This Loving Feeling (A Mirror Lake Novel) (8 page)

That thought superseded everything else.
His fault
. He should have known better. Like the countless things he’d done wrong that had earned him the belt when he was younger. Unpredictable things that a young child couldn’t possibly know, like how to iron a man’s shirt perfectly or how to make coffee when your father was rip-roaring drunk and ready to beat the shit out of your mother.

“We’ve got to stop meeting in hospitals like this,” Sam said, breaking into his morose thoughts.

He looked up and saw her smiling, her bright yellow dress a warm contrast to the sterile-looking room. Had she sensed his struggle and was trying to pull him out of that dark place? Nah, he doubted it.

Or maybe so. She’d always sensed his moods in an uncanny way.

“Yeah, the bright fluorescent lighting and all this white tile really sets my blood to pumping,” he said. Actually,
she
was the one who set his blood to pumping. Like someone humming a song quietly in the background, his awareness of her was always present, even amid his worry over Stevie. This hospital—hell, any hospital—only brought back bad memories but frankly, he could be in the middle of a snowstorm in Antarctica and still want her.

“Remember the first time?” she asked. He could swear she’d said it teasingly, like she was remembering an entirely other kind of first time.

That brought back images of his tiny one-room apartment over the garage, the two of them tangled up together on his futon, doing things to one another in the glow of the solitary streetlamp as darkness wrapped around them like a soft warm blanket.

Even then she’d been water slipping through his fingers. She would always be impossible to hold on to. There had never been a right time for them, and there never would be.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Spikonos,” Sam said, snapping him back to reality. “Did I ever tell you I saw you when they first brought you into this very same ER? You were strapped on to that backboard, and that pretty face of yours was all messed up.”

He’d suffered a concussion and a broken arm from being thrown off his motorcycle over the inlet bridge and was lucky as hell he didn’t drown in the lake because some astute fisherman had fished his sorry ass out of the water.

“Not sure I ever thanked you for that,” he said.

She raised an elegant brow. “You’re welcome. You are lucky to be alive. Not everyone who nearly slams into a chicken truck and then careens off the bridge survives.”

Maybe it was the simple act of holding this helpless child that made his brain go mushy, that made him confess, “Martha Ellis had just died the week before. I jumped on my bike and took off. I was careless.”

“You never told me that. I mean, I knew she’d died, but I didn’t realize . . .” She looked surprised. Why had he said that? He didn’t want her pity.

He shrugged. “It was still a stupid-ass thing to do.” Yet she’d sat by his side even so, when he didn’t have a single soul to claim as friend or family.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that? I mean, I sat with you for a week.”

“I didn’t want to get you involved.”

“That’s what friends are for, Lukas.”

“I was lucky to have you there. You . . . took care of me.” She’d done more than that. She didn’t leave his side for the entire time he was in the hospital.

She flapped a hand dismissively. “You would’ve done fine without me.”

Their gazes locked. Her eyes looked a little glassy. His heart pumped strongly in his chest, and words formed in his throat, compelling him to tell her she had no idea how her sitting there night and day had urged on his recovery, had made him want to heal. Her presence had given him a reason to go on even when the only two people who’d ever loved him were both gone too soon. He opened his mouth, but the words tangled in his throat. His time to say that had expired by about six years. No point in starting now, when she was practically engaged.

The door opened, and Ben walked back in.

Sam sat upright and greeted the tall doctor. “It’s about time you came back.”

He sent her a brotherly glare, then set about listening to Stevie’s lungs through his stethoscope. “He’s a lot more comfortable now.” Yes, Lukas could see it. Stevie was still sleeping, breathing calmly. Ben sat back on a nearby stool and unhooked his stethoscope.

“I had no idea,” Lukas said. “I didn’t know he had allergies.”

Ben crossed his arms and eyed him solemnly. Here was the part when he told him how badly he’d effed up. Lukas could feel it coming. “You couldn’t have known. You said you don’t have any medical history on him?”

“Just a couple pages of records from about two years ago. He hasn’t had regular care and he’s behind on his shots.”

Ben just sat there and nodded. Like he was expecting more.

“His mother did her best but she was young and poor and then she got sick. I was planning to get him a regular doctor once we got settled in.” He paused. “I should have known better than to let him run through that dusty house.”

Ben glanced from his sister to Lukas. Lukas knew that expression. It was a worried-big-brother expression that signaled just how badly he wanted his sister the hell away from Lukas and his trouble. He’d gotten that vibe from Brad six years ago, and right now it was coming through loud and clear. Who could blame him? His “family” was the exact opposite of the Rushfords—he and his four brothers scattered across the winds after their family imploded, none of whom he’d seen in years.

Surprisingly, Ben laughed. “Welcome to parenthood. I’d say, Lukas, you just passed your first test, which is feeling guilt for things that aren’t even your fault. But you did the right thing, getting Stevie here as soon as possible. And of course you can’t take him back there now.”

Lukas pulled his phone out of his pocket to make some calls. “I found another place for us to stay.”

“Don’t bother,” Samantha said gently. “I’m house-sitting for a couple who are traveling in Europe for the summer and they have a guesthouse. It has a nice kitchen and a yard with a play set and even a pool. Stevie will be comfortable there. You two are coming back with me.”

“Can I talk to you, Sam?” Ben didn’t wait for her answer. “Excuse us for a minute.” He nodded briefly at Lukas, then steered Sam into the hall, through a set of double doors into a large white-tiled corridor. “What are you doing with this guy again? He’s been trouble from the beginning.”

Sam couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Her usually easygoing brother had cut right to the chase. “Please don’t treat me like I’m nineteen or twenty again,” she said. “I had no choice but to help out. It’s late and my place is five minutes away. It’s a lot better for Stevie.” She was aware that she was hiding behind the excuse of helping an innocent child when in reality things were far more complicated. But she didn’t owe her brother explanations. She was an adult now, something her older brothers tended to forget. “Make that I
wanted
to help out. Regardless of the past, when people need help, people need help.”

“Don’t pull an Effie on me.”

She couldn’t help smiling. Their grandmother had the softest heart in Mirror Lake. Or all of Connecticut, for that matter. “Oh, come on, Benjamin. You’re one to talk. Meg’s adopted more seniors from assisted living than anyone in town. And stray cats. And of course she saved
you
.”

It was his turn to eye roll. “Don’t bring my wife into this.” Then he grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a long, hard stare, drilling into her with his deep brown eyes. Empathic eyes. Perfect for doctoring. “You’ve always had a savior complex with this guy. But he’s more than capable of being on his own. Why do you insist on helping him when he’s brought you nothing but heartache?”

Sam didn’t miss the passion in his voice. Or his grip for that matter, which felt like he wished he could shake some sense into her. His concern almost made her tear up. Except it also made her angry. Did he not trust her judgment at all? “The entire town’s booked,” she said. “What am I supposed to do, tell him to go find a place in Hartford?”

“It’s only an hour away,” Ben said. “And the answer is
yes
. What the hell is Harris going to do when he finds out this guy is staying in your guesthouse?”

Um, yeah, that
had
crossed her mind. “It’s only for a few days, until Lukas can make other arrangements.”

“Sam, don’t ruin a good thing. Harris is a good guy, but there’s only so much a good guy can take, you know what I mean? Lukas has already hurt you
twice
. Rushford brothers don’t treat repeat offenders very kindly.”

“I remember how angry Brad was the last time,” Sam said.

“And he doesn’t know the half of it, does he? Strike Three could unleash nuclear Armageddon.”

Sam winced, on the inside at least. When she was nineteen, her breakup with Lukas had come at a very bad time. Their brother Kevin had just died, and Brad and his now-wife Olivia were working out their own relationship and taking care of Kevin’s baby daughter.

Brad had always disliked Lukas. Even in Sam’s distress over their breakup, she hadn’t told Brad the complete truth about their relationship, that she and Lukas were a lot more intimate than she’d admitted. He would’ve had a cow, and things were already bad enough.

Sam shook her head. “Thanks,
Brad
.” His face showed her he didn’t miss the reference to their oldest brother, who surely must have done a happy dance the day Lukas left town for good. “I know what I’m doing.” No she didn’t, but it was too late. The offer stood and she wasn’t going to take it back.

Ben raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, fine. Just trying to save you some heartache. Excuse me for being a concerned big brother.” He paused. “What do you want me to tell Brad?”

“Don’t tell him, Ben. It’s none of his business. Or yours. I’m an adult now, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Then make sure you act like one.”

Sam watched him as he did a little fingers-to-forehead salute before he turned down the corridor. It was a curse being the youngest girl in a family of brothers. She wondered how old she would have to be before those guys would treat her like an equal. She was
so tired
of being the baby sister. Every part of her life was a field day, open to their speculation and scrutiny. And of course they always felt obligated to voice their opinions—rather loudly, in fact.

She always respected her brother’s standing as a physician in their community. That’s why she carefully looked around, making sure no one was in the corridor. “Ben,” she called. When he turned, she flipped him the bird and grinned before she pressed the metal handicapped wall button to open the double doors and make her way back to Lukas and Stevie.

CHAPTER 6

Sam told herself to drop the groceries off on top of the little counter of the guesthouse kitchen and leave. After all, she did not want to run into Lukas again. In fact, she’d gone out extra early to Gertie’s for groceries to avoid that. This was a simple act of kindness. For Stevie. She’d wanted Stevie to have breakfast. That was all.

Yet, like a girl in a slasher movie, she felt stupidly compelled to walk past the kitchen.
There’s a monster loose and he’s killed everyone but I’ll be fine
. She just wanted to reassure herself that Stevie was all right. She tiptoed past the comfy couches and the pretty stone fireplace in the little sitting room where brilliant shafts of sunlight streamed in, took in the fabulous clear blue view of Mirror Lake out all the front windows, and craned her neck around the doorway to the adjacent bedroom.

The door was ajar and she couldn’t resist peeking in. Stevie was sprawled out like a starfish on the big bed, that omnipresent ratty blanket balled up against his angelic little cheek. Long lashes swept down over those cheeks that could’ve been more filled out, but he slept soundly with gentle, even breathing. She blew out her own pent-up breath of relief. Okay, mission accomplished, don’t look around, don’t pass Go, don’t collect two hundred dollars . . .

Sam’s gaze dropped to the beige carpet, where Lukas lay stretched out on the floor. Wait—on the
floor
? One hand lay cradled behind his head, the other rested on his stomach. His sexy, shirtless stomach. Her gaze roamed from his muscular, lean torso and oh, wow—was that a soaring eagle tattoo?—down his long limbs, covered with navy pajama bottoms, to his bare feet. Man alive, the guy even had sexy feet. She’d just backtracked to admire his long, dark lashes—so like his nephew’s—when Lukas’s eyes fluttered open.

Oh, fire truck.
Busted.

She waved because—well, what else could she do? And backed away too quickly, ramming into the door before retracing her steps to the kitchen. She heard a door close and sure enough, Lukas was right behind her. She hoped that racket didn’t wake Stevie up.

“Hey,” he said, stopping her in her tracks.

She had no choice but to turn around. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I—” She what? Was curious? Couldn’t stop herself from sneaking around? She decided to focus on her good deed instead. “—brought a few groceries.”

Lukas stepped closer, filling up her personal space and all her senses with his tousled hair, his beard stubble, thick and dark, and that magnificent bare chest. For the first time she noticed a badass snake with its tongue out twining its way around his left biceps. She stepped backward. Away from him, where she could possibly have a logical thought instead of a completely short-circuiting nervous system.

Her eyes were drawn to the elaborate swirls of ink running down his right arm. Flowers, musical notes . . . a delicate, intricate pattern of art that was mesmerizing. What did it all mean? Did it contain symbols for the special women in his life, events, places he’d seen, inspirational sayings? All of the ink on his chest and a lot of it on his arm was new since they’d been together. It saddened her in a way, thinking of how much life had happened to both of them since then. She forced her gaze away and started to unload the food.

She suddenly got really interested in grabbing a carton of orange juice from a grocery bag. “How was your night?” she asked in what she hoped was a casual tone. “You slept on the floor?”

“I was checking on him every half hour and I couldn’t sleep anyway so I just ended up crashing near his bed.”

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“That’s okay, Sunshine.” He stretched and began opening cabinets. “I’d never complain about a beautiful woman waking me up anytime of the day or night.”

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of those lined up for the job.” Immediately she bit her lip, regretting her snarkiness. Not that she was jealous of all the women that were surely clamoring in every city to service his every need. Sam unloaded the orange juice, a carton of eggs.
For Stevie
, she reminded herself. The other Spikonos was just too . . . distracting.

She felt his gaze boring down on her like the too-hot sun. When she looked up, his eyes were dancing and he was smiling, one dark brow raised.

“What?” she asked.

“You look a little flustered, Princess.”

That
reminded her of why he was so annoying, and it was a relief to replace the raw sexual tension with anger. “Do not call me that. And pu-lease. Don’t flatter yourself.” After this morning there was only one thing left to do. Stay the hell away. Like that was going to be possible with him living in her backyard.
Good one, Einstein
. If she were alone, she would have smacked herself upside the head.

As she cradled a loaf of bread, she felt a hand on her arm. “Hey, sorry. I don’t mean to tease.” She turned to look at him, remembering when his calling her Princess was half in jest, but mainly an endearment. Up close, the stubble on his cheeks was dark and sexy, and his big brown eyes held a touch of something she couldn’t quite read, but it was bare and honest and so, so dangerous.

He sighed. “What I meant to say is, it’s a pleasure and a surprise to have you here with us this morning. I also wanted to thank you for coming with me to the ER last night. I . . . appreciated having you there. I owe you for that. You don’t have to make breakfast.” He tugged the bread out of her hands, and she quickly dug back into the bag because her hands were now shaking. “But thanks a lot for the groceries. Stevie needs all the regular meals he can get.”

Sam wondered again if she should ask what happened. How exactly the hottest singing sensation since Ed Sheeran had wound up packing a kid into his bus at his last pit stop. But Lukas was working on filling the coffee pot and she turned to more practical matters, like finding a bowl to crack the eggs in and a pan to fry up bacon. Lukas surprised her again by cracking an egg with one hand and tossing the shell in the sink.

“Maybe my sympathy for you is misplaced. Maybe you can fend just fine for yourself.”

“Honey, I’ve had an entire youth specializing in fending for myself. Cracking eggs is not a problem.”

No, it wasn’t, but cracking his shell would be much harder. Years ago, he’d offered little about his youth, and it didn’t seem that time had changed that. She traded the bag of coffee for his Pyrex bowl, nodding toward an upper cabinet. “I think the filters are up there.”

“I need to ask you a favor,” she said suddenly, watching the hard planes of muscle in his back flex as he reached up for the filters.

“I’m yours for the asking.” There went that wicked grin again. “Seriously. I owe you for all you’ve done for us.”

“You may not feel that way after I ask.”

He gave an elegant shrug. More mesmerizing muscle action. “Try me,” he said.

Oh, yes, she’d love to try him. A million different ways.
No! Where were these thoughts coming from? She shook her head to stave them away. “My committee for the theater has botched the entertainment for the benefit, which is just under three weeks away, on June first. The lounge singer they asked can’t come and the only other choice is Victor Irving.” She was pleased when he winced at the name. “I hate to ask but . . .”

“Consider it done.”

“Really?” Her heart gave a foolish thump. She was more pleased that he seemed to want to do it for her rather than the fact that she’d just scored a major star for the benefit.

“Anything for you, babe.”

“Thank you,” she managed. What remarkable eyes he had, depths of rich brown with a fathomless intensity that made her breathless. His gaze raked slowly over her in a way that started a smolder in the pit of her stomach that spread out to flame her cheeks. And other areas. “I—appreciate it.”

They whipped up breakfast in companionable silence. He worked efficiently, finishing the eggs, making toast, cutting strawberries, humming some catchy tune she’d never heard before. Probably his latest song. He’d surprised her—he didn’t seem like the type to know his way around a kitchen. Harris certainly played the helpless male around unprepared food, but then, his mom and three sisters had made fending for himself unnecessary.

She, meanwhile, tried to focus on not burning the bacon in light of the fact that she’d accidentally bumped into him a few times and had come way too close to that snake tattoo that wove its way around his arm. She fought the impulse to trace it . . . with her tongue.

Oops, he was saying something. She had to stop her mind from wandering. She found him looking at her expectantly. “Wh . . . what did you say?”

He was holding two plates. “Stevie’s still asleep. Let’s take our plates outside and eat, want to?”

It shocked her how easy it was to fall back into their old ways together. To pretend to forget the old wounds—not that she hadn’t forgiven, because Sam was a forgiving person, and she’d long ago accepted that they were done—

Well, it didn’t matter, right? They’d both moved on. She was so confident in that that she decided
why not
. He was holding a steaming plate of eggs under her nose and a coveted cup of coffee. So she took both and headed outside.

They walked onto a stone patio, where there was a large round table covered with a big red umbrella. It skirted a large swimming pool where her nieces and nephews loved to swim on the weekends. Dr. Donaldson, the CEO of Mirror Lake Hospital, and his wife had been grateful that she was taking care of their house all summer. Sam didn’t mind keeping an eye on things and the place did have its perks. Living here temporarily was a nice bridge between her apartment lease running out and moving to Boston to be with Harris.

Lukas had just sat down when he said, “Be right back,” and ran into the house, returning a few seconds later with napkins.

“You went back for that?”

“And to make sure the other door is locked. I don’t want Stevie wandering out around the pool. I doubt he knows how to swim.”

“You can sign him up for lessons at the community pool. It’s where my nieces and nephews go. I don’t think lessons start till June.”

“Great idea.” They reached for their coffees at the same time. Sam stared out over the lake, watching early summer boaters cutting trails of white in the calm blue water. Felt the bright morning sun warm her skin. She loved summer here. Such a relief after the harsh winter, such a blessing.

They ate for a few minutes in silence, listening to the birdsong and the distant drone of boat engines putt-putting around the lake. She tried to focus on the lake and not his naked torso, which was very, very distracting.

Sam wasn’t very brave, but she realized that life only gave you a few rare opportunities to understand the past. Maybe because of all the confusion Lukas had stirred up in her, she truly
wanted
to understand. So she could sweep all those old tangled memories out of her brain. Lay them—and him—to rest.

She needed resolution. She owed that much to Harris. She wanted to bring a clean slate to their future. Not a nagging splinter in her finger that resurfaced every so often and drove her crazy.

“Why did you never call me, Lukas?”

He literally choked on his eggs, and she found herself patting his back—oh, God, she touched that warm, muscley skin, and why the hell could he not have put on a shirt?—until finally he took a swig of coffee and stopped.

She didn’t miss the flash of panic in his eyes. It gave her a little edge and made her sit up a little straighter. “I want to know. Six years ago you handed me a car and some keys and a cryptic message and left forever.”

He had the decency to blush. Which was hard to detect with his olive skin, but she saw it, and it pleased her. “I was in love with you,” she said. “I kept hoping you’d come back. I even went to one of your concerts, about a year later, all the way to New York City, hoping to run into you.”

His eyes looked a little watery, but of course it was from the choking. He reached across the table and grasped her hand. She gasped from the shock of it—the strength of his grip, the warmth of his fingers, the coolness of all those silver rings. A sizzling sensation of electricity passed between them. Instinctively, she tried to pull away, but he held on tightly.

“I never meant to hurt you, Samantha.” He seemed like he meant it, meant every word. If only she could believe him.

“But you did. I . . . I’m just trying to understand.”

“I was a nothing and a nobody.” A bitter edge cut through his voice. “I had nothing to offer you.”

The idea that he ever would have thought of himself as nothing saddened her.
Her
eyes really did tear up, which was ridiculous, and she swiped at them with her free hand. “I never thought that. You—you saved me from making terrible mistakes. If you wouldn’t have come along when you did I don’t know what I—”

“You would’ve been fine without me,” he said gently, and his voice, that beautiful, amazing voice, low and deep and perfect—it just slayed her. Part of her felt like she was twenty again, sitting here, thrilled by his touch.

It was as if nothing had changed.

But everything had.

“I had fifty bucks in my pocket when I walked out of town that day. No family, no friends, and no job.”

“I always knew you were special.” She didn’t mean to whisper but the words came out that way. “That you’d become something special.”

“I’m not special. I just work hard.” He touched her face. With just his forefinger, wiping along the path of a tear, staring at her with those Johnny Depp eyes of his. The smooth, icy metal of his rings glanced her cheek. She swallowed hard.

“Hello, dearies! I’m here!” a voice called out from afar.

Mrs. Panagakos was huffing up the gravel drive, dragging her giant purse and another large quilted satchel that looked like she was planning to stay for a week or maybe a month. And carrying a plate of covered food. True Confessions would be over in a minute, thank the Baby Jesus for that.

Lukas glanced at his watch. “Right on time.” He still hadn’t released her hand. “Thanks for helping me, Sam. You didn’t need to do any of this. Especially in light of our . . . history.”