Naturally, he thought something horrible had happened, but his mother had laughed and tousled his head. “Nothing has happened other than someone wrote a very moving book. Do you know…” she’d said, as she’d closed her book and pulled him down on the blanket beside her, “that sometimes I wish I lived a long time ago in a castle?” And she had folded him in her arms. They’d lain on that blanket, watching fat clouds float by, talking about all the things they’d wished for.
“She was a great mom,” he said, and glanced down, surprised by the swell of emotion. He was long past the point of feeling sick to his stomach when he talked about her. Now, she was a collection of warm memories.
“How did she die?” Madeline asked.
“Cancer.” He didn’t say more than that. There was nothing more insidious than watching someone die from cancer, nothing more horrifying, more gut-wrenching than watching your mother slowly waste away. He rarely talked about it.
“I’m so sorry,” Madeline said, and touched his hand.
That small touch reverberated through Luke. He wrapped his fingers around hers. He was at odds with his emotions; his head and his heart were responding to Madeline, but at the same time he felt a shadow of guilt, as if he was letting down his mother by giving into his body’s yearnings and forgetting about the ranch. He looked away from Madeline. “The only thing I have left of her now is memories. Places like this, where she used to be. I stand here and almost see her.” He didn’t say more than that. He couldn’t say more than that. He glanced at Madeline out of the corner of his eye.
She was looking directly at him. “Luke?” she said.
His eyes fell to her lips. “Madeline?”
She smiled, and for a moment of sheer insanity, Luke wondered if she intended to kiss him. Even more insane was that he wouldn’t mind if she did.
“You wouldn’t use your mom to try and back me into a sentimental corner… would you?”
He couldn’t help the grin that began to move across his mouth. He slowly lifted his gaze to hers. Hers were sparkling now—with ire, with challenge, and perhaps with a bit of amusement. “Would it work?”
“Maybe,” she said. “But it would be really demented of you.”
“The most despicable thing ever,” he agreed. “But sometimes a guy has to do what a guy has to do. Wish I had thought of it,” he said, squeezing her fingers, “I’ll just have to rely on my powers of persuasion with you, huh?”
She clucked her tongue at him. “I’m a trained negotiator.”
Now Luke smiled. He shifted closer, leaned down so that his head was next to hers and said softly, “I wasn’t planning to negotiate.”
She gasped—with a laugh or surprise, he wasn’t certain—and poked him in the chest. “Do you think I will fall for that?”
He grabbed her poking finger and held it tight. “Don’t know yet,” he said. “But I’m gonna find out just what it is you will fall for, Maddie Pruett.”
She laughed, a soft, silky little laugh. “It’s Madeline, player.”
There it was again, that feeling of something dancing between them, something with a very strong pull. But wherever that moment was headed was suddenly lost to a loud crack of thunder over their heads. It startled Madeline; she cried out and whirled about at the same time, stumbling into Luke’s chest. Her heel sunk down on the top of his foot; he hissed at the pain, and caught Madeline with an arm around her chest before they both went tumbling.
“I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”
“Fine,” he said tightly, testing his foot again, privately fearing that she might have broken a bone.
Another clap of thunder heralded the arrival of the rain; Madeline looked up at the very moment the skies opened. She cried out with surprise.
Luke threw his arm around her shoulder and they ran—or rather, they hobbled, because of Madeline’s shoes and his near broken foot—to the Bronco, diving in just as the rain began to pour. A white light exploded around them, followed the next moment by at crack of thunder.
“What about the dogs and cows?” Madeline exclaimed.
“They’ll be fine, they’ve already gone for cover.” He started the Bronco and gunned it, lurching across the meadow and down the road as far as he could go before he couldn’t see through the deluge. He stopped the Bronco just as another bright light flashed through the truck and the world was split by the crack of the bolt of lightning. It was so close that Madeline cried out and dipped her head; Luke put his arm around her shoulder and dragged her into his side. “It’s okay, Maddie.”
“We’re going to be killed,” she said breathlessly.
“Lightning will hit the top of those trees first,” he tried to assure her, but another crack did not help his argument. He held her tighter. “Relax,” he said. “We’ll be fine. I’ve done this dozens of times.”
She lifted her head. “Really?”
Not even close—maybe once or twice he’d been caught up high during a storm. But he smiled reassuringly and said, “Well. Maybe not dozens of times.”