Light Up His Life Read online

  “Where are we headed?” she asked.

  “I figured since I ruined your taco, I owe you one.”

  “It wasn’t my taco. It was my boss, Mary’s taco.”

  “Your boss? What exactly is it that you do?”

  “I work at the library.”

  Mary? The library? Where he was speaking tomorrow.

  Did Elaine know who he was? No, he didn’t think she did. Especially not with how she had reacted to him since their first meeting. He didn’t have any pictures on his author profile. At first, because he needed to keep his anonymity as he was still in the service. But now that he was out, his publishers were pushing him to do more signings.

  “We have a big day there tomorrow,” Elaine continued. “Some hack author is coming to do signings.”

  Chapter Ten

  He was making a good argument. But he wasn't raising his voice. So, was it an actual argument? What Luke had described between his parents sounded far different than what she'd experienced with her parents.

  Gentleness. Kindness. Consideration.

  Elaine preferred her parents apart than together. Their simpering anger was better than their wild passion. In any case, she didn't want to talk about love or passion anymore.

  Luke had been guiding her, walking on the outside of the street. Actually, crossing over to the outside of the street each time they turned a corner. Seems he was determined if a car should hop the curb, it would hit him first. He was taking this hero thing a little too far. But she didn't say anything about it. She kept in step with him between her neighbor’s picket fences and his strong shoulders.

  He’d gone silent as they came up to the restaurant. He pulled the door of Castro’s Mexican Cuisine open. Juan stopped in his tracks when he saw them.

  “It’s not a date,” Elaine said as Juan tossed their menus on the table. “He’s thanking me for saving his life.”

  Juan still gave Luke the stank eye as he took his order. Elaine winced when Luke asked for a substitution. Juan was usually annoyed at any alteration to his menu.

  “I’m worried there might be a sneeze in your burrito,” said Elaine, trying for the brevity they’d shared on the way here. But Luke seemed distracted. “Juan and I have never dated, in case you’re wondering.”

  Luke turned back to her. She noted his body posture was rigid. He was sucking in his cheeks, as though he was trying to hold his tongue. His body was turned at an angle, as though he were shielding himself from her. Elaine realized she preferred his open chest from when he walked on the outside of the sidewalk.

  “I’ve never dated anyone,” she clarified. “Not that I wasn’t asked. I just—”

  “You don’t believe in love.”

  Elaine nodded, but her head felt light like it was disconnected from her neck. Her hands fidgeted, and she wished she was holding a book. But she hadn’t brought one with her tonight.

  “You also don’t appear to appreciate any literature that was written in the twenty-first century.” He speared a tortilla chip into the bowl of salsa.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m a librarian. Of course, I love books. You have something against libraries?"

  "No, they are one of my favorite places in the world."

  "Mine, too. I spent many an after school day there."

  "Because of your parents?"

  Why had she told him about her parents? Now, he'd think of her as some wounded animal. Which she was not.

  She decided to change the subject. “Hey, what book were you reading when I saved your life?"

  “The first Walker Skye book.”

  "Oh," she sighed. Her heart rate slowed. Her blood flow evened out until it was closer to still waters. Had he said a classic, any classic, it might have skipped a beat.

  "Oh?" He leaned forward. Not quite crowding her space, but definitely crossing the line.

  Elaine shrugged, not wanting to disparage the author like she promised Mary. Here was one of his fans, and Mr. Skye was coming to the library to talk. She might as well invite Luke to meet him. "He's doing a signing at the library tomorrow. You should come to meet him."

  "I think I will come,” he said. “But you don't seem excited to meet him."

  "Military Science Fiction is not my cup of tea."

  "Right, you're a Hardy girl."

  "Hardy wrote important works about struggle and morality and the futility of love." She didn't mean to jump back on that subject. But here they were again.

  "Futile is definitely a word I'd use to describe those books,” said Luke. “There's no justice for Tess. She pays a hefty price because of what others did to her."

  Now Elaine leaned forward, stepping over into Luke’s territory. “No, it shows that if you succumb to passion, you will suffer."

  "I think we read two entirely different books. I read a book where an abused woman finds love. But that love casts her off because of what someone else did to her. If you love someone, you're there through thick and thin. It says so in the vows."

  "Not everyone keeps their promises." Elaine broke a tortilla chip in half and crumpled the pieces into the salsa bowl.

  "That's a very sad fact. But it doesn't apply to all people." Luke scooped up the broken bits with a whole chip and plopped it all into his mouth.

  She wouldn't hold his gaze. “You think Walker Skye’s space war books are better. Those books are entirely unrealistic.”

  “Again, I disagree,” Luke said after a sip of water. “They show the triumph of the human spirit. They show that an underdog can win, especially if he or she is backed by a support system. It shows that every person has value. At least that’s what I get out of them.”

  “You’re very passionate about these books.”

  “I read Tess of the d’Ubervilles and am making an informed comparison. I think you should give Walker Skye a try. To be fair.”

  Elaine brushed the crumbs and residual oil of the chips off her hands. “I suppose I should read a few chapters since the author is coming to my place of business.”

  Juan arrived then with their burritos. Luke offered the cook a smile, which was not returned. They ate in companionable silence. Luke steered the conversation away from love and books. He told her instead about his time in the military. He asked her questions about the town and its people. He listened more than he talked. He leaned forward, asking for details. If the military didn’t work out, he might have a career in small-town journalism or detective work with the way he paid attention.

  When the check came, Elaine reached for it. He held up his hands as if in defeat. His grin caught her off guard.

  “No argument?” she said.

  “I’m secure enough in my masculinity to have a woman pay for a five-dollar burrito.” Luke waggled his eyebrows.

  Elaine had to fight back a smile at the facial expression. She was finding it endearing.

  “It was actually seven because you got extra guacamole.” She counted out the cash, including a sizable tip for Juan for showing a modicum of civility.

  “Looks like I’m a cheap date.” Luke held up his hands. “Oops, sorry. Not a date.”

  “Right.” But the word felt thick as guacamole on Elaine’s tongue.

  Luke offered her his arm as they walked out. “This is a gentlemanly gesture,” he said when she hesitated. “It was very popular in the Victorian age.”

  Instead of arguing, Elaine found herself taking Luke’s arm. They walked in silence for a few moments; bellies full, safe topics exhausted. The silence was easy. She liked the warmth of his body. The strength of his forearm. The certainty of his stride. And then she was being crushed against his body.

  The dinging bell of a cyclist whizzed in her ear. Her nose was crushed into the side of Luke’s neck. She got a strong whiff of aftershave, cilantro, and male. Her belly grumbled as though it was nowhere near full and was hankering for a large helping of dessert.

  “I saved your life that time,” he said.

  “So, we’re even?” she aske
d, her voice breathy as she gazed up at him.

  The way he smiled at her made her take another whiff of him. She felt her blood flow increase and pool in her fingertips and cheeks. Her heart didn't skip a beat, but she became acutely aware of its pounding.

  “Yes,” he said.

  His gaze was on her lips. His hands held her elbows. There was an inch between them, but she could still feel his heart.

  “We’re even,” he said.

  Disappointment washed through her, causing her to shiver. What reason would they have to see each other again now?

  “You cold?” Luke pulled his jacket off.

  Elaine ducked away from the romantic gesture. The last thing she needed was to have his scent embedded in her clothes. “Just tired. I think I need to lie down.”

  “Of course.” Concern shone through his gaze. “Let’s get you home.”

  He slipped back into his jacket and wrapped an arm around her waist. She knew the arm was to support her, though she didn’t need it. Still, she didn’t shrug it off.

  Elaine couldn’t remember the last time she’d been held, hugged. She felt Luke’s pulse thrumming as his hand rested on her hip. She felt his heart beating where her shoulder met his chest. For a moment, her world tuned to the sounds of another.

  She walked to his rhythm all the way to her house, her safe haven. They climbed the steps together. There was still some dirt from the spilled pot. But the plant was fine, not wilting at all.

  Elaine turned to Luke at the top of the stair. He had stepped down a rung. So they were eye level.

  “Tonight was fun,” he said.

  “You argue literature with all your friends?”

  “No, most of my friends prefer hack military science fiction to literature,” he said the word literature with a snotty accent.

  Elaine felt like a snob. She wished she’d behaved better. That she’d kept some of her opinions to herself. She didn’t want him thinking badly about her.

  Because they were going to be friends.

  Should she invite him inside for coffee? No, that’s what someone on a date would do. What would a friend do?

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Luke said, stepping down one stair.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “For the signing with the hack author.” There was a bite behind his smile.

  “He’s probably not a hack,” Elaine admitted.

  “Hang on a second.” Luke ran to his truck. He was back in a moment with a book. “See for yourself.”

  It was a copy of Walker Skye’s first book. “So, now I have homework.”

  “That’s how dinner with friends ends. Had this been a date, there might have been a kiss.”

  She held his gaze this time. Sweat collected in the palm of her hands. Her fingertips tingled with the need to touch. And then his hand was between them.

  “Goodnight, Elaine.”

  Elaine put her hand in his. Her palms were clammy. His were damp too. But there was heat between them. That heat evaporated the droplets.

  Luke took the last few steps down the stairs and hopped in his truck. Elaine stayed for a few moments on the front steps, holding the book to her chest. Then she cracked open the cover.

  Chapter Eleven

  "You know that was a sign, right?"

  Luke turned to Paul, but only for a second. He had to keep his eyes on the road. Not only did he need to worry about other cars, but he also needed to worry about pedestrians. Most were looking down at their phones and not flipping through a book.

  "What are you talking about?" said Luke.

  "That lingering handshake? Totally a sign that she wanted you to kiss her."

  "It was not." Was it? "She did not." Did she? "It wasn't a date. Therefore, there were no signs."

  Except maybe there were signs. When Luke had thought Elaine was cold and he'd gone to do the gentlemanly thing with his jacket, she'd stepped back. But she hadn't shrugged him off when he put his arm around her as they walked. In fact, she kinda burrowed herself into his side like he was a favorite pillow.

  They had been silent as they walked. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was pleasant. They'd said everything they had to say back at the restaurant, and man had they said a lot.

  Then there was that handshake. Luke had certainly felt sparks. Perhaps, she had too. He’d heard her gasp, only because he'd been paying such close attention to everything about her.

  Her lips had parted. Her gaze had dipped. Had they dipped to his lips? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t take his eyes off her at the time to determine where she was looking.

  Had it been a sign?

  Luke was normally a good read of people. He had to be in his former line of work in the armed services. But it truly served him in his current line of work as a novelist.

  Writing wasn't just about plot. It was about character growth and development. That's what truly got his readers hooked; that he could get to the heart of what his heroine, and even the villain, wanted. What motivated them to go after a goal. Which conflicts he could put in their path to test them and get them to grow. That's what got him five-star reviews.

  But Luke couldn’t read Elaine. She was a walking, talking, reading contradiction. He knew he'd scare her off if he pushed. But man did he want to push. He just didn't want her running scared before he could pull her in.

  "You might be right," Luke admitted.

  "I know I'm right," snorted Paul. "I know women."

  "Not this one. She's afraid of emotions. Her parents' love story sounded warped."

  Luke told Paul what Elaine had told him about her parents’ divorces and remarriages. He could fill in the blanks that the Reynolds’s passion was destructive. He'd seen the end product in their daughter.

  "That's interesting," said Paul. "Your parents' love story is on the other end of that spectrum."

  "What am I gonna do?"

  "Why do you even like this girl?" asked Paul.

  Good question. "She's beautiful. She's smart.”

  All surface-level observations.

  “She's opinionated,” he went on.

  Which might turn off another man, but he liked the challenge.

  “She’s a strong woman,” he continued.

  She had to be after what her parents had put her through as a child. She’d come through the other end scarred, wounded. Like a soldier after a war. But like Luke, Elaine didn’t have a visible scratch on her. All her hurts were on the inside.

  “There's a softness to her. Something in her eyes that tells me she needs to be held."

  "Another rescue," sighed Paul.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "It's clear as the plot of one of your books," said his friend. "You feel like you need to rescue everyone."

  Luke opened his mouth to argue. Then closed it. Most of his relationships had been with women in the service. There were no wilting flowers there.

  He had fallen for Jessica Kilmeade while she was in the infirmary. He'd started dating Tonya Horwitz after she was medically discharged, but that only lasted until she was on the mend.

  He'd noticed Elaine when she was reading while eating a taco. But he'd felt that spark of something when she'd been lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Was he a rescue romantic?

  "Wait?” said Paul. “You said she works at the library?"

  "Yes," Luke said, parking in a visitor spot at said library. It was one of the last. When he'd come here the other day, he'd had his pick of spots.

  "Did you tell her who you are?"

  "Nope. She called Walker Skye a hack. Even though she's never read my books. I gave her a copy last night."

  "This is gonna be good.” Paul chuckled. “Better than watching a telenovela."

  "I don't understand why you watch those. You don't even speak Spanish."

  "Drama is clear in every language."

  Paul hopped out of the car and winced. Luke held his tongue as his friend massaged his low back. He knew better than to notice Paul’s pain.

>   The familiar pang of guilt washed over him. Then the guilt washed out of him when he spotted Elaine. She was behind the circulation desk. His book was in her hands. Anxiety took up the space where guilt fled.

  "That her?" asked Paul.

  Luke couldn't answer. He was too busy watching as Elaine’s eyes scanned across the pages. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't frowning. Was that a thoughtful look? Did she hate it? Had she found a grammatical error? A plot hole?

  “You said her favorite book is Tess of the d’Urbervilles?" asked Paul.

  Luke wanted to shush the man like they were in a movie theater, and the opening credits were through. Paul was talking at the opening, pivotal scene that would set up the whole story. “I don't know if it's her favorite."

  "A book where secrets destroy the life of the heroine?"

  Luke had never noticed that theme. But, then again, he hadn't thought about the book much since the one time he'd had to read and write a paper about it in school.

  "You are doomed, my friend," Paul said with glee, clapping Luke on the shoulder.

  "Mr. Skye, we're so happy you're here." Mary, the librarian, was dressed more like a naughty librarian today. Her skirt was so tight her knees stayed pressed together as she walked. Her blouse had one too many buttons undone. Her make up could be seen from miles away.

  "You have a full house awaiting your reading," said Mary. "We'll be ready in just a moment."

  "Thank you, Ms. Charles. Everything looks great."

  "Oh, no need to be so formal,” she leaned in. “Please, call me Mary. I thought we might grab dinner afterward to celebrate—"

  "Would you excuse me for just one moment?" asked Luke.

  He walked away from the head librarian to the assistant at the circulation desk. Elaine didn't look up at his approach. Her nose was buried in his book. Was that a good sign? Maybe she was enjoying it. He had to find out.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  Elaine looked up. It took a second before recognition dawned. Her expression changed from pensive to pleased. Luke felt something turn over inside him.