by James, Sandy
Joy hopped around, wishing the snake would swiftly leave. While her fear of the creatures was only a mild phobia, it was a phobia nonetheless. “Go away!” Her five older brothers had always teased her when she was a little girl, tortured her with snakes and worms. If she cried, they’d only tease her more.
The snake slithered into the tall grass and disappeared as rapidly as it had arrived. Joy let out a sigh of relief until it dawned on her exactly what had just happened. Slowly turning back to face her house, she already knew Lucas would be watching her now. She could feel the heat from his wide-eyed stare more intensely than the warmth of the afternoon sun. Gathering her nerve, she looked toward him.
Just as she thought, Lucas gaped at her from across the way. Joy also saw that all of the other men were gawking, pointing at her, and obviously sharing comments amongst themselves. Then Lucas started taking long strides toward her.
“Damn it.” She’d been caught in the act and wasn’t about to wait around for a confrontation.
Joy dropped back to her knees and began to hurriedly shove her supplies into her canvas tote. Carefully reaching out in case the snake was still close, she grabbed her iPod and shoved it in the bag with the rest of her things.
She felt like crying again. Some of the threatening tears were nothing more than fear of the snake. But moreover, the urge to weep was because she wouldn’t be able to visit her house anymore. Lucas wouldn’t like her drawing the place now, nor would he let her draw him.
Once Joy had her things together, she rose and began to hurry back toward the gravel road where she’d parked her car. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to face the man again.
As she reached her Saturn she saw Lucas. How in the hell had he found her car? Perhaps he knew the area better than she did. Joy let out a weary sigh knowing she would have some lengthy explaining to do.
“Did you bring Chelsea’s picture?” he asked as he leaned against the driver’s side door with his arms casually folded over his chest.
“Excuse me?” She opened the back door and pitched her supplies on top of the sundry of other things already piled on the back seat.
“I figured if you were coming out to spy on me, you might’ve at least brought Chelsea’s picture with you and saved me the trip into town.” The statement made her slam the door.
Between the summer heat and her embarrassment, Joy knew her face was a deep shade of red. When she realized the gravel of the road was hurting the soles of her feet, she glanced down and let out another weary sigh.
“You seem to have a problem remembering your shoes.”
Joy rolled her eyes and opened the door again. She reached in and grabbed yet another pair of the cheap Old Navy flip-flops she bought every summer by the dozens. At the rate she lost them, she doubted she would ever make enough money to keep anything more expensive on her feet for any length of time. Luckily, her habitual loss of footwear only happened in the heat of summer.
“Why are you spying on me?” he finally asked.
Joy planted herself in front of him and tried to read his face, quickly realizing the folly of the attempt. His expression was too guarded to penetrate.
A soldier, she reminded herself. He won’t show what he feels.
“I wasn’t spying on you,” she replied and glanced away as she felt herself blush again.
Lucas’s laugh was such a rich, warm sound. It wrapped around her heart like notes to a love song. “Let’s see. You had a table full of sketches of my house—”
“My house,” Joy interrupted before she could stop herself.
“Your house? Your house? I don’t understand.”
“I found it first,” she said, knowing he’d require a better explanation. Every time she locked her gaze to his, she quickly averted her eyes. The intensity in his amber eyes was disturbing, and she was much too embarrassed at her own behavior to pull any comfort from them, handsome though they were.
“You really think that old mansion is more important to you than it is to me?”
“Oh, yes,” she replied in a reverent whisper.
As her gaze returned to him, he gave her a smug smile. “But my name is on the deed.”
Joy turned, leaned back against the car next to him, and allowed herself to relax. It was obvious he wasn’t nearly as offended at her repeated intrusions as she thought he should be, but she reminded herself that he’d only seen the sketches of the house. Lucas didn’t know just how many there were of him. If he ever saw the collage on her living room wall, he’d have her arrested for stalking.
“That’s just a technicality,” Joy finally said. “You got it because I didn’t know about the sheriff’s sale until it was too late.” His grin at the comment warmed her heart. He didn’t smile often. Not nearly enough.
“Good thing,” Lucas said. “Otherwise you might’ve bid the price up and I couldn’t have bought it dirt cheap.”
She shrugged, knowing that things always happened for a reason. “You were meant to have it, but that doesn’t mean I can forget a house as beautiful as that. So who are those men working on the barn?”
“Just some friends of friends. They’re Amish. Building things is what they do best,” Lucas replied. “I needed to get the barn done quickly. They need donations for their new school.”
“I’ve never seen a building go up so fast,” Joy said a bit breathless at the remembrance. “If I took a second to blink, I missed a wall being put up.”
Lucas smiled again, and Joy saw the cheerfulness spread to his eyes. He was far too handsome to ignore. Not the usual built-like-a-brick-house sort of guy she admired, Lucas was obviously in need of a good meal or two. But his looks appealed to her. There was kindness in his face, touched by some lingering sadness. His russet hair was a bit too long as it framed his oval face, and he probably hadn’t used a razor in a couple of days, judging from the brown stubble on his cheeks and chin. Joy found that she simply liked watching him. He was a work of art only God could create.
Her gypsy heart had already seen him in her dreams — seen him and her house. She knew what he would look like, what the house would look like. One day.
“Like I said, it’s what they do best,” he commented as he shifted his weight between his feet, taking an at-ease stance. “What’s the draw to my house?” He pointed at her art supplies resting on the crowded backseat. “If you’ll excuse the pun.”
She smiled back resisting the urge to trace the small cleft in his chin with her fingertips. “I can’t really explain it. It’s just...there. I wanted to enter a contest that was supposed to be artwork from locations in rural America, so... I went driving around. And there it was. It...it called to me.” Joy shook her head and waved her hand in dismissal. “I know it’s silly. You know, I never even entered the stupid contest.”
“It’s not silly. Would you be surprised if I told you it called to me, too?” Lucas asked. “I don’t know. There’s just...just something about it. Plus I really wanted the privacy.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin as he smiled. “Of course, I didn’t know I’d have a pretty little trespasser.”
She chose to ignore his cheeky remark. “It called you?” Joy asked, feeling a bit suspicious that he might be making fun of her. Just like her brothers.
“Yeah. I used to run back here. The roads were great to train for cross-country. I saw that house almost every day for all four years of high school. Hell, I timed my runs by it. Then when I left for...” His train of thought came to an abrupt halt.
Joy glanced up at him again. “Left for what?”
Lucas suddenly appeared angry, and Joy was confused by the change in him. They’d been connecting, she was sure of it. Connecting in a way that was rare and special. Her nagyanya had told her it would happen just this way, exactly like this. With the intensity of a lightning strike, her mate would show himself.
“Who are you?” Lucas finally asked as he turned his head and stared into her eyes.
“I’m Jozsa. You’ve been waiting for me.�
�� She held her breath, hoping he understood. A Romungro would realize without a word passing between them.
But Lucas isn’t Romungro. Will he understand?
His only response was the same intense stare.
She was sure they were destined for something more than friendship, but it wasn’t as if she could simply come out and say it. People tended to be a bit suspicious of gypsies in general, even more so of their uncanny feelings about things.
He broke their connection. As he glanced away, Joy watched the window to Lucas’s soul start to close. “Lucas? What’s wrong, Lucas?”
When his gaze returned to meet hers, she immediately saw the pain. No, more than that. A torment. She felt an overwhelming need to heal him, so strong it was as if she had finally found a purpose to her world. “We both love the house. So now what?” Joy asked in a gentle, calming voice.
His response surprised her. Not only could he understand what she had felt, but he felt it too. He might not be Hungarian, but his soul was gypsy.
“Now, you go home. Go away, Jozsa. Don’t waste your time on me.” Hanging his head, he stared at the dusty road.
No, Szivem. Oh, no, my love. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Her senses were speaking to her as clear as day.
Joy moved to stand in front of him and picked up his right hand. Turning it over so she could look at his palm, she cradled his hand with her left and began to trace the lines and winkles of his skin with her right index finger. She concentrated as she moved her fingertip over his palm, and she felt the connection again. The touch might have seemed innocent, but she knew it wasn’t. Not for either of them. The contact sent shivers up her arm, and she noticed he trembled ever so slightly when she moved her finger across a line. Joy read his palm.
“You have a long life line. Strong, too. See this little island? Where the line splits into two and then rejoins?” she asked as he stared at his own palm. He nodded his understanding. “It shows you were sick...or...or hurt.” When he knit his brows in irritation, she realized she had hit a painful subject so she moved on. “You’ll grow to be a very old man.”
He gave her a scoffing laugh. Joy wasn’t deterred.
“This is your heart line,” she said as she moved lightly over another crease with her fingertip. She liked the quiver she felt in his hand when she touched him. “See? It curves. That shows that you’re someone who feels things very deeply. That explains the pull of the house. You sense the ghosts.”
“Ghosts? You’re kidding, right?”
Joy shook her head, trying not to get too agitated at his skepticism. She would have to teach him her ways. “And your heart line ends under your second finger. See? That means...um... Never mind.” She quickly moved her fingertip to another wrinkled line. “This is your—”
“It means I’m what?” Lucas interrupted. “C’mon, Jozsa. If you’re gonna do this, do it right. What does it mean?”
She felt her face flush as she avoided eye contact again. “You’re a good lover.”
Lucas’s laugh was like a gentle caress. “Well, for heaven’s sake, keep going. This palm reading stuff is more accurate than I thought.”
Judging from the heat radiating from her cheeks, her face was still blushing as she read the rest of his palm. “See how long your index finger is? That means you’re a leader.” She held up her own hand. “See my ring finger? It’s long too. That’s why I’m an artist.”
He smiled. “A very good one. You really believe this stuff?” Joy nodded vigorously as she continued to cradle his hand and traced another line across his palm. “Where’d you learn how to read palms?”
“My grandmother taught me. I read palms at Gypsy...you know, the restaurant...for some of the customers. See this?” she asked as she pointed to another line. “This is your head line. See how it starts out connected to your life line then it splits away on its own?” When he nodded, she continued her interpretation. “It means family is important to you, but you have an independent streak.”
“You know, you really haven’t said anything that’s horribly specific.” He grinned. “Except for that lover stuff. That was pretty spot on. But the rest could all apply to just about anyone.”
“And it shows you’re skeptical of many things,” Joy said with a chuckle.
She watched him as she traced his palm again to gauge his reaction. At least her words had brought some life back to his eyes. Without a thought, she lifted his hand and pressed a long, soft kiss to his palm. He smelled...wonderful. The unique male scent—fresh-cut wood and light cologne—wafted toward her, casting a spell around her. She could hear the quick hiss as he sucked in his breath when her lips brushed his skin.
Oh yes, he feels it too.
Then Joy lowered her eyes back to his hand and saw the scars on his wrist. She focused her eyes on something other than the messages the creases of his hand could give her.
Gently tracing the puckered skin with her fingers, Joy slowly rotated his hand so she could follow the path of the scars. The back of his hand had several small marks of latent burns. She slid her finger up the cuff of his long sleeved t-shirt, pushing it up his forearm. When she revealed more angry scars, a small gasp escaped her lips before she could guard her reaction.
Lucas jerked his hand away from her and pulled his sleeve back into place. “Go away, Jozsa.” Then he turned and began to jog back toward her house.
His house.
Suddenly the insight washed over her.
Our house, Szivem. Ours.
Joy stood there for a few moments and considered her unusual circumstances. What she had read in his palm told her some of what she needed to know, what she read in his eyes even more. “I know all about scars, Lucas.” But none of what she’d learned, of what she knew, was enough for her to figure out exactly how to help him. She’d simply have to get at him the old-fashioned way.
Her gypsy heart spoke to her. This man needs you. And you need him too.
Recognizing the path that destiny had designed for her future, Joy accepted it without a moment of hesitation. She got into her car and drove away.
Because she knew she would be back.
Chapter 4
Lucas threw himself back into his work, trying to forget his encounter with Joy. He wasn’t successful. She haunted him, followed him everywhere he went and through everything he did. He just couldn’t seem to separate Joy and his house.
By the time the sun began to set, the barn was enclosed, roofed, and close to being ready for equine inhabitants. As the last few shingles were being hammered into place, his Amish helpers began to gather their tools and pile into the big vans that would ferry them back to their homes. Lucas waved to them as they rode away before he went back into his ancient house.
He thought about Joy again as he readied himself to head to the track. For some odd reason, he saw her face on every wall, remembered her beautiful eyes and her warm smile. He no longer saw the cracked plaster and no longer saw the plumbing that barely worked. He no longer saw the holes in the second story floors that gave him a good view of the rooms below.
Lucas saw Jozsa Kovacs.
Damn. This isn’t what I need. And it definitely isn’t what she needs.
He tried to no avail to push her out of his mind. With an irritated sigh, he got in his truck and headed to Dan Patch Raceway.
After parking alongside the other pickups and trailers, Lucas walked to the paddock. Several people he hadn’t seen in far too long waved or called a greeting. Lucas returned the gestures or the words, but he still had a hard time feeling a connection. The old link that had always been there whenever he was at the track seemed to be gone.
Samantha had dropped off the horse he was supposed to prepare for the race, so he found the stall and started removing the harness and tack from the canvas harness bag that hung from the stall door.
“Hi, big guy,” he said to the horse who stomped a front hoof and snorted a response. Lucas pulled the long chains from each side of the stall and attached t
hem to the horse’s halter. Once cross-tied, the animal stayed docile as Lucas began to carefully equip the bay gelding. The familiarity of the actions soothed him. He loved working with the horses and the tack. And the pocket money didn’t hurt, either.
Sam came down the long aisle of the paddock, hauling a maroon jog cart behind her. “Is he ready to warm up?” she asked as she leaned the cart against the outside wall and peered into the stall.
“Just about,” Lucas replied. “Where’s the munchkin?”
“With Katie Remington. She has rugrat duty tonight. Tomorrow is my turn.” She flashed him a grin. “You busy tomorrow?”
“Very,” he replied with a touch of laughter in his voice. Avoiding his sister-in-law’s gaze, he crouched down and wrapped the protective tendon boots on the front legs of the horse. Pushing up from the floor, he reached for the bridle and deftly slid the bit into the animal’s mouth.
“So are you ever going to ask her out?” Sam asked.
“Her who?”
“You know damn well who, smart ass. The girl from the winner’s circle.”
“I don’t know. Are you ever going to learn to mind your own business?”
She just laughed at him. “No. Duh. Someone has to look out for you. Why don’t you ask her out? She seemed to like the horses. You could...I don’t know...bring her to the track maybe?”
“Oh yeah, that’s gonna happen,” he said, teasing her with her own typical response. “The way people gossip around here? No way, Sam. I’ll keep her away from here.”
“Got me there. But why don’t you take her out somewhere else then? She seemed really sweet.”
Lucas heaved an annoyed sigh. “I wouldn’t do that to her.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of... You ever gonna get past this? You’ve got a few scars. So what?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. He knew she thought she was being helpful, but Samantha couldn’t possibly understand. Not all of his scars were on the outside. “Quit pushing, Sam.”
