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Luke had exactly one hour before practice. One hour to woo Greta. Not necessarily into taking on the house, either. Sitting next to her all morning had rattled his brain and stirred his heart to life. Gone was the fleeting temptation to bounce out of Hickory Grove. Gone was the fear about what would become of the bed-and-breakfast. In fact, he wasn’t too concerned what would become of it at all. He’d figure it out. He would. Even football felt a little less important.
All Luke could think about now was being close to Greta again, even if just for an hour.
She appeared from the side door. Her large, preppy leather satchel overpowering her frame, Greta strode taller in matching leather sandals—were they high heels? He didn’t know the slightest thing about women’s fashion. He’d never taken notice! Now, everything about her mattered, even her shoes. If Luke didn’t know any better, he’d say he was falling for the girl.
Unfortunately, he was at risk for complicating matters. Serious risk. Maybe, though, that didn’t matter. So long as Greta found a safe place in town where she could hang her satchel and slip out of her leather high-heeled sandal shoes. A place for her to take care of... that would make him happy. Even if their growing flirtation went nowhere, it could be a good idea. It could be good for her, even. Especially, if the rumor was true.
If she was mending a broken heart. Something he knew little about but which he wasn’t afraid of. At least, he wasn’t afraid of other people’s broken hearts.
“Hi.” He smiled at her, blood pounding in his ears.
She grinned back, but something felt off. Was she disappointed? If so, about what? He was in no position to nag her about the intricacies of her emotions and expressions and her leather satchel and her leather shoes and whether they were high heels or sandals or whatever the heck.
“Hi.” Greta raised a tote bag in her other hand, gesturing indirectly toward her little silver car. “I’m just over there.” He wondered if he should volunteer to give her a ride instead of her following him, but then she added, “I know where it is, so don’t worry about losing me.”
Luke chuckled. “You think I could lose you in Hickory Grove traffic?”
Greta shrugged. “Since I was here last, I can see a notable change in the population.” She lifted an eyebrow at him then expertly slid a pair of jet-black sunglasses from her tote and pushed them up her nose. A shadow fell over her face, hiding her faint freckles and playing foil to her bright blonde hair. She was like a California transplant, more foreign than him, somehow. Like someone who left so long ago that coming back could only ever be a vacation.
He mirrored her eyebrow wiggle, his lips curling into a smile. “Has your hometown changed that much?”
Her smile slipped from her face, but he couldn’t tell what was going on in her eyes. “Yes and no.” She pulled the glasses off and used them to point south. “You know, the place where I grew up is that way.”
He turned to follow her gesture. “What happened to it?”
“The house?” She continued to stare off.
“Yes.”
A sigh lifted her chest, and for the first time, Luke saw more than a bubbly personality and positive spirit. He saw something else entirely. Something deeper. She smiled at him. “My parents sold it when I left for college. They left, too. Moved out east, where my mom was from. She was never as tied to this place as my dad was. Even though she came here for high school, it was just...” Greta frowned.
“Just what?”
“Just where they met. And, I guess, where they raised us.”
Luke knew a little about Greta’s mother. Liesel filled in a few blanks for him. Tidbits she’d culled from the Ladies Auxiliary or knew herself.
“What do you mean ‘just met?’ ‘Just raised you?’” He wasn’t sure why, but he needed her to love Hickory Grove. He needed her to see it for more than just whatever.
“I guess I see people like Maggie and her family and even my brother Rhett, and they are so tied to this place. Like it’s more than a place to live.” She flashed a smile at him and put her sunglasses back on. “My mom wasn’t very sentimental. It made things easier, in some ways. Nothing to get too attached to.” Greta spoke in a way that indicated that she knew that he knew about her mother. Maybe that was the small town in her. The assumption that her business wasn’t her own. He wasn’t sure what to say. It didn’t matter. Greta continued for the both of them. “When she was sick, we had to sell some land down past the old schoolhouse. My dad’s family’s property. Rhett tried to get it back, but I guess someone bought it and started building on it. I’m not sure who. I wish I knew. I’d give him a piece of my mind. You don’t do that to your community. To your friends, you know? You make it so they can keep what’s theirs.” She let out a sigh. “I don’t know why I’m unloading all this on you. I guess you probably want to get going.”
Luke swallowed. He wasn’t the crying type, but Greta, there in the middle of the H.G.M.S. parking lot in broad daylight, was about to coax tears from him. All he could do was shake his head. If he said anything, the floodgates would unleash. He’d humiliate himself. He’d spill his guts about how much he loved feeling at home in Hickory Grove. That of course it was more than just a place to live. Maybe they were more different than he’d figured.
“Anyway,” she shook her head, her smile hanging across her mouth, wobbly like she too felt the pull of emotion, “I just meant that I can understand why you’re trying to hang on to the bed-and-breakfast and your mamaw’s house. I would do the same thing.”
He smiled back and choked down his feelings. He could hug her. Maybe he should hug her? No. Not yet. “I appreciate that. Maybe one day Liesel or I will live there. I could see that happening. For now, though, we just need an innkeeper. Someone to keep the sofa warm and the fridge full of sweet tea. You know?”
“I sure do.” She sniffled and drew the back of her hand across her forehead. “Well, then. Should we go?”
“Yep.” Before jumping into his truck, he winked at Greta. “In case you do get lost, it’s a left then your second right after the stop sign. A stone’s throw up the old dirt road, and you’ve made it to Hickory Grove’s premier bed-and-breakfast.”
“Hickory Grove’s only bed-and-breakfast,” she called over her shoulder.
“Depends on your definition!” he hollered back, chuckling again to himself. After all, in their little corner of Kentuckiana, southern hospitality ran rampant. Anyone with a bed could offer breakfast, too.
Luke just hoped that Greta was looking for something more than that.