“My book,” she said.
Luke blinked. She wanted a book. No, he wanted her book. Her Tess book. Luke presented it to her like it was the flag from an opponent he’d just bested in a joust.
Elaine examined the book, brushing her fingers over the cover. She sighed as she cradled the book to her chest. Luke felt intensely happy as if he’d just given her the world.
“You saved my book,” she said.
“You saved my life. We’re even. But I’m afraid your taco didn’t survive.”
“Oh, Mary—ouch.”
Elaine had tried to rise from the bed. But winced the moment her head came off the pillow.
Luke flew into action. At least he would have if he knew what to do. “Should I call the nurse? Do you need medication? Another pillow?”
Elaine rubbed tenderly at the back of her head. “No, no. There’s just a bump here.”
“I’ll get the doctor,” he said. “They should run more tests.”
“For a bump on the head? I’m sure I’m fine.”
Luke wasn’t so sure. Before he could reach for the door, an older gentleman came in.
“Hello, Elaine. Pretending to be a superhero, I hear?”
“Just doing my civic duty, Dr. Brady,” she said.
“It was my fault,” said Luke. “I was looking down at—”
“Your cell phone?”
“No,” both Luke and Elaine said at the same time.
“He was looking down at a book,” said Elaine.
“Sounds like something you would do,” the doctor said to Elaine. “I’ve brought your discharge papers. And one of the nurses let Mary know you’re here and that you’re fine. She said to take the rest of the day off, obviously. You’re free to go when you feel up to it.”
“Free to go?” said Luke. “Have you done a cat scan? X-rays?”
“There’s no medical need for any of those things,” said Dr. Brady. “It was just a bump on the head.”
Paul’s injury started as just a bruise on his back, and now he had chronic pains. Paul just had a twinge in his back before they discovered it was more. Luke’s mother had had a few cramps and dizzy spells before she’d been taken by her ailment. There could always be something more lurking beneath the surface.
“Just take a few aspirins, and you’ll be right as rain in the morning,” said the doctor.
‘Thank you, Dr. Brady.”
“Shouldn’t she at least be under observation?” asked Luke.
“You look after her tonight then,” said the doctor. “You’re qualified as her boyfriend.”
And with that, he ducked out into the hall. The older woman on the other side of the curtain continued snoring lightly. Luke turned to face Elaine slowly. He sensed he was turning to face a firing squad. He was right.
Her narrowed gaze and pinched expression confirmed his suspicions. “Did he say you’re my boyfriend?”
Chapter Six
Elaine’s head throbbed. Her mouth was a bit fuzzy, and the words didn’t feel right on her tongue. They also didn’t sound completely coherent to her ears.
She’d been dreaming of dancing at a May fair. Tess had met the man she would fall in love with at the fair. In the book, Tess had made eyes with Angel Clare across a bonfire. Elaine was making eyes with a man in her dream. Only instead of across a bonfire, he’d been standing across a street. And there was no one else there dancing. There were just cars between them as they flirt-gazed at one another.
She’d opened her eyes to see the man she’d been flirting with in her dreams standing over her. His gaze wasn’t saying come hither. It was filled with compassion and care. She might be delirious, but there looked like a hint of devotion. Which was madness. She didn’t know this man. But she did know that any man looking at a woman he did not truly know with devotion would only spell her doom. It said so in her favorite book, which he was holding.
And then it all came back to her. But what she was still having trouble understanding was why anyone would think he was her boyfriend.
She did not date. She had no plans to ever date or marry or lose her heart to the madness of love. But Dr. Brady was already gone, and she was left with him.
“Elaine …”
And he knew her name. This man who people thought was her boyfriend. Which he clearly was not. She didn’t date. She didn’t even know his name.
“Let me explain.”
He came closer to the bed. She should scoot away. She should call for the doctor. But his gaze held her in place. The only thing between them was the massive tome of Tess.
“They would only let me ride in the ambulance if I was in some way related to you. So, I told them I was your boyfriend.”
Okay, well, that was logical. She had saved his life and his book from flattening. It made sense that he’d want to accompany her to ensure she was well. He was showing signs of Angel Clare, the hero of Tess of the d’Urbervilles who’d decided to become a farmer to preserve his intellectual freedom outside his family of clergymen. The man looming over her looked like he could be a farmer with his strong arms and broad shoulders. And he’d brought her book along with them to the hospital, so he couldn’t be that bad.
“I couldn’t let you go by yourself, not when your fall was my fault …”
Logical and responsible. Not at all like Alec d’Urberville, the villainous, manipulative wealthy son who becomes obsessed with Tess. Though Tess rebukes Alec at every turn, he manages to ruin her body and soul. No, this man was no Alec. He looked far too capable and authoritative.
“Not until I knew you were okay.”
“I’m okay,” Elaine said. There had been an ache at the back of her skull. But since she’d begun listening to his dulcet voice, the pain had ebbed away. She couldn’t let him know that. It was entirely logical that a stranger’s voice could make her feel better. “Dr. Brady said so.”
“Be that as it may, I would feel much better if you stayed in the hospital overnight.” He pulled up a chair and sat at her right side. His eyes now on level with hers. “I would stay with you.”
That should not have sent a shiver of warmth through her body. Mainly because one did not shiver when they were warm. But shiver she did as the toasty feeling reached down to her toes.
“Are you cold?” He reached for the blanket at the edge of the bed.
Elaine had the absurd notion to snuggle down into the uncomfortable mattress and await this man, this stranger, to tug up the threadbare hospital sheet and tuck her in. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been tucked in. Certainly not by her parents, who were more interested in arguing with one another than paying her any attention.
“I’m not sleeping in a hospital.” Elaine sat up and immediately regretted the action. She winced as the pain from her head returned. She winced again when she realized she was wearing only a thin hospital gown, and her legs were bare.
The stranger in the seat rose and confirmed he was far more Angel than Alec when he turned his back. So, he was a caretaker, a gentleman, as well as a book-lover.
“What’s your name?” Elaine asked as she slipped on her skirt under the bedsheets.
The man hesitated.
“You don’t want to tell me your name?”
“No,” he said. “I mean, yes.” His shoulders bunched, and he let out a breath. “I just… It’s Luke, like the Jedi.”
“What’s a Jedi?”
His head swiveled around, reminding Elaine of an owl. His eyes were even as wide as the winged creature. She was dressed now, so she knew he wasn’t peering at her body as she straightened her blouse.
“Luke Skywalker,” he said.
“Oh,” said Elaine as she stepped into her shoes. “That’s a Star Trek character, right?”
Luke made a choking sound. The rest of his body uncoiled until he stood facing her once more.
Elaine got the notion that she’d gotten that answer wrong. “Sorry,” she shrugged. “I don’t watch much television.”
&nbs
p; His grimace was slow to melt away. Elaine watched transfixed as it turned from incredulity to amazement. Then he gave her a sheepish smile.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s not important. What is important is your health.”
She picked up the discharge papers and waved them in front of his nose. “I’ve got a clean bill of health. Says so right here.”
And with that, she stood up. And nearly fell back onto the bed. Luke’s arms were around her before her body touched the mattress.
There went that shiver again. Like a warm cup of tea while she was curled up in a window seat reading her favorite book. That’s what it was like to be in this man’s embrace.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
Elaine gazed into Luke’s eyes. They were brown, like hers. But there were small twinkles in them, like stars. She’d read the flowery language of eyes twinkling in the more romantic sections of books. But the twinkle always faded away by the third act. Elaine stepped out of his embrace, and he let her go but continued to stand too close to her.
“Home,” she said. “It’s been a long day. I want to take that aspirin and go back to sleep.”
“Back to sleep after a concussion?”
“Look Skywalker—”
“It’s Luke.”
“Luke. It was just a bump. It could’ve been much worse. I’m lucky I live in the twenty-first century. Back in the Victorian age, a scratch could mean certain death.”
“A bump could be something different beneath the surface,” said Luke.
“But it’s not. I’m fine. And I’m glad you're fine. I’d say keep your head out of those dangerous books while you’re walking, but then …” Elaine held up her own book. “I’m guilty of that, too.”
Elaine stepped around him, but he reached for her. He only rested his fingertips on her forearm. But the light touch was enough to stop her in her tracks.
“I ruined your lunch,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner.”
“I’ve got food at home.”
“Let me take you home.”
“It’s within walking distance.”
“Let me walk you.”
Elaine took a deep breath. If she’d known that when she’d saved this man’s life that he’d attach himself to her, then she would have … well, she still would’ve done it. The best thing for her to do was to set the record straight.
“Luke, you know you’re not really my boyfriend, right?”
Something passed over his features. Something that made Elaine take in a tiny inhale of breath and hold it. His gleaming brown gaze flicked over her, going from the top of her head, down to her toes, and back up again until their gazes connected. Once again, Elaine felt that heat. But it wasn’t a shiver this time. It felt like tiny bursts of fire sparking all over her skin, like Fourth of July sparklers.
“You should also know that I don’t want a boyfriend,” she said when she found her voice. “I don’t date.”
Luke frowned. “You don’t date?”
“Nope. I philosophically disagree with it.”
His grin wasn’t predatory. It was curious. But Elaine felt like she was caught, even though she was the one closest to the door.
“Like ever?” he asked.
“Like never,” she confirmed.
“Well, that’s perfect,” he said. “Because I’m awful at dating.”
His smile was genuine. So, why did Elaine feel a sense of disappointment that he wasn’t pushing the issue? He looked perfectly happy to not date her.
“I still want to take you out,” he said. “As friends. A thank-you-for-saving-my-life dinner. You can’t say no. I owe you my life.”
“You said we were even.”
“I forgot to add on the tip.”
Chapter Seven
“You have a date?”
“It’s not a date,” Luke said to Paul when he got home later that night.
The walk to Elaine’s home was uneventful, mainly because he kept his mouth mostly shut. He wasn’t sure if the silence was awkward or companionable. He was far too busy watching for any signs of stress or strain from her. But her gait was steady. She didn’t wobble or miss a step.
She wouldn’t let him call an Uber. Apparently, there weren’t any in this small town. There weren’t taxis either. Either you walked, or you called someone for a ride. Most people didn’t need a ride unless they were going out of the town to one of the farms or ranches.
So, they'd walked.
Elaine had winced when she’d climbed the steps to her small brownstone. Luke had balled his hands into fists so that he wouldn’t reach out to her. He’d been around enough wounded soldiers to know the high price of pride. But he had stayed one step behind her in case he needed to catch her.
Was it wrong that part of him had wanted her to fall back into his arms so that he could hold her again?
“It’s not a date,” Luke repeated, but to himself this time. “It’s a thank-you dinner.”
“Because she saved your life?” said Paul.
“Yeah.”
“From a book?”
“I was reading a book while walking into the street.”
“What book?” Maggie Banks, Dylan’s wife, spoke up from the kitchen counter. She was lifting food out of Tupperware and placing it onto plates. Paul’s fridge was stocked with foods for days after a few of the wives, and their husbands, had stopped by to introduce themselves. Maggie’s offering was hot dogs and chicken nuggets.
“It was my book,” said Luke. “I’d grabbed a copy from the local bookstore to sign for a young man I met at the library.”
“Dylan got me to read your first book,” said Maggie as she pulled out ketchup and mustard. “I was surprised I liked it. I’m not usually one for space wars, but I loved the underdog story.”
Of course, she did. There were dogs running all under her feet.
“I only wished there was a love story,” Maggie said.
“There is a love story,” said Luke.
“Her true love died before the story starts,” Maggie protested. “It’s been two books. I think she should fall in love again. Don’t you?”
Luke pursed his lips. Every female reader he came across had this same complaint. It wasn’t enough that a female heroine led a ragtag army to victory in two books. They weren’t satisfied until someone’s heart was on the line.
“Well, Luke only writes what he knows,” said Paul, “and he’s never been in love.”
“You’ve never been in love?” asked Maggie.
“No, I haven’t,” said Luke, glaring over Maggie’s head at Paul. “But I know what it looks like.”
That sobered his friend up. Paul knew the love story of Luke’s parents, along with its tragic ending.
“Your father was a widow?” said Maggie.
Luke nodded.
“He never found love again after your mother passed?”
“He didn’t see a need to. Some kinds of love only happen once, especially that kind that hits you square in the eyes and knocks you off your feet. When that happens, it’s typically just the one time.”
“Sounds like this woman knocked you off your feet,” said Maggie.
She certainly had. Quite literally. Elaine was a small thing, too. It was a wonder she’d managed it.
But Luke knew he wasn’t in love. This was simply an attraction. Possibly gratitude.
No, it was definitely an attraction. He’d felt a tug of something when he’d seen Elaine earlier in the day, sitting in the restaurant reading that tragic book. He’d felt it when she’d tugged him out of harm’s way, and the sun spotlighted her beauty. He saw it again when she woke in the hospital.
“He knocked me square off my feet,” said Paul, “and I’m not in love with him.”
Luke shot Paul a dirty look. Paul leaned back in his chair with a cheeky grin.
“What’s her name?” asked Maggie.
“Elaine. Elaine Reynolds.”
“Ohhh,”
Maggie grimaced.
“What?” asked Luke. “Why, ohhh?”
“Well, the thing about Elaine—”
Maggie didn’t get to finish telling him the thing about Elaine. The dogs began to bark as two other women came into the back door. Luke had learned quickly that knocking on doors was not a habit on the ranch. Neither was locking doors.
Two other wives entered the back door carrying plastic containers. Luke was momentarily diverted by the smell of curried spices as Ruhi Jeffries, another wife here but also the daughter of Dr. Patel, came into the back door. At her back was Ginger Collins, another wife, but also the state senate representative.
The conversation halted for five whole minutes as the women shuffled around the kitchen, making their own pleasant conversation, fussed over Paul, and piled more food into the refrigerator.
“What’s the thing about Elaine Reynolds?” Luke prompted Maggie at the first lull in the friendly banter.
“Elaine Reynolds?” asked Ginger. “I remember her from high school. I haven’t seen her in forever.”
“She’s still working at the library,” said Ruhi. “I see her when I take the kids in to study. It’s the quietest place in town.”
“I remember she always used to have her head in a book,” said Ginger
“But only the tragedy books,” said Ruhi. “Like the ones we had to read as part of English class, she’d read them for fun. More than once.”
Was that it? Was that the thing about Elaine? She was a lover of classic literature?
“Is she still not dating?” asked Ginger.
“I don’t think so,” said Ruhi. “I know Juan has been after her since she got back from college, and she always turns him down.”
“Well, Luke here has a date with her,” said Maggie.
“It’s not a date,” said Luke.
“Which is a good thing because Luke is terrible on dates,” said Paul.
“Why is he terrible?” asked Ginger.
Before Luke could defend himself, his best friend, who was taking way too much pleasure out of this, continued. “His palms sweat for one. He always winds up spilling something on himself, or on the date. And he can never close the kiss. He can’t read signals.”
Light Up His Life Page 3
