He looked at her now as she scrutinized their handiwork. “So,” he said as he tested the water pressure in the last showerhead, “nothing left but herding Johnsons around now, is that right?”
“I think so,” she said cheerfully. “We’ve got the horseback riding and river-rafting lined up. Ernest built a horseshoe court and cleaned up the—what did he call it, the washer pit? The cows are somewhere,” she said, gesturing to the mountain. “Everything is set up and ready.” She beamed at him. “I really can’t believe that we pulled it off.”
Neither could he. Two weeks ago, he would have sworn there was no way it would happen. “Now what?” he asked.
“Now what about what?”
He paused to look at her. “I’m talking about you and me, actually.” He hadn’t intended to ask that now; it had just come out.
The question obviously gave her pause. Her smile faded and she squinted off in the distance. “Well,” she said, and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I guess we’ll be on hand to greet the Johnsons, right?”
That was the first time she’d mentioned being around when the Johnsons arrived. In fact, she had made it very clear she would not be around for that. He arched a brow.
She shrugged at his questioning look. “I mean, we’ve gone to so much trouble.”
“What about the DiNapoli house?”
“I can… I can get someone to cover that,” she said uncertainly. “We’re talking only one more week, right?”
“I’m not really sure what we’re talking about, Maddie.”
Madeline smiled uneasily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because I’m wondering what happens after that.”
She took a step back—unconsciously, consciously, he didn’t know. “I don’t know. I thought we didn’t have to decide anything right now.”
“We don’t. But maybe we should talk about it. We don’t talk, Maddie. We get together—”
“Right, right,” she said, blushing, and looking surreptitiously over her shoulder.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked, watching her for any sign of deception.
“What? Why would you say that?” She seemed truly taken aback, truly offended.
“I hoped you had given it some thought,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag he had stuffed in his back pocket. Tell me. Tell me you’ve involved lawyers to sell this ranch.
She bit her lower lip. “Well… I thought maybe you could come to Orlando,” she said timidly.
His heart sank a little. “And do what?”
“I know some architectural firms. I could find something for you.”
“I’ve started a business in Denver,” he pointed out.
She nodded, as if she’d anticipated this argument. “But you can build anywhere.”
Luke sighed. So this was where it was going, then—nowhere. The last couple of weeks had been some of the best of his life. He’d felt things for Madeline Pruett he’d not felt for anyone else in a very long time. He could argue that she could do her job here, too, but he couldn’t ask her to give up the life she’d built any more than she could ask that of him.
But she just had. And she clearly meant to sell Homecoming Ranch yet, even knowing what it meant to him. What really stung was that he knew, had known, the first night they were together in Denver, that this was one messed up relationship, judging alone by the circumstances of how they’d met. Worse, he couldn’t even say to himself what it was he wanted anymore. He just knew that he wanted her. But he wanted her to want him in the same way. And even then, he didn’t know what it meant for either of them.
Luke bent down and picked up the power drill. “So another week, huh?” he asked lightly.
She smiled, and she looked, he thought, a little relieved that he wasn’t going to press it. “I think Libby could use the help,” she said.
“Okay.” He turned back to the work, but something made him look at Madeline again. “Maddie? Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
He would remember the look she gave him in the days to come. Her eyes shuttered and she looked, he thought, as if she was in pain. But she shook her head.
“Okay,” he said, and turned around to gather his tools. Okay. She’d tell him when she was ready. He just hoped that he was ready when she did.
When Madeline told Libby she was staying, Libby looked like she thought it was a joke. Madeline couldn’t blame her—she hadn’t believed it herself until the words actually tumbled out of her mouth this afternoon when Luke had asked her, what now?
“Another week?” Libby repeated.
“Another week,” Madeline confirmed. She’d just come back from Tag’s Outfitter, where she’d bought two more sundresses and two pairs of shorts. And some funky shoes she never would have worn in Orlando, would never have even looked at—but they felt so comfortable, and she imagined herself wearing them to tramp all around the ranch, leading Johnsons about.