"I'll check on you in a couple of hours. If you need something or want me to take you back to the inn, just text me."
"I'll be fine."
Sitting inside the little hotel room at the inn held no appeal. I didn't want to admit it to Luke, but I loved the thought of working here instead of a stuffy office. I could see myself doing some good work here. Making a real difference in their business.
The sweet, fresh air fragranced with lilacs and the warm breeze on my skin were a welcome treat. We didn't have quiet, relaxing places like this back home. Although I'd missed all the conveniences of the city over the past few days, in this moment, there was no place I'd rather be.
The realization was like a freight train roaring through my chest. At first, all I'd wanted was to flee this small town, and now I suddenly found myself hoping for a few more days here.
• • •
A few hours later, I shifted in my seat. My stomach reminded me that I'd worked through lunch, and my bladder piped up to remind me of the iced tea I'd downed hours ago.
Rising to my feet, I stretched and contemplated what to do. Text Luke? Ask him to take me home? Sneaking inside to find a bathroom won out.
"Luke?" I opened the front door and let myself inside.
An oak staircase off the foyer was about all I could see. I continued past it toward what I assumed was the kitchen and called his name again.
"Hey. In here."
I turned and saw Luke standing in the doorway of his office, a room off the dining room that held a large oak desk and several tall bookcases.
"I'm sorry to barge in, but can I use your bathroom?"
"Of course. Down the hall on the right."
I hurried past him, and once I'd done my business, I found him on the porch, flipping through the notebook I'd left on the coffee table.
"Hey, give me that. No peeking."
I grabbed it from him, a little self-conscious about my messy chicken scratch and random notes. He handed over the notepad without a fight, but stepped closer until we were standing just inches apart.
Luke had been so open today, sharing a piece of his past with me and letting me into his life. It was unexpected. And working up a marketing plan all day meant I didn't have time to dwell on my own issues-for which I was incredibly grateful.
As he gazed down at me, his eyes went soft. I wet my lower lip, sure he was about to kiss me, but the sound of a car driving up made me step back.
"Hey!" Molly climbed out of her car and reached for a grocery bag. "Fancy seeing you here!"
Chapter Seven
Luke
My sister's timing sucked. Had for years. The brat had the audacity to be born during our Little League championship game, abruptly stealing my thunder when I hit my first home run.
Keeping up her perfect record, Molly had just interrupted a kiss that I'd been working for-and thinking about-all afternoon. And now she had the nerve to beam at us as she joined us on the porch.
"Stay for dinner," Molly insisted when Charlotte said she'd better get going.
I nodded when Charlotte looked in my direction, gauging my reaction. If she stayed, I might get another chance at that kiss.
"I'm grilling fish," Molly told her, and added with a wink, "Healthy."
Charlotte smiled. "I really have no choice then, do I."
"No, ma'am." Molly pulled open the screen door, glowing in her triumph. "It will be ready in fifteen."
"She must have been planning this," I told Charlotte in a low voice once we were alone again. "She said earlier we were eating spaghetti tonight."
"It's sweet."
"That's Molly. Sweet." I shook my head. "Not at all manipulative."
Charlotte laughed. "That's a strong word."
It wasn't the first time that day she'd let out that laugh, so easy and natural. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she actually liked this place, and my family. Me, even. After the way things got heated last night, I wasn't sure if we'd be able to get back to friendly, but here we were.
"She's just trying to be welcoming," Charlotte said.
"Mm-hmm."
Knowing Molly's game, I was skeptical. Get Charlotte to stay, and maybe her brother's mood would improve. As much as my sister's tricks usually annoyed me, I was happy that Charlotte had agreed to stay.
Charlotte glanced away. "I can go if you don't want me to stay."
"No, no . . . it's not that. I . . ." I stammered through my sentence like a teenage boy before I remembered that I was a grown-ass man, a man who knew what he wanted. Charlotte was looking me in the eye, waiting for something intelligible to come out of my mouth, and I needed to man up. "I want you to stay."