When he looks up at me, his eyes look tired, dark circles underneath, and his face is wan. "Hey, Red."
"Grocery shopping?" I ask brightly. Too brightly, I think, clearing my throat. Be casual, I tell myself. Be cool. Like I do this all the time, hook up with someone and then, you know, act like a big asshole.
"Just popped in for a couple of things," he says, glancing behind me. He looks uncomfortable.
"I -- uh, wanted to say something, Luke," I start. My heart thumps loudly in my throat, so loudly I swear he has to be able to hear it in the room. I wipe my palms on my jeans. Why are my damn palms so sweaty?
Just apologize to him, Autumn, I tell myself.
"Oh yeah," he says, distracted. "Don't worry about it, you know? I haven't given it a second thought."
Oh. Not a second thought. I feel like someone punched me in the gut.
"Here you go, dear," Connie says. "Luke Saint. Well, there, speak of the devil. Did you feel your ears burning? We were just talking about you no more than thirty seconds ago, now weren't we, Autumn?"
If my face could flush any darker, I'd be the color of an eggplant. I look out of the corner of my eye at Luke, but the expression on his face is unreadable. This is the kind of thing he'd usually be prepared for with a quip, some kind of wisecrack to embarrass me even more.
Oh God. He must hate me that much, that he doesn't even care to be a smartass about it. I have thoroughly fucked things up.
"No, uh--" I stammer. "We weren't talking about you, I don't think..."
"I was just asking about how you were helping her out at the orchard," Connie says.
"And I was just telling her that I was grateful for your help," I say, my voice curt.
Luke nods, his expression drawn. "Yes," he says, looking at his watch. "I'll, see you at the orchard on Monday, then."
I swallow hard, watching Luke's back as he walks about the door, trying to stifle the uneasy feeling I get in my stomach as he leaves. It's just a casual fling, I tell myself.
"Well, now," Connie says, eyeing me as she slides the loaf of bread into my shopping bag, "he turned around and left without even getting what he came in here for."
"Yes," I say, my head swimming. He obviously didn’t like what he saw in the store.
"He's a good-looking one, that Luke Saint is," she says, clucking. "All of the brothers are. Damn shame about that family, though."
"Shame about what?" I ask, still looking at the door, as if I can will Luke turn around and come back into the store.
"Oh, you wouldn't know because you haven't been around here long enough, have you, honey?" she asks, shaking her head. "The father was a real son of a – well, you know – never treated those kids right. Mother wasn't that much better. Real pretty, though. Killed herself after the father died."
"That's terrible," I say. June has already told me about their parents' deaths, but now all I can think about is that scar on Luke's back and what it means about the kind of hell he's lived through.
"It's an odd thing, though," she says.
"What is?"
Connie shrugs, her brow furrowed. "It's just that she stayed with him all those years, you know? If that were me, and that man died, I'd take his stuff out into the street and have a celebration. Roast marshmallows over the bonfire."
"That is odd," I say. "I guess you never really know about people, do you?"
I begin to wonder about how Luke is dealing with his mother's death, but I don't get a chance to think about it for more than a second before Connie pushes a flyer across the counter at me. "You get one of those offers on your property?" she asks.
I glance down at the paper advertising a town hall meeting. "I did," I say. "Told them I wasn't interested."
"It's thirty-four ninety-two for the groceries," she says, tapping her finger on the paper. "You should come to this. People in town, they like you. Respect you. June too."
"Me?" I ask. "I've only lived here a couple of years."
"No, but they know your cider," she says. "And you're a businesswoman. Educated. They know you told the mining company no, too. You should tell them why."
"I don't know," I tell her. "I said no for personal reasons, not political ones."
"Well, I've heard there's been some shady business with some folks out here," Connie says. "People who've told them no and had problems after that."
"What?" I ask, but someone enters the store, interrupting us, and Connie is off, doing something else. I stuff the flyer in my grocery bag, pick up Olivia, who's only partially covered in ice cream, and head outside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Luke
This town is the smallest place in the damn world. I wasn't prepared to run into Autumn and Olivia in the general store yesterday. I wasn't ready to see them. I was getting some space – and some beers – after reading that damn diary. I didn't want them to see me like that, and I did the only thing I knew to do to keep this shit away from them, and that was to walk away.