsibility to last a lifetime, and even though his sisters were on their own there was still the issue of his father’s ongoing care. Emily was the housekeeper. Full stop.

Even Cait, in the first bloom of motherhood, had sensed something was up today. He’d said nothing, not wanting to mention Emily or her kid, instead dutifully admiring baby Janna. His sister was happy, but a family was not for him. So why did seeing her with Joe and her baby make him feel so empty? It was like that every time he saw Liz’s girls, too. They thought he didn’t particularly care for children. But the sorry truth was he knew he would never have any of his own and keeping his distance was just easier.

“I like your mom just fine, and you’re right, supper was good. But my job is to fix this baler so we can roll up the hay out there and have feed for the winter.”

Sam scowled. “Mama told me if we didn’t stay here we had to go to Grandma and Grampa’s. I don’t even know what they look like.”

Luke leaned against the bumper, watching Sam with keen eyes. When had she said such a thing? Before arriving or after he’d given her the job? He found the answer mattered to him. And how could Sam not know his grandparents? Regina wasn’t so far from Calgary as to prevent visits.

“Oh, you must remember them.”

But Sam shook his head. “My mama says they would be excited to see me because they haven’t since I was a baby.”

Three years. Maybe four, if what he said was true. Luke frowned. Even though he’d only known her a few days, he pictured Emily as the type to be surrounded by family. What had kept them apart?

“You should go on up to the house,” he said, more firmly this time. “You don’t want to get in trouble with your mom, Sam. Go on now.”

Sam’s lips twisted a little. “You don’t like me either,” he announced.

“What does it matter if I like you or not?” Luke was feeling annoyed now, having his character called out by a boy. Besides, it wasn’t a matter of liking or not. It went so much deeper. Self-preservation, if it came to that. There was too much at stake for him to get all gushy over babies and such. “You get on up to bed.”

Sam’s little lip quivered but his eyes blazed. “That’s all right. My dad doesn’t like me either and my mama and I do just fine.”

He spun on his toes and ran back to the house.

Luke sighed, watching him depart. He’d been sharp when he hadn’t meant to be. It wasn’t Sam’s fault—or Emily’s for that matter—that the years of stress and responsibility had worn him down. The boy had been through enough with his parents splitting up—Emily had as much as said so last night. He felt a moment of guilt, knowing Sam was feeling the loss of his father keenly. Did Sam never see him, then?

He rubbed a hand over his face, blew out a breath. Emily’s domestic situation was none of his concern. Why he continually had to remind himself of that was a bit of a mystery. He turned out the trouble light and felt for a moment the satisfaction of another day done.

Followed by the heavy realization of all that remained to do tomorrow. And the day after that.

He squared his shoulders. “Suck it up, Evans,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. Darn the two of them anyway. They’d had him thinking more over the last two days than he had in months, and not just about himself. About her, and the series of events that had landed her on his doorstep just at the moment he needed her most.

Emily was wiping up the last of the dishes and Sam was already sound asleep in bed when Luke returned to the house in the twilight. Sam had worked alongside her most of the afternoon, helping her dust the rooms and fetching things as she needed them. The bathroom fixtures shone and the floors gleamed again, and she sighed, not only from exhaustion but also from satisfaction. Sam had sometimes been more of a hindrance than a help, but it had been worth it to see the smile on his face and the pride he took in helping. It hadn’t been until he’d nearly nodded off over his dinner that she’d realized he’d missed his afternoon nap.

Now he was tucked away in the small room, his dark head peaceful on the pillow. Meanwhile Emily had dishes to finish and the last of the dry sheets to put back on the spare beds before she could call it a night.

She heard Luke come in through the screen door and her heart did a little leap. It seemed so personal, having the run of his house, making herself at home. She heard the thump of his boots as he put them on the mat by the door and pictured him behind her. Now her pulse picked up as she heard his stockinged feet come closer. To her surprise he picked up the frying pan and moved to put it in the cupboard.

“Mr. Evans … you don’t have to do that.” She avoided his eyes as she picked up the last plate to dry.

“It’s no biggie. I’m done for the day and you’re not.”

His shoulder was next to hers as he reached for another pot, the close contact setting off the same sparks as she’d felt at dinner. His jeans had been dirty with a smear of grease on one thigh, and his T-shirt had borne marks of his afternoon of work, but he’d gone into the downstairs bath and come to the table with clean hands and face and a few droplets of water clinging to his short hair.

It had been the wet hair that had done it. The tips were dark and glistening, and paired with the stubble on his chin it was unbelievably attractive. The economical way that he moved and how he said exactly what he meant, without any wasted words. He’d spoken to Sam only briefly during dinner, making little conversation before heading outside again. He hadn’t even commented on the food, even though she’d pulled out all the stops and fussed with her favorite veal-and-pasta recipe. Emily tried not to be offended. Perhaps it was just his way. Perhaps he’d lived alone so long he wasn’t used to making mealtime conversation. And that was quite sad when she thought about it.

“But our agreement …”

He put his hand on her arm and she stilled, plate in hand. She couldn’t look at him. If she did, the color would seep into her cheeks. He was touching her. Touching her, and her skin seemed to shiver with pleasure beneath his fingers.

“Please,” she said quietly. “This is my job. Let me do it.”

“Pride, Emily?”

He used her first name and the sound of it, coming from his lips in the privacy of the kitchen, caused her cheeks to heat anyway. His hand slid off her arm and she realized she was holding the plate and doing nothing with it. She made a show of wiping the cloth over its surface. “Just stating the obvious.”

“Who do you suppose cleans up when I’m here alone? I didn’t realize putting a few things away would be a problem.”

Oh, lordy. What right did she have to be territorial? “That’s not what I meant,” she replied hastily, putting the plate on the counter and reaching into the sink to pick up the last handful of cutlery. “Of course it’s your kitchen …”

“Emily.”

“You have more right to it than I do.”

She was babbling now, growing more nervous by the second as she felt his steady gaze on her. She bit down on her lip. She wouldn’t say any more and make a bigger fool of herself. What did it matter if he put a dish away? She was the one caught up in a knot, determined to do everything perfectly. And why? She already knew that trying to be perfect didn’t mean squat when it came down to it. She let out a slow breath, trying to relax.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

She did then. She looked up into his eyes and saw that the blue irises were worried, making it impossible to maintain the distance she desired.

“You’re paying me to do a job, so I should be the one to do it. If that’s pride, then so be it.”

“You’re a stubborn woman, aren’t you?”

Her lips dropped open and then she clamped them shut again, trying to think of a good reply. “I prefer determined.”

“I just bet you do.”

“Did you get the baler fixed?” She was desperate to change the subject, to turn the focus off herself and her failings. “I expect you’ll be glad to be back in the fields tomorrow,” she carried on, sorting the last of the cutlery into the drawer. The thought of the fields and waving alfalfa made her smile, gave her a sense of well-being. It had to be the peace and quiet, that was all. It had nothing to do with Luke Evans, or picturing him on top of a gigantic tractor in a dusty hat and even dustier boots.

“I can’t expect the boys to handle things alone. I’ll be glad to be back out with them again. I may be late for dinner tomorrow. Just so you know.”

Oh, goodness, they were back to that again. She brushed her hands on her pants and inhaled, trying to appear poised. How could she explain that she’d actually enjoyed cleaning the homey farmhouse? That she’d felt more at home cooking a simple meal than she’d felt in a long time? Cooking anything elaborate for her and Sam seemed pointless, and she’d missed it.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll plan something that keeps well, then. If you don’t mind Sam and I going ahead.”

“Of course not. Emily …” he paused and she gave in to temptation and looked up at him. He could look so serious, but something about his somber expression spoke to her. There was more to Luke than was on the surface. She was sure of it.

Their gazes clung for several seconds before he cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is, it is just great to have supper on the table when I come in and something better than a sandwich. It’s a real nice thing to look forward to.”

It was as heartfelt a comment as she’d guess Luke could come up with, and she took it to heart. She couldn’t find the words to tell him that though, so she simply said, “Sam doesn’t have such discerning taste. It was nice to have a reason to put together a real meal.”

His gaze plumbed hers. “There was a reason I advertised for a housekeeper. The place looks great. And dinner was really good, Emily. I probably should have said so before.”

She’d been slightly put out that he’d barely acknowledged her efforts earlier, but the compliment still did its work, even though it was delayed. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Why was he being nice to her now? She should be glad, relieved about all of it. But it threw her off balance. She furrowed her brow. Either she wanted his compliments and approval or she didn’t. She wished she could make up her mind which.

“You’re a very good cook.”

“It was.”

She paused. So what if it was what she’d used to make for special occasions? She was tired of giving Rob any power. He had no business here. He had no business in her life anymore. He’d forfeited that privilege, and she’d done her share of crying about it. The only person keeping him front and center was her. “It is one of my favorites.”

“So what’s the story of Emily Northcott?” Luke folded up the dish towel and hung it over the door of the stove. “I mean, you must have a place in Calgary. Sam’s father must be helping. Why pick a position that takes you away from home?”

Of course he’d ask right at the moment she’d decided not to mention Rob again. But the question struck a nerve. Somehow she wanted him to know. She wanted him to realize that she had tried everything she could to make things right. She already thought of him as stubborn rancher, a bit of a strong, silent type but she’d glimpsed moments of compassion, too. How would he remember her after she moved on? Not as a victim. Never that. She wanted him to see what she wanted to see in herself. Strength. Resourcefulness. Pride, but not vanity.

“I was a stay-at-home mom. Once I got pregnant and my ex started working, we agreed on a plan. I had my degree in science, and I put Rob through school by working for a laboratory. The idea was for him to start work and then he’d support me as I took my pharmacy degree. But then we had Sam, and Rob said he would support us both. I was thrilled. Having Sam changed everything. Being his mom was the best job I’d ever had. I know it’s not a job in the strict sense, but I really felt like I was doing something important, making a home for us, bringing him up. And I was thankful to have that choice. I know not everyone does.”

Remembering those days stung. Rob had pretended the arrangement was perfect, but in the end it wasn’t what he’d wanted. Emily had been too blind to see it until it was too late. “And then he left.”

She cast a furtive look at the stairway, knowing Sam was asleep but still worried that if he woke up he’d hear her talking.

Luke followed her gaze. “You don’t want him to hear us talking about it?”

Emily nodded, relieved he’d taken the hint so quickly. “He’s been through enough. He’s asleep, but any mention of his dad and he gets so upset.”

“He thinks his dad doesn’t like him.”

Her head snapped around. “What?”

“He told me. He said I don’t like him and his dad doesn’t like him and that he does just fine.” He pinned her with a steady look. “He’s quite a kid, actually. But it made me wonder. Are you fine, Emily?”

She ignored the question, instead focusing on thoughts of Sam. Did he really believe that? That his father didn’t like him? Sadness warred with anger at the situation. She hated that he didn’t feel loved by both parents.

“I’m sorry he said that to you,” she whispered, faltering for a moment, letting the despair in for just a second. Then she closed it away. There was nothing productive in feeling sorry for herself. “I’ll have him apologize, Luke.”

His gaze darkened and his jaw tightened. “No need. He was just being honest. He’s a good kid. You’ve done a good job with him. It’s not easy being a single parent.”

The compliment went to her heart. “Thank you. But I worry about what he’s missing. If I’m enough, you know?”

“You just do the best you can.”

She leaned back against the counter, looked up at Luke, wondering at the tight tone of his voice. What did he know of it? And yet she got the feeling he somehow understood. “I can’t even put food on the table at the moment,” she admitted.

His face flattened with alarm. “It’s that bad?”

“Let’s go outside,” she suggested. Luke was standing too close again and she needed the fresh air and open space.

They left the porch light off to keep the Junebugs away, and Emily sat on the step, letting the first stars provide the light while they waited for last dregs of twilight to fade and the moon to rise. She had been at the ranch for two days, and the whole time Luke had felt like a boss, or like a complete stranger. But not tonight. Tonight he felt like an ally, despite the fact that they barely knew one another. It had been a long time since she’d had an ally. Since she’d had an unbiased ear to talk to.

Emily breathed in the fresh prairie air and the heavy scent of lilacs. “I love these,” she said quietly. “Nothing smells better than lilacs.”

Luke sat down beside her and the air warmed.

“My mother planted them,” he said, putting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands. “I’m not much for flower gardens, I don’t have time. But I’ve always tried to keep her lilacs. They smelled nice on the table tonight. Mom used to do that, too.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died when I was nineteen. Brain aneurism.”

Emily heard the grief in his voice even though it had to be ten years or more since her death. “I’m sorry, Luke.”

He coughed. “It’s all right. Right now we’re talking about you. And why your ex was crazy enough to leave you and Sam and not even provide for both of you.”

His words reached inside and illuminated a place that had been dark for a very long time.

“When he left, I had to start looking for work. No one wanted someone who hadn’t been in the workplace for five years. Technology has changed. I had no references—the staff where I’d worked was all new. Rob hasn’t paid a dime in child support.” She twisted her fingers together as she looked over at Luke. “Not one.”

“Surely a judge …”

Emily laughed bitterly. “Oh, yes. But it was an Alberta court and Rob moved to British Columbia. And I don’t have the funds to fight him on it.”

“I’m sorry. Of course you’ve had a difficult time of it.”

She hadn’t anticipated a helping hand and a caring tone. Not from a stranger. In a few stolen moments, Luke Evans had shown her more consideration than she’d had from any other quarter in several months. Then she reminded herself that she had promised to rely only on herself and she straightened her shoulders.

“It could have been worse,” she admitted. “He didn’t hurt us. Not physically. He just left. Said our life wasn’t what he wanted and he was starting over.”

“It doesn’t always take punches to leave scars.”

And, oh, she knew he was right. “Rob did lots of damage. They’re just the kinds of scars that you can’t see. I think they take longer to heal, too. The money is a practical difficulty, but the real kicker is how he has washed his hands of Sam. Sam is his son. I don’t understand how a dad does that, Luke. I don’t understand how I could have been so wrong. His abandonment made me question every single thing I thought I’d known about myself.”

Luke was silent for a few moments. Then he said quietly, “You can’t blame yourself for everything.”

Emily wanted him to see she wasn’t the kind of woman who let life happen to her. She was resourceful. But the kind way he was treating her was throwing her off balance. She’d wanted to create distance between them and instead she felt that he understood, perhaps even better than her friends in Calgary had. How was that possible?

The Junebugs thumped against the screen door, trying to get inside to the light that shone from the kitchen. Luke got up and brushed a hand down his jeans. “Let’s walk,” he suggested.

They strolled down the lane towards the road, past the mowed grass and to a cedar fence that was ornamental rather than functional. At the bottom Luke turned to her and she swallowed, feeling out of her league being alone with him like this. Unlike the fence, his appearance was for function rather than flash and just about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, from the shorn hair to the faded jeans and dark T-shirt. The shirt clung in such a way that she could see the shape of his muscles, made strong by years of farm work. The sight of him with the moon behind him was something she knew she’d carry with her for a long time, burned on her mind as surely as the straightforward E of the Evans brand.

He was so completely opposite to the men she knew. It made her nervous and, at the same time, exhilarated. She told herself that after a year of being alone it was just a reaction. One that would go away as soon as she left the ranch.

“You didn’t see it coming, did you?” Luke picked up the last thread of their conversation.

It hurt to talk about Rob. Not because she still loved him, but because she’d been so blind. While she wanted to blame him entirely, she couldn’t help wondering if she might have done something differently. “He just announced one day that he was moving to start a new business. Said it was something he had to do for himself.” She shook her head as though she still couldn’t believe it. “I thought he meant he’d get started and we’d follow later. But he didn’t. It wasn’t just a job. He wanted his freedom and he took it.”

She rubbed the toe of her sandal in the dusty dirt, making a swirly pattern that turned into a heart with a winding tail. “We had some savings that I protected once I realized what was going on. I needed to pay for housing, food. Clothing.” She’d moved the savings money knowing that if Rob wanted to claim it, he’d end up creating more problems for himself. “We’ve been living on that while I tried to find a job to support us both.”

Luke said a not-so-nice word that made Emily snort with surprised laughter.

“I called him that several times, too, over the last year. And I’ll admit, I waited, thinking he’d come to his senses, that it was just a sort of crisis he’d get out of his system and we could put it all back together. But when he didn’t, and the bills were piling up and the bank account dwindling, I filed for divorce and support.”

“Sometimes life throws you one hell of a monkey wrench and all you can do is deal. Put one foot in front of the other,” Luke replied.

Emily looked over at him, but his face was shadowed in the dark. Was that the voice of experience? His mother had passed away years ago. That must have been difficult. There was so much she didn’t know about Luke Evans. On one hand she wanted to know more, to find some sort of solidarity with someone. On the other she knew she’d be better off to leave well enough alone, so she kept the questions on her tongue unsaid.

They turned and started walking back towards the house. An owl called from a nearby line of trees and Emily jumped at the sound, chafing her arms with her hands.

“You’re cold.”

“No, it’s good,” she replied. “I needed this. I needed to get away. So did Sam. That’s the real reason we left Calgary. Everything there was a reminder to Sam of our old life. He couldn’t move past just wanting it back—how could he? He’s not quite five. He doesn’t understand. I don’t understand. Sam just wanted Daddy to come home. He wanted family vacations and a huge pile of presents under the Christmas tree. I couldn’t provide all of that on my own. Lord knows I did my best.”

Emily shoved her hands into her pockets. “I’m not lazy, Luke. I applied for jobs for months. Anything I found was minimum wage or shift work or both. On minimum wage I can’t afford babysitting. And shift work is horrible for finding good child care.” She pursed her lips. “But this job is the best of both worlds. I get to do something I’m good at and be with my son. I’ve sold the Calgary house and I’m going to start over.” She smiled, but it didn’t chase away the cold. “I hope. I suppose if it doesn’t work, there’s always my parents. But no one wants to move back in with Mom and Dad, do they?”

Luke halted in the middle of the driveway. He looked up at the house, then up at the sky, and finally blew out a breath. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “It might not be so bad,” he said quietly as the owl hooted. He turned to her and she felt her chest constrict beneath his gaze.

“But I don’t think you’ll need to worry. You strike me as the kind that always lands on her feet, Emily.”

Luke studied her face as she smiled up at him. There was no denying that Emily was beautiful. But there was more. There was a quiet resolve to her that was equally attractive. She was a hard worker—he could tell that in the sheer volume of tasks she’d accomplished today. Even as her world spun out of control, she seemed in charge of it. Grounded. Calm in the middle of a storm. Sam thought the sun rose and set in her, because she put him first. He remembered the way she’d smoothed Sam’s hair today, or had firmly made him mind his manners during dinner. Her kid was damned lucky.

“I hope you’re not saying that just to be nice. I don’t want pity, you know.”

“Would I say anything for the sole purpose of being nice?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Good point.” Her eyes sparkled up at him and he felt an unusual knot in his gut as her tongue wet her lips.

It was only a partial lie. He did feel sorry for her. Sorry that she’d been hurt and sorry she was having to deal with things alone. He knew all too well how that felt. To know that everything rests on your shoulders. To know that any decision you make affects others forever. He’d wished for a helping hand so many times when he was younger, first when his mom had died and then when his dad fell sick with Alzheimer’s. He knew what it was to bear the weight of a family on his shoulders. In the past two days he’d questioned his sanity in letting Emily and Sam stay, but now that he knew a little more about their situation, he was glad.

And he was smart enough to know that if he told her such a thing she’d be furious. He was on good terms with their friend, Pride.

Meanwhile his body was tense just from being near her. He only wanted to help. Why then did just the soft scent of her, the sound of her voice, make his body tighten?

“If we keep on as we’ve started, I think we’ll get along just fine,” he said, thinking it sounded incredibly hokey, but he had to say something. She was a mother, for God’s sake. A mother with a ton of baggage she was carrying around. The fleeting impulse to kiss her was beyond crazy. That was definitely a complication he didn’t need.

“I think so, too,” she agreed.

They drew nearer the house, the walk coming to an end and with it their confidences in the dark. “Thank you for telling me about your situation,” he said. He looked up and thought he saw movement at the curtain of Sam’s room, but in the dark he couldn’t be sure. Was the boy watching them? Now that he knew more about it, he could understand Sam being mixed up and protective of his mother. Not that it excused bad behavior. There’d be no more sneaking out after bedtime.

“It was only fair. I’m a stranger, right? You agreed to this arrangement without knowing anything about me. You don’t need me to bring trouble to your door. No fear of that, anyway,” she said softly. “Rob doesn’t care enough to come after us.”

She tried to make it sound as though she didn’t care, but he knew she did. He wondered what kind of man didn’t love his kid enough to keep in touch, to know where they were? Luke didn’t want the added responsibility of children, but if he had them, he’d do a damn sight better job of parenting than that.

He wasn’t sure how a man could let his wife go either. Especially one like Emily.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, and meant it.

“Me, too.” She sighed in the moonlight. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me your story,” she suggested.

“Not likely,” he replied quickly. “Not much to tell.”

She laughed, and it seemed to lighten the evening. “Now why don’t I believe that? You’re pretty close-mouthed when it comes to your own saga.” She grinned, looking impish in the moonlight. “But you have been kind and generous, letting us both stay.”

“No one’s ever accused me of being either,” he replied, their steps slowing, scuffing along in the dirt of the driveway. “Most would say I’m practical.” He’d had to be, getting the girls the rest of the way to adulthood and making sure the farm could support them all. There hadn’t been time for what most twenty-year-olds had been doing—working hard, but playing harder. It made him think of the old Bible verses from Sunday school, about leaving childish things behind.

“Do you ever wish you’d finished your degree, Emily?”

She looked up at him, putting one hand on the wood railing of the steps. “When the money was dwindling, I confess I did. But sometimes you exchange old dreams for new ones. After five years, this is what I do best. I love being home with Sam. I loved looking after my house and cooking and doing all the special things I couldn’t do if I’d been working all day. I was very fortunate, you know?”

“And do you ever think of going back?”

She paused, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe. But not pharmacy. Something else. Something that uses my strengths. I guess I just don’t know what that is yet.”

For several seconds they stood there staring at each other. Luke’s gaze dropped to her lips and then back up to her eyes. Maybe it was the moonlight, or the way her hair curled around her collar, or the soft sound of her voice that reached inside of him and made him want. And what he wanted was to kiss her—for the second time in ten minutes.

Which was absolutely plumb crazy. There were a dozen solid reasons why he shouldn’t.

And he wouldn’t.

But he couldn’t help thinking about it just the same.

“Well, Mr. Evans, I believe we both have early starts in the morning.” She turned to go up the steps. “There is a lot more to be done around here. I think tomorrow I’ll examine your vegetable garden.”

Lord, she had a lot of pride. But Luke understood that. It made him want to lend his assistance. “I haven’t tended to the weeds in a while. The potatoes are sure to need hoeing.”

He took a step forward, and his gaze dropped to her full, lush lips. He was standing in the moonlight with a beautiful woman and all he could do was talk about gardens and chores. Had it been that long since he’d dated that he had lost all concept of conversation? The moment stretched out and he leaned forward, just a bit until the floral scent he now recognized as hers filled his nostrils.

He reached out and took her fingers in his hand and felt them tremble.

This was ridiculous. She’d just got through telling him about her disintegrated marriage and he was contemplating coming on to her? He straightened, took a step back.

“It’s been a long day,” she whispered, pulling her fingers away and tucking them into her pockets. He heard the nervous quaver in her voice and knew she understood exactly what direction his thoughts had taken.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

She went inside, closing the door quietly behind her, but for several minutes Luke sat on the porch, thinking.

How could a man just walk out on his family that way? Leave his responsibilities behind? A real man did what needed to be done. His dad had instilled that in him from the time he was younger than Sam. But just because Northcott had left his wife and kid didn’t mean they were suddenly Luke’s responsibility. For the last decade, he’d had the ranch to worry about, and his sisters until they’d made their way on their own. Now it was the ranch and his father’s failing health. It was more than enough. He didn’t need to take on any wounded strays.

He just had to remember to shut down any more thoughts of kissing her. Uncomplicated. That was exactly how this was going to stay. And after she was gone, he’d manage on his own once more.

Just like he always did.