Page 31 of Loyally, Luke
“No.” She chuckled. “Not at all.”
His gaze took in the village. “My town, Mt. Airy, North Carolina—it’s small like this and hugs the Blue Ridge Mountains, but...” He shook his head and sighed. “I have to drive a good distance to get views like you have here, if I can even find anything close. There’s a wildness to it here.”
“Which often frightens people.” She raised her brow in challenge and watched his grin tip in such a way her heart fluttered a bit. “The wildness and... solitude.”
“I’m a fan of both.” His brow and words challenged her right back.
She smiled and he sighed, looking back ahead of them. “Especially the solitude right now. Pete’s a talker. And a singer.” Luke sighed again. “He even talks in his sleep.”
It had been much too long since she’d laughed so readily. It felt good and... strange at the same time. Luke offered a comfort in conversation she hadn’t often experienced. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he had no idea who she really was, so there was an easeto the conversation. But the longer she spent in his company, she was beginning to think it was just him.
He was incredibly genuine and sincere.
Qualities with which she’d had little experience in previous... friendships. Besides Maeve, of course. And Maeve’s brand of genuineness came off as terrifying sometimes.
“I got the sense he was the more outgoing of the two of you.”
He chuckled, soft and low. “I’m glad you’re so good at reading people.”
“In this case, the process wasn’t difficult.” A sudden chill shivered the smile away. “Actually, it’s a learned skill after reading poorly so many times in the past.”
He looked her way, taking in her words with a nod.
His silence held a simple and welcome acceptance. No quick praise, censure, or ridicule. No unwanted curiosity. And she realized that perhaps acceptance wasn’t so simple after all.
What was it about this man that felt so... familiar? Well, perhaps not familiar, but so... good.
With a blue-and-black flannel shirt covering a black T-shirt, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and worn brown boots, he looked almost as much a part of this village as any native. Could he truly be as authentic as he appeared?
“You like this village, don’t you?”
She sighed and glanced up the building-lined street, a few lampposts dotting the way. “Love it. I’d stay here all the time if I could.”
His brows rose in surprise, but he stayed his response.
“Ah, I’m too proper and poised for simple village life, you assume?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I wouldn’t say our first few meetings gave off country girl vibes.”
“Maybe you’ve gotten me wrong?”
“I think that ran both ways.” He gave her a pointed look.
Her attention never wavered from his. “Yes, but I’ve admitted my fault.”
“You’re right.” He chuckled and looked down at her, his gaze as warm as the sound of his laugh. “Sometimes I don’t mind being wrong.”
She glanced away first, the moment teetering on an awareness shecouldn’tappreciate. Not with him. She desperately needed to move the conversation onto safer ground.
“Your eye is looking better.”
He raised a brow. “You’re gonna have to try that again if you want me to believe you.”
And there went her smile again. “I’m serious. It does.” She groaned. “I am so sorry.”
“Really, Ellie. It’s just fine.” He gestured toward his face. “This is small in comparison to some of my other work wounds. Construction isn’t the most accident-free occupation.”
“I would imagine those accidents aren’t usually caused by someone else.”
