She nodded, picking up a sketch pad on the floor beside her. She handed it to him. His fingers brushed hers as he took it. “This your studio?” he asked, trying not to send any signals that would put a wall up between them.
She’d had her hands folded together in her lap, and now she just nodded. This had been a bad idea on his part. But to be true to the path he’d committed to with the Lord, he was keeping his distance.
Looking into her eyes, he knew he was a fickle soul. That had always been his problem where women were concerned. But if he didn’t want to run Lucy off, then he now understood he would have to move slowly. She was different than any woman he’d ever known.
He yanked his gaze away from hers and stared at the drawing. He sent up a prayer for help.
Because he did have good intentions.
“Yes. I drew it up and kind of lost track of time. The contractor starts on Monday.”
She’d hired a contractor. He’d known this was coming, had thought as much earlier, but he knew that meant his time here was done. He hadn’t realized it was going to hit so hard. “So you’re kicking me and the boys out?”
“Y’all have been wonderful, but a girl can’t wear out her welcome. You have a job to do and the guys have enough on their hands with school, ranch work and preparing for the rodeo.”
It was true.
“Besides, I only agreed to let y’all help for a short term. And my agent really needs me to get busy.”
True again.
“You’re sure this doesn’t have anything to do with me grabbing you like a jerk and kissing you?”
She stared up at the rafters for a moment, engrossed in the moths playing in the lamplight as she stalled for time.
“Maybe some. But you have been nothing but great to me since the moment I moved in here. It’s me. There’s—” She stopped speaking and took a deep breath.
He waited.
“I didn’t tell you the whole story the other day.”
You haven’t told her the complete story, either. “Look, about that. I need to say something here,” he said.
She shook her head. “No. I need to tell you something first. I think you deserve to know so you understand.”
His gut burned with the need to come clean. It was as if once he’d realized Lucy deserved to know, he needed to get it out. But ladies go first. “Okay, then you first.”
“I’ve told you that my husband was having an affair when he died. It’s hard to think about, much less talk about.”
Lucy’s expression was so mingled with anger and sorrow he wanted to put his arms around her and comfort her. But he couldn’t move.
He caught himself before blurting out that her husband was an idiot. “Who in their right mind would do that to you?” He finally said what he’d been thinking ever since she’d first told him about her husband’s cheating.
She wrapped her arms together across her midriff and held his serious gaze with one of her own. “Tim Dean Calvert, that’s who.”
Tim Dense Calvert. “So were you still together when the fire happened?” he asked, wanting to know more—he’d felt from her first revelation that there was more to this story. She’d said they were asleep. So she’d overlooked the affair. That didn’t strike him as the Lucy he knew.