The Hometown Hero Returns. Julianna Morris
women were as faithless in big cities as they were in small towns.
God, what a fool he’d been over Sandra. So crazy in love he couldn’t see straight—even decking his best friend for suggesting she wasn’t a paragon of virtue. Luke grimaced, remembering his own anger, and the blood that had trickled from the cut over his friend’s swollen eye.
“You don’t meet the right women,” Nicki said, breaking into his thoughts.
His shoulders lifted and dropped. It didn’t matter. After accepting the truth about Sandra he’d decided there wasn’t any point to getting married when he could enjoy temporary affairs with like-minded females.
“Sherrie says the same thing, but she doesn’t really understand what—” He froze at the sound of a loud voice rising from the first floor.
Luke raced down the stairs and Nicki followed. She’d never heard John McCade’s voice raised in anger, but the furious tirade really was coming from the dear old man.
“Never…can’t believe…such a mess. The Little Sergeant would never have permitted this disgrace. I’ve got to get this place in order…it’s never been so bad…where did these come from?”
The French doors leading to the rear garden were open and Mr. McCade was tearing at a flowerbed by the house.
“Granddad, please come inside. I promise we’ll fix everything,” Luke said, crouching next to him.
“Leave me alone. It’s my fault. I should never have let this happen. She would be so unhappy. I can’t bear for her to be unhappy.” He continued to rip at the long grass, his hands white and shaky in the humidity.
“Please, Granddad, I’ll take care of it.” Luke took his grandfather’s arm, only to be shaken away by an angry exclamation. Luke looked at Nicki, his eyes dark and filled with pain, stripped of arrogance. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.
Without thinking Nicki knelt and laid her hand on the old man’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Professor McCade. We’ll take care of the garden.”
Her quiet voice seemed more effective than Luke’s frantic tone. The elderly man turned and brushed shaky fingers across his brow. “She would be so…so disappointed.”
“Then we’ll fix it, so she wouldn’t be.”
“It was so beautiful,” he breathed, looking around with tears falling like memories down his face. “She painted this garden for me. A living canvas. Art, young lady, is not confined to a museum.” The last thing sounded so much like an old Professor McCade lecture that she smiled.
“Art is the accomplice of love,” she said obediently, though she didn’t finish the quotation she’d heard him say so often in his lectures…. Take love away, and there is no longer art.
She didn’t think he needed a reminder that his love had been taken away.
“You were always an excellent student, Miss Johansson.”
The fact that he remembered her name startled Nicki, and her gaze met Luke’s equally surprised eyes.
“Thank you, Professor. I teach now, out at the college.”
“Yes, I recommended you for the position when I retired.”
That, too, was a shock. She’d been shy in all his classes, particularly when she was tutoring Luke and her emotions seesawed between terminal infatuation and utter loathing. Though kind to his students, she had never expected Professor McCade to take special notice of a mousy, underage kid who always sat in the rear. He certainly hadn’t seemed to recognize her at his recent yard sale.
“Th-thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence.”
“It was well deserved.”
His eyes began to lose their focus as he looked again around the garden. It was beautiful, though overgrown and neglected. Nicki could feel the love that lingered there and knew there was beauty in the memory of love, as well. His love had changed shape, and wasn’t nearly as immediate, but it wasn’t wholly lost, either.
“You promise to fix it for the Little Sergeant,” Professor McCade whispered. It was a statement, more than a question.
The Little Sergeant? Nicki mouthed at Luke.
My grandmother, he mouthed back.
Nicki wondered if it was a promise she could keep. She’d never gardened in her life, and Luke surely didn’t want her hanging around any longer than necessary. Yet there was an appeal to working with the earth and painting a picture with growing things. And if it would help Professor McCade…how could she say no?
She gulped. “Um, yes, I promise. Maybe we can get a good yard service. They could put everything in order in a few days.”
“No.” His thin arms made an agitated gesture. “Not in her garden. I won’t allow it.”
“All right,” Nicki soothed gently. “But it’s too warm to work out here right now. Come inside where it’s cooler. I’ll start early tomorrow.”
They drew him back into the house, where he sat on the same chair as before. But instead of staring blankly, he gazed outside with an unwavering intensity, as if the answers to all the questions ever asked waited there to be discovered. “You promise,” he said without blinking.
“Yes. I promise.”
Chapter Three
Luke grabbed Nicki’s hand and pulled her into the library lined with books on built-in floor-to-ceiling shelves, then sank into a chair and rubbed his temples.
Nicki watched, trying to understand how she could let him affect her so much, creating a softening that was neither welcome nor wise. He was a bottom-line kind of guy. She’d returned that lovely painting, but the only thing that had caught his attention was its monetary value. Luke McCade was the last man she should find attractive—partly because of his similarity to her ex-husband, partly because of his difference from her. Luke didn’t like small towns, he wasn’t the least bit interested in art, and, despite his concern for his grandfather, he was well-known as a hardheaded businessman. She had a feeling that falling in love with an adult Luke would be much harder to survive than a girlhood crush.
Physical attraction was nice, but it was more important to respect someone and find things in common with them. She probably had no more in common with Luke than her likeness to the footballs he played with. Footballs were ugly things, too—brown and awkward and bumpy.
Of course, Luke wasn’t ugly.
Or the least bit awkward.
And his only bumps were the ones from muscles.
She bit her lip and sat in a nearby chair, wondering how in less than an hour she’d gone from disliking him to…admiring his biceps. She needed to find her willpower. Fast. The thought of being drawn into a relationship with someone like her ex-husband again made her stomach clench.
It didn’t help that Luke had actually apologized. Well, sort of apologized. She’d once thought it was an over-used cliché that men couldn’t say they were sorry, but it seemed to be a true one.
“Thanks for the help,” Luke muttered after a long minute. “We tried hiring a yard service after Grams died, only Granddad would have none of it. We manage to keep the grass mowed and things watered, but that’s all. He didn’t want strangers in her garden. Or in the house, for that matter.”
“But I’m a stranger—as much as anyone else in Divine. People know each other here, and he’d probably be acquainted with someone working for a yard service.”
Luke shook his head. “It’s different with you. I don’t know why—maybe because you were his student and he recommended you for his teaching position. We have a hard time getting a word out of him at the best of times,