Still, it raised the question: Why was Lucas single? She’d never really thought about it, but now that she did, it didn’t make sense. The guy was kind, thoughtful, and respectful. He was a hard-worker and the opposite of self-absorbed. Any single woman with half a brain in her head—
Her steps came to an abrupt halt at the sight of him, working on a fence just as Kit had said. His hair was pulled into a scruffy ponytail at the back of his head and even from here, she could see the sweat glistening on his brow as he hefted a roughly hewn fence post and shoved it into the ground.
He swiped the back of his forearm over his forehead, the sleeves of his dark green shirt rolled to his elbows. He straightened the post, then lifted the thinner but longer curved plank it connected to.
And that’s when he saw her.
He lowered the plank as she started moving toward him again. Why was she nervous all of a sudden? Because you’re here to apologize. Because you were a jerk to him last night.
Because for a second there, as she’d watched him work under the pale morning sun, she’d suddenly realized that in addition to every other good trait her friend possessed, Lucas Danby was also incredibly attractive.
“Hi.” She stopped in front of him. Don’t make this weird.
Easier said than done considering whatever it was she was feeling right this second. Awareness, that’s what it was. And she didn’t like it. Not one strange and uncomfortable and unexpectedly intriguing bit. She didn’t.
Did she?
“Mornin’.” He eyed her with wariness. “I’ve got a pretty good guess why you’re here, Belville, and you really don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do. Because I’m really sorry.” The words rushed from her. “I didn’t mean one word of what I said last night. I was just panicking, and I guess when I panic, I get stupid or something, but that’s not an excuse. Any of the kids could’ve had an accident at any time and it wasn’t your fault and I’m sorry.”
He leaned his elbow on the fence post. “All right.”
“All right? Does that mean you accept my apology?”
“Only if you’ll accept mine.”
“You don’t owe me one.” She pushed a fluttering piece of hair behind her ear. “I just said it wasn’t your fault.”
“At least let me apologize for the text. I mean, I thought I was being succinct, but what did you call it? Offensively unhelpful?”
“‘There was an accident,’” she recited. “‘Vi’s hurt. We’re at the ER.’ How was that not supposed to induce fear in me?”
Amusement glinted in his hazel eyes. “So you don’t accept my apology?”
“Did you ever actually make one?”
How had she never paid attention to his smile before? Honestly, it was downright handsome.
He put both palms on her shoulders. “Jenessa Belville, I am really sorry that I am so bad at texting. I promise to be excessively verbose to the point of obnoxious next time I text you.”
“Well.” Her voice came out breathless. “I’ll hold you to it.”
“I don’t doubt . . .” His voice drifted as his focus lowered to his bared forearms. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he lowered his arms. He lifted his right hand and took hold of his rolled sleeve.
“Don’t.”
At her single word, he froze.
“I’ve seen the scars plenty of times.” And though she’d wanted to wince each time, somehow she’d always known it was better not to react. Better not to look at all than to stare.
So why was her gaze pinned to them now? They climbed his arms, varying shades of reddish-pink and white, fading away above his elbows. The skin itself might be puckered, but the muscles underneath were well-defined—not bulky but nearly as noticeable as the scars.
“You shouldn’t have to keep them covered up all the time. They’re part of you.”
Any teasing had vanished from his expression. He just stared at her for a moment, the amber hue in his eyes deepening. And then, “Not the nicest-looking part.”
She needed to say something light. Rein in a startling onslaught of questions she didn’t dare answer. Like why she suddenly felt so flustered at how near to Lucas she stood. Why she felt far too warm and far too aware of each agitated breath. “Well no. That’d be the eyes. Or maybe the hair and beard. Kind of gives an overall Aragorn effect.”
She backed up, stumbled over a lowered fence plank she hadn’t noticed. Lucas’s arm shot out to steady her.
“I should go. The kids. Hayride . . . uh, it’ll be over soon. Bye.”
She turned, her swift steps swishing through tall grass. What in the world was that? Was she actually running away?
“Oh, I’m supposed to invite you to dinner at the Everwood tonight,” she called behind her as she kept moving.
“Hey.” Lucas’s voice rang out. “Didn’t realize you were into Lord of the Rings.”
She looked over her shoulder. The clouds had drifted, freeing a river of sunlight to ripple over his face. “Well, it’s a day of surprises for both of us.”
Lucas pulled open the front door of The Red Door, the tempting smell of burgers and fries drawing a growl from his stomach. Hopefully Noah wouldn’t take too long to get here. He was starving, practically ravenous. He was . . .
Well, he was in a darn good mood, that was all.
Something he wouldn’t have thought possible after Violet’s accident yesterday. But he’d somehow slowly turned the tide with Noah this week. And he’d had Kit’s fence fixed by noon today. Plus, he hadn’t had a nightmare all week. All reasons to celebrate.
Or he should stop pretending and just admit to himself that it was Jen’s visit to the field this morning that had done a number on him. There’d been something different in that interaction.
Something he liked.
Only thing that could improve his day was smoothing things over with Sam. Which was why he’d picked this particular spot for lunch. Sam almost always had lunch at The Red Door with his daughter on Saturdays. Which meant he’d probably be in a good mood, too. Perfect time to approach him. Lucas hadn’t liked the way they’d left things the other day.
His stomach gurgled again as he stepped inside, the stylish interior of the restaurant as pleasing as its expansive menu. He remembered hearing about Beckett’s cousin’s plans to renovate the old First National Bank years ago. A cool idea, he’d thought, but he never would’ve pictured this.
Seth Walker had entirely gutted the place, letting wood tones and as much natural light as possible set the atmosphere. He’d used cobblestone from Maple Valley’s old Main Avenue to build a counter near the back and included a fireplace in one corner.
“Lucas Danby.” The mayor’s boisterous voice cut into his thoughts. “Come on over here for a moment, son.”
No sign of Noah yet, so he moved toward the table where the mayor sat with several others. Oh, and hey, maybe luck was on his side. Sam was at the table, too. But why wasn’t he with his daughter?
Sam’s nod was friendly enough. Maybe they wouldn’t even have to talk about that conversation the other day. Maybe Sam had let go of his doubts and Lucas could pretend they’d never bothered him in the first place.