Josie Day Is Coming Home (16 page)

Chapter Nine

For the next two weeks, Luke worked harder than ever before.
He reshingled the porch and parts of the main house. He fixed the rotting
staircase, forced the heating system up to code, and started laying new
antique-style floorboards in the parlor. He hammered and sawed, hauled and
plumbed and caulked. Most of the repairs were basic—necessary because of
neglect and the house’s long vacancy—but there were a lot of them.

Anybody who saw him would have sworn he was working for
Josie. Luke knew there was more to it than that. With every crack in the wall
he replastered, he imagined Blue Moon’s asking price going up. With every rain
gutter he cleared and every broken pipe he soldered, he imagined taking the
cash he’d make from the estate and converting it into the motorcycle repair
shop he’d dreamed of.

Most often, he pictured the look on his father’s face—the
look Robert Donovan would wear when he realized that Luke had as much vision
and determination as any other Donovan…and that he’d created the means to
satisfy that vision with his own two hands—
not
his former trust fund.

The whole time TJ stayed at Blue Moon, munching corn dogs
and asking Josie about showgirls. Sometimes he worked. Occasionally he mowed
the weeds, started water fights with the garden hose, or followed Josie around
to make sure she wasn’t overdoing it while her sprained ankle healed. The rest
of the time he concentrated on being his usual smart-mouthed self—and on
getting in the way, preventing Luke from getting to know Josie in the way he’d
have preferred to get to know her.

Intimately. Physically. Carnally.

Instead, Luke was pushed into a crash course on Getting to
Know Josie—the “G”-rated version. With TJ constantly underfoot, Luke
and Josie talked over coffee in the mornings. They talked over bologna
sandwiches—the extent of their combined cooking expertise—in the afternoons.
They talked, talked, talked over takeout pizza and beer in the evenings. Then
the whole cycle started again the next day, punctuated by hammering and sawing
and the smells of Lysol and Windex.

The weird thing was, despite his initial pissed-off
objections to TJ’s presence and the hands-off getting-to-know-Josie routine that
had been forced on him, as time went by Luke found himself kind of enjoying it.
He liked getting to know Josie in a different way…a way he didn’t typically
get to know women until much later. She was funny, he discovered. A little
raunchy. And smarter than she looked.

Not that there was anything wrong with the way she looked.
Hell, no. To Luke’s eye, she looked terrific—even while wearing something as
non-showgirlie as cutoff denim shorts, a tank top, and a pair of elbow-length,
yellow vinyl cleaning gloves.

“I think I’m developing a kink for cleaning
ladies,” he told her, seeing her headed his way one afternoon with a
bucket in one hand and a definite sway in her sneakered stride. “The
minute you snap on those gloves, I get hot all over.”

“That’s the thought of me making you pick up a
mop,” Josie replied with a grin. “It’s Cleanaphobia.” She kept
on going.

At that moment, seeing her smile and her sassy little march
in the opposite direction, Luke would have sworn he felt something special for
her. He might even have paused to consider it—if not for TJ’s irritating
“you’re in love with the boss lady” jig from the other side of the
room.

Despite Luke’s expectations, when it came to the cleaning
she’d promised to do, Josie acted less like a spoiled showgirl and more like an
ordinary woman. An ordinary woman who got excited over Swiffer Dusters and
wet-‘n’-dry shop vacs, sure. But definitely a regular woman.

“I can’t believe you’re so cheerful about
cleaning
,”
he told her one day as she scrubbed the banisters. With vigor. “Most
people hate it.”

“‘Most people’ meaning you?” she’d asked
knowingly. But then she’d only shrugged and gazed at the results of her work
with a smile. “I don’t mind. I’ve never owned anything before. Now that I
do, I want to take care of it.”

She did, too. Every day Josie cranked up her boom box and
carried it from room to room as she worked, often—once her ankle healed—dancing
along with the music.

Luke didn’t think she realized she was doing it. He guessed
dancing was so much a part of her, Josie couldn’t hear any rhythm without
moving. She two-stepped while vacuuming, wiggled her ass like J.Lo while
washing windows, swiveled her hips in a sexy cha-cha-cha while carrying out the
trash.

Once Luke even caught her tapping her toe to the beat of his
hammering floorboards. He paused, deliberately changed his rhythm and started
again. Josie’s toe-tapping changed, too—and she added a head bob while she
mopped. He didn’t admit it to TJ, but he thought it was cute as hell.

Less endearing was her habit of ducking anyone who came to
Blue Moon. The mail carrier, the meter reader, the newspaper boy—it didn’t
matter who. Josie didn’t want to be seen. Luke couldn’t blame her, especially
after the way Luanne and the people in Donovan’s Corner had treated her…and
continued to treat her, whenever she ventured into town. But after a while, it
got to be a problem. The doorbell rang and Josie bolted, leaving a trail of
HandiWipes and Lemon Pledge behind her—and leaving Luke to pick up the pieces.

At first he didn’t mind. Most of the time, whoever was at
the door—the mail carrier, the meter reader, the newspaper boy—was there to see
him. Plus, answering the doorbell himself gave Luke a chance to keep his
“handyman” cover story intact. But then everything changed.

Josie’s family tracked her down.

“Tell her I’m not here!” Josie yelled, scurrying
upstairs the first time Nancy Day appeared on the front steps in her megawatt
jewelry and fancy Realtor’s suit. “Tell her I went back to Vegas!”

Luke cracked open the door. He gave Nancy a bland look.
“Josie says she’s not here. She went back to Vegas.”

Nancy Day smiled patiently. “I’ll come back another
time, then. Poor Josie never was very good at confrontation.”

Luke doubted it.

“She’s always been terribly stubborn, too. I’m afraid
it’s a bit of a family failing.” Nancy sighed. Her gaze flitted over his
shoulder. “By the way, did I hear the estate will be on the market
soon?”

He eyed the anticipatory way she examined the foyer, as
though measuring it for a real estate brochure. “You didn’t hear it from
me.”

“Oh. Well. My mistake, then. This place would fetch a
pretty penny, though. Do keep me in mind if the owners decide to list it!”

She pressed another business card in his hand, then tromped
down the porch steps in her high heels. In the driveway, she shaded her eyes
and gazed unerringly to the second floor window where Josie must have been
peeking out. Nancy frowned, so briefly Luke thought he might have imagined it.
Then she turned, waved gaily to a pine-needle-raking TJ, got in her Caddy, and
drove away.

“She wants the listing,” Josie said from behind
him. She raised on tiptoes and gazed over his shoulder as her mother left.
“The real estate listing for Blue Moon. That’s all she comes out here for,
you know.”

Luke wasn’t so sure. “Maybe she comes out here to see
you.”

“Hmmph. Not when I haven’t got free show tickets and
comped passes to Celine Dion at Caesar’s Palace to give her, she doesn’t. My
mom
loved
it when I worked in Vegas.”

“She might love having you in Donovan’s Corner, if you
give her a chance.”

“No way. First I give her a chance. Then the next thing
I know, I’ve got my whole family out here visiting.” Josie shuddered.
“No, thanks.”

“Why not? How bad can they be?”

“Let’s put it this way. There’s a reason I moved two
hundred miles away.”

“You didn’t move two
thousand
miles away,”
he pointed out. “You had to go to Vegas to become a showgirl.”

“The distance involved was a definite perk, believe
me.” Deliberately, Josie dragged her gaze away from the empty driveway. She
cocked one hip. “You don’t believe me? How about this. You know those
gross, chest-bursting creatures from the
Alien
movies?”

“Yeah.”

“Compared with my family, they’re pussycats.”

Luke couldn’t help but grin. “Isn’t that a little
harsh?”

“Oh, please. It’s not.” She crossed her arms over
her chest. “I mean, come on. Do you get along perfectly with your
mom?”

“My mom died when I was seven.”

“Oh. Oh, Luke.” Eyes widening, Josie reached for
him. She patted him tentatively on the biceps. Then, as though suddenly making
a decision, she hugged him. “Mmmmph. Mmmmph.”

He couldn’t understand a word. Putting his hand over her
hair, he turned her head so she wasn’t being smothered in his T-shirt. When
Josie decided to hug you, she
really
decided to hug you. She went all
out.

“What?” he asked.

“I said I’m
so
sorry. That must have been awful
for you. Oh, my God. I’m a complete idiot to have said something so
thoughtless.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not!”

“My dad bought me a pony right afterward.” He
shrugged. “I think that was supposed to make up for it. That, and the
riding lessons with my nanny.”

Josie leaned back, gawking at him with a stricken look. Her
pretty green eyes shimmered with tears. Whoops. He knew better than to tell
that damned pony story—especially with the nanny chaser. He’d learned that a
long time ago. What was the matter with him?

And what was the matter with Josie? She seriously looked
about to cry. Given her usual bravado, he was surprised.

“Wow, are
you
a soft touch,” he said.

Her mouth opened. Then her nose crinkled.
Ah-hah,
that nose crinkle said.
I’m in on the joke, buster
.

“You’re so full of it!” She sniffled. “Your
nanny. As if. And a pony. Hah!” She gave him a feeble smack on the arm.
“I can’t believe you’d kid about something like that.”

“It was a long—”

—
time ago,
he started to say, but she lunged at him
again before he could finish. Her next hug knocked the wind out of him. She
squeezed so hard, he thought his balls might pop.

“And just to make me feel better about saying something
so terrible, too, I’ll bet,” she mumbled into the shoulder of his T-shirt.
“You big softie.”

“Hey. Watch it. That’s not a nickname guys appreciate.
Although the ‘big’ part is okay. Under the right circumstances.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Big.”

“That’s better.”

“Just remember,” Josie said, suddenly serious,
“I’m here if you want to talk about it. You don’t have to be tough with
me.”

“Okay.” He patted her back.

Just as he started enjoying having her in his arms, Josie
pulled away. And as she released him, even as she gave him one last “chin
up” gesture of solidarity, Luke knew she was wrong.

He did have to be tough with her. He had to be tough with
everyone. It was the only way to survive.

“Damn it! I should have known she’d double-cross
me.”

With a sinking feeling, Josie stared at the shiny SUV
pulling into the driveway at Blue Moon. In the passenger seat, she recognized
her sister—aka, the parent-pleasing traitor. Behind the wheel, she spotted
Jenna’s husband, David. And in the big white pimpmobile behind them, she glimpsed
her mom and dad.

Damn it. She’d told Jenna to come alone.

“This is all your fault.” She aimed a frustrated
look at Luke, then glanced back at her family. “I give out one
teensy-weensy little chance, and look what happens.”

He glanced toward the driveway. “What?”

If he was too clueless to realize it, Josie wasn’t
enlightening him. “I’m going inside. Tell them I’m not here.”

“Hold on.” Luke grabbed her arm when she would
have run from the porch. “I need you here. Don’t let go.”

He nodded toward the porch crossbeam, which she’d been
holding over her head while Luke hammered it in place. Josie sighed. Because of
its length and diagonal position, he couldn’t hold it and hammer it
simultaneously.

“You don’t understand. I’m not ready for all of them at
one time. I called my sister, but only because—”

“Yoo-hoo!” Jenna waved from beside her SUV’s open
rear door. She reached inside, unbuckled Emily from her car seat, and pulled
her on her hip. On the opposite side, Hannah scrambled out. “The gang’s
all here!”

Josie felt a rising sense of panic. “Only
because,” she hissed to Luke, “I thought I’d, you know, give her a
chance.”

“Like I said to do.”

“No,
not
like you said to do.” Of
course
like he’d said to do. What did he think, she was made of stone? Knowing that Luke
had lost his mother had really gotten to her. It had made her look twice at her
own family…and the way she and her dad had been semi-estranged for years.
“I was planning to do this anyway.”

He only looked at her, his gaze filled with understanding. “If
you say so.”

She raised her chin. “I do.”

“Okay.” Luke flipped his hammer, then caught it in
a fancy move that seemed effortless. He set it on the porch railing, looking
cheery. “I can’t wait to meet the rest of your family.”

Josie frowned, still holding up the two-by-four. “What
about needing to hold this?”

“Drop it. It’ll keep.” He crossed the porch, his
gaze fixed on her family making their way toward the house. His work boots
thumped the floorboards with authority—almost as though he owned the place.
“We’ve got company.”

He’d tricked her. Damn it. He’d kept her there just long
enough that everyone in her family must have seen her standing on the porch.
Josie was more than willing to run away—but not when anybody could see her
doing it. She did have her pride.