Half Moon Hill (24 page)

And it seemed like time for a change in subject, but Anna couldn’t think of one. So she was glad when Tessa said to her across the table, “You’re coming to Miss Ellie’s this weekend, right?”

Even if she didn’t really have an answer. “Um . . . I barely know the woman.”

“Well, I’m sure you knew her when you were a little girl. And despite what you might expect, her parties are always fun—and sometimes interesting things happen there.”

“That’s right,” Lucky said.

And Anna blinked. “Even
you
go to these events?”

“Yeah, brother—seriously?” Duke chided him.

Lucky looked only slightly embarrassed as he said, “I know it doesn’t seem like my kinda thing, but I went for Tessa the first time—and it was okay. And it’s where the entire town accidentally found out about her tattoo.” Which Anna knew was a chain of daisies around her ankle.

And she had to admit, “Well, that does sound sort of interesting.”

“And rumor has it,” Tessa leaned a bit closer to say, “that there’s going to be some big surprise at this particular soiree. So I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And you shouldn’t, either.”

Anna turned the idea over in her head. Given her recent appreciation of being more social again, the idea almost appealed now. And though it wouldn’t be fun to be the proverbial third wheel attending with a bunch of couples like Lucky and Tessa—who knew, maybe she could talk Duke into going, too. But for now, she just said, “Maybe. We’ll see.”

Tessa’s eyes brightened. “Good. I’ll definitely talk you into it before the weekend.” Then she smiled. “It really is good to be seeing more of you out and about, Anna. I’m glad you came tonight. I know I’ve seen you some at the bookstore lately, and the night you went to the ball game with us, but after spending time with you decorating your house last winter, I’ve missed you.” Which warmed Anna’s heart almost more than she could fathom. She was still absorbing the sentiment when Tessa looked to Duke. “And it’s so good to see you, too, Duke—even if I barely recognize you.” She ended with a wink.

It surprised Anna when his reply was a rare, sheepish one. “Yeah, I’m thinking I should grow a beard again, cover this thing up.” He pointed to his scar—and Anna’s heart broke a little more for him.

But Tessa’s answer was perfect. “I don’t know, I think it’s kinda sexy. Dangerous. Like bikers are
supposed
to be.”

“Hey now,” Lucky said on a laugh, “the only biker you better be thinking’s sexy is me.”

Anna watched then as Tessa and Lucky exchanged a look she envied, a look of sureness, of knowing, of . . . slow, enduring passion. “Don’t worry, my big bad biker—you know my heart belongs to you.”

And yet it was Anna’s heart that suddenly beat harder—from a sense of jealousy she never would have expected, from wishing what she and Duke had was . . . more.

A few minutes later as the two couples still sat talking, Lucky tilted his head to say, “One thing—you never said why you didn’t go to Indiana like you planned, to your family.”

Anna saw Duke’s scar twitch, watched his eyes drift to someplace distant again—before he said, “Just didn’t work out that way.”

It wasn’t much of an answer, but Lucky let it drop. So Anna didn’t pursue it, either—though it was the first time the question had crossed her mind. She’d known from Lucky that had been Duke’s general plan, but when Duke had turned up in her woods, she’d had far more urgent questions for him.

“You know what we should do?” Tessa said out of the blue.

“What’s that, babe?” Lucky asked.

“Let’s go to the Dew Drop for a little while.”

The Dew Drop Inn was Destiny’s only watering hole, and Anna had been there a few times last summer. “Sounds good to me,” she said—right as Duke answered, “Um, I’ll pass.”

Tessa let out a disappointed sigh—as Anna tried to hold hers inside. “Come on,” Tessa said. “I’m in the mood to have a little fun.”

“Fact is, dude,” Lucky added, “it’ll be quiet there tonight. Big softball tournament going on—most people’ll be at the park.”

And in one way Anna hated to prod him—she’d already prodded him in so many ways, and maybe he would lose his tolerance if she kept it up—but she still heard herself quietly saying, “Come on, let’s go—just for a little while. It’ll be nice.” And she nudged his ankle through his jeans with her flip-flop-clad foot under the table for good measure—surprised that even such small contact reminded her how good it felt when their bodies touched.

Duke looked over at her and their eyes met. And even now, even sitting with her brother and his wife, she felt it in her gut, and below. That connection—it was more than just physical. Way more than just physical. And in that moment she understood that it was even way more than just powerful chemistry. It had grown. It had . . . bloomed, like a flower, like a bud opening and expanding into something far greater and more complex and beautiful than she ever could have foreseen when this had first started.

She was . . . in love with him.

“Well?” she heard herself whisper. And for some reason, her skin tingled and her stomach churned while she waited for his answer.

Until he said quietly, “Sure, Daisy—you want to go, we’ll go.”

“Tonight I gave you my soul . . .”

Gaston Leroux,
The Phantom of the Opera

Fourteen

“B
ut only for a few minutes,” he added.

“Okay,” she murmured in reply, dumbfounded. By what she’d just realized.

I love him. I’m in love with him.

It was scary. Far more scary than just sleeping with an ex-outlaw-gang member. Because now . . . now she was in it, deep, in a way she knew she couldn’t pull out of. And once you loved somebody—oh boy, it opened you up for . . . everything. Hurt, heartbreak, neglect. What if he never felt the same way? What if he never got past the wounds still festering inside him? What if he never opened up to her completely? What if he just kept retreating to the woods, running from everything, including her?

Or what if he stopped running, faced life head-on—but still didn’t want her in the way she now wanted him? What if he just never loved her back? Because he didn’t have the capacity to? Or—maybe even worse—because once he got himself back together he decided he just wasn’t that into her?

He leaned slightly forward then. “Are you okay? You look weird.”

“Thanks a lot,” she said, trying to laugh it off as she realized that all three of her companions now watched her, appearing slightly concerned. “I’m . . . fine. Just can’t believe you actually agreed to do something so crazy as have a little fun is all. That’s not like you.”

And as Tessa and Lucky laughed at her teasing sarcasm, Duke said low, too low for the other two to hear, “Come on now, Daisy—you and me have had enough fun together that you know better.”

And she surged with moisture between her legs. And almost couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. Their gazes stayed locked.

It all boiled down to one horrible fear:
What if he doesn’t love me back?

Only then another question came to mind.
But . . . what if he does?

And she knew she should probably keep right on being scared to death of what she’d just figured out—but a funny thing she suddenly remembered about being in love: It made it easy to push sensible fears aside and just bask in it, just live in it, just appreciate it—at least for a while.

So in that moment she began to bask, and to appreciate. This was where she was in life and there was nothing to do but experience it, come what may.
Trust
. That’s what it all came down to—even if with Duke it felt like a far more dangerous risk than with anyone else she knew.

And maybe . . . maybe he would feel it, too. Maybe he would see in her the same impossible magic, the same magnificent light, she saw in him. Maybe.

Duke Dawson, it seemed, was reminding her more and more all the time what it was to be brave.

And so she simply stood up, reached down to take his hand, and said, “I’m ready—let’s go.”

D
uke really didn’t want to go to the Dew Drop Inn. But as Anna pulled the Mustang into the parking lot, Lucky’s Jeep behind them, and he saw that only a few cars and trucks sprinkled the gravel lot, a strange wave of relief swept over him. Strange because—when had he become this guy who was afraid of people?
You can ride with a badass biker gang, break laws, run your own biker bar, and kick more than a few asses that needed it—but you can’t walk into the mild little Dew Drop Inn without your stomach churning?

It almost made him laugh, and even more so when he noticed some of the changes bar owner Anita Garey had made to the place since she’d bought it a few years ago. The flat, gray, cinder-block building had somewhere along the way gotten a coat of beige paint with dark brown trim, and a new neon sign above the door spelling out the bar’s name in electric blue cursive. Neon beer signs and strings of mini-lights still glowed through the windows, but underneath them neatly tended flowers grew: red impatiens. His mother had loved impatiens.

As promised, it was as quiet inside as the parking lot indicated. Anita, an attractive woman in her fifties, stood behind the bar, wiping it down, her sparkly top glittering in the dim lighting. He’d met Anita on enough occasions—like Romo family weddings—that at first he worried she’d recognize him and tell everyone in town he was back. But when she merely tossed a casual wave at the group, he remembered he looked different now and that she probably assumed Anna had brought in someone she didn’t know.

They took a table, and Lucky went to the bar, returning a few minutes later with three longnecks and a glass of wine for Tessa. They made easy small talk after that, more discussion about the car Lucky was fixing up for the derby—and Tessa talked more to Anna about that party this coming weekend. Duke drank his beer—the third he’d consumed in the last couple of hours—and didn’t mind that he was feeling this one a little. He’d never sought comfort in a bottle, but at the moment, maybe a little intoxication made it easier to be here, and to quit thinking about it.

Only a few other tables were occupied, and when an older couple got up to dance near the jukebox, most eyes fell on them. They looked to be in their sixties and Duke found them easy to watch. They looked happy. Not bubbly happy, but . . . comfortable, content, pleased with life. They made him think of Denny and Linda in a way, but he pushed aside the pang of guilt that came and just tried to feel . . . glad for them. Everybody couldn’t be happy, but at least some people were, and he guessed maybe that was what kept the world turning, kept life moving forward.

When the song ended, the man walked to the jukebox and inserted some coins, pressed some buttons. Duke didn’t recognize the music they danced to, but it reminded him of some of the old stuff Anna played around the house most days.

Soon, a middle-aged couple got up and joined the older folks, and though they didn’t look as skilled at the dance moves—which he though looked something like the jitterbug—they laughed and had fun with it.

“Woohoo—go Caroline!” Tessa called out, and the woman looked over, eyes wide, but then covered her smile with her hand, as if embarrassed.

“That’s my friend Caroline Meeks, and Dan Lindley, Sue Ann’s boss at Destiny Properties. Amy fixed them up last summer.”

“How’s little Amy doing?” Duke heard himself ask without quite planning it. Once upon a time he’d indulged in a little harmless flirting with her, thinking she was cute.

Tessa smiled. “Doing great.”

“She ever marry that Logan guy?” He’d been present for the proposal last year at Lucky and Tessa’s wedding reception.

“Not yet, but they keep saying they’re going to set a date for this fall.”

He nodded, glad to know Amy had that . . . that thing . . . that happiness he’d seen in Denny and Linda, and again just now on the dance floor.

That was when the songs switched and more new-but-old-sounding music filled the room. Anna’s eyes went bright and wide as she said, “Oh, it’s JD McPherson—I love this song!” Then she turned to Duke. “Dance with me!”

“What?” he groused instinctively, pulling back slightly—yet his Daisy, never easily deterred, ignored his response, grabbed his hand, and yanked him to his feet before he could protest.

Drawing him onto the floor with the other two couples, she took both his hands and began swinging them back and forth to the rhythm as she started dancing. Duke didn’t dance. Period. And yet . . . he found himself beginning to move, his body falling with surprising ease into mimicking what Anna did. Sort of, anyway.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said to her, loud enough to be heard over the music.

Her eyes sparkled as she laughed. “Me neither—but we’ll learn together.” As if to emphasize the idea, she released one of his hands, then spun her way into his arms and back out. After which she raised her eyebrows at him as if to say:
See, we can do this.

Though he thought they probably looked ridiculous. “I think you’re drunk, Daisy,” he told her with a smile. Even being ridiculous—even making
him
ridiculous—she made him feel good inside.

“Who cares?” she said, eyes still alight, both of them still moving sloppily to the song about a north side gal. “Come on. Dance with me.”

And so he did, feeling all the while how bad they were at it, but still . . . somehow having fun. Feeling almost . . . easy inside. Like maybe his life wasn’t so bad.

Mainly, he liked making her happy. He liked . . . how little it took, how simple it was. And it was hard to believe how much she’d been through and that something as small as a song, and a bad dance, could make that pretty trill of laughter echo from her. In those moments, her brown-sugar eyes, her soft rosy blush, her dark hair flowing all around her, was all he could see.

And he wasn’t sure how long he’d been giving her a look that surely told her everything he was feeling—he only understood how transparent he’d become when he realized she was
returning
that look. Her smile faded, slowly being replaced by a smoldering desire.