open and fixed on her hand, still resting on his arm. She should move, but she simply couldn’t. “How did your hands not get burned too?” She whispered the question.
“I was wearing gloves.”
She slid her fingers lower until she clasped his hand. He closed his fingers around her palm, then straightened to a sitting position, tugging her onto the couch next to him.
“The kids?”
“Still asleep. I’d voice my hope that we’re over the worst of it, but I don’t want to jinx it. I guess time will tell. Do you still feel okay? We probably gave you germs, which I feel awful about.”
He released her hand so he could put his arm around her instead. “At the moment, I feel more than okay.”
He hadn’t made any move to cover his scars. Hadn’t even seemed to mind her looking at them, touching them. Who was this Lucas?
And how in the world had it taken her so long to realize her true feelings for this man? Now that she had, there was no going back. “Can I ask you something, Luke?” He’d propped one leg on the coffee table and leaned his head against the back of the couch. “Unless you’re planning on falling back asleep.”
He smiled with his eyes closed. “I’m ridiculously awake, Jen. It’s just I can’t look at you too long in those pajamas with your wet hair and you smelling like berries or something.”
“That’s my shampoo and why not?” She couldn’t keep the pleasure from her tone.
“Because you called me an honorable man the other day and I’d like to keep it that way.” He fiddled with the damp hair over her shoulder. “What’d you want to ask me?”
“Mara said that you’ve, um, well . . .” What was the right word? “You’ve liked me or . . . or had feelings or something for kind of a while. She said basically everyone knew but me.” The room’s sole source of light, the dim bulb of a lamp, was just enough to make out the red spreading over his cheeks. Was Lucas Danby blushing?
He opened his eyes. “What’s the question?”
“Well, is that true? And if it is, why’d it take you so long to say anything?” Not that he actually had said something so much as done something. The thought was enough to make her flush.
But then, maybe he’d said more than she’d realized in recent weeks. There’d been that night at the Everwood when he’d said he liked all the versions of her. There’d been countless compliments. She’d just always taken them so casually, as if from a friend.
But Sam was her friend and he hadn’t come to check on her that first night when she hadn’t gone back to the Everwood. Sam was her friend and he hadn’t cleared every box from her first floor or taken her out onto the attic balcony or moved into the cottage out back with the sole purpose of helping her.
And he’d sure never looked at her the way Lucas often did. The way he was right now.
“I could give you a thousand reasons, Jen, but I think they probably all boil down into one. I was always scared. I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same, scared I’d ruin our friendship. I was scared of telling you all the things I told you the other night.” He tucked her head against his shoulder. “And there was always the problem of me leaving every fall.”
It was the perfect opening to her next question. The one she didn’t want to ask but had to. “And this fall?”
His stillness enfolded her. “I don’t know anymore.”
Hope warmed through her, touching every awakened nerve inside of her. “You know, even if you did go, that wouldn’t necessarily mean that this . . . that we couldn’t . . . that . . .”
While she tried and failed to find the words, he slipped his arm from her shoulder and shifted so he faced her, his side against the back of the couch and his gaze earnest. “What are you trying to say, Jen?”
She met his eyes and mustered up her courage. “I think you’re incredible, Lucas. I’ve always thought so, even before I knew what you’re really doing when you’re not in Maple Valley. And now that I do know . . . well, you always come back eventually. As long as you keep coming back . . .”
He’d said his missions were dangerous, though. She supposed his returning was never guaranteed. The thought