The Sweetheart Bargain (A Sweetheart Sisters Novel) (14 page)

“Oh, did I forget to mention I brought one for my grandson, too?” Greta pressed a hand to her chest and shook her head. “I tell you, when you get old, your mind just becomes a sieve.”

Just the mention of Luke Winslow sent a rush of heat through Olivia. That man . . . oh my, could that man kiss. She could only imagine how good he would be at everything else in bed. He was also a distraction she didn’t need. She’d thought when she met Luke that maybe he’d make a great back-on-her-feet fling. Instead, the more she got to know him, the more she uncovered a complicated, layered man who was anything but a fling.

She needed to steer clear of that. She’d already screwed up one marriage and had no intentions of adding to her personal relationship detritus. Even with a man like him, who tempted her in ways in which she hadn’t been tempted in a long, long time.

“I’ll, uh, let you get over to Luke’s,” Olivia said, taking one of the paper-wrapped sandwiches before handing the bag back to Greta. “Thanks again for lunch.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” Greta took a step forward. Stopped. Winced. Let out a sharp gasp. “Goodness gracious. There are days when this hip just likes to bite me back.” She rubbed at the outside of her leg and grimaced. “Lord knows what I was thinking, walking all the way here from Golden Years. Sometimes I forget I’m not twenty anymore.” Her face scrunched and she took a couple of slow, painful steps down the sidewalk. “See you later, Olivia. Oooh, ouch.”

“Wait. Let me help you.” Olivia put out an arm and waited for Greta to slip hers into the crook. Olivia took the bulk of Greta’s weight, and then the two of them made their way the few hundred yards from her house to Luke’s driveway, then down the walkway to the front door. Along the route, Greta winced a couple more times. Olivia resisted the urge to chide her for walking so far and instead vowed to go easy on Greta at her next therapy appointment. Stubborn and determined, Greta had probably overdone it.

“You doing okay?” Olivia asked.

“Yes, yes. Almost there.”

They climbed the three porch steps, slowly, with Greta putting one foot on a step, then the other, before exhaling and taking the next step in the same manner. When they reached the door, Greta let out a sigh of relief and leaned on the jamb to push the bell. “Thank you, dear. I appreciate you helping me over here. Now if you could just stay a bit and help me to a chair, I’ll call a cab for the trip back. I’d ask Luke, but he’s . . . well, he has his own challenges.”

That meant seeing Luke. But Olivia couldn’t just leave Greta standing on the porch. “Of course, of course.”

The door opened and Chance squeezed out between Luke and the door, his tail thwapping a happy beat against the wall. Olivia gave the dog a tender pat. “So this is where you got off to again, you silly dog.”

“He’s always over here. Like he thinks he lives here or something.”

Olivia tousled the dog’s ears, then raised her gaze to Luke. For once, he didn’t have his sunglasses on, which made the full force of his blue eyes hit her hard and fast, like lightning. The scar had healed more, no longer an angry red, but now faded to a dark pink. He’d shaved, and the smoothness of his cheeks and jaw made her think of that kiss. Lord help her, she wanted another one like that. Right now. Damn.

She redirected her attention to the dog. “I’m sorry about the dog. Chance comes over here every chance he gets.”

“Chance?” Luke asked.

She shrugged. “That’s what I named him. When I went to the vet’s they needed a name for the chart, and Chance sounded good to me. He’s gotten a second chance at life, and I think all of us deserve that, don’t you think so?”

“Yeah, I do.” His voice was low, quiet.

“I think he’s attached to you,” Olivia said, giving the dog a tender pat.

“Clearly, he didn’t get the memo about me being an ogre.” Luke’s gaze lingered on her features for a long, hot second before his attention went to his grandmother, still clutching Olivia’s arm. “Grandma, are you okay?”

“Just that darn hip. I’m fine. I brought you lunch.” She gestured toward Olivia, who held up the bag from the deli. “Lord knows you’d die of malnourishment if you were left to your own devices.”

“Pizza contains all four food groups, you know.” His features softened, and he gave Greta a grateful nod. “But thank you. I appreciate you thinking of me.”

Whenever Luke interacted with his grandmother, Olivia saw another side of him, a side that cared, worried, tended. She suspected that was the real Luke underneath all the anger, but she still didn’t understand where the bitter side came from. What had happened to bring out this other Luke, a man who lived in the dark and growled like a dog backed into a corner?

Luke’s attention swiveled toward Olivia again. Like a spotlight. A smirk flitted across his lips. “And thank you too.”

“Oh, I didn’t—”

“We better get these sandwiches out of the wrappers before they get soggy,” Greta interrupted, taking the bag from Olivia and thrusting it into Luke’s hands. “Aren’t you going to invite us in to eat with you? Be a good host, Lucas, and don’t leave us ladies to swelter on the porch.”

For the first time since she’d met him, Olivia saw Luke get flustered. He sputtered, then stopped, frustration in his brows and his stony expression. She could tell he wanted to refuse but would clearly never deny his beloved grandmother anything. “Of course, Grandma. You know how much I
love
to entertain,” he said.

Greta shrugged at the dry sarcasm and patted her grandson’s cheek. “It does a body good to socialize. Keeps you from talking to yourself.”

Luke sighed but opened the door wider and stepped aside. Greta headed in first, followed by Chance, then Olivia.

“And no snide remarks about the Early Bachelor décor,” Luke said as she passed him.

Olivia grinned and glanced up at him. “I had no idea that pizza boxes and beer cans were de rigueur for accent pieces.”

“Don’t forget the boxers on the floor,” he said against her ear. “They add the perfect touch of I-don’t-care-what-the-designer-thinks to the space.”

Her face heated and a ribbon of desire unfurled in her gut. A boxers man. Oh. My. Now her mind was picturing his muscular body in a pair of plaid cotton shorts. Showing off a lot more than just his delicious legs. “Those, uh, those might be hard to ignore.”

And hard to keep on, should she ever find herself in a bedroom with him. A part of her wanted to journey to that destination. Very, very much.

A grin curved up one side of his face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Greta was already in the kitchen, bustling around, grabbing plates and napkins. “Come on, you two. Sit, sit,” she said as they came into the kitchen, with Chance taking a space by the back door. The golden let out a contented sigh and slid to the ground, watching the humans.

“Did I ever tell you my grandmother is bossy?” Luke said to Olivia. But he placed a kiss on Greta’s cheek and did as she asked.

“Someone has to tell you what to do and take care of you, you big lug. At least until you get yourself a wife.” She wagged a finger at him.

His face paled two shades. “Grandma, I’m not—”

“Oh my goodness!” Greta popped to her feet. “Will you look at the time? I’m meeting the girls for lunch. I darn near forgot. Luke, you can have my sandwich. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Then she was gone, whirling out of the kitchen so fast, Chance let out a bark of surprise. The front door shut with a decisive click. And Olivia and Luke were alone.

“What the heck was that?” Olivia asked.

“That was us getting snookered by a woman more than twice our age.” He chuckled and shook his head.

Olivia had fallen for the entire hurting hip act, hook, line, and sinker. She’d never imagined Greta would try to fix her up with Luke. But then again, hadn’t Greta talked about Luke almost every time Olivia saw her? Olivia glanced at the table and realized this had been Greta’s plan from the first
ouch
. “Well, that explains why she only laid out two plates.”

“My grandmother is smart as a fox but as obvious as a billboard. Anyway, if you want to go, I’ll understand. She kind of roped you into this.”

“If it’s okay, I’d like to stay. I’ve . . .” She swallowed, then met those blue eyes, those hypnotic, tempting eyes. The loneliness that had bubbled inside her earlier disappeared, replaced by something else, something far more dangerous. Yet she didn’t move, didn’t change course. “I’ve been alone a lot lately and I’m tired of my own company. It’d be nice to talk to someone who isn’t covered in fur. I mean, if you don’t mind me staying.”

“I don’t mind, Olivia.” He slid one of the sandwiches over to her, and a grin lit his face. He leaned in closer, close enough for her to catch the dark, woodsy scent of his cologne, get a glimpse of his hard, muscular chest beneath the faded gray tee that he wore, and close enough to want him to move closer still. “But I can’t guarantee I won’t growl. Or bite.”

“That’s okay, Luke,” she said, her voice dropping into the same deep, dark range as his. She held his gaze for one long, hot moment. “Because sometimes I bite, too.”

Nine

Diana hated being on this side of the desk. She fought the urge to pace, to tap her foot, to sigh, to do anything that would betray her nerves. God, she really was a total introvert, wasn’t she? No wonder she spent her day with furry creatures.

Her gaze landed on her son. He had a brown mop of hair, with laughing blue eyes and an infectious smile that she saw far too rarely nowadays. He’d worn his favorite jeans, shredded at the hem, frayed at the knees, and reluctantly put a blue button-down shirt over his favorite
BRING ME THE HORIZON
T-shirt. She’d tried to nix the jeans, then given up the fight. Sometimes, she’d learned, it was easier to say yes to one thing and no to another.

Jackson slumped in the chair, doing his best impression of a sullen teenager. Most days, Jackson earned an Oscar in that category. She worried that he had gotten a little too thin, his skin a little too pale. The boy, no, not a boy anymore, a teenager edging toward young man, could put back more food than anyone she knew, but it seemed like none of the calories stuck.

For the thousandth time, she wondered if she could have done things differently and had a different outcome for her son. Chosen a better man to be Jackson’s father, or worked less often, or gone to the playground more when Jackson was little. If she had, would her son be less angry now? He seemed to have developed a perpetual chip on his shoulder, and she worried that it was more than normal teenage “the world sucks” attitude.

The only person who’d connected easily with Jackson had been Bridget. Jackson and his grandmother had had a special bond, and when she died, his attitude toward Diana had shifted to outraged defiance, as if he blamed her for their loss. Diana wished she could find a way back to the little boy who’d asked her for one more reading of
Ferdinand the Bull
, the same boy who would snuggle up on the couch at the end of the day and snack on peanut butter and Ritz crackers.

Beside her, Jackson let out a dramatic, impatient sigh. “How long do we have to be here?”

“It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Whatev.” Jackson looked at his nails, then picked at an errant thread on his shirt. “This stupid school isn’t going to want me. I don’t know why we’re wasting our time.”

Diana bit back a sigh and prayed for patience.

Jackson got out of his chair, headed for the window, and blew a circle onto the glass. “I don’t understand why I can’t stay where I am.”

Or at the place before that. Or the one before that. Jackson knew the reasons, and Diana didn’t reiterate them.

Three schools in the past two years. All she wanted for her son was stability and had found far too little of that. She prayed this school, with its stomach-twisting price tag and stellar reputation, would be the right one for her son. Paying the tuition would mean some sacrifices, but in the end, if Jackson was happy, it would be worth every dollar.

“You’ll enjoy it here, Jackson. They have a heck of a science program.”