“Are you kidding me?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” She pushed her coffee aside and stood up. “I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”
He could tell by the resolve in her voice that she didn’t mean she was heading home. She was leaving town.
He tried to draw a deep breath but couldn’t quite overcome the impact of her words. “The Victorian isn’t finished yet,” he said, even though he was supposed to be making her a huge offer to get her to do exactly what she’d just told him she was going to do. They could find Gabe another place. Mike couldn’t imagine anyone, even his best friend, living in Lucky’s house.
Lucky’s…Since when had he stopped thinking of it as his grandfather’s house?
“If you want to continue with the repairs, you can do it after we close escrow,” she said.
He swallowed hard. “But I haven’t made you an offer yet.”
“Make me one.”
“I’m not ready.” The thought of Lucky driving off with all her belongings in her blue Mustang made him feel hollow inside.
“Then you can mail it to me.”
“You’re going to let those two bullies chase you out of town?”
He’d hoped he could challenge her, appeal to her fighting spirit. Lord knew not many women possessed a stronger one. But she didn’t rise to the bait, which made him fear she was already completely committed.
She shook her head. “It’s not just Jon and Smalley. It’s your family and this town and—”
“And what?” As if that’s not enough… He had to keep her talking, get her to reconsider, at least until he could figure out how he felt and what he should do.
She didn’t answer right away. Crossing the kitchen, she came to stand before him, so close he thought she might slip her arms around his neck. She didn’t touch him, but he longed to touch her—to part the robe and find the warm skin buried beneath those layers of clothes, to reassure himself that she was really okay.
If only he didn’t feel too numb to move. He’d known she’d be leaving eventually. He’d been counting on it so his life could return to normal. But…
“I’m in love with you, Mike,” she said softly, her eyes wide and honest, “so in love that I can’t even ask you to love me back.”
Mike caught his breath. He always did his best to avoid such declarations. “I love you” put him in an uncomfortable position. He generally replied with a polite, “Thank you,” then proceeded to distance himself from the person in question—because he’d never felt strongly enough about a woman to become responsible for her future happiness or to risk his own. But he didn’t know how he felt right now, except that he didn’t want to say thank you or goodbye.
“What if I don’t want you to go?” he asked.
She gave him a sad smile. “I’d go anyway.”
MIKE STOOD AT THE WINDOW of the spare bedroom where Lucky was sleeping, the bedroom she’d used that first night, and stared out at the moon. Damn Smalley. If he and Jon hadn’t hurt Lucky tonight, she probably would’ve let things ride for another month or two. Somehow another month or two sounded much better than saying goodbye to her tomorrow.
She stirred on the bed and he glanced over, wondering if she could sense his presence, and his turmoil. He didn’t want her to leave Dundee. He didn’t even want her to leave his house. But he couldn’t ask her to stay. Not when he’d never been able to commit himself before, not when he couldn’t say with some assurance that he was in it for the long haul. His decision affected the happiness of too many people.
He rubbed his eyes. During these last weeks in Dundee, she’d been through enough. It would be kinder to let her move on and eventually meet and fall in love with someone else, someone who wasn’t connected to her past and who had a family that would embrace her and love her as she deserved. Better to let her settle in a town with no prejudices or animosity. She was so young; she deserved a younger man.
But her words—I’m in love with you, Mike—echoed in his brain over and over again, and tugged at his heart. He wished he could protect her, wished he could tell everyone, including his own family, that if they tried to hurt her in any way, they’d have to deal with him first.
Except he was afraid he’d be the one to hurt her in the end.
She moved again, and he realized she was having trouble sleeping. He told himself he should slip out, before she found him here. But if this was to be their last night together, he didn’t want to spend it in his own room.
Crossing to her, he sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the hair from her face.
A second later, she blinked up at him.
“Hi,” he said.
“What is it?” she whispered.
He couldn’t say. He didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to feel, to touch her, one more time.
Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her gently, coaxing her to understand—and he knew she did when her fingers came up and slowly undid the buttons of his shirt.
LUCKY KNEW as she drifted off to sleep an hour later that something significant had happened. She felt it in the way Mike had moved, the way he’d touched her. She guessed he’d recognized the difference, too, simply because he’d been so somber. But when she opened her eyes the following morning, she knew last night hadn’t really changed anything. She’d come to Dundee with the childish hope of gaining a father. Instead she’d lost what was left of her heart—and her soul—to Mike Hill.
Rolling over, she reached for him. She wanted to discuss the details of selling him the house, recognized how difficult it would be to speak to him later. But he was gone.
She sat up—and it was then she heard voices coming from elsewhere in the house.
Lucky’s stomach tensed as she wondered if it might be Mike’s parents.
Getting up, she walked gingerly to the door. After doing her best to fight off Smalley and Jon last night, and being thrown around in the bed of that truck, her sore muscles complained at the slightest movement.
“They’re idiots.” Mike’s voice, filled with impatience, drifted back to her as she quietly opened the door. “Why would they file a police report after what they did to Lucky?”
“Because Dave’s furious. You messed Smalley’s face up pretty bad, Mike. I saw him when he came in, and I’m telling you he looks like he’s been in a damn train wreck.”