| |
Luke parked and hopped out, dog tired but happy. Even a scrimmage win was a W. Plus, he saw her. There in the stands, looking like a cheerleader who had aged with taste and class. The only thing missing was some sort of contact. A wave or a smile. Instead, she sat like a soldier, and each time he glanced up, her face was serious. Like she had a lot to think about.
Maybe she did.
There were just a couple of things on his checklist before bedtime, and he full-well intended to wrap things up and get home right away. He had morning practice.
Inside, Luke did a quick walk-through, locking the giftshop and securing the back door to the garden. He checked the till then went through the guest log, committing the names to memory and double checking his phone for any urgent questions or concerns.
In the coming weeks, there would be a full-blown reno, led by the Little Flock Ladies Auxiliary, Maggie Devereux, and Greta’s own brother, Rhett. They’d all agreed to help spruce the place up and bring out its full potential. Luke felt both excited and nervous. Mostly nervous that Greta might involve herself, which could be awkward. For both of them.
That night, Stella had left an hour early to watch her son play in the scrimmage, and though Liesel offered to take over and wrap things up, he wanted to. He needed to.
Just as Luke was about to slap the book shut and call it a night, the front door cracked open.
Alarmed, he took a long step around the desk, one arm out. “Who’s there?” he demanded, his voice gruff.
The door opened wider, and he repeated himself. “Who’s there?”
Blonde hair appeared. “Me. It’s me.” Her sweet, small voice slipped around the door, and her face appeared beneath that pretty head of hair. He wanted to comb his fingers through it, tousle it.
“Greta?”
“I’m sorry. Am I bothering you?”
He grinned, dropping his arm and relaxing. “Of course not. What are you doing here?”
She smiled back, mischievous. “I saw the sign.”
“What sign?” he scratched his head then crossed his arms over his chest, uncertain.
“Vacancy. You have a room for rent?”
Studying her, Luke answered with a question. “Did poor Gretchen finally kick you out of her sewing house or whatever she calls it?”
Greta mock-frowned. “How did you know about that little drama?”
“She complained to me at Mally’s. Before I even met you. Actually, it was the first day I saw you there. Coming in. She’d told Mark and me about how someone was moving into her sewing house.”
“It’s a barn, for your information,” Greta corrected him. “But I’m moving now. She didn’t have to kick me out.”
“What, you’re going back to Chicago? Or maybe Indianapolis? Does your fiancé want to reunite?” He couldn’t help it. A shadow crossed his face, and all the little things he knew about her and didn’t know started to spread through his mind, surfacing on his tongue like little daggers. Ammunition in the mini war between them. The one that played out over her Chicago phone call. Over her unavailability. He wasn’t angry with Greta. He wasn’t. But he was on guard.
“And how did you know about that?” Now she frowned more seriously.
He winced. “I’m sorry. Small town, remember? Word gets around.”
“He’s old news, I can assure you of that.”
Luke nodded. He believed her. “I’d love to know more about it. Er, I mean... I’d love to know more about you, you know.”
A skeptical expression crossed her face. “You would?”
“It wasn’t obvious?”
Greta blinked, smiled, and nodded. “Well, same here.” Biting her lip, she twisted slowly, her eyes dancing around the place.
“Is that why you came?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Yes and no. I really am interested in your vacancy.”
“You want a room in here? With a double bed and a Norman Rockwell hanging on the wall?” He chuckled. “Surely you can do better. Even if it’s a sewing house.”
“Barn,” she corrected again. He held up his hands in apology, but she went on. “Actually, Luke. I’m interested in your mamaw’s house. If, that is, it’s still available?”
He felt the wind knock out of him. Swallowing, he formed a response. “It might not be.”
Her face fell. “Oh.” A wrinkle knit her brows together.
“Actually,” Luke answered, licking his lips and rerouting. “What I mean is... it might not be available long-term.” He was backpedaling on his own decision, but he had to. Here she was, the girl of his dreams, asking if she could do exactly what he had wanted her to do all along. How could he say no? Still, he had to stick to something. “I’m selling my house.”
“You’re moving into the house? Your mamaw’s house?” Her expression softened, but sadness dwelt behind her eyes.
“Yes. Liesel and I discussed it. Not yet, but once I can sell my place. I was thinking next summer. I’ll have more time then, and—”
Out of the clear blue, Greta took a step to him, put her hand on his chest and rose up on her toes.
And kissed him.
Luke closed his eyes and dropped his hands to her waist, pulling her into him and parting his lips. It remained chaste. Soft.
When he opened his eyes, she was staring up at him. “I’m sorry,” Greta whispered.
He furrowed his brow, his hands still on her waist. “For what?”
“For being indecisive. For suggesting I was going to leave.” She closed her eyes and paused a beat before opening them again.
“You don’t have to apologize, Greta. I know it’s hard to... I know you were going through something now. I get it.”
The corners of her mouth pricked up. “I’m also sorry I didn’t say yes before.”
“To what?” he replied.
“To being your tenant.” She shrugged. “I am moving from the barn. Somewhere. It belongs to Gretchen. And I belong somewhere that’s my own, too. If not here,” she waved an arm, pulling away from his grip, “then I can stay at Rhett’s house. He’s almost done with it, and he’ll have a spare room. From there, my back-up plan is to rent from him. Maybe I could even buy. He has a few properties in Louisville you know, and—”
This time, Luke lifted a finger to her mouth, quieting her rambling. “Greta,” he said. “If you want to live in Mamaw’s house, it’s all yours.”
He ducked his head and pressed his mouth to hers again. It was soon, but it was right. She kissed him back, and when they parted, her arms climbed up his shoulders, tugging him into a deep hug. “Thank you.”
Then, Greta dropped back to her heels, pushing away. “Just for the school year. Okay? After that, I’ll buy my own place. Maybe I’ll buy yours!” She laughed then flashed a broad smile at him.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” he answered, lifting an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?”
Luke cupped her face in his hands, suddenly so comfortable with the beautiful stranger who stood before him. The Hickory Grove local. The schoolteacher all of his students were already raving about. The heartbroken woman who’d lost her mother and was trying... trying so hard to make a life for herself. And he kissed her again before murmuring, at last, “You never know what might happen in a year.”
***
