by Mae Nunn
“Fair enough.” He hesitated, not sure he was prepared for what he was about to do. Outside of an introduction or sealing a deal, he hadn’t made a physical overture to a woman in years. But as if his right hand had a will of its own, it slipped from the comfort of his denim pocket and reached toward Claire, an offering of peace.
Could she accept the mixed-up stuff that was his world just as she’d done for the troubled girl in the sound booth?
The smile that must have earned her trophies and tiaras curved her pale pink lips and crinkled the corners of her mesmerizing eyes. His heart thudded beneath his black T-shirt as she slipped her small, warm hand into his. And just like the first time, she seemed in no hurry to be free of his touch.
Claire felt a strange lightness in her soul, as they bonded through the simple handshake that he’d seemed to consider for ages before his muscles engaged. There was a reason why the number of people she made voluntary physical contact with could be counted on one hand.
But at this moment the permanent bruises from her childhood were a distant thought, deep below the surface of calm waters. For the first time in her life she understood why a woman would want to be drawn into a man’s embrace.
The warmth that had passed from his hand to hers leapt straight to her heart. If she didn’t break the contact soon he’d recognize her racing pulse in her touch. Worse still, he’d feel the nervous dampness that was breaking through her palm at that moment.
As if he sensed discomfort looming, Luke eased the light pressure of his grip giving her the cue she needed to slip her hand out of his and rotate her wrist to check her watch.
“It’s dinnertime and those guys need something to soak up all that soda they’re chugging.” She glanced toward the grinning boys, who saluted one another with drink cans in celebration of their triumph.
“My stomach couldn’t agree more.” Luke patted his midsection then gave her a hopeful look. “Have I blown it so bad that our only dinner option is Dana’s sack of fried Spam sandwiches?”
Claire couldn’t help but grin at the way his eyebrows rose as he pleaded his case. The guy was really quite charming when he forgot about that chip on his shoulder.
“I think Spam will compliment the pizza and salads I ordered very nicely.”
He turned and cupped his hands to his mouth, megaphone-style. “Hey guys, Miss Claire’s gonna hang around again tonight and help us out.”
They gave four thumbs-up to the announcement and Luke raised his shoulders and eyebrows in a there-you-go shrug.
“Actually, I arranged for the restaurant to deliver tonight. I have an early commitment in the morning and I thought I’d give you a break this evening. I know how you feel about my meddling.”
A flicker of sadness darkened his forest-green eyes for a moment, and her heart swelled the tiniest bit. The grouch who’d dismissed her presence less than an hour ago actually seemed disappointed by her decision to call it an early night.
“Why stop now when I’m getting used to it?” he asked. “Besides, I was counting on you to help out with Dana.”
Secretly delighted by the unexpected emotion on his face, she resolved to stick to her plan. Showing off with a flashy turn in front of a judge who was already in your corner was never a good idea. Mama had taught her the best time to leave the stage was when the crowd was cheering for more.
That was sound advice in all aspects of life.
“Give me a rain check. There are plenty of volunteers around tonight and Dana will do just fine under your considerate tutelage,” Claire said with a roll of her eyes, then turned to leave.
But she was only half-mocking. Luke’s guidance at the soundboard was the perfect thing to boost the girl’s suffering self-esteem, and Ken would always make sure there was another adult around.
Tonight she would wrap up her long day with a cool shower followed by a peanut butter and banana sandwich shared with Buck, R.C. and Tripod. With the heat expected to rise above 100 degrees in the shade, tomorrow would be even longer.
Claire slid into the leather seat of her pony car, her feelings a jumble from the day’s events. She’d cooperated with Arthur O’Malley and there was no turning back. In a few days, her name would appear in hundreds of thousands of copies of Today’s Times magazine. The exposure meant incredible publicity for Savage Cycles, but she couldn’t help feeling she’d sold out on some level. Given up something she could never get back.
And then there was her confusion over Luke. One moment he was as set in his ways as any cantankerous old curmudgeon, but the next his words and actions were aglow with his faith. He had a pure heart for the work he did with young musicians and he couldn’t hide his light under a bushel no matter how hard he tried.
As Claire pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home, she said a prayer of thanks because she felt a little closer to understanding what made Luke Dawson tick.
Chapter Seven
At eight forty-five the next morning, Luke pulled into his now-familiar corner of the Abundant Harvest parking lot. He tucked keys in his front pocket, grabbed his cup of coffee and slammed the pickup door. Four hours of sleep weren’t nearly enough for a full day of chaperone duty. But when the pastor had stopped by last evening looking to draft Luke, Ken simply wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. The middle school group needed one more adult for their trip to Houston’s family amusement park and unless Luke personally volunteered they’d have to cancel. Luke wasn’t about to risk the kids’ excursion by insisting he had work of his own to do, so with a grunt and a scowl he’d signed the pastor’s clipboard and sent Ken on his way with a smug smile on his face.
Just to make sure the day wasn’t a total productivity loss, Luke had insisted the Harvest Sons make the trip with him. At the very least they’d talk through their plans and practice some vocals a cappella. There was a smattering of objection until Luke mentioned he was the hands-free, roller coaster champion who intended to defend his title on the Cyclone. Once the challenge was issued all four boys took the bait. Now Luke just had to find some food to soak up the coffee in his stomach or he’d be tossing his cookies during the ride’s first eighty-foot drop.
He hiked across asphalt that was still simmering from the previous day’s heat. His jeans and black T-shirt would make it easy for the kids to spot him in the barely dressed summer crowd. He tugged the bill of his favorite Braves cap, adjusted dark glasses that hid his eyes and put on his best brooding expression. Maybe if he looked sinister and imposing they’d cower in fear. Fat chance.
Through the windows of the recycled commuter bus Luke could see the squirming youngsters who were too hopped up on sugary cereal to sit still. Once they got a belly full of cotton candy and funnel cakes their blood sugar would be off the charts. The adolescent diet made Luke shudder, but he figured a glucose high was small beans compared to the stuff he’d put in his body when he wasn’t much older.
The bus driver cranked open the door and Luke was relieved to feel a whoosh of cool air. He stomped up the three metal steps, turned to the left and prepared to glare into the faces of unsuspecting preteens.
“Well, good morning.” The voice was a welcome melody. Eyes like warm caramel glinted with humor. “What a nice surprise.” Claire flashed her beauty queen smile as she slid toward the window and offered him the aisle seat beside her.
He dropped down to the Naugahyde bench and squeezed himself into the space designed for a much shorter person. Looking over at Claire he noted her long legs were angled to make the most of what little space was available. And, as always, she was beautifully put together in those chopped-off jean things and a white cotton shirt with rolled-up cuffs. Her hair was bunched up on top of her head with a gold clip and small diamond earrings flashed in the morning sunlight.
“I thought you had an early commitment,” he grumbled.
“This is it.”
“You got drafted yesterday too, huh?” He slumped as low as space would allow and propped his knees against the seat i
n front.
“Actually, I volunteered over a month ago without realizing how busy things would be at the shop this week. We’re taking inventory and I really should be working with my parts manager on what we’re shipping to Sturgis, but I couldn’t let these kids down.”
He slipped off the dark shades and let them dangle by a braided chord around his neck. He folded his arms, resting them against his chest and turned to the stunning woman beside him. When he spoke his voice was low, his words sincere.
“I know you’re proud of your talents for business and music, but I think your kind heart is probably your greatest natural gift.”
“Why, thank you, Luke.” She blushed like one of the seventh-grade girls.
“Can I ask you a personal question, Claire?”
“Sure.” She nodded.
“When do you make time for yourself?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” She turned the tables without answering. “You’ve spent a lot of hours here in the past few days.”
“Yeah, and I’m being compensated for my time.”
“You’re not on the payroll today, so what are you doing on this bus?”
He drew his eyebrows together and considered her question.
“See?” She enjoyed a self-satisfied smile. “You have a pretty soft heart yourself, Luke. You think you have it buried so deep no one will notice, but my guess is you’re all bark and no bite.” Several kids giggled at her assessment.
The driver stood and gave final orders for the kids to take a seat, and to hold the volume down.
Luke slipped his glasses back in place and covered a wide yawn with his palm. Then he spoke in a menacing voice as he glanced around, “Boys and girls, better listen to the man. I’m gonna take a little nap and the first kid who wakes me will get to put Miss Claire’s theory about my bite to the test.” He tossed his empty paper cup into the driver’s trash can, pulled his cap low and dropped his chin to his chest.
He pressed his eyes shut but couldn’t miss the crackling sound as Claire rustled a paper sack. The aroma of cinnamon tickled his nose and, without moving a muscle, he cracked one eye open to see what tempted his senses. She unwrapped a fat scone, broke off the corner and popped the pastry into her mouth.
Claire heard Luke’s stomach growl loud enough to solicit more giggles from the girls across the aisle. She leaned close and caught him peeking over his sunglasses, eyeing her breakfast. She broke off another large bite, lifted it close and inhaled the spicy scent.
“Mmm,” she expressed her pleasure before nibbling the edge of the sweet biscuit.
His stomach complained again and he shifted in the seat to disguise the rumbling. She reached into the bag, pulled out another cinnamon-and-raisin scone and held it under his nose.
“You interested?”
“Since you asked.” Luke let the glasses slip off his face and fastened his gaze with hers. “I’m very interested. In fact, more than my good sense dictates.”
She stared into his unreadable eyes, not sure how to respond. Was he making an overture or just a joke?
“But we’re with a busload of kids right now, so I’ll settle for your extra scone if that’s a bona fide offer.”
Now it was her turn for the stomach flutters. She covered her nervousness by rifling the sack for napkins and then handing over the pastry.
“You’ve been feeding me for three solid days. How about letting me buy you dinner tonight for a change?” He switched subjects before sinking even, white teeth into the freshly baked confection and moaning his gratitude. She popped the lid off her cup and he accepted a sip of black coffee.
“What do you say, Claire? Chili cheese dogs and curly fries from the food court? One of my favorite meals of all time.” He winked and gave her the short version of his lazy smile before turning his focus to the remainder of his scone. “Is it a date?” he asked casually, probably knowing his question was so nonchalant that later he could pretend he’d been joking and get away with it.
“Sure,” she accepted.
She’d had more sophisticated meal proposals in recent weeks and rejected them all to spend the evening with her pets. But the thought of sharing a greasy meal with Luke Dawson at an amusement park food court was more appealing than any date at a five-star restaurant.
Appealing and dangerous. Both the company and the food.
The Cyclone was a 65 mile-per-hour adrenaline rush for a veteran thrill-junkie. But for the novice the wooden masterpiece could be two minutes of pure terror.
“You’re going to love it,” Luke cajoled. “Now come on and sit down.” He patted the seat beside him.
The kids had begged her to make the ride with them. After the long wait in line he’d figured she’d be up for it, but trepidation was etched into her classic features. Her normally rosy lips were white with tension. The tiny laugh lines at the corners of her lovely eyes were deep with worry, and if she didn’t stop fiddling with her cross she’d snap the spindly chain.
“Why don’t I just wait here for y’all?” She tried for a lighthearted sound but her voice trembled in time with her hands.
For a moment he considered letting her off the hook, but the appeal of having this enticing, shivering female next to him for the short duration of the ride was too much to resist. He offered up a silent prayer of apology for the selfish act he was about to commit.
“No way.” He held out his hand to steady her step down into the rickety-feeling car. “Let’s go, you’re holding up the line.”
Her cheeks puffed out with the air she exhaled and she gripped his fingers and hopped onto the seat. She squeezed his hand with surprising strength, refusing to let go. His head told him it was an unconscious act but his racing heart hoped otherwise.
“Way to go, Miss Claire!” Zach yelled, and the Abundant Harvest youth who had packed the train called out their approval. The metal bars locked securely across their laps and the noisy cart began to creep forward at a slug’s pace.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her side as tightly to Luke’s as decency would allow. “I don’t know why I let you taunt me into this. There’s a reason why I don’t ride my own choppers and you’re looking at it! If my hair turns gray I’ll never forgive you, Luke Dawson!”
Luke’s chest ached over her pitiful effort to joke. Her trembling was reaching the panic stage and they hadn’t even left the platform.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the ride operator called over the loud speaker. “You are about to experience the awesome power of the most dangerous twister known to mankind…the Cyclone!”
Youthful cheering blended with a high-pitched screech as wheels engaged for the trip uphill. This wooden wonder wasn’t propelled by a motor or pulled by a hitch. Only pure kinetic energy would be in control once the coaster descended the first hill.
“Hold tight to the restraining bar—” the operator paused for whoops of refusal “—and I’ll see most of you back here in two minutes and fifteen seconds.” The train began to chug up the steep incline in earnest, forcing the riders back against the seats.
Claire’s nails dug into Luke’s fingers.
“Ouch,” he yelped.
“Don’t you dare complain,” she threatened through gritted teeth, her voice muffled where she pressed her face against his shoulder. “I don’t care if you bleed or end up with permanent bruises. This is scarring me mentally for life, so prepare to suffer along with me.”
Luke twisted his left arm free of her grasp, lifted it over her head and laid it around her, a shield against her fears. He pulled her close and angled his face down to the top of her platinum blond head. Without a thought for the impropriety or consequences, he brushed a kiss against her crown. The touch was the most foreign yet natural thing he’d ever done. And he was repaid for his intimacy by an ear-splitting scream.
Claire was certain her lungs would burst from the force of the wail that accompanied every inch of the eighty-foot drop. She gripped the metal safety bar with one hand and
clutched Luke’s shirt front with the other. She’d wriggled her right shoe between Luke’s big sneakers and anchored herself to his feet. She was vaguely aware that her face was cradled between his shoulder and chin.
Being halfway into his lap was the least of her worries. What difference did it make how things looked when she was about to die of fright? She alternately pleaded with Luke and God for help. If Luke’s arms weren’t strong enough to hold her at least she was certain God would ultimately catch her.
She’d known more than a few fearful times in her life. Moments filled with terror, days of dread, frightening experiences stepping from the predictable to the unknown. But the physical panic that accompanied what these people considered “fun” was beyond all reason. If she could have stood up she’d have kicked herself!
Why had she agreed to do this in the first place? The car took a steep turn and rocked precariously from side to side, giving the intentional impression it was close to leaving the track. She snaked both arms around Luke’s waist and buried her face against his chest.
Luke Dawson!
He was the reason she was in this life and death situation! If not for his coaxing and teasing she’d be standing on blessed concrete, not rushing through space with nothing but a wooden washtub between her and eternity. Luke was to blame. Luke was dirt.
Luke was muttering something into her hair. Claire was tempted to look up and ask him to repeat himself but the track suddenly dropped out from under them and the train nosedived for the earth. She wanted to scream but the sound was lodged in her chest. Her heart beat with such fury she wondered if her body could survive it. She held tight and listened to the throbbing of her pulse in her ears.
But she suddenly realized the pounding wasn’t in her head at all, but beneath the surface she clutched for dear life. The thumping she felt was Luke’s heart, matching hers beat for beat. Was the big jerk as frightened as she was?
