Page 62 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

“You’re wrong about me,” he said. “You feel something with me that you don’t with him. Admit it.”

“Chemistry’s great, but your life isn’t here and mine is. There’s no solution for that.”

“Samantha, dear, are you coming?” Effie’s voice carried from somewhere up ahead.

“Coming, Effie,” she called, swiping at her eyes. “Good-bye, Lukas.” Then she tugged her arm free and ran ahead.

Fifty feet later, Samantha face-planted. Upset, running too fast, trying her best to run from something she simply couldn’t run from. She’d no sooner sat up and brushed the gravel off her hands than Lukas was at her side, feeling her arms and legs, making sure she was okay, and acting like she’d just passed out instead of tripped over a fricking branch. His touch was firm and massaging, and for just a second, it made her forget the blinding flash of pain in her ankle.

“Did you hit your head? Does anything hurt?” He was unzipping his backpack, dumping out all the stuff until he seized on a first aid kit.

“My ankle.” She started to stand but he gently pushed her back down. Next thing she knew he’d untied her boot and tore off her sock. (Good thing she’d recently painted her toenails.) They both saw the horrific sight at the same time—her right ankle was the size of an orange.

Then Lukas was touching her, gently fingering her foot everywhere like she was his Gibson or something, and lordie, it was so damn good to be felt up by him, even if it was just her extremity, she almost cried.

“Don’t—touch me,” she managed. But she didn’t mean it, not a single word.

He gazed up at her, an irritated look on his beautiful face. Should she be getting turned on during a foot crisis? She couldn’t seem to help it. The man had eyelashes longer than Kim Kardashian. And his were real. “Sam, I’m examining your foot.”

She scowled. “What do rock stars know about that?”

He ignored her and ran his hand along the curve of her arch, placing her foot on his thigh.

Then he made the mistake of touching the orange, which was now actually edging up to grapefruit size. “Ow,” she cried out, unable to hide her wince. “You can stop now.”

“Sorry.” He removed his fingers, but her foot still lay on his thigh. “Pretty feet.”

She frowned. “That’s your diagnosis? Do you always flirt with injured people?”

“Nope. Only screaming fans.”

“Well, I’m not screamingora fan right now. But touch it again and I can probably manage to belt out a good one.”

He ignored that, too. His gaze assessed her from head to toe. “You don’t tan at all, do you? Let’s drag your butt over to the shade before you get burned.”

“Well, compared to you, who changes races when he tans, no. I do not tan. It’s my dad’s half, the Irish half.” She knew she was rambling and she really had to stop. “You don’t have to act so ... concerned,” she said as he helped her into the shade.

“I’m not acting.”

He looked up at her, and suddenly she was flushing, and not from the sun, and the heat was working its way down into other places she didn’t want to think about. Just when she was catching her breath, he reached up and touched a curl. “Irish eyes. Irish hair. A bonny lass you are.” It would have been funny, except it wasn’t. He said it soft and slow, his hand grazing her cheek. She had to fight not to lean into it. Intohim. He smelled wonderful, too, like summer day and dammit, the way he used to smell long, long ago, when she was just a girl and they used to sit huddled together on the park bench at the beginning of this very trail, and watch the stream course by and talk for hours.

Except she wasn’t a girl anymore and she had perspective. Trouble was it was blurring fast.

Next thing she knew, they were surrounded by the two boys, who’d come running down the trail. Stevie stood near, looking stricken and clutching his blanket.

She gave him a wink and a smile. “I just twisted my ankle, honey. No big deal.”

James offered her a water bottle. “My dad says don’t drink it. Use it like ice on your ankle.”

“Well, thanks, Doctor James. Where is your dad, anyway?”

“Grandma Effie’s yarn got tangled around a tree and he’s helping her get it off.”

Finally, Ben showed up with the two ladies and took a look and said it was probably just a bad sprain. “Lukas and I can carry you back.”

“How about I stay here till after your hike?” Sam said. “Effie can wait with me. That way the boys can still have their fun.”

“I’ll wait too,” Alethea said. “We can eat somespanakopites.”

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