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“My job.” She focused on a spot on the wall above his head, and there was something hollow around her eyes. Clearly, there was more to the story, but she wasn’t offering it up, and he wasn’t going to pry. Not when she had that look in her eyes, like a deer that had just sighted a hunter. “Did you grow up here?” she asked, directing the conversation away from herself.
He nodded as he tested the bathroom door. “Yep. Born and raised. My whole family’s here. Mom, Dad, my brother Matt. Bunch of aunts and uncles and cousins. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“Must be nice.”
“It is. Although Matt’s moving to Seattle in January, so that’ll be tough.” He stood and began adjusting the top hinge.
“You’re close?”
“Yeah. We’re twins.”
“Oh, good God. There are two of you?”
He laughed, and she blushed, pressing her the tips of her fingers to her mouth, as though she hadn’t meant to blurt that out. “You have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. I’m an only child. My parents wanted more, but it never happened for them.” Her eyes followed his hands as he worked. Was she imagining what it would feel like to have them on her? Because he sure as hell was. With another vivid flash, he saw himself pulling her sweater over her head and running his hands over her torso, exploring her stomach, her ribs, the crease of her spine.
“So it’s just you and Ethan, huh?” She leaned against the wall, her arms still crossed in front of her, her mouthwatering cleavage still on display.
He nodded, not trying to talk over the sound of the drill. More and more, he found himself wishing that it wasn’t just him and Ethan. Sure, he had his family, and they were great, but it wasn’t the same as having that one person he knew he could talk to about his worries and anxieties when Ethan struggled in school, or had a run-in with a bully, or challenged him and broke the rules—something that was happening with increasing frequency. That one person he could share the victories with. The good grades and the game-winning goals, and the small, every-day victories, like when Ethan told him he loved him out of nowhere. That kind of stuff was meant to be shared, but Angela had wanted no part in it. Hell, she’d taken off for California before Ethan was even in kindergarten. He shook his head, knowing that all of that—the loneliness, the stress, the anxiety—was his to bear alone, and that’s the way it had to be.
“Yeah. I’m divorced. Ethan’s mom lives in California.” The mention of his divorce served to clear some of the lust out of his system, reminding him why things had to be the way they were.
“And you don’t date much.” She bit her lip, looking up at him.
“Not really, no.” He had little flings here and there, and he was far from celibate, but he didn’t date often in the traditional sense.
“Can I ask why?”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and she laid a hand on his arm.
“I’m sorry. That was awfully rude of me. Here we are, barely acquainted, and I’m butting into your personal business.” A pink flush crept over her cheeks, and he smiled. He hadn’t hesitated because he’d been put off by her question. Not at all. The way she’d asked, it had been . . . sweet, actually. Like she was concerned about him. Like she genuinely cared.
No. He’d hesitated because he’d been extremely tempted to ask her to dinner. Which probably wasn’t a good idea. He could only offer short-term, no-strings-attached flings, and already he knew that Christie wasn’t the type of woman you had some fun with for a few weeks and then called it a day. She was so much more than that. Plus, she’d already met Ethan, which added a complication he wasn’t used to. Ethan had already had to endure enough rejection in his short life, and Luke couldn’t open him up to more.
And yet, at the memory of Christie and Ethan together, her warm smile, her soothing voice, the way she’d patted his shoulder, something softened in Luke’s chest, like butter melting, warm and sweet.
Turning the tables back on her, he asked, “How come you don’t have any decorations up? You don’t celebrate?”
She looked down at the floor. “No, I do. I just don’t see the point in decorating the house when it’s only me.” Her voice was soft, and that hollowness around her eyes was back. It made Luke want to reach out and smooth her hair away from her face, to touch the soft skin of her cheek. To fix whatever was wrong. To kiss her until the source of that pain didn’t matter anymore.
Oh, God. This was bad. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted to a woman this way.
On the other hand, he also couldn’t remember the last time he’d met a woman like Christie. Beautiful and soft and sweet. Smart and warm. Kind and tender with Ethan. Something about her had found its way inside him, burrowing deep under his skin. Something he couldn’t ignore.
“If you’ve got any lights, I’d be happy to put them up for you. I’ve got a small ladder in my truck.” Finished with the repairs, he leaned against the doorframe, facing her.
“Thanks, but you’ve already done so much. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you coming over.”
“Anytime.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes warm and sparkling. “Maybe I’ll have to break a few more things.”
“You don’t need to break things to get me to come over.” He returned her smile, enjoying the flirtation and wanting more.
“Oh, really? What do I need to do?”
“Have dinner with me.” He tilted his head, studying her.
