‘You haven’t changed much yourself,’ Luke countered.
But she had changed. So much.
He was lying, thought Luke. Lucia had changed beyond all recognition. Yes, she was all grown up, but there were shadows behind her eyes that had never used to be there, and they worried him. Surely she couldn’t still be upset after the confrontation with that drunk last night?
‘You’re over last night’s drama, aren’t you?’ he checked. ‘The drunk?’ he expanded when she frowned.
‘Of course I’m over it.’
But her cheeks flushed red when he held her gaze. So was she remembering when he’d kissed her? He was. ‘Let’s get back to your reasons for coming down to Cornwall,’ he said, seeking safer ground.
‘What about it?’
‘Is there anything else you’d like to share?’
‘You never give up, do you?’ she said, laughing as if he was making too much of things.
Her laughter sounded hollow to him. ‘No, I don’t,’ he confirmed.
‘You always were so suspicious, Luke.’
You bet he was. ‘Of course I’m curious to know why you left London, why you came back here. And why you’ve decided to stay.’
‘That’s three questions.’
She laughed again, but it still rang false.
‘Confiding in a friend isn’t a sign of weakness, Lucia.’
‘I don’t feel the need to confide in anyone, Luke. And I certainly don’t need you as my shrink.’
‘That is good news,’ he agreed.
‘Why?’ she said.
‘Because I’d need a sixth sense and a doctorate in divination before I could sort you out.’ But as his stare dropped to the curve of her lips he wondered if it really would be all that hard to sort Lucia out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
My to-do list has collapsed. I have hardly ticked off any items, and even those I have tried to tick off I’ve bodged. What I really need is a relationship counsellor. Luke has stirred memories I have always tried to skirt around, making me look at some of the least comfortable of them head-on. He has made me realise that I wrote my to-do list at a time when all I could think was: If I had my time, this is what I would do with it.
I wrote that list so confidently at age fourteen, hardly realising how much more complicated life could be than a series of goals to enhance my physical appearance. What about my heart? What about a to-do list for my heart?
‘WOULD you like something to drink?’ she asked the warrior currently taking up every available inch of space in her caravan whilst throwing his weight around like all her brothers combined. It was the least she could do, she convinced herself. After all, Luke had offered her a job that might even ha
ve a wage attached. And he’d given the caravan a health-check—not that that had worked out so well.
‘That would be good,’ he confirmed. ‘Just don’t give me one of those glasses on the shelf over the cooker, with a coating of dust and a dead fly garnish.’
She laughed. She hadn’t even noticed there were glasses on that shelf. Back to the drawing board where cleaning was concerned, Lucia concluded, and with a head full of scouring powder and dishcloths this time, instead of Luke. ‘How about a can of soda?’
‘Whatever you’ve got, sweetheart.’
‘I’m not your sweetheart.’ She stalled, realising she’d given too much away by snapping like that. How often had she dreamed of Luke murmuring endearments, knowing he never would? A quick glance was enough to reassure her that Luke hadn’t even registered the sting in her words.
This was like trying to contain a tiger in a very small box, Lucia concluded as Luke performed the seemingly impossible feat of squeezing his powerful body into the smallest of spaces between the bunk-cum-bench and a chipped Formica table.
‘What happened to this place?’ he murmured, staring out of the window.