Page 37 of Loyally, Luke
She chuckled again but let the conversation dim into silence. Good. He had plenty of things God was working on in him, so any idea toward a fairy tale would definitely lead to the wrong conclusions.
He nodded to himself. Exactly. Bah, fairy tales! No good. They set unreasonable expectations and led to Penelope singing too much for anyone’s peace of mind.
With a turn back toward the horizon, Ellie took a sip of her coffee and sighed. “Coffee is perfect for days like today, isn’t it?”
“I can smell the sugar in it from here.” Now, why did he keep teasing her if he didn’t want to keep talking to her? Stupid brain!
She tipped her cup toward him. “Sweet rewards for sweet personalities, I suppose.”
“Or”—he raised his mug—“you’re already so sweet, no added sweetness is necessary.”
Her laugh burst out and somehow made him feel taller. Better.
He really was losing his mind.
***
Ellie squeezed her coffee cup so hard she thought she might puncture it. Just the idea of Luke losing his shirt had her mind going much too close to the ogling direction! She’d been the one to accuse him and now found herself having a hard time pulling her attention from the way his T-shirt hugged his arms.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen attractive men before, even after she’d turned her life around, but his subtle humor and focused attention, paired with those arms and shoulders, proved the real attraction.
She squeezed her lips closed to stifle a grimace.
What was wrong with her?
And why had she even come out to talk to him? Any relationship with him couldn’t go where her interest wanted it to go! She knew this! He’d just stated how he loved where he lived because his family was “just down the road.”
But then he’d said her name—Ellie—in that deep, rumbling voice of his, and she’d nearly buckled at the knees. Heaven and earth! Why?
She’d been with plenty of men.
Too many.
And all the wrong ones, so a simple thing like someone saying her name shouldn’t have her wanting to curl up inside that flannel shirt of his, but here she was. Daydreaming and ogling like one of the best oglers in the world.
But she couldn’t seem to stay away, drawn to something in him she craved.
What was it? His goodness?
“You know...” She turned and rested her hip against the railing, looking up at him, the sunlight brightening those coffee-colored eyes. “You haven’t brought up the journal we found. Aren’t you curious at all?”
He stared down at her, his height and the size of those shoulders intimidating but for the glint in his eyes. She’d seen him with two of the orphan girls, overheard his conversation. He held a gentleness within his strong frame. A kindness.
And she... trusted him. More than she should at such a short acquaintance.
Her lips gave way to a grin. Perhaps he was more knight than he realized.
At heart.
“I’m curious, but I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to.”
Her emotions glitched in response. No games. No manipulation. “You are a very low-pressure sort of person, aren’t you?”
His smile widened and she forced her gaze not to drop to examine the tiniest indention at one corner. Was that a dimple? No! Not a dimple! On such a man? That just seemed like the cruelest sort of combination!
“I have my high-pressure moments. Mostly related to movies or building techniques.” His expression sobered. “I hate cutting corners and not giving people my best.”
He was definitely proving one of the good guys. “Well, that’s certainly worthy of high pressure.”
