told him then picked up their earlier conversation.
“I’ve never seen whatever it is you spend so much time sewing.” He studied the green scrubs she still wore from her shift at the hospital, his gaze resting on the label on the chest pocket. “Not those, I’m guessing. Are you helping with more quilts for Family Ties? I heard the intent was to give one to every woman who uses the services of Family Ties to adopt out her child.”
“I am helping with that.” Holly wished he wasn’t so curious. “But that’s not exactly what I want a sewing room for.”
It was silly trying to evade the question because Luc never let anything go until he had an answer. That was the way he’d been the whole time he’d been learning ranching from her dad, and Holly doubted he’d ever change. His curiosity was innate. He was one of those people who asked and probed until he received a satisfactory answer. She thought Henry had the same trait.
“I could understand if you were still making your wedding dress.” Luc squinted out the window, watching the town come to life. “But you don’t need that anymore, do you?”
“Even if I did, it’s too late,” she told him defiantly. “I cut it up the day Ron dumped me.”
“But you could use it someday,” he protested.
“I am not getting married, Luc. Even if I were, do you honestly think I’d wear a wedding dress I chose to marry someone else? I assure you, I would not. But I repeat, I’m not getting married. Ever.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Ever? That’s pretty harsh.” Luc raised an eyebrow then inclined his head toward her plate. At her nod he picked up the last slice of her toast and smeared jam over it. “Surely one day—”
“Never,” Holly repeated. “I’m too independent.” She glanced at him through her lashes as she fudged the truth. “I prefer to be single.”
He shot her a look that questioned her statement.
“Don’t worry. I put that wedding dress to good use. There are some really nice curtains in the living room at Family Ties.” She burst out laughing at his startled look, hoping to hide the hurt that snuck up on her occasionally, ever since the day Ron had told her he wouldn’t marry her.
That’s what comes of keeping secrets.
“You’re a good sport, Holly. I like that about you. Though I can’t say I have such high regard for the man you chose to marry.” Luc’s voice tightened. “Ron Simard was a first-class jerk to walk away from you like that.”
“He had his reasons.” If Luc knew what she’d kept hidden from her fiancé until a few days before her wedding, Holly was pretty sure he’d have agreed wholeheartedly with Ron’s decision to turn tail and run.
Luc had lost his family and frequently spoke of his desire for an heir. How could he ever understand her decision to give away the infant she’d birthed while she was in training?
“So your new sewing room doesn’t have anything to do with Ron?” he pressed, nudging her from the past with its guilty secrets.
“Not at all! Sewing is my hobby, Luc, a way to be creative and a total change from my work,” she explained. “It lets me achieve some of my dreams. Aside from the cost of the renovation, it shouldn’t impact the ranch budget too much. Okay?” She stared at him, one eyebrow arched.
“If you’re asking my permission, I certainly think it’s okay if you make a sewing room out of your extra bedroom,” he said, pushing away his empty plate.
“I wasn’t asking your permission,” she shot back, irritated that she’d felt compelled to explain but even more annoyed that she’d let him get to her. He knew it, too, judging by the smile flickering at the corner of his lips.
“If that’s what you want. I might even offer to help you do the renovation.”
“Really?” She frowned. “I thought you’d be too busy with ranch stuff. You keep asking if I’ve done it yet, but you’ve never actually offered to help me clean out Dad’s trunk.”
“That’s different.” Luc had the grace to look embarrassed. He turned, grabbed a napkin and wiped Henry’s syrup-spattered cheeks. “I don’t want to push in on your personal affairs,” he muttered.
“Luc, you already know everything there is to know about Cool Springs Ranch,” Holly pointed out, surprised by this sensitivity.
“There might be something personal in there that you don’t want to share. Did you ever empty it?” He did look at her then.
“Not yet.” Holly couldn’t shake the feeling that Luc was hiding something. “I’ll get to the trunk. Eventually.”
“Good. Anyway, renovating is different than going through personal stuff. Sort of.” He nodded then shook his head. “Or maybe not.”
“Definitive answer,” she teased as she studied him, confused by his response. Luc was never uncertain. “You’ll help me with the renovation and I suppose you’ll expect me to help you with something in return. What?”
“I’m not sure yet.” He tilted his head just the tiniest bit to the left where Henry sat silently watching them. Holly frowned, prepared to push for an answer but Luc shook his head.
She shrugged. Let him have his secret. Goodness knew she had her own and she hated it when anyone tried to push her into saying something she didn’t want to.
“Can we get my family now?” Henry asked.
“It won’t be that simple, Henry,” Holly warned. “It’s a long process to find a family. Besides, we’ve got another fifteen minutes before we’re supposed to meet the mayor.” His sad expression touched her. He must be very lonely. With a spurt of inspiration she asked, “Where did you live before, Henry?”
“In Calgary. In a shelter. My brother took care of me.” For the first time the boy’s composure fractured. A big tear plopped onto his cheek. “Finn can’t take care of me anymore because he’s in prison. He told me he didn’t do it but I think he did steal the money from the store and it’s my fault.”
“How could it be your fault?” Luc asked, touching the boy’s shoulder gently.
“My teacher said I need new glasses. But I shouldn’t have told Finn because he didn’t have any money to buy them.” Henry’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I asked him anyway.”
“You couldn’t know what Finn would do,” Holly said, hugging Henry close for a moment. “It’s not your fault.”
When Luc didn’t add his voice to the comment, Holly glanced up and found him staring at her and Henry, his brown eyes almost black with intensity.
“What?” she murmured, discomfited by his look.
“I just had an idea.” A slow grin moved across Luc’s face, accenting the handsome ruggedness. “Henry, here’s some money. Could you go pay the bill?”
Delighted by this sign of trust, Henry scooted out of the booth and across the café.
“Why
