While they were setting the table, Rowdy’s brother Tucker showed up. Introductions were made and she knew before they told her that he had been in the Special Forces. There was just something about the way he carried himself. He still wore a very close-cropped haircut she could see when he removed his Stetson and hung it on the hat rack. Rowdy’s hair was more touchable, run-your-fingers-through-it type. Where both Morgan and Tucker had serious edges to their expressions, Rowdy’s was more open, and—she searched for the right word—light was all that came to mind. Rowdy’s eyes twinkled as he wrestled on the couch with B.J. and Sammy. His infectious laughter had Lucy wanting to join in.
She brought her thoughts up short, realizing that she was comparing Rowdy’s attributes with his brothers’. She had no reason to do that.
No reason and no want to.
Frustrated by her thoughts, Lucy marched back to the kitchen in search of a plate of food to carry. She needed something constructive to do. What was wrong with her, anyway?
Chapter Five
Dinner was a loud affair. But with that many boys crammed beneath one roof, it was to be expected. Rowdy enjoyed watching Lucy’s reactions to the wild bunch. She handled herself pretty well for a newcomer. Then again, how he was handling himself was the question, as he found himself sitting next to her.
He could tell Nana had her eagle eyes trained on them and wondered if she sensed the undercurrent.
He tried to hide his acute interest in Lucy. After all, he’d sworn off women for a while. And she was sorely putting that commitment to the test. What was that verse that kept popping into his mind—“Test me, oh Lord, and try me.” The Lord was doing a bang-up good job of it, and that was for certain. When he got home he was going to find out what the rest of the verse was so he could figure out a nice way to tell the Lord He could lay off. Lucy sitting next to him, at a crowded table, their elbows practically rubbing together, and smelling of something fresh and sweet— Refusing temptation had never been his strong point. He had always gotten low marks.
His dad said the blessing, having come in just before the meal was ready, and Rowdy talked to the Lord and expressed his concerns. When he opened his eyes and glanced to his left, Lucy was looking at him—and for a second he got the feeling she’d been talking to the Lord just as fervently as he had about being forced to sit with him.
* * *
“You’re an artist,” Randolph said, after he finished blessing the food. It was more a statement than a question. “And you’re tearing out and making a studio. How’s that going?”
Rowdy had the feeling she’d been trying hard not to look at him up to this point.
“I’m getting all the ripping out done first before I start the rebuilding, though.”
“Hopefully she’s gonna leave some walls, but it sure is fun knocking them out,” Wes called from his seat at the card table with Joseph and Tony.
“I’m leaving the major walls,” she chuckled, and the sound had him fighting not to lean in closer to her.
“What do you paint?” Caleb asked, his big blue eyes full of curiosity.
“Well, I paint whatever catches my eye—people, flowers, whatever. But I’m known for roads and landscapes.”
“You paint those yellow lines on the roads?” B.J. asked excitedly, and Rowdy was pretty certain the little kid thought that would be the greatest job in the world. Eight-year-olds saw the world in their own way.