Barefoot in Lace (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 2) (30 page)

“Oh my God, oh my God. I can’t believe it.” She was blubbering, but didn’t care, finally hugged out enough to pull away and look at this grown-up version of Luke. He was so different than the boy who’d left, but still so distinctly…Luke. His slash of dark brow, his wide cheekbones and strong jaw. But all if it was so magnified and masculine. This was no boy, that was for sure.

Luke was bigger, better, and…a little scary-looking. A faded scar on his temple and the shadow of his whiskers added to that, but it was something else. He was all muscles, his hair was nearly shorn, but it was his eyes that had changed the most.

Still a muddy mix of green and brown, still fringed with unfairly long lashes, but the light behind them had dimmed and darkened to more of a glint. A serious, cynical, harsh glint.

Even when he smiled, which he was doing as he examined her with the very same scrutiny, no doubt balancing his memories of a girl with the woman in front of him.

“Auggie, you got hot.”

She tried to laugh, but it came out as another half sob. “Well, that takes away any of my doubt that it’s you.” The nickname usually earned a death threat from her. This time, she hugged him again, her heart finally slowing down to something close to normal.

“How is this possible?” She pressed her cheek against a shoulder that was close to twice the size of the one she’d last seen on him. Her gaze landed on Tom, who stood silent a few feet away. His expression was unreadable, maybe a little dark, as he searched her face as if he needed to know how she felt.

“Did you do this?” she mouthed.

He almost shrugged then shook his head.

“He
did
do this,” Luke said. “Honest, I was only trying to see you from a distance.”

“Why?”

For a second, he didn’t answer, then looked down. “I can’t stand it if you hate me.”

“Hate you? Lucas John McBain, have you even met me?”

“Not for a long time, and…” He took a slow breath. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, Gus.”

“Well, I don’t!” she exclaimed. “I don’t blame you now, and I didn’t blame you then.”

She saw his eyes flash for a millisecond, then he was Luke again and shook his head. “You don’t have to say that, I know—”

“You don’t know anything,” she fired back. “Because you’ve been gone for fifteen years. So the only thing I blame you for is leaving and making us all worried and miserable. That was a dumb move, Luke.”

“That was my only move, Gus.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

“Couldn’t. Sorry.”

Couldn’t?
Sorry
? Under any other circumstances, she’d have lashed at him for that lame-ass answer, but nothing could make her mad at him now. Nothing was worth the risk of losing him again. But first, Tom.

Tom
. The other man she wanted to wrap her arms around. He looked as wretched as she felt after a sleepless night, the last conversation they’d had still shadowing his eyes, but he had an air of satisfaction, too. The look of a man who knew he’d given the perfect gift.

“How did you find him?” she asked, no small note of hero worship slipping into the question.

“He was the guy in the flower market.”

She gasped, unable to fathom that she’d been that close to Luke and hadn’t even known it.

“I’m usually better at stealth,” Luke said. “But I took a risk and tried to get your picture.”

Why? Why not approach her? Why not call her? Why not
come home
? She swallowed all the demanding questions, still terrified he’d disappear as magically as he’d arrived.

Instead, she drank him in some more, marveling at the man he’d become. Gone was a college-bound superstar who roamed the halls of Framingham High like he was king of the world. All signs of youth, innocence, and his anticipation of life had morphed into a rough, rugged man with an air of…danger.

He was built like a tank, with a solid chest and…what was around his neck? A dog tag? She lifted the metal pendant, the shape different from anything she’d seen. This was decidedly French with a stylized fleur-de-lis with the words
Legio Patria Nostra
. On the back, the name Luc McBain.

She looked up at him and met a hazel gaze darkened with a warning that she wasn’t going to love what she was about to hear.

“French Foreign Legion,” he said simply.

She took a slow step backward, unable to comprehend this. “You joined the French Foreign Legion?”

“Fourteen years ago.”

The French Foreign Legion
? “Is there still such a thing? I…I thought that was some romantic, fictional group of mercenaries from the movies.”

“The only thing accurate in that statement is mercenaries, but very few stay in it for the money.”

“So, you’re like a paid soldier for other countries?” Her brother, the ultimate pacifist? The diplomat that everyone said would either be president or the chief justice of the Supreme Court? The best debater in the state of Massachusetts had become a professional soldier?

“I am a French citizen now, and to be clear, I’m no longer in the Legion.”

Words failed as incredulity took over. Her brother, born and raised on the outskirts of Boston, as American as Paul Revere. “Then where do you live? What do you do?”

“France. I have a construction business in Lyon. When you said on your blog you would be so close—”

“You read my blog?”

“Every post. So I came down here to snoop around, then that picture of you went viral, and you were easy to find.”

She pressed her hands against her chest, taking another step backward. Almost instantly, Tom was next to her, his arm around her. “I’m sure he’ll answer all your questions, Gus—”

“Maybe not all of them,” Luke said.

“Well, how about just the big ones,” Gussie replied, curling her arm into Tom’s for the support. “Like why you left and never called or came home.”

“I called Dad a few times.”

She’d known that. Brief, uninformative “I’m alive, don’t look for me” calls that ripped open the wound every time Dad told her about one. All Luke had ever done was assure them he wasn’t dead. Beyond that…nothing.

She resented it, but not enough to let it derail this reunion. The past didn’t matter, because he was right in front of her. Finally.

“Gussie.” Luke reached for her, his tone and eyes telling her their thoughts aligned. “I want to explain some things to you. I couldn’t go back to the States for a lot of reasons, but I’m here now, and I can talk to you.” He searched her face, a whole lifetime of pain she didn’t understand on his. “Please?”

She felt her shoulders soften and fall as she turned to Tom. “I want to talk to him.” As much as she loved Tom’s support, she needed to be alone with Luke.

“Of course.” He nodded. “I’ll go see what’s going on with Alex.”

Alex! Gussie had promised her she’d talk to Tom. But now—

As if he could read her mind, Tom squeezed her hand and shook his head. “One family crisis at a time, Pink. Talk to Luke.”

Gratitude rolled over her, and she impulsively hugged him, holding him long and close and hard. “Thank you,” she whispered, which seemed incredibly inadequate.

He kissed her on the forehead before he left, the simple, single gesture like being handed a diamond.

When he left, Luke pulled her onto the sofa next to him. “Gussie, let me get this right out there. I did what I had to do to survive.”

She nodded, still not entirely getting it. “You know, you could have survived at home.”

“I couldn’t stand it.”

“But the whole incident ended.” She turned, as if to prove that one scar was all that remained. “Once all the hospital and doctor stuff was over, we would have made it as a family, Luke. We were the McBains, remember?”

“I never forget that,” he said. “And we still are the McBains.”

She gave him a wary look. “Mom and Dad split up.”

He closed his eyes like a bullet hit his heart. “I know. Because of me.”

“Because the family broke apart,” she said. “But it can be put back together.” Hope gripped her heart. “I know it can. I believe it can.”

“I damn near killed you. I know it was an accident, but I—”

“No, it wasn’t.” She held up her hand. “I mean, it was, but it wasn’t your fault, and you need to stop thinking that right now.”

“Don’t try to change history. I was there.”

“So was I, Luke. I ran right into the line of fire, or whatever you call the direction a firework is going.”

“But you didn’t know—”

“Yes, I did. And I didn’t care. I’d downed a glass of vodka ’cause your stupid friend Brian Grimsby hurt me, and I thought I’d get attention and maybe make you look bad and…” Her voice faded as the blood drained from his tanned face. It was like she could see him replaying the moment in his mind, from a different angle, with a different possibility, and a different outcome for his whole life.

A band squeezed around her chest, aching and tight and impossible.

“I still shouldn’t have thrown a bottle rocket. It was stupid.”

“Luke, kids do stupid things. Adults forgive and forget.”

He looked down, his jaw clenched. “After I left, I got into trouble. Big trouble. Bad trouble. So I ended up in Europe, and there was more trouble.”

She shook her head on an exhale. “The golden boy of Framingham who never got a freaking detention in school.”

“I changed.”

“I see that.” She reached to touch his face, tracing her finger along the scar at his temple. “And, obviously, I’m as much to blame for your scars as you are for mine.”

“No, I’ve made my own.” He kept looking down, his gaze on his clasped hands, his elbows on his knees.

“I fought wars for money,” he said simply. “I survived in jungles and deserts and caves and…worse. I’ve been all over the world. I’ve fought in Bosnia, Iraq, Somalia, Rwanda, and the Ivory Coast. My family are brothers from Austria, Serbia, Nepal, and New Zealand. I’ve seen shit that can’t ever be unseen but still haunts me at night. I’ve almost died so many times I stopped counting. But not one day have I forgotten you, Mom or Dad, or what I left.”

Her stomach tightened and turned at what he’d been through. “Is it…over now?”

“More or less.”

What the hell did that mean?

He looked up, managing a smile. “I can stay in Nice for a few days. Can we hang out or am I intruding on your family time?”

Her family time? That would be…and then an idea hit her so hard she almost shrieked.

“What?” he asked, obviously reading her expression.

Would he agree to it? Only one way to find out. “Luke, of course you can stay. I want you here. I want you to never leave my life. But…”

He swallowed, as if waiting for his sentencing.

“But that’s not good enough,” she whispered.

“What else do you want?” He looked down again, as if he couldn’t face whatever request was coming.

“I want to be the McBain family again, Luke. I want Mom and Dad here, too. Will you do that? If we can get them here, will you stay for a family reunion? Please?” She reached over and put her hands over his, squeezing. “Would you stay if they come here, too?”

When he looked up, his eyes were wet with unshed tears. For a long moment, he said nothing, but then he blinked, sending a tear rolling over his rough-skinned cheek. “Yes. I will.”

Chapter Twenty-four

“Wag your tail!” Lizzie cried out.

“Fish…water…eyelashes!” Annie screamed.

“I know, I know!” Alex bounced on the living room sofa, laughing so hard at Luke’s inane charade that she could barely speak. “
The Little Mermaid
!”

Luke dramatically pointed right at Alex, then touched his nose, making her break out into applause, the happiest she’d been in hours. Tom gave Gussie’s hand a quick squeeze, and they exchanged a look—again. They still hadn’t had a chance to talk alone today. Somehow, the hours had unfolded into a day at the beach, a dinner with neighbors, a silent truce thanks to Gussie’s obvious joy at having her brother back in her life.

But Tom wanted to talk now, so when Gussie pushed up from the sofa and begged off the next round of charades to straighten up the kitchen, he followed.

When he came up behind her at the sink and slipped his arms around her waist, she stiffened. Undaunted, he pressed her into the counter and buried his face in her hair and neck.

“What’s a guy gotta do to be alone with his girl around here?”

He felt her shudder—either from the kiss or the endearment. “Dishes.” She held a dessert plate over her shoulder. “You can dry.”

He took the plate with one hand, but squeezed her waist with the other. “Are we okay?”

Slowly, still in his arm, she turned. “I didn’t know we were a
we
or that I was
your girl
.”

A hundred responses played in his head.
Maybe we could be. Let’s give it a try. Just for France. Just for now.

All were wrong.

“I don’t know what we are,” he admitted. “Other than crazy about each other and inches apart and dying to kiss.”

“We are all that.”

“It’s good to see you so happy, Pink.”

The smile reached her eyes, making them bright green and blissful. “Happy? My brother is here, my parents are packing to join us, and there’s a living room full of people laughing. I don’t get happier than this.”

“Really?” Because where did he fit in that scenario of happiness? Nowhere. Which was what he wanted, right?

She reached up and cupped his cheek. “This has to be hard for you,” she said. “All this family. Constant reminders. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you lost so much, and if I’m putting salt in the wound.”

His heart dipped a little, as if her words and feelings were pressing right down on his chest. “Sometimes,” he admitted in a soft voice, “when I’m holding you and I want you so much, I feel more lonely than alone.”

He saw her work to swallow, then she bit her lip.

“Whatever it is, Gussie, let it out. Say what you’re thinking, no matter how hard you’re trying not to.”

She fought a smile, busted. But then she shook her head.

“Then tell me later, when everyone’s asleep and you sneak into my room tonight.”