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Chapter Fifteen
Luke laughed and hugged his father. He turned to Hannah and introduced her to him. Then to Joey, his brother. Joey’s girlfriend, Kara Mannon. His uncle Tucker, who had gained at least twenty pounds since Luke had seen him last.
He already stood six and a half feet tall, and Hannah looked like a child next to him. His sons—the twins—had shown up with their spouses and children, and even Luke didn’t get all of their names right.
Hannah kept her beautiful smile on her face and shook hands. She asked the smallest children questions about what they were going to do with their summer vacation, and she talked to the teens about some band he’d never heard of.
While she did that, he migrated over to the cooler and pulled out a can of strawberry lemonade. Joey came to stand next to him, and he indicated Hannah with the oldest teenagers. “She’s pretty amazing.”
Luke looked at his younger brother, noting that he kept his light hair trimmed and neat. Very professional. He’d never gotten any tattoos, though he and Luke had talked about it many times. He probably wore a suit and tie to work, and Luke felt choked already.
What had he been thinking when he’d considered coming up here to work?
Joey’s eyes were a shade lighter than Luke’s, as was his hair. He smiled, and Luke decided he didn’t have anything to hide. “Yeah,” he said. “I think she’s pretty amazing too.”
“How long have you been together?”
“Couple of months,” Luke said, popping the top on his can and lifting the lemonade to his lips.
“You’ve fallen fast.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Fair point.”
“What about you and Kara?” He watched the blonde woman as she spoke to Uncle Tucker. “Does she work for you?”
“Technically, she works for Aunt Clementine. She’s the scheduling secretary for the gardening.”
“She grew up here,” Luke said.
“Yep.” The clipped tone told Luke to drop it. He wanted to ask his brother why he hadn’t married her yet, but he kept his question to himself. He’d missed some of his brother’s life, and he didn’t spend a bunch of time talking to him now. Regret filled him with the realization, because he wanted to have strong relationships with his family.
The truth was, it took a lot of work to maintain a relationship, and he had four men back at Hope Eternal Ranch that meant a lot to him. He thought about Nate, Ted, Dallas, and Slate, glad they’d been able to talk through the issue at Slate’s wedding.
It had only taken a few minutes too, and Luke had simply said he didn’t appreciate his friends—or men who were supposed to be his friends—judging him when they had no idea what he really felt.
Ted had said that Luke should tell them how he really felt, and he’d promised he’d try. He didn’t know how, though. The emotions inside him swirled and tangled, and he ended up frustrated and angry that he didn’t know how he felt about specific events in his life.
It was easier not to think about them at all. Just get up and go to work, day after day. Couldn’t he just do that?
“Let’s eat,” Mom called, and relief rushed through Luke. Once they ate, everyone would leave, and he’d get to visit with his core family. He wouldn’t have to be so guarded, and he wouldn’t have to worry about someone saying something to Hannah that would annoy or upset her.
He walked over to her and touched her lower back. “You ready, angel?” He smiled at the girl she was talking to. “Hey, Portia.”
“Luke.” She nodded and walked away, and Luke rolled his eyes. He told himself he didn’t need the approval of a fourteen-year-old and managed to wipe the irritation from his face before Hannah turned toward him.
“Wow, she doesn’t like you, does she?” Hannah asked. She never missed much, and Luke had forgotten that for a moment.
“No,” Luke said.
“Why not? What’s the story there?”
“She doesn’t believe in redemption, I suppose.” He surveyed the lot of them gathering around the long tables where his mother had placed the food. “She’ll grow up and realize people can change. People can change a lot.”
“Do you feel like you’ve changed a lot?” Hannah asked.
“Sometimes,” Luke said, not quite sure why she needed to know.
