Page 30 of First Love, Second Draft

“And they’re already getting friendly?”

“She’s not a teenager.”

“She’s my wife.”

“Ex-wife.”

“Stop saying that.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“Stop sayingthat.” Noah massaged his temples. First chance he got, he was stringing Matt up to a telephone pole. He couldn’t have mentioned Mr. Friendly? Given Noah a heads-up?

“Here you go, sugar.” Lyla plopped down two plates of pancakes stacked high with melting butter. “Need anything else?”

A barf bag. Noah grabbed his stomach.

“We’re good. Thanks.” Abe pulled his plate closer and began slathering butter all over his pancakes. “You really didn’t know?”

“How would I know? Gracie hasn’t said a word.” Noah stabbed his knife into his pancakes. “And why isn’t this bozo helping her out if he’s sofriendlyand great?” Not that Noah wanted this bozo anywhere near Gracie.

“He had to leave town this week,” Abe said around a mouthful of pancakes. He wiped syrup off his lips with a napkin, then continued. “He’s a business owner. Runs some construction companies. Does a lot of traveling, I guess, to get the new projects up and running. At least that’s what Lizzy says. She knows a nurse at the hospital who’s good friends with the lady who plays organ every third Sunday at church. Personally, I think there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

Noah stopped hacking at his pancakes long enough to aim his knife at Abe. “What do you mean?”

Abe eyed the knife. “Can you at least put some butter on that utensil so this doesn’t feel quite as threatening?”

Noah dipped the knife to his plate, scooped up a glob of melting butter, then flung it at Abe’s face. “Better?”

“Much.” He cleaned off his buttery chin with a napkin. “I don’t know. Luke just has this look about him. A swagger. Like he’s a gunslinger with a mysterious past. You know, like that one movie about that one guy. Oh, what’s it called? Classic Western. The kid keeps yelling his name at the end. Shawn! Shawn! Come back!”

“You know why he didn’t come back? Because his name was Shane.”

“Ha!” Abe snapped his fingers with a laugh. “That’s right.Shane.Anyway, Luke reminds me a little of him. Only super nice. Thewomen here all love him. Even Mona, and you know that’s saying a lot.”

That was saying a lot. Noah fiddled with his fork.

“But you want to know the real kicker? He’s rich. Yeah, apparently his business is doing great and he’s made quite a fortune for himself. But here’s therealreal kicker—”

“How many kickers does one guy get?”

“He’s handsome too. At least that’s what the women say. I wouldn’t know. Just looks like a mysterious cowboy to me. But Lizzy claims he’s like our very own Sam Elliott. Without the mustache though. Which I really don’t get. How can he be Sam Elliott without the mustache?”

“No idea.” Noah didn’t even know who Sam Elliott was. But right now he was more concerned about Bozo Luke. “So will he be moving again because of his job?” Noah certainly hoped so.

“Good question. I’m guessing it depends on how friendly things get between him and Gracie—or if he needs to defend any homesteads from getting overtaken by bandits. What? I’ve been watching a lot of Westerns lately. I can’t help it.”

“Definefriendly.”

“Oh, you know. Getting coffee. Going to movies. Chatting after church. Friendly stuff.”

Despite the nausea still swirling inside his gut, Noah dug into his pancakes. Forced a bite down. “Okay, fine. Friendly. But friendly doesn’t mean Gracie’s about to walk down the aisle again, does it?”

“For Buck, I think it does.”

“What’s Buck got to do with this?”

“Everything. You know how much she adores her dad. And he’s not doing so well.”

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