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“That was different,” she said, deciding there was no point in denying her past. “The big city called to me ever since I was a kid and thought I wanted to be a Broadway star, then a supermodel, then a CEO, and so on. I don’t get the impression Luke feels the same.”
“No, definitely not,” Tawny granted. “And we’re not saying that we don’t fully expect and want him to come back someday; it’s just…” She glanced around the table, looking for help.
“He’s broken,” Isobel said, speaking up for the first time. “Luke’s been just a little bit broken for the past couple years, and we’ve all been patient, but whatever’s going to fix him…it’s not here in Lucky Hollow.”
“Maybe not yet,” Stacey mused.
“Um, what?” Hailey asked her friend, stuffing an onion ring into her mouth.
“Whatever’s going to snap Luke out of his zombie state hasn’t been in Lucky Hollow yet,” Stacey said, leaning forward and lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
Bree mimicked her stance. “Explain.”
Stacey’s smile was slow and victorious. “Well, our boy just walked in, and the minute his eyes locked on the back of Jordan here? Let’s just say he looks the most alive I’ve seen him in years.”
The group of women spun around to get a look, but Jordan resisted the urge. Barely. She didn’t, however, manage to stop herself from asking Stacey for a bit more information.
“When you say he looks alive…”
Hailey patted her hand sympathetically. “She means that he looks ready to kill you, dear.”
“Or screw you,” Bree added thoughtfully into her wine.
“Yeah, that too.”
Chapter 10
“She’s pretty. Real pretty,” Gary James said, sliding a beer across the bar to Luke.
Luke didn’t have to ask whom the bartender was referring to. He’d felt Jordan Carpenter the very second he walked into Tucker’s.
Was there any part of his life this woman wasn’t going to infiltrate? She was buddy-buddy with his friends. Chumming it up with his sister, from the looks of it. Even Ken down at the hardware store hadn’t been able to shut off about her pretty manners when Luke had stopped in to pick up the pieces for the new railing he was looking to build.
And now even his damn bar felt full of the sassy blonde. Luke had thought he’d be safer choosing Gary’s side of the bar over Benny’s. The aging bartender had been happily married longer than Luke had been alive, whereas Benny was twenty-something and chased after anything with tits and a smile.
“Gary, you looking for a tip tonight, or you gonna talk to me about stuff I don’t want to talk about?” Luke asked, tipping the bottle to his lips.
The older man laughed in understanding and held up his hands in surrender. “Won’t say another word.”
Luke nodded in thanks, but not talking about Jordan didn’t stop him from thinking about her. What he should have been doing was walking right out the front door, after first giving the people who’d known him an entire life lectures for siding with an outsider instead of him.
But, hell, that wasn’t really what was eating at him. These people cared about him, were doing what they thought was best in their meddling, clueless way.
What was really bothering him was that he wanted to know what the hell shoes Jordan Carpenter was wearing tonight. If they were another of those sexy stilettos that put her nearly at eye level with him. Even more alarming, he wanted to know if her slim thighs were as toned as they looked.
Most alarming of all, he wanted to feel those thighs around his waist, sexy shoes still on, as he tangled his fingers in that hair as he shoved inside her….
“Looks like you’re just about the only one who’s not a fan,” Gary said.
Luke let out an exasperated breath. “I thought we just agreed not to discuss her.”
Gary shrugged as he untwisted a screw-top cap from a bottle
of white wine. “You think someone should tell her to steer clear of Travis?”
“Ah hell,” Luke muttered, glancing over his shoulder.
Sure enough, the group of women had scattered, as was their pattern after an hour or so of girl talk, when they decided it was time to mingle with spouses and cousins. But it had left Jordan alone and vulnerable to the attentions of Travis Olander, the town’s resident douchebag.
