by Maggie Way
After a decade-long enslavement to creeping death, when she’d known only the panic and despair of helplessness and hopelessness, she hadn’t at first recognized the light, airy feeling for what it was.
Happiness.
Chapter Seventeen
Post-wedding fatigue hit Emily hard. Her muscles aching and her stomach uneasy, she spent the next two days holed up in her rooms sleeping off the festivities-induced hangover while the film crew overran her house and Luke worked back-to-back double shifts.
In the afternoon of the third day, he sent her a text. How you feeling today? Can get away to have dinner with me tonight?
Chewing on her smile, she typed a reply. Feeling much better. Dinner sounds great.
Actually, it was the first time in two days the suggestion of food didn’t cause her stomach to lurch.
His response came immediately. Pick you up at six? I’ll cook. For both our sakes.
A little before six, she dressed in her new outfit from the boutique and attempted to mimic Kate’s eye makeup application, which ended up looking more smudgy than smoky and didn’t conceal the dark circles under her eyes anyway. With a blow dryer and a round brush, she worked at detangling her hair for a time, but eventually gave up and fastened the strawberry-blonde mass in a ponytail at the back of her head.
When she padded into the foyer to collect her coat, the cloying scent of a man’s cologne hung in the air and Emily’s stomach gave an ominous wrench. A loud voice carried to her from the front room.
“Will, you’re supposed to look afraid, not aroused.” Barely constrained anger polluted Max’s tone.
“I can’t help it. Honey’s nipples are poking me in the arm.”
“Honey,” Max barked. “Dim the headlights.”
“It’s, like, twenty degrees in here.” Honey sounded bored. “Unless you let me put on an actual shirt, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
What the…?
Just then, the beam of headlights moved across the wall.
Luke.
Emily pulled her winter coat around her shoulders and scurried to the front door. With every step she took nearer to him, her heart seemed to lift a little more, so she reminded herself it was just a fling between them. Because that’s what sophisticated, consenting adults did. They had flings and affairs and when the time came to walk away, they did that, too.
Okay, she sucked at pep talks. When it came time for her and Luke to part ways, she’d be sure to visualize.
She flung open the door.
Large snowflakes fell lazily from the sky and a mantle of pristine white from the previous day’s snowfall blanketed the earth. Snow clung to the trees and brightened the darkening sky.
Climbing her porch stairs, Luke was all dark beauty against the backdrop of pure white.
She pulled the door closed behind her and marveled a moment at the scenery.
A faint smile teased at the corners of his pink lips. “Did you get snow like this in Arizona?” he teased.
“I’ve never seen this m-much snow before.”
“Is that right?” He bent, and scooping up a handful of powder, packed it into a tight ball in his hands. Green eyes flashed bright above the standing collar of his black wool coat. “So I take it you’ve never been in a snowball fight?”
She eyed the snowball in his hands. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” He tossed the white ball in the air and caught it.
She scrambled down the porch stairs. “W-we should go. It’s freezing out here.”
The snowball hit her in the butt.
With a gasp, she packed a ball of snow as he had and let it fly. More snowballs whipped through the air between them, until she collapsed in the fluffy powder, breathing hard from exertion and laughter.
Luke dropped down on the ground beside her. “Ready for your next lesson?”
Her deep breaths formed puffy clouds over her face. “I need to rest.”
“You don’t have to get up.” He started waving his arms and legs.
Laughing, she copied his movements. It struck her then that she liked herself better when she laughed.
There hadn’t been much to laugh about when her mom grew sick. Then, when she got really sick, Emily doubted whether she’d even so much as smile again.
Luke stood over her and pulled her to her feet. While she looked down at the two angel impressions in the snow, he packed another snowball.
She cast him a wary glance, but rather than go back on the attack, he set the ball on the ground and started to roll. He pushed it around the front yard until it’d grown to ten times its original size, and then he rolled it to a stop in front of her.
“Last lesson for today.”
She arched an eyebrow. “A giant snowball fight?”
“How to build a proper snowman.”
Under his careful tutelage, she rolled a torso and a head, which he stacked on top of the base. He snapped twigs from an oak tree and inserted them into the snowman’s sides as arms, while Emily dug up two rocks from the driveway for eyes.
They stepped back to survey their creation.
“Not bad for my first time, is it?”
“You’re a quick study.” His voice sounded gruff and sexy. “Guess I should reward you for your hard work.”
Heat zigzagged through her when he leaned close and snuck a hand around her waist to cup her bottom. His mouth brushed over hers in a lingering kiss.
Fog mingled in the air between them when she asked, “Will there be more rewards with my next lesson?”
“Lots of rewards.” His grip tightened. “We’re supposed to get five more inches this weekend.”
“I’d say more like seven or eight.”
A growl rumbled in the back of his throat. “Let’s skip dinner.”
She pulled away. “No way. I haven’t eaten in two days.”
Already off to a late start, they decided to go out to eat rather than return to Luke’s place to cook dinner. Bodies packed Lucky’s pub when they arrived, the Friday night crowd lively, and judging by the amplified music and abundant flirtations, well into their after-dinner drinks.
Luke’s hand settled on her lower back as he shouldered a path for them through the crowd to two empty stools at the bar. They squeezed in as the bartender slid a pint of Guinness in front of Luke.
Emily ordered a soda and opened a menu, but her queasy stomach couldn’t settle on an acceptable choice and she closed it again. When the bartender returned, Luke ordered soup and a baked potato. Her stomach didn’t revolt at the selection, so she ordered the same.
“It’s important to eat a warm meal after being out in the snow.” He took a sip of his pint.
“Wh-what else do I have to learn before I’m considered an educated Michiganian?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s Michigander.”
“It is?”
“Consider that a bonus lesson.” The soft lights caught the strands of copper threaded through his dark hair. “Let’s see, there’s sledding and fort making, and of course we have the snow sports to consider: snowmobiling, snowboarding, and skiing.”
“Cross country or downhill?”
“Both.”
She frowned. “I’m not exactly athletic.”
“You’ll be fine.” He waved off her worry. “When I’m through with you, you’ll not only be able to name ten different types of snow, you’ll know which types are best suited for each outdoor activity.”
“There are different types of snow?”
He shook his head. “So, so much to learn.”
A woman’s voice cut into Emily’s laughter.
“Hey, stranger, where have you been?” She slipped her arms around Luke from behind and her smooth flaxen hair fell over his arm.
A cloud of uneasiness settled around Luke. “Hey, Jenna. How are you?”
“Lonely.” She slid around to stand in front of him, giving her back to Emily.
She had long, slender legs, a tight butt, and
—damn it all—thigh gap. What was it with the women on this island? Maybe it was the skiing?
“Where’s Kate?” Jenna asked.
Emily pretended a fascination with her soda, burying her nose behind the glass when she drank.
“I’m not here with Kate.” He pulled Jenna’s hands from around his waist. “Jenna, this is Emily. My date.”
Fizzy bubbles caught in Emily’s throat and she coughed. Jenna’s head whipped around. She took all of two seconds to size Emily up.
And declare her a non-threat.
She smiled brightly. “Nice to meet you, Emma.”
Emily grunted.
Jenna turned her full wattage back to Luke. “You gonna sing for us later?”
“Not tonight.” His voice sounded strained. “See you around.”
Jenna’s wounded look turned shrewd when her gaze slipped back to Emily. “Yeah, see you around.” She slipped into the crowd.
“You said you and Kate are friends?”
He hesitated. “That’s right.”
She hoped her smile appeared easygoing. “Because it kinda seems like everyone thinks you’re a couple.”
He stared into his pint a moment before he lifted his head and looked at her. “It was a front.”
She blinked. “Wh-what?”
“The whole thing was an act.” He rolled his shoulders, as if shrugging off an uncomfortable burden. “She was grieving her husband and I wasn’t interested in a relationship. If people thought we were a couple, we didn’t have to deal with the constant barrage from the opposite sex.”
Their food came, and just as Luke lifted a spoonful of soup to his mouth, a young man with blurry eyes smacked him on the back.
“If it isn’t my favorite doughnut muncher. How the hell you been, man?”
“Hey, Jacob. I’m good. How are you?”
Luke and Jacob talked sports for a bit, and soon two other men joined them. Their conversation wove in and out, touching on each of their lives, before the men drifted away, but before Luke could resume his meal, more people rushed in to fill the space around and between them.
They regaled him with stories and he listened intently to each and every one, interjecting once in a while with a thoughtful comment or an enthusiastic question. For that, they loved him.
Feeling awkward, she shifted uneasily on her barstool.
It was like dating the star quarterback. Unlike other high school girls she’d known, Emily never once dreamed of dating or even becoming friends with the popular kids. From her vantage point, the popular kids were cursed to have everyone’s eyes on them, dissecting their words and scrutinizing their hair, their clothes, even their lunch selections.
But Luke didn’t seem to mind, and indeed, it almost seemed as if he liked being around people.
If she were honest with herself, part of what had attracted her to him was his beauty and charm. Same as every other woman. Hell, even the men were attracted to him, and dogs, most likely.
Her chest twisted with jealousy. He interacted with others so easily and authentically. He didn’t have insecurities—what was there for him to be insecure about?
Although, as she observed him, she noticed that the fine lines around his eyes began to deepen and a heaviness settled on his shoulders. No one else seemed to notice. Instead, they bought him drinks and badgered him to sing. Eventually, he gave in to their relentless requests.
When he climbed onto the tiny stage in a corner at the front of the pub, a cheer rippled through the crowd. He sat on a barstool with a guitar, and when he strummed the first chords of his song, an immediate quiet fell over the room.
He performed a short set with a mix of Irish ballads and pub tunes. In between songs, he exchanged quips with the male audience members and won over every female with his smile and suddenly thick Irish brogue.
Soon, he declared the next song his last for the evening, eliciting groans of disappointment from the crowd.
The chords of a trendy pop melody drifted from his guitar. “I came here to eat, not to subject myself to your ridicule.”
His barb softened the crowd’s protests and even drew a few laughs.
Then he started to sing. She recognized the song from the radio, though he’d changed up the melody and slowed down the tempo. Closing his eyes, he tenderly plucked the guitar strings with his fingers while his smooth, clear voice cast a spell over the room. As beautiful as his face, it whipped and whirred something inside Emily. He sang to no one and to everyone, of nothing and everything, a soft sort of pain touching his features all the while.
She began to tremble as he gave voice to all the anger and sorrow of loss and grief locked up inside her. It was all there, the story of her life, in that inane pop song.
Sitting helpless on her barstool, she watched the green-eyed man who knew her heart bare his soul to an entire room full of people. It was something she could never do.
A vise clamped around her heart. Whatever this thing was between them, Emily hadn’t deluded herself that it had anything resembling forever written on it. But seeing him up there, dazzling a room full of people with nothing more than a smile and a song, she realized just how farfetched the idea of them as a couple truly was.
It was nothing short of ridiculous.
The crowd erupted with applause and she jolted. She turned away from the stage, telling herself how lucky she was she’d realized now just how impossible a future would be for them, before she did something stupid like fall in love with him.
His hand slipped to her waist and his low voice sent shivers up her spine when he spoke in her ear. “You wanna get out of here?”
She nodded because she couldn’t speak and followed him to the exit. In the chilly night air, she resisted the urge to melt into his warm solidness, and breathe in his heart.
No, good thing she didn’t love him.
At his SUV, he opened the passenger-side door and she climbed into the vehicle.
“I’m really sorry about that,” he said, standing in the door.
“You didn’t do anything w-wrong. Y-you can’t help it that everyone loves you.”
A frown pulled at his features. “They don’t love me.”
“Yes, they do.” She reached for the door handle, but his grip on the car door remained firm.
“They don’t. They don’t even know me.” On that statement, he shut the door.
As he came around the hood of the car, he turned his head and peered at something in the shadows. He continued to the driver-side door and a blast of cold air swept into the cab with him.
“I’m sorry, but I need to check on something.” He started the car and cranked the heat to full blast. “Can you give me another minute? I promise I’ll be quick.”
“Take y-your time.”
He pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and bounded back out into the cold. The phone pressed to his ear, he backtracked down the sidewalk. Tucking the phone away, he approached the figure of a man huddled on the ground in the mouth of the alleyway between buildings.
Buried under a heavy winter coat and stocking hat, the man’s bare feet poked out from his too-short pants.
She hadn’t noticed the man huddled there. Was he unwell?
Luke crouched beside him and, gripping his shoulder, gave him a firm shake. Slowly, the man lifted his head.
Her heart squeezed.
They talked a moment. Luke gestured toward her in the warm car, but the man shook his head and his chin dropped to his chest.
Luke roused him once more, and said something. The man nodded.
She debated going to help when Luke stood and set off down the sidewalk. At the light, he crossed the street, and in her side mirror, she watched him disappear inside the convenience store. Minutes later, he emerged from the store carrying something bulky in one hand.
He crouched before the man again, and worked the laces on what she could now see was a pair of winter boots. The man’s head came up when Luke slid a bulky ski sock onto one of his
bare feet, and grew more alert as Luke pushed the boot onto his foot and tied the laces. Together, they put on the other boot.
Snowdrifts gusted and blew across the sidewalk while they talked another few minutes. Then a minivan pulled into a parking spot, catching them in the headlights’ beam, and the driver, a young woman, scurried to them. With Luke, she helped the man to his feet and led him to the minivan’s passenger-side door.
After a brief exchange, the woman ducked inside the van and Luke made his way back to her.
He fell behind the steering wheel. Cold radiated off him when he put the car in gear and backed out. “Sorry, that took a little longer than I expected.”
Emily couldn’t speak past the emotion clogging her throat, so she shook her head and turned her face to the glass.
It was many long moments before she found her voice. “Y-you offered him a ride?”
He rolled his shoulders, as if to throw off the heaviness trying to cling to him. “He refused me. He always does.”
“You know him?”
“He’s sort of the town drunk.” Green eyes touched her face and then darted back to the windshield. “Like my dad was, when he was alive.”
“That’s why they love y-you.” She studied his profile. “And they’re right to do so.”
His throat worked, and when he glanced over at her, a whisper of vulnerability touched his features.
She wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and hug him. To touch warm skin and breathe in his spicy scent, which teased her senses even now.
She wanted to love him.
She did love him.
Another wave of nausea rolled through her.
Chapter Eighteen
Luke yanked open the station door and tore through the glass-walled vestibule.
He was late. Again. For no reason, other than he couldn’t muster the will to leave Emily’s bed.
He pushed aside the thoughts troubling him about the sallowness of her peaches-and-cream skin tone more than two weeks since she’d had what appeared to be a touch of the flu bug, and headed straight for the conference room.
Chief Brown sat in her usual seat at the head of the long conference table while Sloane’s focus was riveted to his cell phone.
