“I used to be a runner. I miss it. I might have to run home after eating all this.”
“Something tells me you wouldn’t allow me to drive your car.”
“Well, see, that’s something you’re wrong about. I most certainly would let you drive my car. I like my car but it’s just a car.”
A voice from behind him spoke. “Would you let me drive your car?” He turned and looked over his shoulder. Jill St. Clare, though it was hard to recognize her without a pie in her hands. He rose as she stepped up to the table.
“Hello, Jill,” Lanie said.
“Hello, Luke. Lanie.” Her eyes darted back and forth between them. “Where’s Angel tonight?” she asked Lanie.
“Nathan and I are no longer dating,” Lanie said.
“That’s too bad,” Jill said. “It was an odd match anyway.”
“Was it?” Lanie said with a shrug and picked up her drink. “He hates being called Angel, you know.”
“So,” Jill turned back to Luke without acknowledging Lanie’s comment. “Would you let me drive your car, Luke?”
“Hypothetically, or are you actually asking to borrow it?”
Jill laughed. It wasn’t a healing sound. “You’re so funny!” She tapped her index finger on his chest. Then she cocked her head to the side. “Soooo.” She slid her finger down his chest. “I’m having a few people over tomorrow night. Casual. We’re going to make five different kinds of martinis and throw something on the grill. Would you like to join us?”
What? Could she not see he was on a date? He looked across the table just in time to see Lanie’s face go red, and not from anger. How dare Jill embarrass her? He took a step closer to the table and reached for Lanie’s hand. “Not sure. Maybe. Lanie, would you like to see if we can get a sitter and call Jill tomorrow?”
Lanie smiled gratefully. He hated the thought of her being grateful. Then her smile turned impish. “We’ll see. But Jill, there’s something I want to ask you. You know that shrimp creole you brought to Luke? He shared it with me and it was so, so good. Could you come over some night soon and talk me through making it? I would just ask for the recipe but you must have a special touch.”
“Uh.” She looked wildly from Luke to Lanie. “I’m not sure when I could … ”
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. Girls’ night. I’ll get us a bottle of wine.”
“Well, just let me check my calendar,” Jill said hurriedly. “But I have to go.”
And she was gone. Luke sat down and swallowed his laughter.
“Just when I thought she was going to ruin our fun, she ended up enhancing it,” Lanie said.
Fun? Were they having fun? Yes. He could hardly believe it. Grief and fun didn’t go hand in hand, but fun didn’t have to be betrayal. Did it? He shook the thought away and cut a piece of steak and held it to Lanie’s mouth.
“I’ll tell you about fun. Fun is this steak — not that sissy fish you ordered. Taste.”
She took the steak in her mouth and closed her eyes. She rolled it around in her mouth to get the full effect. This woman knew how to savor.
Finally, she swallowed. “Yum,” she said.
“One of the best words in the English language.”
“For a second there,” Lanie said quietly, “I thought you were going to ask me to watch Emma so you could go to Jill’s party.”
“Well, it’s hard to pass up five kinds of martinis, but I think I’d rather take you and Emma to Applebee’s. Though I warn you — there will be catsup bottles on the tables.”
“I’m not the one with the catsup snobbery.” Why had he never noticed how expressive she was, how animated?
She toyed with her glass and bit her lip as if she was considering something. “Luke?”
“Yes?”
“Would you like to go running in the morning? If it’s not raining?”
“I want to go running if it is raining. But I can’t. Do you mean go running with you?” He was confused. Did she run? “I’ve never seen you run.”
“No!” She waved her hands and grimaced. “I don’t run. But you can go. I can dress Emma and give her breakfast. I can even take her to school. And you can run. You can go every morning.”
He opened his mouth to say no. But this was the best time of year to run. If he didn’t get back to it now, he wouldn’t be able to until fall. Running in the brutal summer heat was hard enough when he was in shape. But it wasn’t hot yet. It was perfect. He imagined the pavement under his feet, the wind in his hair, and the burst of energy. Free, free, free. Just an hour where no one wanted a Popsicle, a pardon, or a warrant. Where he was only a runner — not a widower, a father, a judge, a man giving the full court press that he was unsure he should be giving.
On the practical side, he could be on time for work. But letting Lanie do this every day? Wasn’t that getting too entangled, too fast? But then, entangled was what he had decided he wanted, wasn’t it? This morning Emma had wanted to wear her pink dress, which would have been fine if it hadn’t been in the laundry with a chocolate milk stain. Talking her down had been hell.
Still. “Lanie, I can’t ask this of you,” But please insist. I need this.
“You didn’t ask. I asked. And, Luke, I would love it. You don’t even know how I would love it.” Her face was wistful. This might be a mistake. He should decline. But he wouldn’t.
“Well … ” He pulled out an old smile, one he’d only begun to use again lately. “You can tie those hair bows.”
She smiled radiantly, so pleased. “It’s a talent. Not everyone can.”
He reached for her hand and kissed her palm. “And you’d have to let me do something for you in return. Like lunch after church on Sunday?”
She laughed that laugh again. Music. “Careful, Judge. People are going to think you like me.”
“They’d be right.”
Twenty of the hundred pounds of bricks that had been sitting on his shoulders lifted. What would it feel like for the rest of them to lift?
Later, after they were home, after they’d sent Pam Carson home and checked on Emma, after he’d thrown his coat and tie on the desk, he hadn’t been able to entice Lanie to the sofa. He really hadn’t expected to and that was fine. It was early days. But she did stand in the doorway and let him kiss her for a good long time. She was so soft, so sweet, and so full of promise.
But what he liked best was how she clung to him, just a little.
CHAPTER NINE
Lanie slowly made her way up the sidewalk that would take her to the front door of Lucy’s pretty Victorian cottage. She had Three Cups of Tea tucked under her arm, though she wasn’t sure why. She hadn’t read it. It had been a week since her first official date with Luke and since then they had spent almost all their free time together — until tonight. She hadn’t talked to the book club girls much. In fact, she had been dodging their calls.
She might have stood on Lucy’s front steps until midnight if the door hadn’t burst open, followed by Brantley Kincaid shooting out like a cannon ball. He had a handful of brownies and Beau Bragg perched on his hip. Beau gripped a fat red and blue plastic golf club.
“What are you doing in town?” She took a step away from him. Too blond, too good looking, too charming.
“Tomorrow is my grandmother’s birthday. I just drove down for a quick visit. My godson here — ” Brantley jostled Beau, making him giggle, “ — and I are about to go meet Harris to play nine before dark.”
Lanie smoothed Beau’s hair back. “You’re going to play golf?”
“I golf!” He waved his club in the air. “Bwantley brought for me.”
Home for his grandmother’s birthday. Thinking to bring Beau a gift. This was further evidence that it wasn’t fair that she was uncomfortable with Brantley just because he reminded her of Alexander.<
br />
But Alexander had been on her mind more than ever this past week. Her stomach did a little flip, partly from pleasure, partly from fear. The pleasure came from the way Luke held and kissed her. The fear was because of what Luke was going to expect next. No matter what her body tried to tell her mind, she had to remember that in the end, it would let her down. No matter how hungry she had been for affection, no matter how good it felt to be desired, she must never lose sight of that reality.
Brantley nodded toward the door. “They’re all in there though I didn’t hear any book talk going on.”
“We never talk about books in front of men,” she said.
“Or anybody else, I’m betting.” He smiled flirtatiously, though he wasn’t flirting. That was how he smiled at everyone. “I hear you dumped Nathan for my pal Luke.” For some reason, Brantley looked pleased about it.
“The whole of Merritt seems pretty entertained by that. On the upside, business is booming. The gossipmongers keep coming into the shop to sniff out blood. Apparently, from the outside, it looks like I switched partners really fast.”
Brantley laughed and gave Beau a brownie. “I think your girls in there think that’s how it looks from the inside too.”
“Maybe they aren’t as inside as they think they are.” She wanted to be mad at them for discussing her with, of all people, Brantley Kincaid, but how could she be? She’d been dodging their calls — not so much to avoid explaining herself as to be with Luke and Emma.
“Well, this is how I see it: if Missy’s worried about your love life, she’s giving mine a rest. Good luck.” He gave her a little salute.
She rang the bell as Brantley swaggered down the steps, and Lucy appeared at the door. Was it Lanie’s imagination or was Lucy’s usual easy smile a little strained?
Lucy ushered Lanie into her pretty living room that was decorated with a mix of traditional pieces and exotic treasures that Lucy’s archeologist parents had bought on their travels. Missy lounged opposite Tolly on the sofa. They both looked grim. Clearly, they didn’t like that she had made a life decision without consulting them. If you could call dating Luke and letting him kiss her until she was nothing short of boneless a life decision. But then, they didn’t know she hadn’t really been dating Nathan. Her head began to spin. She threw her book and purse onto the club chair where she always sat and surveyed the coffee table. There was a platter of fancy shaped finger sandwiches and a basket of brownies, along with a pitcher of iced tea and another of something fruity looking. Lanie picked up the fruity one and sniffed. Please let it be alcohol. I’m going to need it.
“It’s sangria,” Lucy said, handing her a glass. “Missy was just telling us that her stomach is too upset to eat.”
“Dr. McGowan says the nausea will pass soon,” Missy said. “But he’s lying. He told me that for nine months last time, and I threw up in the delivery room.”
Tolly slapped her hands over her ears. “I can’t stand this. I cannot listen to any birthing stories.”
“I don’t tell birthing stories or associate with anyone who does,” Missy said. “That was a being sick story.”
Okay, normal banter. Maybe no one was going to accost her.
“Close enough,” Tolly said.
“You think so, do you?” Missy said. “I could clear that right up for you — if I was the kind to tell birthing stories, which I’m not.” Missy gave Lanie a quizzical look. “Are you going to drink any of that?”
“Oh. Yes.” She was still standing with the sangria pitcher poised under her nose. She poured a glass and reached for a small glass plate. “What kind of sandwiches?”
“Smoked salmon and cream cheese,” Lucy said, “cucumber, chicken salad, and pimento cheese. Eat a lot. I’ve got enough for a church picnic.”
“Good thing,” Tolly said. “Brantley Kincaid just sailed through, leaving a trail of crumbs in his wake.”
“I saw him outside.” Lanie settled into the chair across from Missy and bit into a cucumber sandwich. Maybe they weren’t going to interrogate her.
“So.” Missy turned to her. “Nathan one day, Luke the next, huh?”
Here we go. Lanie sipped her sangria. Might as well take the bull by the horns. She took a deep breath. “It looks bad, I know. Believe me, just in case I didn’t, Marcia Tate came by the shop to let me in on that little secret.”
Missy’s face took on the look of a storm cloud. “Marcia Tate should keep her gossipy self in her florist shop where she belongs. It’s none of her business what you do!”
Lanie’s heart smiled. Missy was a nurturer, even though she did her nurturing with a jackhammer in one hand and blowtorch in the other. She might not like being denied input but she wrote the book on loyalty.
“But, honey.” Lucy came to sit on her ottoman and took her hand. “You had to know people were going to talk.”
“No,” Lanie said. “I really didn’t. It never occurred to me because it wasn’t Nathan one day, and Luke the next.”
Three faces with three very different expressions, but all with varying stages of confusion turned toward Lanie. She threw back the rest of her sangria. Didn’t Lucy know about straight bourbon?
“I know you all thought Nathan and I were a hot item — ” she continued.
“Not me,” Tolly said quietly. “I didn’t think it. Not really.”
“Nathan and I are friends. We had a couple of dates, but, well.” She swallowed. “We ended up friends. We haven’t dated in a long time. So you see, I didn’t jump from one to another. I jumped from nowhere.”
Silence filled the room like bricks stacked inside a soap bubble. Three pairs of confused eyes trained on her.
Tolly hid her face in her hands.
Lucy wasn’t smiling anymore.
Missy looked thoroughly confused. It was she who broke the silence. “But you were so right for each other.”
“No,” Lanie said. “We were right for you. You all wanted us to be a couple.”
“Then why did you keep it up?” Lucy asked.
Vague. She would be vague. “I don’t know. It was easy. I wasn’t interested in anyone else. For whatever reason, I don’t think Nathan wants a relationship right now. We just drifted into it.”
“So Nathan isn’t hurt?” Tolly asked.
Nathan hurt? Over her? “Oh, Nathan’s hurt, all right. He’s hurt because he promised he’d bring the team to the Breast Ball to park cars and check coats and he hasn’t got a date now. But I can assure you he isn’t hurt over me.”
Finally, Missy spoke. “I know everyone always thinks that I don’t like anything that isn’t my idea.” She laughed a little. “And that’s probably true. But I’m worried for you over this. For all that he can ruin an Iron Bowl party, I like Luke. But this scares me for you, Lanie.”
“Because you think he’s still in love with his wife?”
“Partly.”
“You’re worrying over nothing. I’m not in love with him,” Lanie said. “We’ve been dating a week.”
“Dates lead to love,” Lucy said. “I don’t want you to be the bridge between his past and his future — the one that it takes to get him from point A to point C.”
“And I wouldn’t call it so much dating as spending every waking moment together,” Missy said.
“Not every waking moment. And I’m helping him out with Emma. I told y’all how I ran his nanny off.” Were they right? Did he just want help with Emma? Was she just a stopgap between then and the future? Would she even care if that were true?
“You have to admit, you love that child,” Tolly said. “And living in such close proximity, it’s easy to be thrown together.”
“So, I was good enough for the football coach but not the judge? The senator’s son?”
A cacophony of voices exploded in protest. It was hard to m
ake out which voice was coming from which mouth.
“No, no, no! We love you.”
“If anything, he’s the one who isn’t good enough!”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a football coach! He could have gone to work for ESPN. Still could!”
“We’re just worried. It’s a lot of baggage.”
Lanie closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears. Right now she just wanted to go home and eat fish sticks with Luke and Emma.
“Stop!” Lucy was on her feet. “Enough.” She turned to Lanie. “We needed to tell you our concerns, just as any of us would have expected from you. And we’ve done that. Luke is lucky to have you. Anyone would be. But we’re done here. We love you and support anything you do,” Lucy said sternly looking over her shoulder. “Don’t you agree? Tolly? Missy?”
“Yeah,” Missy said reluctantly.
“Sure,” Tolly said, even more reluctantly.
“Now.” Lucy sat down in the rocking chair. “Who read Three Cups of Tea?”
CHAPTER TEN
Exhilarated from his early morning run, Luke entered the back door of Heavenly Confections. Though it was not yet 7:30, the air hummed with noise from the people lined up to buy coffee and baked goods. Luke took the stairs two at a time. Was it really so recently that it had taken every ounce of energy he had to drag himself up these same stairs? Must be the exercise. Except for a couple of days when it had rained, he’d been able to run every day of the two weeks since Lanie had been taking Emma to school.
He was also sleeping better. The old nightmare had only wakened him once last week, and not at all since. He and Lanie had settled into a routine that she seemed just as pleased with as he was — and that was saying a lot. Lanie knocked on his door every morning at 6:30 so he could run. Lanie watched Emma two afternoons a week and he’d made a permanent arrangement with Pam Carson for the other three days. Pam also did laundry and errands. Lanie spent most evenings with him and Emma, though sometimes Pam kept Emma so he and Lanie could go to the movies or out for dinner.
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