want to live out here with nothing but animals, dead quiet, and pitch dark for company.
“Hi.” She held up her offering drawing his attention back to her. “Thanks for your help. Queenie was really in trouble the other day.”
Drake shrugged, a little self-conscious. He always hated the gratitude from people he helped. He did his job, that’s all.
“You really didn’t have to bother.” A flicker of hurt flashed across her face, so he hurried to continue. “Never could turn down chocolate, though.” Or a good-looking woman who looked wounded . “Come on in.”
As she walked past him, her gaze slid over his body from bare feet to rumpled hair.
Drake ran his fingers across his scruffy chin. “Sorry, I worked last night and just got up.”
“I know. I heard you.” She walked into the kitchen and set the cake down.
“I hope I’m not bothering you too much.” The thought of giving up his lifeline to sanity was grim. “Sometimes I have to work at night.”
“It doesn’t bother me. I’m getting used to operating on not much sleep.”
“I’m sorry. I ...” he hesitated. “I don’t have a choice.”
“That’s okay. I understand. An artist’s muse can be very insistent.” She smiled and turned away.
“Are you an artist?”
“No. At least not with paints or sculptures.”
He watched as she took out plates and silverware. She was very familiar with the layout. The thought warmed him until he remembered watching another woman move with practiced ease. Only the woman he envisioned was red-haired and had small children to step over as they played at her feet. Rebecca....
“Drake, I asked how large a piece you’d like.” He snapped his attention to Luisa. He stood close enough to breathe in the scent of her freshly shampooed hair. He wanted, no needed, desperately to pull her into his arms and bury himself in her essence if only for a few moments. To return to a semblance of a normal life. To be just a man and woman together for even a little while.
“Drake?”
She stood with a knife poised over the cake. He laid his hand over hers and positioned the knife against the icing. “That’s a big enough piece to start with.” The warmth of her fingers tingled against his skin.
She lifted startled eyes to his as her hair swung loose around her chin. He reached out to lift it over her shoulder, but felt her withdraw without moving. He dropped his hand and stepped away.
Luisa cleared her throat and turned to cut the cake. “You have any milk?” she asked. The blade sliced through chocolate. “It hits the spot with something this rich. Or, I have some fresh coffee over at the house. I can go get it.”
“No, I’ve got milk.” Grabbing it from the refrigerator and two glasses from the cabinet, he met her at the small, oak dinette. He pulled a chair out for her and then dropped onto his own. Silence settled on them and pulsed awkwardly.
“This looks great. Thanks.”
“I hope you like it. I try to bring something over when a new tenant comes in. You know, to say hello.”
He gazed into her eyes. “I’ve been here over a week.”
“I know. This time I was too busy and just now got a chance. It’s a thank you, too.” Luisa shrugged and forked a piece of cake off the plate.
“I’ve seen you taking care of the livestock in the evenings. What else do you do? I haven’t seen you leave to go to work.”
Drake wondered about the cause of the frown that tugged at the corners of her mouth before a smile took over.
“I work from home. I’m a writer.”
“Really? I’ve always been intrigued by authors. That whole creative thing. What do you write?” he asked between mouthfuls. “Should I know you?”
“Only if you’ve been reading to kids lately.”
Her voice and the features of her face softened, hinting at the love she had for children.
“What are your books like? I read to the kids of a friend of mine.” Pain jerked the chains wrapped around his heart. He forced it
“Hi.” She held up her offering drawing his attention back to her. “Thanks for your help. Queenie was really in trouble the other day.”
Drake shrugged, a little self-conscious. He always hated the gratitude from people he helped. He did his job, that’s all.
“You really didn’t have to bother.” A flicker of hurt flashed across her face, so he hurried to continue. “Never could turn down chocolate, though.” Or a good-looking woman who looked wounded . “Come on in.”
As she walked past him, her gaze slid over his body from bare feet to rumpled hair.
Drake ran his fingers across his scruffy chin. “Sorry, I worked last night and just got up.”
“I know. I heard you.” She walked into the kitchen and set the cake down.
“I hope I’m not bothering you too much.” The thought of giving up his lifeline to sanity was grim. “Sometimes I have to work at night.”
“It doesn’t bother me. I’m getting used to operating on not much sleep.”
“I’m sorry. I ...” he hesitated. “I don’t have a choice.”
“That’s okay. I understand. An artist’s muse can be very insistent.” She smiled and turned away.
“Are you an artist?”
“No. At least not with paints or sculptures.”
He watched as she took out plates and silverware. She was very familiar with the layout. The thought warmed him until he remembered watching another woman move with practiced ease. Only the woman he envisioned was red-haired and had small children to step over as they played at her feet. Rebecca....
“Drake, I asked how large a piece you’d like.” He snapped his attention to Luisa. He stood close enough to breathe in the scent of her freshly shampooed hair. He wanted, no needed, desperately to pull her into his arms and bury himself in her essence if only for a few moments. To return to a semblance of a normal life. To be just a man and woman together for even a little while.
“Drake?”
She stood with a knife poised over the cake. He laid his hand over hers and positioned the knife against the icing. “That’s a big enough piece to start with.” The warmth of her fingers tingled against his skin.
She lifted startled eyes to his as her hair swung loose around her chin. He reached out to lift it over her shoulder, but felt her withdraw without moving. He dropped his hand and stepped away.
Luisa cleared her throat and turned to cut the cake. “You have any milk?” she asked. The blade sliced through chocolate. “It hits the spot with something this rich. Or, I have some fresh coffee over at the house. I can go get it.”
“No, I’ve got milk.” Grabbing it from the refrigerator and two glasses from the cabinet, he met her at the small, oak dinette. He pulled a chair out for her and then dropped onto his own. Silence settled on them and pulsed awkwardly.
“This looks great. Thanks.”
“I hope you like it. I try to bring something over when a new tenant comes in. You know, to say hello.”
He gazed into her eyes. “I’ve been here over a week.”
“I know. This time I was too busy and just now got a chance. It’s a thank you, too.” Luisa shrugged and forked a piece of cake off the plate.
“I’ve seen you taking care of the livestock in the evenings. What else do you do? I haven’t seen you leave to go to work.”
Drake wondered about the cause of the frown that tugged at the corners of her mouth before a smile took over.
“I work from home. I’m a writer.”
“Really? I’ve always been intrigued by authors. That whole creative thing. What do you write?” he asked between mouthfuls. “Should I know you?”
“Only if you’ve been reading to kids lately.”
Her voice and the features of her face softened, hinting at the love she had for children.
“What are your books like? I read to the kids of a friend of mine.” Pain jerked the chains wrapped around his heart. He forced it
Similar Books
