Luke: A Scrooged Christmas Page 2

  “I’ve been away long enough. I know I could have finished my master’s here in town, but with Gregg on the road so much, I figured I’d concentrate better without the constant reminder that Mom and Dad are gone.”

  “So you’re keeping their house?”

  I nodded as I took a deep pull from my beer. “They left it to both Gregg and me, and neither one of us is ready to sell. I figure one day, I’ll meet someone and build a life with him, and then we can decide what to do with their home.”

  “Do you still want to work with disabled kids?”

  My mouth pulled into a grin. She’d been there the day I’d met Seth, an autistic boy at our school. There was something about me he’d liked, so I went out of my way to always say hi to him in the hallways. By the time I was a senior in high school, I was an aid in the special education room, working with Seth on his fine and gross motor skills. His successes as he learned to live in our world became my successes as well. I’d been more proud the day he’d learned to write his name than I was of graduating with honors.

  “I plan to apply at the Little Lighthouse as soon as the holidays are over.”

  Jane returned my smile. “The world needs more people like you. You almost give me hope that bringing kids into this world isn’t a mistake.”

  I looked at her stomach. “Are you?”

  “No!” she answered, choking on her own beer. “I just meant figuratively.”

  The waitress arrived with our burgers; I leaned to the left so she could place them on the table. As I did, I looked out the large picture window. Across the street toward Trader Joe’s, I saw the man from the accident the night before walking casually down the sidewalk. My breath caught as he looked up and down Peoria before crossing the slush-covered street. He didn’t see me sitting by the window as he looked in our direction, but I got a good look at him. His dark, soulful eyes almost seemed sad as he darted between parked cars.

  I followed his progress as he passed the front of R Bar. He walked with purpose and just a bit of swagger, as his powerful thighs stretched the seams of his Wranglers. He paused as he passed the window, then turned back my way and watched a woman carrying a small child, and what looked like last-minute gifts, dash to her car. When the little blond-headed toddler raised his hand and waved, my eyes shot back to my mystery man. He was smiling at the child, waving in return. My stomach dropped a bit at the sight. He was a rugged-looking man, dark and mysterious when he wasn’t smiling. But when his face lit up like it did for the child, he went from ruggedly handsome to sinfully gorgeous, until his eyes flashed with pain for some reason.

  “He has to be taken,” I mumbled as his retreating backside disappeared from view, wondering at the intense look I’d seen cross his face when he looked away from the child.

  Jane mumbled something in reply, and I looked up. I’d been so lost in my own thoughts as I watched my mystery man leave, I’d forgotten where I was.

  “Did you say something?”

  “I said, if you were a smart woman, you’d follow him and find out where he lives. That man was F.I.N.E.”

  I chuckled nervously at having been caught ogling the man.

  “I’m serious, Anna. If he was walking, then he lives close by, like you.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not so desperate for a date that I’ll start stalking men. However, in this case, I won’t need to. That man was in an accident with Gregg last night. That’s how I know him. If I want to find him, I only have to ask my brother for his information.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “It’s like destiny or a Christmas gift.”

  I snorted. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t see it like that.”

  “If he was attracted to you, he might.”

  The image of the man staring back at me as our eyes locked filled my head. There’d been something there between us. I’d felt it.

  “Maybe,” I admitted, wondering if Gregg had left the man’s information in his room before he left town.

  Jane and I parted company after we ate, and I headed home on quick feet. I couldn’t shake the image of my mystery man smiling at that child. I needed to know more about him, but I was too chicken to call my brother and ask him outright for the man’s information. He’d tease me endlessly if he knew I was attracted to him, so instead, I crept into his room like I was afraid of getting caught, looking for the card he’d handed to Gregg.

  My search was to no avail, though, so I went downstairs and grabbed a book to read. But the stillness of the house began to spook me. I grabbed the TV remote and turned it on, hoping to drown out the silence.

  It’s a Wonderful Life was playing, so I settled back into the couch and watched as I tried to ignore the emptiness that slowly crept in. I was home, but home was no longer what it should have been. Once a place that filled me with love and safety, now just felt lonely and cold. The ghosts of my past taunted me with memories of a better time. One with family, love, and security, reminding me again that I was all alone.

  Four

  December 23rd

  Glancing around the living room, I was confused for a moment where I was. Then it sank in. Home.

  My neck was stiff from sleeping on the couch, so I rolled it to work out the kinks. The sun had decided to peek through the clouds today. Blindingly bright and merciless, threatening to melt away all that was left of the Christmas snow, it lit up the kitchen with a warm glow as I stumbled to the cabinet for coffee. Then I remembered I’d used the last of it the day before, and I moaned.

  I looked at the clock. Trader Joe’s would be opening in fifteen minutes, so the likelihood of it not being packed this early was good. Which meant I didn’t have to worry about running into anyone.

  With that in mind, I grabbed my father’s ratty old sweater to cover my fading sweats, threw my hair into a ponytail and covered it with a stocking cap, and then shielded my face with huge-ass sunglasses. I surveyed my appearance before stepping through the door. I looked hideous and unrecognizable.

  The homeless look will have to do.

  God had a sense of humor, I decided, even during the busiest time of year for him. How did I know? Well, I’d made it all the way to Trader Joe’s without anyone looking in my direction. Then I’d crept stealthily to the coffee aisle, ducking my head like an actress leaving the airport for added ‘incognito.’ It wasn’t that I was that well known, but I’d grown up in this part of Tulsa. The likelihood of bumping into one of my neighbors was high, and I hadn’t had enough caffeine—or any for that matter—to converse, nor did I want anyone seeing me looking like a bag lady.

  But that didn’t stop fate.

  Just as I rounded a corner with my treasured coffee in hand, I spied my mystery man in all his manly glory. He had a basket in his hand, and was pulling a loaf of bread off the shelf.

  Don’t ask me why, because I’m sure it would take a trained professional to explain it, but I ducked like a criminal avoiding the police and plastered myself to an endcap so I could watch him.

  His hair was a tad on the longer side, and it was mussed up, like he’d run his finger through it when he rose, but nothing else. And the dark shadow on his jaw looked to be a few days old. Then I realized he was wearing the same shirt as the day before.

  Did he fall asleep on the couch like I did?

  At one point he must have felt my eyes on him, because he looked up and scanned the aisle. I knew he couldn’t see me; I was peeking through a pyramid of canned pumpkin, but I jumped anyway, knocking at least ten cans to the floor.

  Dropping to my knees to pick them up, I prayed he wouldn’t come to investigate the crazy lady scrambling around on the floor. But fate was a fickle bitch. I’d managed to grab a handful of cans when a large masculine hand reached down beside me and grabbed one.

  I mumbled, “Thanks, I’m a bit of a klutz,” as I kept my head pointed away from him.

  “Not a problem,” he mumbled low as he picked up a second can.

  He was so close I could have touched him. But I settled
for breathing in his unique scent of the fresh outdoors, mingled with something musky. When I inhaled deeply, like I’d die if I didn’t fill my lungs with his manly scent, I felt rather than saw him look down at me oddly. To cover up my indiscretion, I crawled swiftly around the corner of the aisle, mumbling, “One got away from me,” as I went. He said nothing more as he placed the last can on the endcap and walked away.

  I felt like I should say something, so I called out, “Thank you. Merry Christmas,” but he didn’t acknowledge my salutation; he just kept right on walking.

  I’d like to say I left the store immediately, but I didn’t. Instead, I grabbed a shopping cart like I needed more food, and followed him at a discrete distance around the store. Any item he looked at, I stopped to investigate. I wasn’t sure if his taste in food would give me any clues to the man, but at least it didn’t make me look like I was a stalker—even though I was. I occasionally dropped one of his selections into my cart, intrigued by his food choices. They told me two things about the man: his tastes in food ran from sushi to gummy bears, and if he was involved with someone, he would have grabbed more food. Everything he put in his basket was a single serving.

  A buzz of energy, like a double espresso with extra heavy cream, hit my system when I realized he was single.

  Maybe I should bump into him and start a conversation?

  Then I caught my reflection in the window and stopped.

  Why hadn’t I bothered to change?

  I watched as he checked out, but didn’t approach. There was a time and a place for everything, and definitely a better outfit to leave a lasting impression. I’d just have to wait. He lived in this area, shopped at my store, and my brother owed him for the damage to his truck. I knew my chances were good that I would see him again, so with that thought in mind, I ducked my head to avoid detection and headed for the back of the checkout line.

  Five

  Christmas Eve

  Cold. That’s what I woke to on Christmas Eve. A cold house and a cold bed thanks to the snow we received in the midnight hours. My teeth were actually chattering like a skeleton’s on Halloween.

  Rolling from my bed, I put on my duck slippers, grabbed Dad’s old sweater, and headed for the thermostat.

  The glowing numbers read 59 degrees.

  “Cold and alone on Christmas. Welcome home, Anna Banana,” I groused, then moved the dial back and forth, hoping it would kick on the heat.

  Nothing.

  Now what?

  To the basement I go.

  Mom and Dad’s house was built back in the days when basements were king, and I hated theirs. It was dark. Dank. And just plain spooky. It was also where the furnace was located.

  Flashlight in hand, I opened the door to head downstairs, then directed the beam to find the light switch located three steps down from the door. When I hit the bottom step, the washer and dryer came into view. And the huge pile of clothes my brother had left unwashed.

  “Least I won’t be bored.”

  I glanced at the old furnace. It had seen better days.

  Please, God. Let it just be the pilot light.

  I bent at the waist and peered through the slats covering the internal workings. I could see a flame dancing inside, along with my breath.

  “Swear to God, if I can’t find someone to fix this today, you are dead meat, Gregg.”

  I headed for my phone on the first floor. “Fingers crossed,” I mumbled, then googled HVAC companies in the area. I was halfway through the listings before a gruff male voice bit out, “This is Knight,” instead of a recorded message.

  “Are you real?” I asked.

  There was a pause. “I ain’t Santa Claus, lady. So, yeah, I guess I am.”

  “I would be forever in your debt if you had time to come and fix my heater, Mr. Knight.”

  “Today?” he asked, non-plussed.

  “YES, PLEASE!” I answered with just a hint of desperation. “I’m really, really cold.”

  “I can be there within the hour. Give me your name and address.”

  “Anna,” I squeaked out, shocked that my luck had changed. “Thank you so much. I hate taking you away from your family on Christmas Eve, but like I said, I’m really, really, really cold.”

  “I got that,” he answered, and I could hear a smile in his voice. “But I still need your address, Anna.” There was something about the way he said my name. It was smooth and heady, and a little bit sweet around the edges, like dark chocolate.

  “1430 E 35th,” I answered.

  “Got it. Actually, you’re really close, so I’ll see you soon,” he replied, then hung up.

  I headed for the kitchen and coffee. I needed to have all my faculties functioning while dealing with a repair man. I’d heard too many stories about women getting ripped off when in reality it’s just a simple fix.

  Luke stared at the two-story home and shook his head. The bones were still good, but the former beauty had seen better days. The roof was old, the window sills were rotting, and the yard hadn’t been tended to in years. To say he was confused wouldn’t be a stretch. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected after talking to the woman, but he’d admit the sound of her voice had made him smile, so seeing how little she cared for her home was disappointing.

  He tried to open his driver’s door out of habit, then remembered it was stuck from the accident. Annoyed all over again, he scooted across his console, then turned and kicked out with his foot rather than exiting the passenger side door like he had the past three days. It popped open with the force of his kick, so he climbed out and tried to shut it. The metal whined its disapproval like nails on a chalkboard, refusing to close.

  “Merry fucking Christmas,” Luke mumbled, then grabbed his tools from the back of his truck and headed for the front door.

  He needed to find the card that asshole had given him and call his insurance carrier. He wasn’t about to drive around with his door wired shut.

  As he approached the front door, he saw movement inside, so he knocked lightly to let her know he’d arrived. He heard her mumble, “Shit,” none to quietly, and he grinned.

  He expected a quick response, considering she was right on the other side of the door, so he narrowed his eyes when it didn’t open and knocked again.

  She responded this time, throwing open the door while tugging on an oversized sweater. Then he froze. Anna wasn’t just another broken furnace. She was fucking Goldilocks from the accident.

  God truly hated him.

  Her eyes grew wide at the sight of him as he took in her ridiculous outfit. It wasn’t bad enough that the sweater hung to her knees, or that the flannel PJs looked like something his grandmother would wear. No, the worst fucking part was the yellow duck slippers that had seen better days. The whole package from head to toe caused his lip to twitch. She looked down-home, not prissy. Laid back rather than some stuck-up social climber who normally lived in the area. He could see himself lying on the couch with her snuggled up to his side, a fire roaring to keep them warm as they relaxed, content in each other’s company. And it pissed him right the hell off. Something about her made him want things he’d given up on. Made him feel things he thought he’d locked deep, and for the first time in years, his heart raced with want. But she was out of his reach. Already taken by another man.

  “Gregg’s not here,” she blurted out, pushing her mass of silky curls behind her back. “He left town and won’t be back until after New Year’s.”

  That stopped him in his tracks. “Come again?” he bit out. Not only was the guy a shit driver, he was an asshole as well. Who leaves his woman during Christmas with no heat?”

  “I don’t think he’s had a chance to call his insurance carrier.”

  “I’m here to fix your furnace,” he snapped, then walked forward, backing her up with his body as he pushed through the front door without invitation. He tried like hell not to look at her as he entered, or register the way her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth.

  Be
fore he turned to face the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, he hardened slightly as her warm breath kissed the side of his neck as she gasped and said, “You’re Mr. Knight?” in a breathy voice.

  “Yeah. Lucas Deacon Knight. Luke, for short,” he bit out, trying to control his body. “Where’s the furnace?”

  “Um,” she mumbled, then looked down at her attire. “You got here quicker than I thought.”

  “I told you I would see you soon.”

  “Right. Right,” she mumbled, then bit her lip again, tugging on the ugly sweater to cover her PJs. “Um, do you want coffee before you start?”

  His brows pulled together. “No.”

  “Toast?” she asked a tad hysterically.

  His brows shot up and he growled, “No,” in exasperation.

  He’d never been fed on a job before, so what was her game? Because he sure as hell didn’t want anything that would keep him there longer than need be. He wanted to fix the damn furnace and get the hell out of there before he crossed a line he couldn’t step back over. He’d never made a move on another man’s woman in his life. But he was pretty sure those damn slippers quacked when she walked. And if they did, that might just be his undoing.

  Luke scanned her from head to toe again. He had to clench his jaw to keep from smiling. She was a helpless mess of golden curls, big blue eyes, and an innocence that set his molars to grinding.

  “Um . . . would you mind terribly if I changed before I showed you to the basement?” she pleaded kinda breathlessly when she caught him looking, and his jaw almost snapped in two.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  He minded for two reasons. One, it kept him there longer and he needed distance to control the urge he had to back her into a wall and drink heavily from her lips. And two, he was selfish enough, despite his need to leave, that he didn’t want her to change out of those fucking duck slippers.