Free Lucas by Kelli Ann Morgan

ears. He smiled at Lucy, took his
hat and cradled it in his arm, then reached out and took her hand in his.
    Lucy forced herself to
breathe. His touch sent tingles up her arm and filled her chest with a
substance lighter than air.
    Together, they took a
step forward, then another, until they’d gingerly made their way to the back entrance
with Brewster happily bringing up the rear.
    “I think we’re safe
now,” she said, unable to keep the chuckle from her voice.
    Lucas released her hand
to open the door. “After you,” he said with a wink.
    She stepped inside and
showed him the bowl in the sink where he could put the eggs.
    “Oh, no you don’t.”
Tillie marched from behind the counter and led Brewster back outside, then
dusted off her hands and looked up at Lucy. “How many?” she asked as she broke
off another section of dough and added the rolled ball to the pan without
missing a beat.
    “Ten.”
    The plump cook grunted
in satisfaction. “Now, I need those boxes.”
    “Oh, yes, we were just heading
up for them.” Lucy untied her apron and returned it to the hook on the other
side of the pantry, then looked up at him. “We have to go up into the attic.”
    She showed him through
the house, smiling at how wide his eyes grew when he realized there was an
indoor privy with an extensive adjoining room for bathing. They passed by the
library, the formal dining area, and the staircase on the far side of the
house.
    They climbed two
flights of stairs before they reached the small door leading up to the attic.
    “They’re just in here.”
She stepped into the garret and climbed the few steps that led up to the main
floor. The musty smell of memories long forgotten welcomed them.
    Several boxes and dusty
crates were stacked along the perimeter of the spacious room, offset only by a
few pieces of old furniture and a child’s rocking horse.
    “Looks like a bunch of
old junk. Why would Granddad keep it?” Lucas ran his finger across the top of
the timeworn desk, leaving a trail where he’d wiped away the thick layer of
dust.
    A large casement window,
thick with dirt and cobwebs, caught Lucy’s attention. She trod across the
creaky wooden floor and wiped a small section of grime from the glass. The view
looked out over a far pasture where the horses could be seen running through
and playing in the fresh snow. She jiggled the operator handle, but it wouldn’t
budge.
    “Let me try.”
    She turned and stood,
nearly crashing into the broad expanse of Lucas’s chest. She looked up, her
mouth suddenly dry.
    “I’m sorry, I…” she
couldn’t finish her thought as her gaze turned to his mouth as it slowly
descended toward her. She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes. Waiting.
    “I think it just needed
a little nudge.”
    A wisp of cool air rose
up her back until it caressed the bare skin at her neck. Her lashes fluttered
open and she found herself, back pressed against the inside window sill, mere
inches from Lucas’s large form.
    “It’s a nice view.” He
took a step backward, away from her, a grin spread across his face as he shoved
his hands into his pockets, exhaling heavily. He locked eyes with her for a
moment, then turned to glance over the rest of the attic.
    Lucy’s heart beat with
incessant rhythm and she brought a hand to her throat, playing with the lined
edge of her dress there. She managed to smile back at him, but could not force
herself to move.
    He laughed as he strolled
along the walls of boxes. “What’s this?” He pointed at one of the crates. It
looked more like an old traveling case. ‘Gabe Deardon’ was clearly stenciled on
the side. “I think it belonged to my father.”
    The air in the attic
had grown nippy, so Lucy turned enough that she could crank the window shut.
    Lucas tried to pull the
trunk out from beneath a few boxes that had been stacked on top, but when he
yanked on the handle, it came apart and he flew backward into the old desk and
knocked a stack of papers out