fingers lingering.
“I—”
“Are we ready?” Bea walked into the room, her coat on, an old leather handbag clutched in her hand.
“For what?”
“Church.” Bea smoothed her white hair and smiled. Obviously, she’d forgotten that it was Saturday. Again.
“It’s not Sunday,” Emma said wearily. “I have to go to the police station, Bea. Lucas needs me to look at some pictures so I can identify the guy who attacked me.”
“They have pictures?” Bea exclaimed. “I hope that means the police will find him soon. I’ll feel so much safer when they do.”
“We both will. Do you want to come with us?”
“I think I’ll just stay here and read.” She glanced at her watch and frowned. “Actually, I may have a meeting tonight.”
“Meeting?” It was the first Emma had heard of it.
“The knitting club at church. They make hats for the premature babies at the hospital. I haven’t been able to attend since my accident, so the ladies decided to come here this month. You did say it was Saturday?”
“Yes.”
“Then we must be having the meeting. I’ll just call Edna to be sure.” She lifted the old-fashioned rotary phone that hung from the wall near the kitchen, her brow furrowing. “I’m sure I know her number.”
“Hold on, Bea. I’ll get it.” Emma grabbed the church directory from a drawer in the coffee table and found Edna’s number. It only took a few minutes to confirm the knitting group meeting, another few minutes to make sure that the neighbors knew that Bea was going to be home alone. She helped Bea find reading glasses, handed her the book she’d been reading, let Fluffy outside and then back in. All with Lucas following her around, trying to help, making himself a part of what she was doing.
“Okay. I’m ready. Finally,” she said as she grabbed her coat from the closet.
Lucas took it from her hands, helped her into it. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“Of course.”
“You’ve been doing a lot, Emma. Probably too much.”
“What choice do I have? I have to make sure Bea is okay. I’m the only family she has.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Not a thing. Unless you’re good at painting. The diner still needs another coat on the walls,” she said only half kidding.
“I’m a fair hand at painting,” Lucas replied. “I still paint my parents’ front porch every spring.”
“Do you really?” She smiled, remembering the times when they’d worked together, whitewashing the porch posts and splattering paint all over each other in the process.
“Sure.” He called for Henry and opened the front door. “Keeps my paint arm in practice, so when emergencies come up, I’m ready.”
Emma walked outside, cool clean evening air filling her lungs. It felt good, and she wanted to stand on the front porch for a while and just...breathe.
“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Lucas said. “There’s nothing quite like Sagebrush in December.”
He flashed a smile, and Emma found herself returning it. Lucas had always had that effect on her. It had never mattered what kind of mood her parents had put her in or how difficult things had been at home; when she was with him, she’d felt happy.
“Come on. Let’s head out.” His fingers curved around hers. They were warm, the skin calloused and rough. He probably still hiked and climbed and did all the outdoorsy things they’d enjoyed when they were kids.
She’d given most of that up when she’d moved to Boston. Her schedule had been too hectic, her life too busy. The weather had played into it, too. Frigid temperatures for too many months. Mostly, if she were honest with herself, all the outdoor activities she’d loved hadn’t been as enjoyable without Lucas. She’d tried for a while. She’d even convinced Camden to take her hiking a few times. He’d spent most of the trek tracking their coordinates and spouting information about the local flora and fauna.
Fun times.
“You’re deep in thought,” Lucas said as he ushered her down the porch steps. “What’s on your mind?”
You, she almost said, but she was afraid of how that would sound and of what it might mean.
“Hiking and rock climbing and camping,” she said instead. “All the things I used to do before I moved to the frigid Northeast.”
“You missed those things, huh?” He opened the hatchback of a rusty old Ford and unlocked a dog kennel that had been secured to the bed of the truck. Henry jumped in, circling once before settling down.
“More than I realized.”
“Then we’ll have to do them again. Once you’re healed up.” He opened the passenger door, lifting her into the seat before she realized what he was doing.
“I could have gotten in myself,” she protested, her cheeks blazing.
“True, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.” His hands rested on her waist, his face so close she could see gold flecks in his green eyes. “Sorry about the ride, by the way. My grandmother needed her sedan back.”
“Is that who the car belonged to? I didn’t think it was yours.”
“You know me well, Em.” He smiled, skimming a knuckle down her cheek.
“I knew you well.”
“I haven’t changed that much. I still love hiking, camping and rock climbing. I still love old cars and trucks.”
“You still love playing cops and robbers,” she added, and he laughed.
“That, too.” He closed the door, sealing her into the old truck. It smelled like leather and sunshine and something warm and wonderful that reminded her of Lucas.
When he got in the car, she wanted to tell him that. She wanted to say that she hadn’t ever forgotten the years they’d spent as best friends or the way he’d always been there for her. She’d lived through some of her toughest times in Sagebrush, but maybe she’d lived through some of her best, too.
He slid into the driver’s seat, the Stetson hat shadowing his face. “It shouldn’t take long to look through the stills. When we’re finished, I’ll take you to the diner if you want.”
“If I want? There isn’t much I’d like more, but you don’t have to take me there. Just drop me off back here. I’ll drive over myself.”
“I don’t think so, Emma,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you shouldn’t be at the diner alone. Not after what happened there.”
“You don’t really think he’ll go back there, do you?”
“Until I know what his motive was, I can’t say, but I’d rather you be safe than sorry.”
He had a point, and with evening pressing in on the windows and darkness edging at the horizon, she didn’t think she wanted to be there alone. “You’re right.”
“I’m glad we’re in agreement.” He patted her knee, his hand settling there.
She didn’t pull away, but maybe she should have.
No men ever again. That had been her motto, but being around Lucas made her wonder if it was a motto she could live by. “You didn’t tell me what the evidence found on the ski mask was.”
“Because they didn’t find anything.