by J. L. Jarvis
Chloe closed the door and put her hand to her chest. That guy was going to change her life. She just hoped it would be for the better.
Twelve
Chloe sat at her desk and stared at the computer screen. The memory of Luke’s kiss was destroying her morning’s productivity. All thoughts led to Luke. Falling for her neighbor had not been the best choice. She went to the window and looked across the street. Is he awake? Is he thinking of me? That was crazy. At this rate, she would have nothing to show for the day but a striped sunburn from staring through the blinds, looking for him. “Striped Sunburn at Christmas.” That might make a good country song.
Chloe needed some Christmas spirit and new scenery, so she got dressed and made plans to recoup her lost day. She drove into town, mapping out her afternoon as she went. She would start with some shopping. After that, she would treat herself to lunch then wander over, hot coffee in hand, to the Christmas tree in the town square. With any luck, she might catch a school choir singing carols. She felt better already.
She had made it through shopping and settled into a deli booth for some lunch when Laura appeared at her table. “Chloe! How are you?”
Startled from her musings, Chloe looked up and smiled. “Laura! Sit down.”
“I just stopped by for a coffee, but sure.”
As they chatted, Laura shared that some customers had already been admiring Chloe’s paintings. An artist herself, Laura asked some questions about her influences and technique. Before long, Chloe was so lost in talk of art that she almost forgot about Luke.
Laura took care of that. “So, how are things with your new neighbor?”
“Luke?” That sounded convincingly casual… she hoped.
“Do you have another neighbor?”
Chloe laughed. “No, not really.”
Laura wasn’t shy or subtle. At the moment, that was a significant flaw. “So what’s your take on him?”
Chloe tried to sound nonchalant. “I like him.”
Laura nodded. “Of course you do. Every single straight woman in a ten-mile radius—and a few not so single… or straight for that matter—have given him some thought, if not their best effort.”
Chloe wished she hadn’t heard that. She had no appetite for competition, at least not for a man.
“I can’t get a good read on him, though,” Laura said.
Chloe shrugged. “He seems nice enough.”
Laura grinned. “Nice enough? I may be out of the game, but even I can tell he’s more than just nice enough.”
“I don’t really know him that well.” Just well enough to let him kiss me again.
Laura studied her for a moment. “You might want to check your pulse to make sure you still have one.”
Chloe made a show of lifting her hand and touching her wrist. “Yup, still there.”
Laura smiled and shrugged. “Just checking. I mean, it’s none of my business, but he seems like a really nice guy. You two might be good together. Food for thought.”
Chloe nodded half-heartedly.
“Well, I’d better get back to work. Merry Christmas!”
“Thanks.” So, breaking news, Luke was attractive. What would she do without Laura?
There were no carolers at the tree in the square, but the tree was enough. It looked pretty against the backdrop of the Main Street shops all decked out for the holiday season. Chloe sat down on a bench and took in the sight of her new town. Aunt Eleanor knew how to pick them. Places like this ended up on Christmas cards. However, no town was quaint enough to make Chloe forget how cold a stone bench could feel in the winter, so she got up and headed back to her car’s heated seat.
After she got home, she was pulling the last of her Christmas shopping bags out of her trunk when a movement at the edge of the woods caught her eye. No, it wasn’t a bear. It was… “Luke?” He emerged from the trees and tromped toward her. “Are those…”
“Snowshoes.”
“I didn’t know people still did that.”
“Really?” He acted as though it were something she should see every day. “It’s great exercise. They say it burns four hundred to a thousand calories per hour.”
Chloe lifted her eyebrows. “My knee-jerk reaction is to say sign me up, but those burned calories must be hard-earned.”
“They are. But it’s fun. Want to try it sometime?”
Chloe tried to look optimistic. “I will definitely give it some thought.” She smiled, certain he saw right through her.
He looked at the shopping bags in her hands. “Been Christmas shopping?”
She smiled and lifted the bags with a shrug.
His cheeks were still flushed from exertion, and his eyes were bright. Chloe’s gaze fell to his lips, and once more, she recalled his kiss, which was on a video loop in her brain. She lifted her eyes to find his gaze fixed on hers.
“Are you busy tonight?” he asked.
Sadly, she was, and she told him as much. She thought hard about whether to suggest her next idea. “Are you familiar with The Nutcracker?”
His face went blank, which Chloe assumed meant he’d never heard of it. “It’s a ballet. Tchaikovsky?”
He nodded. “Toy soldiers, rats, and sugar plum fairies?”
She laughed. “They’re mice, but yes, that’s the one. My mother runs a dance studio in Vienna, Virginia. Her students do the children’s parts in a Washington production of The Nutcracker, so I’m going.”
“My love of classical music hasn’t extended to ballet. Yet.”
She gave him bonus points for the effort. She hadn’t really expected him to have any interest in ballet, but now she was encouraged. “I could get you in. I know people.” The chances of him, or any guy for that matter, wanting to endure a ballet, let alone the long drive to and from, was unlikely, so she waited for the inevitable rejection.
“Okay.”
“What?”
“I’m in.”
“I heard you. I just can’t believe you.”
“Why not? You’ll be there, won’t you?” He looked into her eyes as if he were unwaveringly sure of his feelings.
She felt dizzy from the unexpected interest. “Yes.”
In contrast, he looked so steady and sure. “Then yes, let’s do this.”
At the moment, she was practically melting. If he didn’t stop looking at her like that, she might bypass melting and go straight to the next phase, in which she would jump him and have her way with him right there in the snow. She imagined the resulting snow angels. Was it too early in their relationship for that? Probably. Yes.
“Okay.” She looked at her watch. “Can you be ready in an hour?”
“Yeah. Wait. Do I need a tux?”
“No, a sports coat will be fine.”
“Pants optional?” He gave her a devilish grin that made her heart skip a beat and her imagination go wild.
“No. I’m afraid there’s a dress code.” Too bad about that. Her face flushed as she averted her eyes for an instant. She looked back to find a mischievous look in his eyes. Focus, Chloe. She tossed off a quick, “I’ll pick you up in an hour,” then turned and escaped to her door. Behind her, the crunch of retreating snowshoes grew faint in the otherwise quiet afternoon.
What had she been thinking? Ballet? Was he really ready for that? Chloe hoped she hadn’t just killed the relationship before it had started.
Thirteen
Chloe left Luke settled in his seat and went backstage to touch base with her mother. Judith Burke was in an intense tête-à-tête with the stage manager while frenetic young ballerinas stretched and flitted about. She gave her mom a quick hug, said the traditional merde, then left her to deal with what looked like a calamitous issue but probably wasn’t.
When Chloe slipped into her seat, Luke asked, “Is everything okay?”
“It’s exactly how it always is. My mom’s really amazing in the way she corrals dozens of dancers ranging from toddlers to teens, but there’s always some tension in the air before cu
rtain.” She looked into his eyes. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“I am too.”
“Yeah, well, remember you said that an hour from now.”
He looked a little offended. “I think you’re forgetting I like classical music. If I can listen to Prokofiev, I think I can take anything Tchaikovsky can throw at me.”
“I stand corrected.”
The curtain rose, and Chloe lost herself in the dance world she’d left behind years before.
During intermission, they walked out to the lobby and settled in an unoccupied corner. Luke leaned against the wall. “So your mother taught dance. Were you one of her students?”
“I was, from as young as I can remember until I graduated from high school.” She glanced toward the theater. “I worked my way through nearly every part in the ballet, except Clara. Maybe that’s what made me such a Christmas fanatic. I must have been about ten when I got my own personal video copy of The Nutcracker. I was well over bedtime stories by that point. Instead, Baryshnikov and Kirkland danced the pas de deux every night before bed. I was in ten-year-old love!”
“But you never played Clara?” He listened so intently, Chloe felt self-conscious.
She shook her head. “Aside from not being quite up to the task, I never liked being onstage. I loved the dancing but not the audience or the pressure. It just wasn’t for me.”
“But painting was.”
She turned to him with a reticent smile. “Yes. I could do it alone and not have to think of anyone’s reaction.” She averted her eyes, ready to change the subject to anything but herself, then she turned back to him. “I still don’t quite understand what you do.”
“I try to spare people the boring details. By the time I do that, there’s nothing left to tell.”
She studied him with narrow eyes. “You’re very good.”
“At?” Chimes sounded to end intermission, and Luke offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
They returned to their seats, but Chloe couldn’t get Luke’s evasiveness off her mind. What is he hiding? It took the pas de deux to finally distract her. She’d seen The Nutcracker countless times, yet that part always brought tears to her eyes. This time, it gripped her. It was the embodiment of everything romantic, while at the same time, it was everything that real life could not be. Two people meant for each other drew together, their hearts and bodies soaring. The stage was clear. Nothing stood in their way. They were open, honest, and free with each other, leaping and soaring along with the music. And he always caught her. If she fell, it would only be into his arms.
A tear trailed down Chloe’s cheek. Luke looked over. While others applauded, he gently brushed it away.
Afterward, there was a flurry of activity as they made their way backstage. Her mother was beaming. “We’ve pulled off another one.” She made a face that made Chloe laugh.
“Mom, this is Luke.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow.
“My neighbor,” Chloe added in a tone that said back off.
“Luke, it’s so nice to meet you.”
Luke flashed a smile. “Thank you, but the pleasure is mine, Mrs. Burke. And what you’ve done with the ballet! Tchaikovsky would have been proud.”
Chloe’s mom laughed. Chloe knew her too well. That she liked Luke was now a given. She could see the wheels turning. Chloe hesitated then asked, “I don’t suppose you could join us for a drink?”
Her mother shook her head. “Matinee tomorrow.”
“I figured. Well, good luck with the rest of the run.” They hugged.
Luke had charmed her mother, of course. Regardless of what happened between Luke and Chloe, she knew she would be hearing his name for weeks. But she couldn’t really blame her.
Before facing the two-hour drive home, they stopped for a couple of large take-out coffees. While they waited in line, Chloe stared at the menu, trying to decide if she wanted something to eat.
“Dave? David Bertram.”
She tuned out the man’s voice, along with the other nearby conversations, until Luke answered. “Hi. How are you?”
She turned to find Luke engaged in conversation with a man who clearly thought Luke was some guy named David Bertram. Mistakes happen, but why wouldn’t Luke correct him?
With a frown, Chloe turned and watched the two men chat. Luke didn’t introduce Chloe. For all the other man knew, she was just a stranger standing in line behind him. They went through the usual small talk. The other guy had a bag in his hand and was on his way out.
“May I help you?” asked the server at the counter.
Chloe glanced distractedly back at Luke then ordered two coffees while the men said their goodbyes. She told him she’d ordered for him, and they silently waited for their coffees.
On the way back to the car, Luke looked at Chloe. “You okay?”
She wasn’t.
“Want me to drive?” he asked. “It’s my turn.”
After a moment, Chloe said, “Okay,” and went to the passenger’s side.
Luke started the engine and fastened his seat belt.
“David Bertram? Or should I just call you Dave?”
He leaned back and chuckled. “I know. That was weird. We worked on a project a while ago. Dave Bertram was on our team too. He obviously mixed our names up. No harm, no foul.”
“Yeah.” She stared at the parking lot as Luke backed out of their space and pulled onto the road.
“So you were a ten-year-old ballerina,” Luke said. “What else? Rugby? AV club?”
“Band. I played the bassoon.”
“Really? I would not have guessed that.”
“Oh?”
“I had you pegged for a flute player.”
“The flutes were all taken. But I wound up liking the bassoon. I’m more comfortable hiding in the middle, heard but not seen.”
He stole a sideways glance. “I’m noticing a theme here.”
“But the double reeds are a bitch.”
He laughed. “Really? I had no idea.”
She nodded. “It’s amazing how everything can be perfect, but a little reed can throw everything off.”
He made a barely perceptible turn in her direction. “Yeah, I can see that. The devil’s in the details.”
Chloe stared straight ahead. “Like a name.”
He didn’t move, and he didn’t say a word.
That was the moment that Chloe was sure—sure enough not to press it any further. Luke Abbot was not who he seemed to be. Every question she’d ever asked him raised more questions. Her imagination ran wild until she realized how vulnerable she was. She was alone in a car with a man who had secrets. It was her car, but she had relinquished control. When they got home, he would be there, right across the road from her. He’d already demonstrated how useless her locks were. Locks. She looked at the car door and rehearsed an escape if she found herself needing one.
She was being silly. Imagination was the blessing and curse of the creative. Luke had been perfectly lovely all evening. He’d been polite to her mother, and he had wiped her tear. How could that same man ever harm her? Yet how could the same man have secrets—secrets involving gunfire?
After an hour, she offered to drive, but he said he was fine. The rest of the car ride was quiet except for the radio music. Chloe should have felt some relief when they pulled into her driveway, but she didn’t. An hour of near silence had heightened the unspoken tension between them.
Luke parked the car and handed Chloe the keys. She tried not to let her relief show as she took them. She toyed with the idea of waiting until he was home and then driving away. To where, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as though she had unlimited funds to move into a hotel until she figured out what Luke was hiding from her.
They got out of the car. “It’s late,” Chloe said. “I’ve kept you out long enough.”
“Chloe, is something wrong?” He’d obviously picked up on her discomfort, but he did not seem s
urprised. She had the distinct sense he’d been through a similar situation before. “I would never hurt you.” He couldn’t have said anything worse.
“I know that.” She didn’t. He had just thrown fuel on the fire of her fears, all but confirming there was good reason behind them. Even if he wasn’t involved in anything dangerous, he was hiding something from her, and it made her uneasy. But he would never hurt her. She was supposed to believe that because he had just said so. No, she did not find that calming. “Well, good night.”
If she could have made a grand jeté to the door, she would have. She couldn’t put distance between them fast enough. With a huge sigh, she made it inside and leaned against her door—the one with a lock he could pick in less than thirty seconds. Aunt Eleanor hadn’t installed a security system, so Chloe added that to her to-do list. In the meantime, she went to the pantry, pulled out a couple of wine bottles from the recycling bin, and propped them on top of the front and back doorknobs. In theory, if someone broke in, the bottles would fall and make enough noise to alert her to an intruder.
She did not sleep well that night.
Fourteen
The next morning, Chloe went to the hardware store and bought a do-it-yourself alarm system and new locks for the doors. She’d just finished installing the alarm system when the doorbell rang. She looked at her phone app and saw Luke. The front door camera worked. How well would it work if she opened the door and Luke’s secrets turned out be crime related? If she didn’t open the door soon, he would think something was wrong. She was making it weirder. Her phone app had a panic button. She would keep it handy just in case.
She opened the door and tried to look pleasant, but it felt strained. Hopefully, he couldn’t see it in her expression. “Hi.”
He smiled. “I’ve got some Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee.” He glanced toward his house. “Would you like to come over for a cup?”
After all of her efforts to turn her cabin into Fort Knox, she wasn’t about to risk going to his house voluntarily. “Luke.”
