took Lucas almost a week to find the nerve to approach Annie Applegate about dinner. Friday morning, he sat on the edge of his bed, rubbed his face with both hands and heaved a deep sigh, promising himself he wouldn’t put it off any longer. He just had to make sure he explained himself clearly.
Since the day Jane and Dovie had suggested he take Annie out, he’d made a dozen excuses to visit Tumbleweed Books.
He’d bought two more stories by Beverly Cleary for the girls, an atlas and a biography of Abraham Lincoln. But he still hadn’t spoken to Annie.
At one time he’d had it all, and then his wife had died from cancer. For two years he’d railed against the unfairness of life; now he merely felt empty. He hated to disappoint Jane and Dovie, those two great romantics, but he wasn’t interested—not in a romantic relationship, at any rate. He intended to be honest with Annie about that. Despite what he’d said to the Pattersons a few weeks ago, he wasn’t planning to remarry.
The truth of the matter was that he was lonely, and he thought maybe, just maybe, Annie was lonely, too. Two lonely people who might share an evening out sometimes. Two people who could each benefit from someone to break the monotony of everyday life. Someone to laugh with. A friend. He didn’t quite know why he hesitated about approaching Annie. After all, they had things in common. They were both newcomers to the community, although he’d lived in Promise as a child and returned a few years ago. More important, Annie Applegate was alone, the same way he was, and she might be open to a just-friends arrangement.
Both his daughters now loved books. Heather, who’d recently been a reluctant reader, spent her entire allowance on books every week. Hollie, who was only learning to read, followed Annie around the shop like a shadow. Lucas marveled at Annie’s patience with his daughters. He appreciated it, too.
Today was the day, Lucas promised himself. Jane had reminded him twice about her offer to watch his girls, and so had Dovie. A single father didn’t get baby-sitting offers all that often; he’d be a fool to turn this one down.
Dr. Jane had made no attempt to be subtle about setting him up with her bookseller friend, and that worried him. But as long as he and Annie understood each other, it could work. The problem was, how exactly did a man convey that to a woman without disappointing or insulting her? Still, he had to try.
With a sense of resolve, Lucas readied himself for his day, paying extra attention to his appearance. When he’d finished, he studied his reflection for several minutes, scrutinizing himself with a fresh eye.
He concluded that at thirty-five he hadn’t lost his looks. True, he was a little rough around the edges, but after everything that had happened in the past four years, plus his responsibilities at home and work, that was to be expected.
He possessed a full head of dark hair, with a few gray strands. But not many; he deserved more. The shadows beneath his eyes revealed too many sleepless nights and a grief that would haunt him to the grave.
All morning as he went about his duties, Lucas searched his soul...and thought about Annie.
He also thought about his wife.
It seemed an eternity ago that he’d dated Julia. They’d been college classmates and had married before he entered veterinary school. She’d worked to support them while he completed his training. Once he’d graduated and joined a practice, they’d started their family. Everything had been so well planned, so carefully worked out. Then Julia had become ill and was soon diagnosed with cancer. Within six months she was dead—and so were all his dreams.
Driving into town, he parked his pickup, then quick-marched down the street toward the bookstore. He burst inside, determined to be done with this once and for all.
“Annie.” He hadn’t intended to sound quite so demanding—or so loud.
Belatedly, and thankfully, he realized she was alone.
Startled, she looked up from the cash register. “Lucas?”
“No,” he said. “I mean yes, it’s me. Obviously.” He groaned inwardly. “I...I was wondering...” He stopped, not knowing how to proceed. This was even worse than he’d envisioned.
“You were wondering...” Annie prompted.
Before he could say another word, the bell above the door jangled and Louise Powell walked in. Oh, wonderful—the town gossip. One thing about Louise, her timing was impeccable. He could only imagine what she was thinking. Here he was, hat in hand, stuttering with awkwardness. Louise paused when she saw him, and that sly knowing look came over her features.
“Hello, Louise,” Annie said cheerfully. Too cheerfully, Lucas thought.
He didn’t have a thing to feel guilty about, but he might as well have been a cat standing in a froth of feathers. Lucas cursed silently at the interruption.
Louise stared at the two of them as though waiting for them to continue their conversation. “Hello, Lucas.”
“Louise...” His gruff response did little to disguise his displeasure. Damn woman was about to ruin everything.
Louise glanced from one to the other. “Did I interrupt something?”
Annie shook her head. “Not at all. How can I help you?”
“As a matter of fact, you did interrupt something,” Lucas muttered. Taking the woman by the elbow, he escorted her to the door. “I’m sure you won’t mind coming back at a more convenient time.”
Based on his experience, it wouldn’t matter what he said or did from this point forward; Louise’s version of what had happened would be all over town within minutes, anyway. That was the last thing he wanted, but he wasn’t about to let this old biddy stop him now.
“Well, really...” Louise clucked as he escorted her out the door and then locked it after her. To be on the safe side, he reached inside the window and flipped the Open sign to Closed.
“Lucas?” Annie stared at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “What’s going on?”
The problem was, he didn’t know. He drew in a deep breath, switched his hat from his left hand to his right and then rammed his fingers through his hair.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
“Do you like to eat?” he blurted out, immediately cursing himself for asking such an inane question.
“Eat... Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”
“The Mexican Lindo—or what about the Chili Pepper? And there’s always the café at the bowling alley.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you asking me to lunch? Is that what this is all about?”
“No, not lunch,” he snapped before he could stop himself. God help him, he was making a mess of this.
“Oh?” Her confusion apparently matched his own.
“Dinner,” he said, and fearing what he might say next, clamped his mouth closed.
Some of the bewilderment left her eyes. “If I understand you correctly, you’re not asking me to lunch but to dinner, right?”
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