Ready for Love (6 page)

“Hurting you again. I have to go home after Labor Day. After everything that happened between us before—”

“Clean slate, remember?”

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you again. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Remember what I said the other night about being a boy with no options the last time we were together?”

She nodded.

“This time, I’m all grown up with my eyes wide open to what might happen.”

“Still…”

With just the tip of his index finger to her chin, he compelled her to look at him. “I’ve been warned, Syd.” He kissed her softly, sweetly with none of the urgency he’d shown earlier. “Come to dinner and bring Buddy. No pressure. No expectations. Just dinner.”

“I—”

He rested a finger on her lips. “Come if you want to. Or not if you don’t feel up to it. Either way, it’s up to you.”

“You can be very charming when you put your mind to it.”

His smile transformed his entire face. Sydney remembered the punch of that discovery the first time around. “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’d better get you back inside before we start a five-alarm Gansett scandal.”

“Probably already too late.”

“Sorry about that,” he said with what sounded like genuine regret.

She could tell she caught him off guard when she went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m not. It was well worth it.” Before he could reply to that audacious statement, she left him to rejoin her friends.

Sydney spent the entire next day debating Luke’s invitation. She went through the motions of cleaning the large Victorian house, changing sheets, grocery shopping, walking Buddy. One minute, she was going to Luke’s for dinner. The next minute, she’d talked herself out of it.

By four o’clock, she had worn herself out.

“It’s just dinner,” she told Buddy.

He stared at her, almost as if he was calling her out on her bullshit.

“Did I tell you he kissed me?”

Buddy continued the ruthless stare.

“It was a good kiss. A
really
good kiss.” She went upstairs with the dog trailing behind her. “If I go over there, it’ll happen again.”

Sydney stretched out on the bed.

Buddy jumped up and settled next to her.

She ran her fingers through his silky hair. “I want to go,” she whispered. “Does that make me a bad person?” Sydney realized she was actually expecting Buddy to answer her. Rather, he let out a deep sigh, as if her pontificating annoyed him. “I know what you mean, Buddy. I’m sick of me, too.”

Sydney watched the ceiling fan for a long time. “All right. I’ll go, but only if you come with me.”

He extended his paw.

Smiling, Sydney took it and gave it a shake. “Deal.”

As the sun dipped low over the pond, she grabbed a bottle of wine and the brownies she’d baked and headed for the car with Buddy tagging along at her heels.

Driving the familiar roads that led to Luke’s house brought back a slew of memories of his old pickup, of late nights and summer breezes, of first love and heart-pounding desire.

Sydney couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so nervous. At least she hadn’t fretted over what to wear. She’d chosen a denim skirt with a white T-shirt and sandals. Luke was the most casual person she’d ever known, so there was no point in dressing up for him. He’d never been impressed by style or flash.

She pulled onto the long dirt road that led to his house at the end. As she navigated the final turn, the nerves she’d battled all day resurfaced.
What am I doing? He didn’t say what time. What if he’s not even home?

His warmly lit house came into view. At least he was home. She turned in next to the dark green pickup truck that was parked behind the house. Before she could chicken out, she opened the car door.

In a move that reminded her of the Buddy she’d once known, he jumped over her and sprinted off into the darkness. “Great,” she muttered, gathering the wine and brownies and starting after him.

“This guy belong to you?” Luke asked, grinning as he waited for her with Buddy panting next to him.

Sydney swallowed hard and tried to ignore the goose bumps that broke out over her skin at the sound of his deep voice.

“He doesn’t get out much,” Sydney said.

“He and I have that in common.”

“Still a homebody?” she asked as he gestured for her follow him on the lighted pathway to the door.

“Some things never change.”

And that, Sydney decided, was comforting.

“I wasn’t sure what time—”

“I didn’t think you’d come—”

He turned to her, smiling. “I’m glad you came.”

“So am I.” She handed him the wine and brownies.

“You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Come in.” He ushered her into the modest ranch-style house with the million-dollar water view.

Sydney had once spent a lot of time there, and the memories came flooding back when she saw that hardly anything had changed. Luke’s mother had been welcoming and supportive of their relationship, whereas her parents had been disapproving and judgmental, so they’d spent much more time here than at her house.

She glanced around at the worn but comfortable sofas, the overflowing bookshelves and elaborate telescope, which was new.

“I know—I need to redecorate,” Luke said. “Somehow I never got around to it.”

“I’ve always loved how cozy this room is.”

“Especially in the winter with the woodstove going.” He gestured for her to follow him to the kitchen. “What can I get you to drink?”

“What’re my choices?”

“Beer, soda, wine, water.”

“Wine sounds good.”

He offered the chardonnay she’d brought and a pinot noir.

Syd chose the chardonnay, and as she watched him open the bottle, she couldn’t deny the pull she felt drawing her to him. But was it the comfort? The history? The familiar? Or was it something all new? She wasn’t entirely sure, so she focused on the meal he was in the midst of preparing. “What’re you making?”

“My own invention—cut-up meat, vegetables and potatoes, dump them all in foil with either teriyaki or barbeque sauce and put it on the grill. Voila. Dinner.”

“That’s fabulous.”

“And easy.”

“I’m all about easy.” As soon as the words left her mouth, her face heated with embarrassment that was exacerbated by his low chuckle.
 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Needing something to do with her suddenly fidgety hands, Sydney picked up the knife. “What can I do?”

Curling his hand around hers, he relieved her of the knife. “Not a thing. You’re my guest.”

A zing of attraction zipped through her at the feel of his hand on hers. “That doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

He gestured to the stools at the counter. “That’s exactly what it means.”

“All right,” Syd said as she settled on one of the stools. “If you insist.”

“I insist. So how was your day?”

She couldn’t exactly admit she’d spent most of it trying to decide whether or not to come for dinner. “Housework,” she said. “Nothing exciting. How was yours?”

“Busy. Typical summer day at McCarthy’s. Boats coming and going. Big Mac playing Wiffle ball with the kids on the dock.” As he spoke, he chopped potatoes and peppers. “Dogs, families, bikes, grills, the usual chaos.”

Sydney smiled at the picture he painted. “Is Mr. McCarthy still working?”

“Every day, even though he hardly needs to with me and Mac running the place.”

“It’s working out well? With Mac?”

Luke shrugged. “He’s great. Just like his dad. Nothing really changed.” He opened the antiquated fridge and withdrew a plastic container. “What’s your pleasure? Chicken or steak? Teriyaki or barbeque?”

Sydney contemplated the choices. “I’ll go with chicken and barbeque.”

“Then I’ll do steak and teriyaki. We can share if you want.”

“Perfect.” Despite the attraction that complicated everything about this evening, Sydney realized she was more relaxed than she’d been in months.

“Come on out with me while I grill.” He stepped around the counter and led the way through the dining room to the deck.

Sydney followed with Buddy trailing just behind her.

“I was hoping we could eat out here if the fog held off,” he said.

The evening remained clear and warm, ideal for alfresco dining. “Such an incredible view,” she said as she lowered herself onto one of the comfortable lounge chairs. Whereas her parents’ house overlooked the pond, Luke’s place faced the ocean with the pond just across the way.

“I like it.”

The statement was so typically Luke, to reduce a million-dollar view to three small words, that it drew a smile from her.

He put the foil pouches on a sleek stainless-steel grill and closed the lid. “Stay put for a sec.” Carrying the platter inside, he returned a minute later with a bottle of beer and settled on the lounge next to hers.

Deciding there was no chance of scraps for the moment, Buddy plopped down on the deck.

Sydney curled her legs under her and turned so she could see Luke. His dark hair was as silky as she remembered, his skin brown from the sun, his hands strong and efficient. As she studied him, Sydney felt a subtle change taking place within her, a reawakening of sorts. She was suddenly more aware of the sizzle of food cooking on the grill, the scent of the sea and fresh-cut grass, the slight dampness in the warm air, the chill of the glass in her hand and the sharp sting of desire.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked.

“That this is nice, being here with you again.”

He reached across the gap between their chairs and took her hand. “It’s great to have you here.”

Once again, his touch set off a tingling reaction that had her full attention. “Are you happy with your life, Luke?” She wasn’t sure where the question came from, but she really wanted to know.

“I’m content.”

“Is that the same thing?”

Pondering his beer bottle, he shrugged. “I’m not
un
happy.”

“Do you ever think about doing something else?”

“Not so much anymore.”

“You had so many things you wanted to do.”

“Life happens.”

Sydney knew his ailing mother had kept him on the island when he should’ve been leaving for college. “Are you ever bored?”

He released a short laugh. “Nope. There’s always something to do. We’re straight out at the marina in the summer. Last winter, Mac and I renovated a couple of kitchens and a bathroom. Keeping this place up takes some work. I stay plenty busy.”

“Would you ever consider living somewhere else?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

He glanced at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Who’s asking me to relocate.”

As Sydney absorbed that statement, Luke got up to check the grill.

He moved the pouches around and then turned to her, leaning against the rail that surrounded the deck. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

“I’m sorry. I’m curious about your life.”

“No need to be sorry. Not much has changed. I’m still the same simple guy I always was. I don’t need a lot to be happy.”

She’d once loved that about him—desperately. He was unlike anyone else she’d ever met, and that was still true.

“What do you need?” he asked. “To be happy again?”

“I’m trying to figure that out.”

He returned to the other lounge and sat facing her. “I give you so much credit.”

“For what?” she asked, perplexed.

“Trying to figure it out. So many people who’d been through what you have would’ve given up.”

“I came close,” she confessed. “It was pretty rough for a long time after.”

“I can’t imagine. When I heard what’d happened, God, I just. . . I
ached
for you.”

The emotion behind his softly spoken words touched her deeply. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. It’s part of who I am now.”

“I admire who you are now even more than I admired who you used to be—and that was quite a lot.”

“I’m a work in progress,” she said with a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.

He flashed that potent grin. “Aren’t we all?”

“Don’t try to fool me. You’re not in progress. You’re all grown up.”

“I’d like to think so,” he said, his eyes shifting to the water, “but sometimes I wonder.”

“About?”

“Whether there might be
more
.” He brought his eyes back to focus on her. “You know?”

The intensity she saw in his gaze caught her off guard. “What do you want that you don’t have?” she managed to ask, even though she suspected.