clearly relieved by her easy acceptance of his plans. “Well, Princess,” he said with a grin, “I can’t tell you how pleased I am. Frankly, I was worried you’d be upset.”
“Oh, Dad...”
Still grinning broadly, Devin stroked the side of his jaw. “Dorothea isn’t a bit like your mother—I don’t know if you’re aware of that or not. Fact is, the only reason I asked her out that first time was so she’d invite me over for some of her peach cobbler. Then before I knew it, I was making excuses to get into town and it wasn’t because of her cobbler, either.”
Kate made an appropriate reply, although a minute later she wasn’t sure what she’d said. Soon afterward, her father kissed her cheek and then left the house, telling her he’d be back later that afternoon.
She poured herself a second cup of coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to digest everything that was happening to her well-organized life. She felt as though her whole world had been uprooted and flung about—as though a hurricane had landed in Nightingale.
Wandering aimlessly from room to room, she paused in front of the bookcase, where a photograph of her mother stood. Tears blurred her eyes as she picked it up and clutched it to her chest. Wave upon wave of emotion swept through her, followed by a flood of hot tears.
She relived the overwhelming grief she’d felt at her mother’s death, and she was furious with her father for letting another woman take Nora’s place in his life. At the same time, she couldn’t begrudge him his new happiness.
Mrs. Murphy wasn’t the type of woman Kate would have chosen for her father, but then she wasn’t doing the choosing. Suddenly resolute, Kate dragged in a deep breath, exhaling the fear and uncertainty and inhaling acceptance of this sudden change in both their lives.
The back door opened and instinctively Kate closed her eyes, mentally composing herself. It could only be Luke, and he was the last person she wanted to see right now.
“Kate?”
With trembling hands, she replaced the faded photograph and wiped the tears from her face. “Good morning, Luke,” she said as she entered the kitchen.
Luke had walked over to the cupboard and taken down a mug. “Your father just told me the news about him and Mrs. Murphy,” he said carefully. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Of course. It’s wonderful for Dad, isn’t it?”
“For your father yes, but it must be a shock to you so soon...”
“After Clay and Rorie,” she finished for him. Reaching for the coffeepot, she poured his cup and refilled her own. “I’m going to be just fine,” she repeated, but Kate didn’t know whether she was telling him this for his benefit or her own. “Naturally, the fact that Dad’s marrying Dorothea means a few changes in all our lives, but I’ll adjust.”
“I haven’t seen your father this happy in years.”
Kate did her best to smile through the pain. “Yes, I know.” To her horror tears formed again, and she lowered her eyes and blinked wildly in an effort to hide them.
“Kate?”
She whirled around and set her coffee aside, then started wiping invisible crumbs from the perfectly clean kitchen counter.
Luke’s hands settled on her shoulders, and before she knew what was happening, Kate had turned and buried her face against his clean-smelling denim shirt. A single sob shook her shoulders and she gave a quivering sigh, embarrassed to be breaking down in front of him like this.
“Go on, baby,” he whispered gently, his hands rubbing her back, “let it out.”
She felt like such a weakling to be needing Luke so much, but he was so strong and steady, and Kate felt as helpless as a rowboat tossed in an angry sea. “Did...did you know Dad might sell the ranch?” she asked Luke.
“Yes.” His voice was tight. “When did he tell you?”
“This morning, after he said he was marrying Mrs. Murphy.”
“You don’t have to worry about it.”
“But I do,” she said, sobbing brokenly. She felt Luke’s chin caress the crown of her head and she snuggled into his warm, safe embrace. Luke was her most trusted friend. He’d seen her through the most difficult day of her life.
The thought of Clay and Rorie’s wedding flashed into her mind, and with it came the burning memory of her marriage proposal to Luke. She stiffened in his arms, mortified at the blatant way she’d used him, the way she’d practically begged him to take care of her—to marry her. Breaking free of his arms, she straightened and offered him a watery smile.
“What would I do without you, Luke Rivers?”
“You won’t ever need to find out.” He slid his arms around her waist and gently kissed the tip of her nose. His smile was tender. “There must’ve been something in the air last night. First us, and now your father and Mrs. Murphy.”
“About us,” she began carefully. She drew in a steadying breath, but her eyes avoided Luke’s. “I hope you realize that when I asked you to marry me I...didn’t actually mean it.”
He went very still and for a long moment he said nothing. “I took you seriously, Kate.”
Kate freed herself from his arms and reached for her coffee, gripping the mug tightly. “I’d had too much champagne.”
“According to you, it was only one glass.”
“Yes, but I drank it on an empty stomach, and with all the difficult emotions the wedding brought out, I... I simply wasn’t myself.”
Luke frowned. “Oh?”
“No, I wasn’t,” she said, feigning a light laugh. “The way we were dancing and the way I clung to you, and...and kissed you. That’s nothing like me. I’m not going to hold you to that promise, Luke.”
As if he found it difficult to remain standing, Luke turned a chair around and straddled it with familiar ease. Kate claimed the chair opposite him, grateful to sit down. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. Luke draped his forearms over the back of his chair, cupping the hot mug with both hands, and studied Kate with an intensity that made her blush.
“Listen,” Kate said hesitantly, “you were the perfect gentleman and I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you did. But... I didn’t mean half of what I said.”
The sun-marked crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes fanned out as Luke smiled slowly, confidently. “Now that raises some interesting questions.”
“I don’t understand.” Surely Luke knew what she was talking about, yet he seemed to enjoy watching her make an even bigger fool of herself by forcing her to explain.
“Well,” he said in an easy drawl, “if you only meant half of what you said, then it leads me to wonder what you did mean and what you didn’t.”
“I can’t remember everything I said,” she murmured, her cheeks hot enough to pop a batch of corn. “But
