Page 40 of His Brown-Eyed Girl

Addy paused, almost at a loss, as if she didn’t want him to go so soon.

“Hell, I’m so bored I might join them. Do they drink gin?”

“Oh, heavens, maybe I should stay home and supervise.”

“Maybe you should,” he said, giving her a wink. “I’ll let you wear the lamp shade.” Flirting again—something he rarely did. But her sadness made him want to flip her emotions. He was someone different with Addy, that was for sure.

“I look terrible in hats. Just promise me you won’t strip for them. The last guy who took off his clothes at one of their bridge games needed therapy afterward.”

Lucas laughed. Which hardly ever happened. “Ah, Addy girl, you do make me smile.”

She stilled, her brown eyes growing sad. “Another time, another place, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s too bad I’m leaving.” He wanted to walk to her and take her in his arms. He wanted to kiss her, let her feel how much he wanted her. And, God help him, he wanted to stay a little bit longer.

“Bye,” she said, pulling the car door open. She stood a moment as if she wanted to say something more before giving her head a little shake and sliding into the car. Her sleek brown hair fell into a silk curtain as she ducked inside, and Lucas immediately wondered how it would feel tangled in his hand. He would tug her head back gently so he could taste her throat, slide his mouth against the pulse there, taste her, inhale her.

Addy lifted her hand to him in a small wave as she backed out her VW. A regretful smile curved those pink lips, and for a moment he almost called out to her to stay.

But he didn’t because he’d already decided not to venture into those waters. Wouldn’t be fair to a woman who’d endured as much as Addy had… but that didn’t change the fact he wanted her with a strange hunger he’d never felt before.

The car paused and the window lowered. Addy tilted her head toward him. “I meant to tell you I’d take Charlotte to her gymnastics class at five o’clock so you can take Chris to karate.”

“Thanks. If you can drop her, I’ll pick her up. Michael is riding home with the lacrosse instructor who lives a few streets over. His is the last class.”

“Sure,” Addy said, before pressing the accelerator and shooting out of the drive.

Lucas lowered his hand. This was it—all there was between him and Addy. Business only.

Shit.

He climbed the back steps and pulled out the key to the back door, not quite so happy to be alone in the rambling house. Somehow the thought of Addy being out of his reach was depressing.

Addy placed a tiger lily in the bouquet before plucking it out again. The bold yellow distracted from the soft pink of the orchids. She tossed it down with a sigh.

“Ain’t nothing satisfying you today.” Shelia tsked, shaking her head, making her large hoop earrings dance. “That man got you wound up?”

“What man?”

Shelia looked at her with flat black eyes. “The one you had plans with on Saturday. You picked up pastry at Buttercup’s for dinner that night.”

“Oh, well, dinner never happened. Charlotte threw up in the irises and ended any thoughts of more than work with the uncle. Probably for the best though. He’s leaving in a few days.”

“Mmm,” was all her friend said.

“He’s not anything to me. I’ve been helping out with the kids. Being neighborly is all.”

“That’s too bad. I could tell you liked him, and usually it takes you a while to warm up to a man especially after the flower on your windshield.”

True on all accounts. “You can tell that from one conversation about him?”

“I read body language. That’s our thing, right?”

Yeah, it was their thing. Women who’d been victims of violence learned to anticipate a fist or sense a harmful presence. Reading body language saved lives and allowed women to live in a world they often felt was against them. Addy learned how to recognize threat and protect herself. Actually, she felt better prepared than the average person—she recognized evil because she’d already met it. “Yeah, it’s our thing. Lucas is a good man, but that doesn’t mean he’s the right man.”

“Maybe it doesn’t, but you’re too young to give up on love. Me? I’m past my prime and happy doing what I’m doing. What Alfred did to me didn’t defeat me, but it made me awfully content to be alone. But you’re a youngun.’”

“Tell that to gravity,” Addy quipped, grabbing blue freesia to nestle into the arrangement. She affixed some moss to the base and added some small toadstools. Perfect. Whimsical and fairylike. Perfect for the Sweet Sixteen dance.

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