Chapter 3

Lucy ignored the not-so-subtle looks Kate was shooting from her position on the bed. Her sister had a far more expansive wardrobe than Lucy, who was currently rifling through to find something decent to wear.

“Stop it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Kate replied grumpily.

Lucy pulled on a black-and-white-striped V-neck tank top that was slightly longer in the back. It looked good with the dark cargo shorts she was wearing.

“You’re shooting daggers, and it’s starting to annoy me. You act like I’m some sort of femme fatale. I’m pretty sure Alex can take care of himself,” Lucy huffed, turning around and waiting for Kate to comment on her outfit.

Kate glanced her way with little interest but gave a slight nod of approval.

“More like Julia Roberts in the Runaway Bride,” she replied, closing her sociology text and pushing up off her perfectly made bed. Kate was in her final year of college and had taken the smart route, staying at home until she finished. She wouldn’t be starting her career with a mountain of debt.

“Wow. That’s low. And I’ve never left a guy at the altar,” Lucy reminded her, doing her best not to stomp out of her little sister’s room. She also resisted the urge to shove her down onto the bed as she walked past her and silently applauded her own maturity.

“How about the prom?”

Lucy stopped in the hallway and turned around slowly. People rarely brought up the prom. At least not people in her family. The story was legend in their small town. She’d refused to come down and meet her date, Lewis Mandrake, when he’d shown up with his limo and corsage, his tie the color of her lilac dress. She’d never shared the reason with anyone, so the story had snowballed and Lucy had never corrected any version she might have overheard with the truth.

“You know what, Kate? I think it’s sweet that you’re protective of Alex. If it’s because you actually do have a thing for him—”

“I don’t!”

“Then knock it off and mind your own business. I’m going for dinner with an old school friend. Our neighbor. The town sheriff. I’m not going to molest him or kidnap him or use his goddamn handcuffs on him, so let it go!”

Her hair whipped over her shoulder as she made an effort to turn dramatically and walked smack into her dad’s chest. She closed her eyes and wished she had one of those trap doors in the floor like Ellen DeGeneres had for games on her talk show.

“Going out with the sheriff, honey?” Her dad’s hands gripped her bare arms to steady her.

“Yes,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes on the tiny check marks decorating his polo shirt.

“Well, I’m glad you ruled out handcuffs for the evening. I think Alex is kind of an old-fashioned sort,” Mark said solemnly. She looked up and tilted her head to the side.

“When did you become funny?”

“Your mother wrote a self-help book on it. How to Heal Others and Yourself with Laughter,” he grinned as Kate chuckled from behind her.

“You know, I’m not so sure I missed you guys after all.”

Her dad let go of her arms and allowed her to move past him. She grabbed her purse from her own room before sprinting down the steps, ignoring both her dad and her sister, who were still chuckling like loons, their laughs so similar that it made her chest ache.

“Going out, Luce?” Julie asked as Lucy came into the kitchen. Julie was chopping carrots and Lucy snuck one quickly, popping it into her mouth.

“Just out for a bite to eat with Alex,” she replied lightly and moved to give her mom a quick squeeze.

“Alright, well, take a key this time,” her mom suggested, moving to take her own off her key ring that still hung by the door on a homemade key holder. Lucy and Charlotte had made it for Mother’s Day when they were ten and fourteen from a long stick and some hooks they’d found in the garage. Julie had treated it like prized silver, and looking at it made Lucy smile.

“You know I could probably buy you a new key holder now, right?”

“Don’t you dare. There is no better gift than one that is made with love.”

Julie pulled her in for an embrace, and Lucy realized that every time she left her mom’s side, Julie hugged her as though she wouldn’t see her again for a long time. Tears stung the corners of her eyes.

“Well, it was definitely made with more love than talent. Still, I need to do some shopping—I only have a few outfits. Want to come with me sometime this week? If I promise not to buy you a key hook?” she asked. Her mom pursed her lips and turned back to the cutting board, re-chopping the carrots that were already in small chunks. Her shoulders stiffened, and Lucy thought for one brief moment that she was mad.

“This week is quite busy for me, honey. If I don’t stick to my schedule, I get behind in my writing. It really doesn’t take much to throw me off track. I’m sure you had deadlines and cut-offs while you were taking pictures, right?” Julie answered, glancing up briefly before pulling all of the carrots toward her and scooping them up.

Lucy knew her mother meant well, but she hated that she referred to her work as taking pictures. There was something grade school and inadequate about the term. Still, no sense in picking on little things. She shrugged off the irritation and sense of unease.

“I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”

“Of course.”

“I love you, mom.”

“I love you more.”

“Just call me if anything about it seems overly suspicious,” Alex told Mick, his aging deputy. Alex was pretty sure that Mick Harper was nearing seventy—though no one dared to ask—but he was one of the sharpest men that Alex knew. He’d rather have Mick at his back than any of the twenty-somethings coming straight out of training.

He heard the knock on his door and frowned as he checked his watch.

“I gotta go, Mick. I’m going to dinner but, seriously, call me if you need to…Yeah…Alright.”

He moved toward the door as he turned the phone off and tossed it onto his couch. Water droplets dribbled underneath the collar of his still partially open shirt. Fastening the first few buttons, he opened the door to find Lucy kneeling down, playing with the strap on the sexy sandals that wrapped around her calf.

“Hey,” he chuckled, smiling down as she glanced up. He finished doing his shirt.

“Hi. My strap isn’t tight enough. Actually, Kate’s strap because I stole everything I’m wearing from her. Well, not the underwear or the bra but—you know what? I’m going to shut up,” she babbled and stood up.

“Don’t stop on my account. I have no problem hearing about your bra or your underwear. And in the spirit of full disclosure, I’m also wearing my own underwear.”

“I don’t remember you being so funny. Must be something in the water around here,” she smirked at him and moved into the house, her strappy sandals clicking on his hardwood floors.

“I don’t remember you hanging out with me enough to know.”

He walked toward the kitchen to find his wallet and heard the tapping of her step behind him. He wondered if the fact that he was thinking about whether her shoes would scratch his floors made him old.

“This is breathtaking, Alex.”

He could hear the smile in her voice and turned to see her taking in the newly renovated kitchen. Sam had done a great job. The floor matched the rest of the house but seemed darker surrounded by the antique white wood of the cabinets. The granite countertop shot little specks of gold and bronze when the sunlight from the wide window over the sink hit it. The smile of genuine appreciation on her face warmed him, as it was his favorite room in the old house that he was working so hard to make his.

He liked the permanency of owning a house, having a mortgage. It still surprised him that he wanted that sense of roots here, in Angel’s Lake. At twelve, he had hated the thought of his mom leaving him with his old man in this nothing town. Then he’d spent some time hating her and the town. Once he got the chip kicked off his shoulder, he’d come to love the town and tolerate his mother. His love for the town came far easier.

“I had some help from Sam with the design and construction, obviously,” he told her, watching as she ran her hand along the granite top of the island.

“It’s so rich but still homey. This is the kind of kitchen that makes me wish I knew how to cook,” she laughed. He liked her laugh. It had a musical quality to it that made you feel like humming along. He wanted to be the reason for that laughter.

“Would you prefer we stay in? I could make something,” he suggested. She sat at one of the barstools.

“I don’t want you to have to cook for me,” she blushed.

He wouldn’t have admitted it to any person he knew, but as he looked at her across the counter, the pink spreading up her cheeks, his heart and stomach fell into one another, sending a tremor up his spine.

“I would love to cook for you. Unless you’re picky.”

“Not really, no. I prefer things without tentacles,” she considered. He walked over to her side of the island. She turned in the swivel stool as he approached so that they were facing each other. Lucy smiled somewhat awkwardly, and he wondered if it made her nervous for him to stand so close.

“No tentacles. I can work with that.”

“Do you cook for a lot of women in your kitchen?”

“Not all at once. That never works out well.”

She rapped him on the chest and he captured her hand, holding it over his heart, which he was certain she could feel drumming out of his chest. It was a strange duality to be playful with her while being so incredibly aware of everything that made her Lucy. It was like feeling relaxed and hyper at the same time.

“I think I would have remembered if you were this funny in high school,” she said, her voice low, her eyes on his hand covering hers.

“You would have if you’d paid more attention,” he replied. She’d been too busy working toward her ticket out of town.

“My mistake. I’m paying attention now,” she answered, staring into his eyes without hesitancy.

He made a sound of agreement in his throat that he couldn’t describe. He couldn’t stop looking at her, right in front of him, touching him. The first time he’d met her, she’d had her hand in the exact same spot it was now, and he wondered if she remembered at all. If she remembered the moment that made him fall for her as a boy, respect her as a man, and ache with want for her now. He’d likely made too much of their first encounter, but it had changed something inside of him—given him strength. Still, a crucial moment in one person’s memory could be irrelevant in the other person’s life. Alex figured it might be best to leave the past where it was and see if they could start from right here.

Lucy had meant it when she’d said his humor surprised her. They hadn’t really hung out in the same crowds. She remembered him being kind, serious, and dorky-cute. Now, he was intense, sexy, and confident. Having his solid frame stand over her magnified every sensation. She kept glancing at her hand, which was tucked inside of his, barely visible against his chest. She liked the sensation of being wrapped up in him. She could feel his heartbeat and would bet money that the pace of hers was faster. Almost uncomfortably fast. Perhaps she was still jetlagged. Though when her gaze met his, she knew she couldn’t blame the energy pulsing between them on a long flight. She stood slowly, without meaning to—without thinking it through—and the movement brought the rest of her body up against Alex’s. She heard his intake of breath and felt the warmth of it when he exhaled.

“I’d say we’re both paying pretty close attention,” he murmured roughly.

“It makes me wonder what else I didn’t notice.”

“Well, obviously you didn’t pick up on my charm.”

When she breathed out, the movement seemed to bring her closer to him. She inhaled—held her breath as he watched her.

“Maybe you were too busy using it on Danielle Peterson,” she tried to joke, but she could hear the squeak in her voice—a combination of nerves and holding her breath. He smiled and lowered his head slightly.

“Who?”

The air burst out of her lungs on a half laugh.

“Good answer.”

Unable to wonder any longer, she put her free hand on his waist, pushed up onto her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. She had barely a second to think of how soft his lips felt on hers, when he took control of the kiss, letting his tongue touch hers. The quick motion cracked the emptiness inside her and filled her with need. And for once, what she needed, what she wanted, was right there in front of her.

Pushing aside the self-doubt that had Kate’s voice, she anchored herself to him and changed the tone of the kiss. His growl of approval as he moved his free hand to the small of her back, pulling her as close as he could, encouraged her. He released her hand and she used the opportunity to wrap both of her arms around his neck as she continued to consume him and be consumed in return. Without breaking the kiss, he pressed her back against the countertop. She hung on tighter. Lucy’s lungs refused to work properly so she gulped in air when he shifted his focus to her neck, then the underside of her jaw, as he trailed kisses over her, leaving tiny, restless sparks of want along her skin. She found his lips again, framing his face with her hands. He gentled the kiss and ran his hand along her hair.

When they pulled back slightly, she could still feel their combined heartbeats pounding against each other as if they were doing some sort of repetitive fist bump. She watched his eyes open slowly; they were clouded with lust. Had it been just that, her heart wouldn’t have twisted. Her stomach wouldn’t have seized. As she looked at him, she saw more than desire. She recognized the look of hope in his gaze and understood what Kate had been trying to tell her. Alex believed in long-term, going steady, planning-a-future commitment. In fact, he craved it.

She might not have remembered much, but she remembered the boy with sad eyes and a chip on his shoulder, who had been dropped on the side of the road by his own mother. She’d left him in front of his father’s house when he was twelve years old and went off to find something that would fulfill her, making it clear that the something wasn’t her son or ex-husband.

“Alex,” she whispered around the ball of regret forming in her throat.

“Let’s go out to dinner instead,” he said, easing back. His words surprised her, as did the realization that she missed the feel of his body against her own.

“Uh … okay.”

She smoothed down her top and kept her eyes on the floor under the pretense of rechecking her straps.

“Luce.”

He waited until she looked up at him to step into her space again. He nudged her chin gently.

“You look like I just asked you to have my baby,” he smiled tightly.

“This is what Kate meant … you’re long-term, and I’m just—”

“You’re just going to go for dinner with me, forget what Kate said, and remember that I’m more than capable of making my own choices. I don’t need you—or Kate—to try to figure out what I want. I can do that for myself.”

She bit her lip and resisted the urge to cry. Instead, she nodded her head, stiffened her shoulders, and took his hand.

“Okay,” she exhaled hard and asked, “so where are you taking me?”