Page 2 of Loyally, Luke
Penelope:I know. Sometimes it makes me sad to think about that. The right hat can really change a person’s day. Or the right shoes. I think Luke wouldn’t be so grumpy all the time if he had better shoe choices.
Izzy:Luke’s fine. I mean, I hope he’s fine. I’m going to text him again.
Text from Luke to Izzy and Penelope:I’m here and I’m not responding to any of your messages until I’ve had coffee. Thank me later.
There were precious few things in life that Luke required.
Coffee was one of those things.
And with the headache pressing in on his skull with a viselike grip, stopping for coffee might be the difference between life and death... for other people. He walked through the airport, squinting as he scanned the shops on each side. Flying didn’t usually bother him, until it did. And then it made up for lost time.
Thankfully, he’d been to Skymar once before, and since the airport wasn’t large, he didn’t have to think too hard about directions. Which was a mercy from God because he was having a hard enough time trying to think at all.
A mixture of English and the local language of Caedric blended around him as he waited in line, the noise and lights aggravating the ache. Pushing past pain wasn’t new to him. He’d known the wrong end of too many accidents in his job as a carpenter and stonemason. Most left a scar or two. But headaches carried a different sort of internal, brain-distracting, teeth-grating kind of pain.
He rolled his suitcase behind him and adjusted his backpack on his shoulder as he stepped into the line at the nearest java joint. He’d appreciated his short visit to the island a few months ago to help his sister Penelope rescue a stage production ofThe Sound of Music. The folks had been friendly, the pace slow, the air fresh and clean. And the vastness of mountains and sea on the horizon promised plenty of space and quiet, which suited Luke just fine.
In fact, spending the last visit in the city of Mountcaster, though quaint, made Luke all the happier that most of his work in Skymar this time would take place in more isolated locations.
A cabin in the forest. An old stone barn by a lake. The small village of Skern.
Quiet, tranquil, with the added bonus of using his workman’s hands to take something from broken to beautiful.
Safe and sound from following in the footsteps of his two sisters, who’d both experienced romantic adventures in this country. His headache sharpened at the very idea of romance. Nope.
The company of his dogs proved a lot less painful than his romantic past.
The scent of oranges mixed with some floral smell hit him in the gut and tightened his head all over again. With the added smell of coffee, he felt a fresh bout of nausea lodge in his throat.
Usually he liked the smell of oranges, but not today.
He swallowed and shifted a step back.
Ahead of him in line stood a woman who wore a light blue scarf over her head and massive sunglasses and kept her face bent over the phone in her hand. Something about her snagged his attention, which only added to his current annoyance.
With those heels and that tight skirt, it was hard to ignore biology.
She had nice legs.
So he looked right back up at the coffee display, even though he already knew exactly what he wanted. Simple. Easy. One large black coffee. Hopefully, that order would be the same no matter which language or coffee franchise he used. Maybe desperation radiated off him in a language any coffee connoisseur understood.
His gaze dropped back to the lady, who’d turned just enough for him to make out her profile. A slightly familiar one? Maybe it was the fact that the scarf and sunglasses added a dash of mystery. Or fame?
Well, if she was famous, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint her. He and social media had as nonexistent a relationship as his current love life, which suited him just fine too.
His shoulders might be big from all the brick laying and stonemasonry, but they sure weren’t big enough to hold all the problems dancing around in the cyberworld.
He grimaced at the very thought and glanced back at the woman.
Who did she remind him of? He pushed through his aching skull to land on a memory. Was it from a movie? A spy movie?
She didn’t look like anyone fromRambo. He squinted.Indiana Jones? One of the blonde villainesses came to mind, but that wasn’t exactly it.Mission: Impossible? No. Though that particular blonde was definitely easy on the eyes... and terrifying.
An older movie, maybe? And then the blurry recollection began to take shape... and his nausea took a turn toward disappointment—in himself.
Grace Kelly.
He closed his eyes and groaned, further frustrated that he’d actually remembered the actress’s name.
