Page 36 of Loyally, Luke
Luke took his cup of coffee and walked out onto a large veranda connected to the back of the castle. He still shook his head every time he thought of working in a castle. If this had happened to Penelope, he wouldn’t have blinked an eye. But he wasn’t the castle sort.
Though he had to appreciate the architecture.
And the perfect situation of where the owner had chosen to build the place.
Even as a chilly bite clung to the March breeze, Luke had to take any opportunity to appreciate the view. Miles of views. Rich green hills rolling up to jagged mountains. A lake off to one side.
He squinted.
And what was that in the far distance? Some sort of estate house?
He’d never admit it out loud, but this whole island was like stepping into a storybook. He preferred thinking of it more like something out of an epic movie likeThe Lord of the Rings, but he couldn’t help the occasional turn of thought, despite his attempts, toward the fairy-tale story direction.
“It’s a pretty spectacular view, isn’t it?”
He turned to find Ellie joining him at the veranda railing, her gaze focused on the view ahead. He’d spent most of the morning reordering his thoughts and tugging his emotions to comply, so when she turned up, looking all comfortable and cozy with that cup of coffee between her palms, it only took five seconds to pull his attention from her profile.
Five.
That was much better than the last time.
“Like nothing I’ve seen before.”
She turned toward him. “Didn’t you say there were some lovely mountains near where you live? Something bluish?”
He tilted his head, studying her. “You were listening that carefully, Ellie?”
“Maybe. And I might have googled images.” Her lips twitched. “Trying to see this world from a novel point of view is difficult. It’s all I’ve known.”
“I get that.” He nodded, taking another sip of coffee. “Besides going on a few mission trips to South America, I’ve not traveled much from home either.”
“Do you... like home?”
Her hesitation drew his gaze to her face. “I do. I like the place, the people. I like knowing who to call when I need something and where to go to find it. And I like the scenery and the quiet. And that my family is just down the road.”
“I always thought people like you were from fairy-tale stories.”
He nearly spit out his coffee. “What?”
Her grin resurfaced. “You’re, what do they call you, one of the good guys?”
“Not sure good guys are just reserved for fairy tales, or at least I hope not. I’d like to think they’re a lot more... real than that.”
She rolled her eyes with a sigh. “You know what I mean. Honest, reliable, authentic.” She waved toward him. “But instead of a knight’s armor, you wear flannel.” A chuckle wrapped around her words.
“And instead of a sword, I carry a hammer?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not sure whether you’re trying to compliment or insult me.”
“I’ll let you sort it out then.” She took a sip of her coffee and wiggled her brows, and the nothing box exploded from all the extra things he started stuffing in it at that moment.
“I’d like to think I’m those things,” he said, rushing ahead before stopping himself. “Not the fairy-tale things but the other parts.” He drew in a breath. “But I’ve got feet of clay like anybody else, and sometimes it’s stubborn old red clay that refuses to budge.”
She stared at him, a soft smile on her face. “Hmm...”
“Don’t get me wrong.” He called on some humor for cover from any romance-y ideas. “It’s all the flannel. It sets off good guy vibes.”
“So lose the shirt and you’re a scoundrel?”
He gave his head a firm shake. “Now why would anyone want to get rid of a perfectly good flannel shirt?”
