A Family Kind of Wedding by Lisa Jackson
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm. But homework comes first. School’s just started, so we don’t want to get behind.”
“‘We’ won’t,” he promised with a grin.
“I can take care of that.” Luke went back to the kitchen and returned to Josh’s room with the thirteen-inch TV. Balancing the TV on the top of an already crowded bookcase, he adjusted the rabbit ears and found a baseball game in progress.
“Awesome.”
Luke tossed Josh the remote control.
“Now, you promise to do everything the doctor says and keep up with your schoolwork?”
“’Course.” Josh nodded vigorously. For the first time since they’d picked him up, Josh smiled as he leaned back on his twin bed and immediately clicked the remote control to a different channel and one of his favorite sitcoms.
Blue, eyeing Luke suspiciously, slunk into the room and, after circling a couple of times, settled on the rug beside Josh’s bed. Resting his graying muzzle on his paws, he glared up at Luke as if he were the devil incarnate.
“You be good,” Katie warned the old dog, and he managed one thump of his tail. She turned her attention back to Josh. “Now, kid, is there anything else you need? How about something to eat?”
Josh’s dark eyes sparkled. Already he was getting used to being waited on. “Pizza?”
“Tomorrow, maybe. If we get the car back.”
“Papa Luigi’s delivers.”
“As I said, tomorrow.” She winked at her son. “Right now, I think I’d better scrounge something up from the refrigerator.”
He pulled a long face, which she ignored. “How about you?” she asked Luke. “I’m going to whip up some sandwiches if you’re interested.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Of course I don’t. But I do feel like I owe you.” He hesitated, then lifted a shoulder as they stepped into the hallway where the door to Katie’s room was half open, almost inviting. Inside, a Tiffany lamp burned at a low wattage, reflecting on the windows and spreading a warm pool of light over the lacy duvet and the pink and rose-colored pillows that were piled loosely against the headboard of her bed. The decor was outrageously feminine, with antiques, scatter rugs and frills. Oddly, she was embarrassed that he was looking into her private sanctuary where she worked on her columns, worried over Josh and dreamed about her career; a room where no man had ever dared sleep. She felt her heart pound a little, and when Luke’s eyes found hers again, she realized she was blushing.
“So, how about ham and turkey on white bread?” she asked blithely, as if men looked into her bedroom every day of the week.
“Sounds great.”
“Good.” She walked briskly away from her room, and, once she and Luke were in the kitchen, she let out her breath again. Why seeing him so close to her most private spot in the world disquieted her, she didn’t know, didn’t want to know. But there was no doubt about it—this easygoing Texan put her on edge.
He looked awkward and big and out of place in her kitchen. “I’ll make the ice bag the doctor ordered,” he offered, as if he, too, needed something to do. “Just point me in the right direction.”
“Good idea.” She handed him the tools he needed, then spread mayonnaise on slices of white bread. He found ice in the freezer, cracked the cubes from a tray and smashed them into smaller chunks with the small hammer she’d dug out for him. Once the ice was crushed, he rustled up a couple of plastic bags, put one inside the other and brushed the ice shavings inside.
“You’ve done this before,” she observed, slapping ham, turkey, lettuce and tomatoes on the bread.
“Too many times to count.”
“Do you have kids?” she asked automatically, and he hesitated long enough to catch her attention. She’d never thought of him as being married or having children, but then she didn’t know much about him. Not much at all.
“Nope. No kids of my own. But I’ve spent enough time with teenagers to get in this kind of practice. I’ve worked on crews with kids where we bucked hay, strung fence, roped calves—the whole nine yards. Someone was always getting kicked, or falling off a rig, or being bucked from a horse or whatever.” He glanced up at her, and she felt her breath stop at the intensity in his eyes. So blue. So deep. So…observant. She felt compelled to look away to break the silly notion that there was some kind of intimacy in his gaze. What was it about him that made her nervous? She was used to men and boys, had grown up with three brothers, yet this man, this stranger, had a way of making her uncomfortable. She pretended interest in slicing the sandwiches into halves. “So you’ve done a lot of ranching.”
“Yep.”
“In Texas?”
“All over. Wyoming and Montana for a spell, but mainly Texas.”
“And that’s where you met Ralph Sorenson?”
He nodded, and his eyes fixed on her with laser-sharp acuity. “Years ago.” He handed her the bag of ice, and though there were dozens of questions she wanted to ask him about Ralph and Dave and his life, she carried the ice pack, along with a platter of sandwiches, down to Josh’s room.
She couldn’t help wondering what Luke thought of her and her cramped little home. Filled to the gills with memorabilia from her youth, antiques and enough books to make her own library, her house had a tight, packed-in feel that bordered on cramped but felt right to her. A string of Christmas lights was forever burning over an old desk she’d shoved into a corner of the living room, and her walls were covered with pictures and doodads she’d collected over the years.
To her it was home, and, if she moved to Tiffany’s house, she’d take every bit of her life—the mementos from her past—with her.
She didn’t know but guessed that Luke Gates lived a more austere existence. She imagined he’d be as content to sleep under the stars with a buffalo robe for warmth and a saddle for a pillow as he would in a feather-soft bed with eiderdown pillows and thick blankets.
Josh had inherited his mother’s need for keepsakes. Posters covered the walls of his room, and model planes hung from the ceiling. His desk was littered with baseball cards, trophies, books and CDs, and his floor space was crowded with toys he’d just about outgrown. “You okay?” she asked, seeing that her son was channel surfing, flipping from a docudrama about the police to the baseball game.
“Fine, Mom. Don’t worry.”
“I’m your mother. It’s my job.”
“Oh, right.” Josh rolled his eyes.
While Blue lifted his head in the hopes of snatching a dropped morsel, Katie handed Josh the plate. “Better than Papa Luigi’s,” she said. “You’ve got my personal guarantee.”
“Sure.”
“Ask anyone in town.” She tucked the ice bag around his ankle.
He sucked in his breath and stiffened, tipping his plate and nearly losing a sandwich to the floor and the ever-watchful Blue. “Jeez, Mom, that’s cold.”
“It’s supposed to be.”
“I know, but, Mom, it’s freezing cold.”
“That’s the general idea,” she deadpanned. “It’s ice.”
“I don’t want it.”
“You have to. Wait a second.” She went to the linen closet in the hall, found a thin washcloth, then wedged it between the bag and Josh’s bare ankle. “Better?”
“Lots.” He nodded, bit into his sandwich and turned his attention to the little black-and-white TV where a batter was sizing up the next pitch. “Good.” She patted him on the head and resisted the urge to over-mother him and kiss his cheek.
By the time she’d returned to the kitchen Luke had settled himself into one of the chairs that surrounded the small table she’d bought at a garage sale three years earlier. His long, jeans-clad legs stretched out at an angle to the middle of the kitchen floor, and he was sliding his finger down the open Yellow Pages of the phone book. “Tow company,” he said to the question she hadn’t yet voiced.
“Oh, right. Good idea.” She hated to think of her disabled car and the hassle of gett
By the time she’d handed Josh his milk, thrown Blue the morsel and returned to the kitchen, Luke was on the phone and instructing the towing company as to the location of her car. “We’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” he promised and hung up. “All set,” he said, winking at her.
Stupidly, her heart turned over.
“All-Star Towing to the rescue,” he elaborated.
“Great. Thanks.” She scrounged in a drawer and found a couple of napkins that hadn’t been used for her Independence Day picnic. Emblazoned with red and blue stars, they gave a festive, if slightly out-of-date, splash of color. “I, uh, appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
“All in a day’s work.”
“Only if you’re into the Good Samaritan business.” He smiled, and she felt herself blushing for God-only-knew-what reason. Motioning to the stack of sandwiches on the platter, she added, “Please…help yourself. We believe in self-service in this house.”
“Good.”
“Is there anything else you’d like—something to drink? I’ve got juice, milk and water. Or coffee.”
“Decaf?” he asked, lifting a blond eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you said you needed earlier?”
“Yeah, yeah, but I lied.” She measured grounds into a basket, then poured water into the back of the coffeemaker. With a flick of a switch, the coffee was perking. “I think I need to be turbocharged right now.”
“Aren’t you always?”
The question caught her off guard. “How would you know?”
“Seen you around,” he said.
“Where?” She was surprised he’d noticed. She knew she didn’t exactly meld into the wallpaper, but she didn’t think Luke Gates was the type of man who paid attention to most women. He seemed too aloof; too distant.
She took a seat at the table as the smell of French roast filled the air.
“I’ve seen you over at the apartment house with your sister and a couple of times in town. That convertible of yours is hard to miss.”
“It’s been a good friend,” she admitted. “I hope it isn’t dead for good.”
“I’m sure it can be resurrected, but it might cost you a bit.”
“Doesn’t everything?” she thought aloud and reached for half a sandwich.
“I suppose.”
The phone rang as the coffee brewed, and Katie spent a few minutes explaining to the soccer coach about Josh’s ankle. Gary Miller was concerned, and they decided that Josh should forgo practice and games until he’d received a clean bill of health from the doctor. “Here, I’ll let you speak with him yourself,” Katie offered, and carried the portable phone into the bedroom. Josh talked for a few minutes, handed her the phone again and turned back to his program. By the time she’d returned to the kitchen, the coffee had brewed. She was pouring two cups when the phone jangled again.
“Could you?” she asked as dark liquid splashed into her favorite mug.
“Sure.” Luke snagged the receiver. “Hello?” He waited, then said, “Kinkaid residence… Hello …? Hello?” He paused and his eyebrows drew together. “Is someone there?” He paused again. “Hello? Oh, for the love of Mike.” He hung up and stared at the phone.
“No one?”
“Oh, there was someone on the line,” Luke said, glaring at the instrument as if he could see through the phone to the face of the person on the other end. “But he was put off when he heard my voice.”
“Or she.”
“Or she,” he agreed, rubbing the side of his face thoughtfully.
Katie lifted a shoulder. “They’ll call back if they really want me. Probably thought they got the wrong number when you answered.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t seem convinced, and his demeanor made her edgy. “You get many hang-ups?”
“My share. Along with solicitations and wrong numbers. Come on, eat. We don’t have a lot of time if we’re gonna pick up my car.” She handed him a cup of coffee, then settled back into her chair.
“I guess you’re right.” He reached for half a sandwich, and they ate in relative silence. It was odd, she thought, to have a man other than one of her brothers sitting across the table in her tiny kitchen. She’d grown up with three half brothers and more than a handful of stepfathers, but she’d never settled down with a man, never felt comfortable with one in her house. There had been other boys and men in her life, of course, before and after Dave. She’d dated on and off over the past ten years, but she’d never allowed herself to fall in love, had always found an excuse to break off a relationship before it deepened into something emotionally dangerous.
She’d been accused of being “too picky” by her oft-married mother, or “too flighty” by the twins, and “too bullheaded about that damned job,” by Jarrod, but the real reason she hadn’t settled down was that she hadn’t wanted to. She believed a woman should stand on her own two feet before she started leaning on a man. Any man.
Besides, she had Josh to consider and a career to promote. Just because Luke Gates was interesting didn’t mean anything.
He checked his watch and finished a gulp of coffee. “I think we’d better get rollin’ if we want to meet the tow truck.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, giving him another out. “I have dozens of relatives who would help me.”
Luke nodded as he carried his plate to the sink. “I know, but let’s just say I like to finish what I start.”
She thought about arguing with him, but changed her mind. For whatever reason, he was willing to help her, and she decided to accept his aid. She dumped the dishes into the sink, told Josh what was going on, then locked the door behind her on the way to Luke’s pickup.
As they drove away from town, the night seemed to close in around them. Stars twinkled seductively in the blackened heavens, and a slice of moon cast a shimmering silver glow over the countryside. The dark shapes of cattle and horses moved against the bleached grass of the surrounding fields and hillsides, and only a few headlights from oncoming cars illuminated the truck’s cab as they passed.
Katie hugged the passenger door. Even with the window rolled down, the pickup seemed too small; too intimate. She told herself she was overreacting, but she noticed the position of Luke’s hand on the gearshift lever, the way his fingers clutched the knob and how his sleeve was pushed up to his elbow, allowing her a glimpse of tanned skin dusted with gold hair.
So male.
So close.
Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just doing you a favor, for goodness’ sake. There’s nothing more to it than that. All her life her silly imagination had run away with her, and she’d been forever reining it in. Tonight, it seemed, her fantasy was that Luke Gates, sexy and mysterious, was trying to think of ways to be alone with her. What a joke. Yet she felt her heart pounding in the pulse at her neck, and couldn’t ignore the sensual, all-male scents of hay, dust and leather that clung to him.
Get over it, Kinkaid. The last complication you need in your life right now is a man—especially a quiet, mysterious stranger you don’t have one scrap of solid information about. Think about Josh. Think about the Isaac Wells story. Think about your career. And for God’s sake, forget any silly romantic fantasies you have about this man!
She bit her lip, and, drumming her fingers on the edge of the window, she stared into the night until they crested a small rise. Her car, looking abandoned and lo
Luke pulled on to the shoulder on the opposite side of the road. “Let’s try it one more time,” he suggested as he helped her out of the cab. His fingers as he grabbed her hand were warm.
“And what if it starts?” She hopped lithely to the ground.
“We pay the tow-truck driver and send him on his way.”
“Just my luck—having to pay for service I don’t need.” She let go of his hand.
“It hasn’t happened yet.”
“It’s not going to.” Crossing her fingers, she unlocked the car and climbed into the dark interior. “Here goes nothing,” she said under her breath and discovered as she turned the ignition that she was right. The engine didn’t so much as spark. “Satisfied?” she asked Luke.
“I guess I have to be.” He leaned one hip against the fender and tried not to notice the shape of her leg as she climbed out of her beater. She slammed the door shut with a quick movement of her hip, and his crotch tightened. A million questions about her pricked at his mind, but he ignored most of them. He wasn’t interested in her. Just as he wasn’t interested in any woman.
He caught the scent of her perfume on the breeze and wondered what it would be like to kiss her. She was different from the kind of woman who usually attracted him—small and compact rather than tall and slim. He’d convinced himself that he liked a woman who was as quiet as he, thoughtful and soft-spoken, but this redheaded dynamo had changed his mind.
Not that he’d do anything about it.
“You’re sure the towing company knows where we are?” she asked, her eyebrows puckering together in concern.
“Yep.”
She checked her watch, glanced up the road and frowned. He imagined a dozen thoughts streaking through her mind all at once. “Your last name’s Kinkaid,” he finally said.