Mark marrying as quickly as they had. Both men had fallen head over heels in love before any of them had realized it. Although Luke professed to not being able to imagine himself falling in love and committing to any one woman, he had to admit that the idea had recently become especially appealing.
Luke liked the changes that had come over Mark and John. They were both more relaxed and easygoing since they’d gotten married. Both of them reeked of pure contentment, seemingly enjoying fabulously full relationships. Luke loved to witness the attention the wives lavished upon them—both Mark’s wife, Michelle, and Marah, John’s wife, committed wholeheartedly to the men in their lives. Luke secretly wished that for himself.
Being young and single had its moments, Luke mused, but he was hardly determined to keep it that way. For the moment he considered bachelorhood only a game of time and one that he played well, but he wasn’t interested in taking it to a championship. The carefree lifestyle and the many beautiful women that went along with it was one thing, but the emotional security and companionship John and Mark had attained definitely appeared more desirable.
Being a master of casual romance had begun to grow weary on his spirit, and Luke felt he was almost ready to just let it all go. His big brothers had taught him well, but they’d also shown him that moving on had its positives. As if to prove that thought, Luke couldn’t help but admire an Asian beauty who was peeking out of the door of a small variety store on the corner. He winked an easy eye and tilted his head in greeting as she tossed him a wide smile of snow-white teeth.
But relationships aside, at this point in his young life, what Luke wanted more than anything else was to prove himself capable of running his own division. In that moment, that was far more important than any romantic commitment could begin to be.
An hour later Luke had managed to circle the twenty blocks twice, stopping periodically to speak with the residents and remaining shopkeepers to ask their opinion about their neighborhood. Many had eyed him warily but were eventually taken in by his boyish good looks and charismatic demeanor. His warm personality was captivating, drawing people to him, and Luke worked that to his advantage, inciting conversation out of the more wary personalities.
One of the senior citizens had pointed him in the direction of the local community center, a makeshift facility housed in an abandoned warehouse off Arkansas Avenue. The building was home to the youth and senior centers, the food bank and a temporary shelter for families displaced from their homes. Although maintenance and upkeep of the building were funded through the city’s budget, there was barely enough money to keep the lights on. Infrequent donations from a few generous benefactors and volunteers helped to offset many of the expenses that would have closed the center’s doors and sent many back into the streets to fend for themselves.
Luke stood at the bottom of the steps of the facility peering up at the glass doors that beckoned him inside. The old man who’d guided him to the entrance pointed with his left index finger, his right hand clutching a brown paper bag as if it were filled with gold. Luke nodded his gratitude.
“Thanks,” he said, pressing a crisp twenty-dollar bill into the old man’s wrinkled hand. “I appreciate the help.”
The old guy threw him a toothless grin. “No problem! Like I told you, this here is the heart of Oak Cliff. If you want to know what this neighborhood needs, sonny boy, you’ll find it here,” the man exclaimed excitedly as he turned an about-face, his newly gotten gains waving between his fingers.
Luke smiled warmly, watching as the man disappeared out of sight. With one last glance over his shoulder he climbed the short span of stairs, pulled the glass doors open and stepped inside.
A rush of noise and the pungent scent of lemon disinfectant greeted him at the entrance. A large reception area with a massive counter that spanned the lengths of two walls sat at the room’s center. The floor was a checkerboard of black-and-white linoleum, the covering worn thin from age. The walls were painted a vibrant sunshine-yellow, the bright color gleaming with energy. Select posters of beaming parents and children above messages of encouragement smiled down on them, the décor sparse but warming.
There were four children—three little girls and a small boy—playing in the center of the floor. The space around them was strewn with plastic blocks and Matchbox cars. A teenage girl sat watching from one of two wooden benches, her gaze moving back and forth between the noise of their childish banter and the paperback book that rested open in her lap.
The young woman glanced in the direction of the door that had closed loudly behind Luke. She met his curious stare with one of her own, her mouth slowly lifting into a friendly smile. Luke smiled back, lifting his hand in a slight wave. Before he could ask for assistance, the little boy let out a loud scream, calling out to everyone that could hear that there was a strange man in the lobby.
Chapter 2
“Mizz Joanne! Mizz Joanne! Some man out here! Come quick, Mizz Joanne!”
Joanne Lake shook her head from side to side as she heard her name being called again and again, Mrs. Stanton’s baby boy screaming at the top of his lungs. No matter how often they told that child to use his inside voice when he was inside, little Bryson preferred saying everything loudly, and he always had much to say.
Before she could lift herself from her seat, the boy came storming through the office doors. He barely missed slamming his face into the corner of the desk as he came to an abrupt halt. Joanne winced as he narrowly avoided what could have been a very nasty accident.
“Some man out here, Mizz Joanne. We don’t know him. He’s strange,” Bryson Stanton sputtered, words spilling out faster than he could catch them.
Joanne smiled, shaking her head as she admonished him. “Bryson, stop yelling. And what did I tell you about running when you’re inside the building here? You could have hit your head and taken an eye out!”
“But there’s a man—”
“I heard you, and I’m coming,” she said as the little boy clasped her fingers in the palm of his small hand and tugged anxiously, trying to pull her to her feet.
“You got to come now, Mizz Joanne! Quick! He’s a stranger! Stranger danger!” Bryson exclaimed loudly, his outstretched arms waving excitedly to emphasize the urgency.
Moving from the space of the small office to the outside reception area, Joanne chuckled softly at the child’s exuberance, sensing that things weren’t nearly as pressing as he’d proclaimed.
And then she saw him, 286 pounds of pure delectable dark chocolate standing six feet tall in navy slacks, a white polo shirt and leather slip-ons. Joanne’s eyes widened with curiosity and obvious interest as her gaze raced from the top of his neatly cropped haircut down to the tips of his very expensive shoes.
The handsome man was standing in conversation with Bryson’s older sister, Brenda, the sixteen-year-old leering at the stranger as if he were a bowl of ice cream and she were a spoon. As Joanne eyed them, she was only slightly taken aback by the girl’s brazen behavior. Brenda looked as if she were just a hair away from throwing herself into the man’s lap. Joanne and Brenda had had more than their fair share of conversations about the appropriate way for a young woman to behave, and Brenda was clearly intent on doing the opposite of what she had been shown.
Shaking her head, Joanne cleared her throat, interrupting whatever conversation Miss Brenda imagined herself having with a man as fine as that one. And the dark stranger was surely one fine man.
“Brenda, would you take the kids back to the recreation room,
