Grandma Grace raised her eyebrows and tilted her head forward in a very particular way she had, and all of a sudden, Luna was ten years old again. “Sorry, Grandma,” she rushed to apologize, “I meant, what does she need done? How can I help?”
Grandma Grace smiled. “Good girl. That’s what I thought you meant. Now, as far as what she needs, why don’t you give her a call and ask her? But I think a good idea to propose would be providing some food from the diner. That’s kind of like those what-do-you-call-’ems that you’ve been trying to convince us we need to do. Promotions. Right?”
Wow. A one-two punch. Not only would Luna be doing good for the community, she would also be helping promote her grandparents’ business. There was no way she could say no.
What she hadn’t figured out yet was why Grandma Grace was acting so sneaky about the whole thing. What wasn’t she saying? What was the catch. Luna couldn’t figure it out.
“And just think,” her grandmother said, going back to the blasé tone that she’d started the conversation using, “You’ll have so much time to spend with Connor, since he’s the one helping you run the diner.”
Luna nodded, suppressing the wry smile that wanted to come to her lips. Her grandmother was so many things. Kind. Big-hearted. Well-intentioned. But one thing she wasn’t, and would never be, was smooth. And Luna liked it that way.
Chapter 14
Connor
Connor jumped out of his car and ran around to the passenger side door, opening it just as Luna reached the end of the walkway at her grandparents’ house.
She’d called him earlier that morning to tell him that Serge was being discharged from the hospital, and asked if he could pick her up so they could go and help Grace bring him home.
Something inside him had shifted when he’d heard the request. That wasn’t the Luna he knew. That girl had not only been allergic to asking anyone for help with anything, she’d also hated it when people offered. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single time in the past when she’d reached out and asked for his assistance.
This was a real step in the right direction, he thought. She was trusting him, maybe, in a way that neither of them had been equipped for when they were younger.
It was the first time that he felt a realistic hope, instead of just a vague wish, that they might be able to make it work somehow.
He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. This was no time to be getting ahead of himself, throwing his thoughts years into the future. Right now, he had to focus on the task at hand: getting Serge home and settled.
After all, this was the first time Luna had asked him for help...pretty much the worst thing he could do was fuck it up.
It was hard to erase a first impression.
As Luna climbed into the passenger seat and Connor shut the car door firmly behind her, Connor was reminded of the hundreds of times he'd done that exact thing before, when taking her on dates, or just to hang out.
He hadn’t done it in over a decade, but it still felt like the most natural thing in the world.
He came back around to the driver’s side and settled in behind the wheel. As he pulled away to make the short trip down to the hospital, he asked, “So, Luna. Are you excited about your grandpa coming home today?”
Her face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he felt a rush of pride in his chest at being the one to turn on those lights inside her, beaming out so brightly.
“Oh my God, you can’t even imagine,” she said. Her voice took on a little breathless quality under the words and his dick jumped in his jeans.
Get yourself under control, dude! This is not the time!
“It must be a relief that he’s well enough to leave the hospital.” Connor heard a rasp in his own voice when he spoke, and hoped she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice it. Or at least that she’d attribute it to emotions and not totally freaking inappropriate horniness.
It wasn’t the greatest sign that he had to make a real, deliberate effort to push down his feelings yet again, in the short time span of just a few minutes.
Not screwing up the one job she’d ever let herself be vulnerable enough to ask for his help with should not have been that difficult a goal, but he was having the hardest fucking time keeping his mind on the task and his eye on the ball when he was alone with her in the close quarters of the car.
He breathed out slowly and focused his attention on what she was saying.
“It is a huge relief. It validates that all of the doctors who’ve been saying that he’s going to be fine haven’t just been blowing smoke. It really is true—he’s going to have a long road to recovery, but he is going to be fine. It’s just a matter of taking care of him until he is.”
“Well, he’s in the best hands.”
“Aww, that’s nice. I’ll tell my grandma you said so.”
He smiled at her. “I meant you.”
She blushed but didn’t respond. After a moment of silence, he continued, “You have a huge heart. I know who I’d want to be taking care of me if I was laid up.”
She elbowed him playfully. “Trained medical professionals?”
He laughed. “Exactly. You know me so well.”
Their laughter died off suddenly at that statement, at the on the nose gut punch it carried, because it was...true. Painfully true. She did know him so well. And he missed that. Missed her.
He pulled into the closest available parking spot to the door and turned to her. She wouldn’t quite meet his eye and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was.
“Stay there,” he said quietly. “I’ll come around and get your door.”
She nodded, and he hopped out and opened it.
She put her hand out and he took it as she stepped out. It was automatic, another relic of their relationship. Still, though, his skin burned fire hot at her touch.
Damn, she was a powerful drug. And not only was he was addicted, he had absolutely no desire to get clean.
He slammed the car door shut and locked it, then turned and took her hand as they walked into the hospital.
She didn’t flinch or pull it away. In fact, she just gave his hand a little squeeze and then left hers there, resting warmly in his.
He hadn’t known how she would react. He’d just had an impulse and gone with it.
It hit him that maybe that was one of the problems with the way he’d always dealt with her in the past—way too much time wondering how she might react to things, and way too little time just living in the moment and following his impulses.
And, hey. If this was any indication, he had some good ones.
She did pull her hand discretely out of his just before they stepped through Serge’s hospital door, but he didn’t blame her. Why invite scrutiny? They were still figuring each other out. That didn’t take away from the three-odd minutes that he’d just gotten to hold her hand walking down these halls.
He didn’t care that no one had seen him, he’d been proud. The way he always felt when she was on his arm. The warm glow of that memory would be enough to live on for a while.
When they stepped through the hospital room door, Connor wasn’t surprised to see that Serge was already fully dressed and sitting in a wheelchair, ready to go. If Connor had just spent days in the place, he could only imagine how freaking eager he’d be to make his escape.