jokes.”
“Oh, Parker.” At the loyalty in her friend’s
voice, Josie felt a wave of homesickness wash over her. Great. Less than twenty-four
hours into her great adventure and already she was buckling under. “I
don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“Hey, at least you’re not trout fishing.”
Josie mustered a weak smile. Giving up on opening the door
for now, she sat on the porch steps. They were made of smooth stone, as cold
and unwelcoming as the rest of the place.
“The thing is, I had this great idea to open a dance
school here.” At the admission, tears welled in her eyes. She blinked. The
view of the overgrown estate grounds came into focus, reminding
her—unfortunately—of exactly how big a mess this really was. “You know,
like I used to talk about doing? There’s this ballroom here that would be
perfect for a studio…. Oh, who am I kidding? This whole idea was crazy to
begin with.”
“You could make it work.”
That was Parker. Always encouraging.
“Or you could wind up one of those nutty old ladies who
live in abandoned mansions. You could wear only black and peek out the windows
at the neighborhood kids. They’d be so scared, they’d pee their pants.”
“Nice vision of my future. Crazy Lady Wets-a-Lot.”
“I’ll keep you company. I do a great bloodcurdling
shriek. Must be in the genes.”
At that, Josie perked up. That sounded like a clue to
Parker’s mysterious past. “In the genes? What genes?”
“Umm, my skinny jeans. There’s nothing like wriggling a
size eight ass into a pair of size six jeans to make a girl scream bloody
murder.”
Josie was sure Parker was hiding something.
But before she could question her further, a distraction
appeared. Luke. And he seemed to be bearing gifts.
“Parker?” Interested in spite of herself, Josie
let her gaze roam up Luke’s blue jean-clad legs, skim past his hips, and settle
on the paper sack in his hands. “I’ve gotta run. Welcome Wagon’s
calling.”
“Call me if you change your mind about that scary old
lady routine,” Parker said. “I’m there in a heartbeat.”
“If I decide to terrify little kids
semi-professionally, you’ll be the first to know.”
She snapped her phone closed, then confronted Luke.
“The stupid lock is broken again.”
“I’ll fix it.”
“Don’t bother. I’m leaving.”
He angled his head philosophically. “Leaving?”
She nodded. “Yeah, tonight. As soon as I can get my
stuff out of the house.”
“Hmmm. You might as well have this first.”
Unconcerned, Luke pulled something from the paper sack and
held it toward her. A Styrofoam take-out box, balanced in his big manly hand.
His big, stupid, didn’t-fix-the-lock hand. Unreasonably, looking at him made
Josie mad all over again.
“I don’t want it.”
“Spoiling for a fight, huh? Move over.”
Before she could protest, Luke hunkered down and nudged her
sideways. He settled his studly backside on the steps beside her, then balanced
the take-out box on his thighs. Josie couldn’t seem to tug her gaze away from
the sight of his hands. They might be incapable of fixing the damned lock, but
they did look tanned and gentle against the pearly Styrofoam.
Pearly Styrofoam ? Geez, she was losing it. She had to
get out before she started rhapsodizing about supple cardboard or
something.
“Do you always sneak up on people like this?” she
groused.
“I came up past the carriage house.” He nodded
toward the pine trees, where the gravel drive meandered once it passed Blue
Moon’s front door. “You haven’t seen any of the outbuildings yet.”
“That’s probably a good thing. If they look anything
like the rest of the place, I’d probably have to fire you if I saw them.”
“Geez. You get crabby when you don’t eat.” He
patiently unfolded the arms she’d flopped, crisscross-style, over her lap. He
set the Styrofoam container in their place. “Hurry up. Riding here on the
back of my bike probably didn’t