Chapter 3
Luke wanted to ask, but with the kitchen to clean, sauce to make, noodles to boil, and Mrs. P about one wrong move away from a full-blown conniption, he didn’t dare. Instead, he spent the next 30 minutes or so jumping every time Mrs. P looked like she might need something. He was just finishing wiping the floor when he caught sight of Sage helping Mrs. Mitchell take out the lettuce bowls and salad dressing bottles from the refrigerator.
Jaycee was working the drinks. That’s what Pastor Steve had said anyway. That was good. At least they weren’t working in the same area.
“Luke, honey, can you carry this pot out there? I think we’re about ready to start,” Mrs. P said, and sure enough, he heard the increase of noise from the other side of the wall right on time. “The Pastor done opened the doors. We’d better get a move on.”
Two other girls from the youth group had shown up, and they grabbed the spaghetti pots and butter. Luke led them out to the serving line where he dumped the sauce into the warmers. The crowd was amassing like a swell of geese coming in for feeding.
“If I could have your attention, please,” Pastor Steve said from the end of the serving line. It took a minute for the hush to come, but it did. “I’d like to offer grace over the meal. If you would kindly remove any head covering.”
Luke never had to worry about that, but the pastor went through the same routine every time because folks who weren’t used to praying over meals didn’t always know the protocol. Bending his head, Luke half listened to the pastor and half tipped his head enough to look at first Sage and then Jaycee. They were both in different shirts though Jaycee didn’t look nearly as put together as Sage did. “Amen,” he echoed with the crowd.
Quickly he grabbed up the pot and headed back for the kitchen.
“How many you think we have?” Mrs. P asked.
“Couple hundred it looks like.” He’d gotten very good at guestimating over the years, and that’s always what it was – somewhere between a guess and an estimate.
“I just hope we’re going to have enough sauce,” she said with worry, and Luke came over to put his arm around her.
“Loaves and the fishes, Ms. P,” he said with a grin. “Loaves and the fishes. Jesus did that miracle once, surely He can do a repeat performance with spaghetti and a little sauce.”
Her grin was more reluctant. “Oh, you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t let some tomato-sauce disaster get you down.”
“Aaa.” He leaned back and shook his head. “Gonna take a lot more than that to keep us down.”
She nodded. “Why don’t you get to stirring the rest of that sauce? I’ll finish up these noodles.”
“Works for me.” Obediently, Luke went to work stirring the sauce. He took a glance at his watch. 12:15. Right on time. Yep. It would take a lot more than a tomato sauce disaster to stop God from feeding His people.
Sage was trying not to get a headache from the situation and the smell. Oh, the smell of humanity. Did these people not shower?
“Sage, we need more lettuce,” Mrs. Mitchell called from the end of the line. “There’s more in the fridge.”
“Okay,” she said, grinding a smile onto her face as if she really was glad to do this. Turning, she went back into the kitchen, and the fact that the cook didn’t want her anywhere near the cooking was not lost on Sage. She skirted the kitchen, keeping an extremely low profile, or hoping she was anyway. At the refrigerator, she opened it and peered inside. Salad. Salad. Salad. Lettuce. It had to be there somewhere.
“Looking for something?” the guy in the plaid shirt came over to her, wiping his hands on a cloth rag and tossing it to the cabinet.
“Oh. Um.” Sage spun like she’d been caught robbing from the collection plate. She pinched her teeth together as if asking would get her shot. “Lettuce?”
“We’re out already?” he asked, and she wondered how to answer that.
“Um… yes? Mrs. Mitchell said to bring more?”
He shook his head which had longish sandy brown hair at the top. “Hope we’re going to have enough.” Instead of going to the refrigerator where she stood, he turned and went to the back corner of the kitchen and disappeared into a large white metal thing.
Concerned but unsure of if to follow him or not, Sage waited, praying a cloak of invisibility over herself so the cook wouldn’t notice her.
“Here you go,” the guy said coming back out with two bags. “When that runs low, we’re going to have to switch to plain lettuce.”
She took the bags from him and nodded. “I’ll tell Mrs. Mitchell.” And with that she ducked, turned, and hurried out. “Here’s the lettuce.”
“Oh, thank you, Sage. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Miss?” a small elderly lady said from the other side of the line, “could you carry this for us?”
Just behind her stood a stooped over man pushing a walker.
“Me?” Sage asked barely squelching the abject horror and disbelief.
“I’ve got this, Sage,” Mrs. Mitchell said. “Why don’t you help Mr. and Mrs. Andrus?”
Sage let out a breath that snagged somewhere between her lungs and her ribcage. “Oh, of… of course. Certainly.” She went around the table and awkward hit like a freight train. She’d never helped anyone in her life. What did they expect her to do?
“If you can get his plate,” Mrs. Andrus said, nodding at her husband’s paper plate setting on the table, “and if you could get him some tea as well. That would be wonderful.”
Plate. Sage picked it up, and had to squelch the thoughts that streamed through her head at the sight of that tomato sauce. If she never saw tomato sauce again in her life, it would be too soon. She followed the lady five steps.
“Tea,” Mrs. Andrus reminded her.
“Tea. Of course,” Sage parroted. She went over and had to juggle the plate and plastic ware to get the plastic cup of tea. “Sugar…?” But when she turned, they were already gone, headed down a long, thin aisle between tables and chairs. “Oh. I guess not.”
Thankfully Jaycee had gone in search of something because Sage hated the thought of what her stepsister might say about this situation. Pride? It was such a strange word at the moment. She followed the two down the aisle to where they were shifting and working to get seated. Once he was down, she put the plate in front of him and situated the glass, knife, fork, and spoon as well.
“Thank you, dear,” the woman said in a shaky but kind voice.
“Um, you’re… you’re welcome.” Unsure what to do next, Sage stood for ten seconds and then turned to go back up the aisle. However, there were three other people shifting and shuffling into their own chairs there.
She yanked in a hard breath and fought to keep control of the rising panic. It was as if the world was closing in on her.
Two seconds before she thought she would actually be sick, the sea parted, and she fled for safety.
“Oh, Sage, good you’re back,” Mrs. Mitchell said. “Could you bring these to the first table?” She handed her two glasses of water. “The gentlemen there couldn’t carry everything.”
It was as if someone had mispunched the line on her card that told everyone else her station in life. She wasn’t the help. She was Sage Wentworth. Socialite. What was she doing here?
Stifling that question as best as she could, she went over to the table Mrs. Mitchell had indicated.
“Miss, could I get a refill?” an elderly man with no teeth asked, holding up his cup.
Barely swallowing the aversion, she set the other two glasses down and accepted his, trying to grip it between only two fingers. “Sure.” Her mother was going to pay dearly for this one.
By one-thirty, Luke was no longer thinking, just reacting. They needed more salad dressing and more spaghetti. Did they have any more bread? What about butter?
Generally they had at least five other people helping. Today, not so much. He raced one way, grabbing, fixing, solving, filling. Whatever someone needed, he did.
The tide began to roll back out around two o’clock, and he was very thankful because they were down to their last couple of plates of spaghetti. There wouldn’t even be enough for them to eat today as there sometimes was, but that was okay. God had provided just enough for the multitudes. That was all that really mattered.
“I think we’re about to wind this down, Sugar,” Mrs. P said as she rinsed out a colander. “Why don’t you go consolidate anything you can on the line and start bringing things back here to wash up?”
It was hard to swallow the tired sigh, but he did just the same. “Sure thing.”
Out on the line, he surveyed everything as Rachel, one of the other teen volunteers, served a last straggler.
“I’m going to take this,” Luke said to her as he pulled one metal well of sauce out. There wasn’t even enough to make another serving left in there.
“Fine by me. We’re about out of everything.”
That he could tell. Just as he headed for the kitchen with the pan in hand, Sage came out through the door, very nearly crashing right into him.
“Hold up!” he said, yanking to a stop. He looked at her and couldn’t stop the grin. In the orange T-shirt that was 3 sizes too big, she looked like a traffic cone. “Looks like they put you to work.”
“Yeah,” and she didn’t look overly thrilled about that at all. “Yay me.”
Swallowing the snarky comeback that jumped to his mind, Luke traced around behind her as she walked out of the kitchen, and he made a beeline for the sink. “I’m going to start breaking the line down if that’s okay.”
“Sounds good to me, Sugar. Don’t nobody come after about two anyway.”
Luke set the pan by the sink and headed back out, only to meet Sage coming back the other way looking not one ounce happier than she had the first time. “Well, we meet again,” he said, backing out of her way.
“It must be destiny.” She sounded so dire about it, Luke didn’t have the heart to laugh.
“Must be.”
However, right in front of him, she stopped completely and put her hands on her hips. “Do you have any idea where the trash bags are? Pastor Steve needs more, and I’m kind of afraid to go back into that storage room alone.”
He laughed at that. “What? Afraid you’ll get eaten?”
Her perfect eyebrows raised as she peered up at him. “With my luck today? Nothing would surprise me.”
This laugh came with no effort at all. “Sure. Come on. I’ll save you from the storage room monster.”
Sage was too grateful to think how this might look to whom. She needed trashbags. He knew where they were. End of story.
She followed him to the back and into the darkened hallway where he pulled a box from the storage closet.
“Here you go,” the guy said, handing the box to her as he snapped off the light in the storage room, plunging that part of the hallway back into darkness.
“My hero.” She was looking back and up at him as they came out of the hallway into the kitchen, where they met Jaycee coming the other direction.
“Oh!” Jaycee pulled up short, at first to avoid running into them, but then seeming to realize who they were. “Oh.” That one sounded darker, angrier, and Sage didn’t want any part of what came next.
“Well, I’d better get these out there to the good pastor,” Sage said, holding up the box.
“Yeah,” plaid-shirt shirt guy said with only one glace her direction. “You should.”
Oh, to be able to flee like Sage had. Luke wanted to do that with everything in him, but he couldn’t. He didn’t dare.
“Really?” Jaycee folded her arms in front of her.
“What?” he asked, both innocently and with an edge to it. He jerked his head backward toward the hallway. “Come on, Jayc. Seriously. I was getting her trashbags.”
She nailed him with a deep glare. “Oh? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
Luke barely held the frustration in. “You cannot be serious. I don’t even know her. And you know me. I’m not into playing spin the bottle in the storage closet with some girl I just met.”
Jaycee’s face softened a tiny bit, and Luke saw his opening.
“Come on, Jayc. You’re being just a touch ridiculous here, don’t you think? However, I do have to say you are rocking this moldy-mustard green number.” Reaching over he picked at the shoulder of her shirt.
Instantly the knives in her eyes were back. “Ha. Ha.”
“Seriously, Jayc. This isn’t you. You have got to uncoil a little bit or you’re going to snap.”
She didn’t look happy about it, but her arms unwound just the same. “I guess you’re right. It’s just that… she makes me crazy.”
“I can see that.” He nodded. “Tell you what. They’re having a bonfire tonight out at Chester’s. What do you say, we go out there, eat s’mores until our teeth fall out and chill-ax a little bit?” Pulling her into a hug, he held her there.
“With double marshmallow?” she asked like a little kid.
“Whatever you want.”
The ride home had been about as peaceful as the entire day, and by the time they made it back to the Lawrence residence, Sage thought her head might actually explode.
“Well, that was enjoyable,” Jaycee said as she pulled up next to the little garage.
“I’m glad you thought so.” Sure, Sage shouldn’t be mean, but what good did it do to hold onto animosity when Jaycee was more than happy to let the arrows fly?
When the car was off, Jaycee didn’t get out right away. Instead she heaved a breath and glanced over at Sage. “I’m sorry. About today. I guess… I guess I should have let you help with the sauce.”
Sage shrugged. “I’m sorry too. I was just trying to help.”
“I know. But next time, can you try just a little less hard?” Reaching up, Jaycee ran her fingers over her hair. “I’m going to be washing this tomato smell out for a month.”
“Noted,” Sage said, and they both climbed out. It was truly unbelievable how tired she was. Every muscle hurt, and she had to will herself to follow Jaycee into the house.
In the backdoor, they met up with Mrs. Lawrence who was sorting through the laundry. “Oh, hi, girls. Did you all have fun?”
“Blast,” Jaycee said and stalked past her mother.
“Thrilling.” Sage followed but kept walking even when Jaycee stopped.
“Oh, I’m going out with Luke tonight,” Jaycee said to her mother as Sage headed through the kitchen. “There’s a bonfire out at Chester’s.”
Sage kept walking. Truth be known, she was ready for a shower and bed even though it was only four o’clock.
“Oh, great,” her mother said. “You can take Sage. She can meet everybody.”
How she kept her feelings from spilling all over the floor, Jaycee would never know. “No. Mom. I don’t want to take Sage. Not tonight. Not to this.”
Her mother stopped the folding. “Why not? Jaycee, we talked about this.”
“Because Mom. I don’t want her tagging around behind me all summer, that’s why. This is me with my friends. Not hers.”
“Well, how is she supposed to make friends if you don’t introduce her to anyone?”
“You know, that’s not really my problem.” Jaycee leaned on the doorframe, tired from the all-out battle she had been waging with life the whole day.
“Jaycee…”
“What? Mom. You spend five hours with her and see if you would want her tagging along everywhere. The voice alone will do you in.”
Clutching a tan T-shirt to her, her mother stopped and looked at her. “Okay. This one time, but after this, you need to include her.”
That was good enough for Jaycee. Next time, when there was a next time and there would be, she would talk her way out of that one too. No way was she spending her whole summer glued to the hip with Ms. Let-Me-Help.
There really were streaks of actual tomato sauce in Sage’s hair she realized with horror when she ducked to examine her reflection in the little mirror on the vanity next to the closet. No way would she ever tell Patelyn or McKenzie about this. They might disown her completely. She would if there was a way to do that.
Worse, she realized as she took a sniff of herself she smelled like the humanity she’d been forced to rub elbows with all day. A shiver went through her at the memory. No one should be subjected to that.
Carefully she sorted through her clothes still in the suitcases finally settling on her Vance Hall Jeans and a lightly sequined top. No reason to go all-out dressy if she was staying in. Crossing out into the hallway, she padded down it to the closed white door midway down. Well, this was a problem.
She waited a few seconds, leaned in to listen to see if she could ascertain who might be in there. Finally, she reached up, gathered her courage and knocked.
“It’s occupied!” Jaycee called back.
“Oh.” That stymied Sage. She’d never had to wait for grooming purposes before. “Um, how… how long will you be?”
“I’m taking a shower,” came the reply. “However long it takes to get this tomato smell out of my hair.”
“Oh,” Sage said again, dropping her hand and her voice. “Okay. Well…” She turned slightly and glanced one way down the hall and then the other. “Um. I guess I’ll just come back later then.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
Seeing no other option, Sage turned fully and forced her feet back down the hallway. Sharing a bathroom? This was going to be a major issue. Back in her room, she closed the door, set the clothes gently on the corner of the bed and sat down next to them. For a minute she simply rested her hands between her knees and looked around. The sound of water down the hall invaded the stillness.
No one was around to see, so she blew out a breath of frustration, which sent the one tendril of hair on her forehead spiraling upward. A moment and she looked around again. Now what?
With the way Jaycee was behaving it might be Christmas before she got into that bathroom, and until she took a shower, she wasn’t going to so much as touch the rest of her stuff. Finally, realizing there really wasn’t anything else to do, she laid over on the bed, grabbed the pillow, pulled her feet and knees onto the bed and was asleep in seconds.
When he pulled up at the Lawrence residence, Luke braced for a second War of the Stepsisters episode. His only hope was he could keep them separated and from throwing actual flaming things at each other. With a knock on the back door, he stood and waited ten seconds before Jaycee came flying out the door, very nearly smacking him in the nose with the screen.
“Luke’s here! I’m gone! We’ll be back.” She was simultaneously striding and sliding her denim jacket on, and she never even stopped as she went right past him and down the sidewalk. With a half a turn she surveyed him. “You coming?”
“Uh. Oh.” He glanced back at the door, unsure he should follow so quickly if this was in fact a get-away her parents hadn’t sanctioned. “Um.” Swinging his foot, he stepped off the porch. “Is Sage not coming?”
“No.” At his car, Jaycee laughed a short, little derisive laugh. “Why would she?”
Luke wasn’t at all sure how to put his thoughts into words, so he didn’t. Instead, he went to his car and climbed in as Jayce got in the other way. He reached down to start the car. “Are you… Do you want to swing by Callahan’s before we go, or did you eat already?”
Jaycee shrugged and smiled. “I don’t care. It’s up to you.”
That was comforting. He scratched his nose, and carefully spun the car wheel before heading out.
How so much time had passed, Sage had no idea, but when she awoke again the light was fading in her room.
“Sage?” It was Mrs. Lawrence knocking at the door. “Honey, do you want to join us for supper?”
Supper? Already? She hadn’t even eaten lunch.
“Oh. Uh. Yeah… yes. I’ll… I’ll be right there.” When she sat up, the room did a topsy-turvy move that nearly pitched her onto the floor. “Wow.” She grabbed hold of the little bed post and worked on righting her world. “Okay. That was fun.”
Her hand went up to her hair, and she remembered then. There was no sound of the water anymore, and she wondered how long it had been off. With a wide yawn, she stood, blinked hard, and grabbed her clothes. No way was she going to the table in this—even if the table was in the kitchen.
Carefully she went to the door and out, the light on the other side threatening to blind her completely. “Wow. Okay.” At the door to the kitchen, she slowed her already slow steps, trying to hear from the voices who she might be facing on the other side. When she turned at the doorframe, three faces looked up from the table.
Mrs. Lawrence was the first to react. “Oh, Sage, honey. Were you sleeping? I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“No. No. It’s fine. I just took a little nap.” Thankfully she counted everyone but Jaycee sitting there. “Um, if you don’t mind, I really need to take just a teeny-weeny really quick little shower. It’ll be fast. I promise.”
“Oh, no problem,” Mrs. Lawrence said. “Take your time. We can reheat yours if we need to.”
Only then did Sage glance down at the table. If it wasn’t so awful, she would have actually laughed. Spaghetti. It was a done-sure fact now. The universe truly was out to get her.
“I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries,” Luke said to Jessica, the waitress, a girl in his senior class.
“Great. And for you, Jaycee?” the sprite-like girl asked.
“Oh. Uh.” Jaycee wrenched her bottom lip to the side as if she hadn’t realized they would be ordering. “Um, how about some chili cheese fries, I guess.”
“Okay.” Jessica wrote that down and collected their menus. “I’ll be back.” She turned on her heel and left.
For a long minute Luke just waited in his own little patient world. He wanted to ask, but part of him said he had to be crazy for even thinking that thought. “I’m surprised….”
“Don’t start,” Jayce snapped. “Seriously. I don’t want to hear it.” On her side of the booth, she leaned back and anchored her arms at her chest. The only way the message could have been clearer was if she had taken a swing at him.
Nodding slowly, trying to think of something else to talk about, Luke sorted through everything and came up with nothing.
“I know,” Jaycee said, uncurling and putting her hands on the seat so when she pushed up her shoulders nearly touched her ears, “I’m acting like a two-year-old, but I can’t help it. She’s annoying with all her perfect hair and perfect clothes and amazing shoes.”
“You sound jealous.”
She considered that. “It’s not that. I don’t want to be her. I just don’t want her around.” Then she deflated. “That makes me a terrible person, I know.”
“Confused and very defensive, but not terrible.”
That brought her smile out from its hiding place, and she tossed the wrapper from her straw at him. “Judgmental much?”
He swiped a hand through one side of his hair. “Just calling it like I see it.”
The bells at the door of the establishment dinged, and Jaycee looked over, instantly hitting panic. She sat straight up and smoothed her hair and her jeans.
“How do I look?” she asked breathlessly. “Do I look okay?”
Luke rolled his eyes. He knew without even looking back at the door. Rory. With one glance, it was confirmed. “I don’t know what you see in that guy.”
“Well, he’s drop dead gorgeous for one thing.”
With a shrug Luke settled back in the booth. “Eh. I’ve seen better.”
Jaycee shot him a look. “You’re a guy.”
“Yes, and I have eyes and a brain. Rory Harris is not worth the DNA it took to make him.”
“Shhhh,” she hissed. “He’s coming this way.”
From his side, Luke’s eyes slid upward. This should prove to be more than a little unpleasant.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t J.C.,” Rory said it as if her name was made up of the letters. “What’s up, girlfriend?”
This was already nauseating, and to make it worse, she actually giggled. “Hi, Rory.” Her fingers slipped down her hair as she angled her gaze up to him.
“What brings you… guys out this evening?” Rory put his foot on the booth seat next to Jaycee and his glance at Luke was at once condescending and dismissive.
She giggled again which was really starting to work Luke’s nerves over. “We’re going to Chester’s in a little while. Are you coming?”
Rory swept his head back so his hair fell in feathers across his eye. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll see you there?”
If he didn’t leave soon, Jayce was going to be a puddle of mush. “Yeah. We’ll be there.”
“Cool.” His foot slid off, and it ca-thunked on the ground. “Catch ya later, girlfriend.” He put both index fingers up and pointed them at her.
Yep, that puddle thing might happen any minute now.
Thankfully the jerk walked off, and Luke shook his head as he raised an eyebrow and surveyed Jaycee. How could someone so sane lose it so badly every time that idiot showed up? Luke waited for Rory to grab his takeout and leave before he broached the subject again. “You know, you really need to give that dream up, Jayc. Seriously, he’s just jerking you around with that girlfriend thing.”
“I don’t know.” The smile said Rory had made her whole night. “He’s nice. He’s sweet. I mean, he’s totally hot, that’s a given, but there’s just… something…”
Luke didn’t pursue it. There were things in this life he would never understand. Jaycee’s undying attraction to Rory Harris topped that list.
Jessica picked that moment to bring their food, and Luke was glad. Maybe now things could get back to normal.
“I’m really not that hungry,” Sage said when she got only salad and a piece of bread. Yes, bread was carbs, and carbs would surely kill her figure. But she was also starving and eating spaghetti was out of the question.
“So did you have fun with the kids today?” Mrs. Lawrence asked. It was strange how she was the only one who ventured out into conversation any time Sage was in this house.
Fun, Sage thought with sarcasm dripping from the word like honey. “Oh, yes. It was… what do they say? A blast.”
“Oh, good. I’m so glad. They do that every two weeks, you know.”
“Hm.” The bread nearly went down the wrong pipe. “Do… what?”
“Volunteer. Feed the disadvantaged. I think it’s a wonderful program.”
“Hm.” This was getting worse. “Wonderful.”
So this wasn’t a once-and-done proposition? They would have to do that again in two weeks? Well, one way or the other, she wouldn’t be there when they did it the next time. She was getting out. Bailing. Escaping. Digging a hole under Alcatraz and swimming for her life.
“Hey, Jaycee,” Rachel said, coming up to where they stood near the burning lean-to structure.
The boys all brought the wood to create the thing, and everybody was invited though no invitations were ever issued. It wasn’t a formal occasion, just something to do on a Saturday night in a town with no other hangouts available.
“Hey, Rach. Thanks for helping today. Talk about short-handed. That was a little ridiculous.”
“Tell me about it. It was a good thing you brought your cousin.” Rachel looked around. “Where is she anyway? I was wanting to say hello.”
Jaycee wanted to scream that she wasn’t her cousin and she wasn’t here either. Instead, she swallowed both of those and smiled stiffly. “She wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed home.”
“Oh.” Rachel, one of Jaycee’s classmates with a long dark hair and a pixy-style nose, nodded. “That’s too bad. She seemed kind of nice.”
It was all Jaycee could do to nod once. Nice was not a word she would have used to describe Sage Wentworth. Annoying. Counterfeit. Fake. Obnoxious. Unbearable. Yeah, those were much, much closer.
“Hey, I got you a DP,” Luke said, appearing at her elbow. He handed her the Dr. Pepper and snapped his own Coke open.
“Hi, Luke,” Rachel said, and if Jaycee didn’t miss her guess, Rachel was batting her eyelashes at the guy standing right next to Jaycee.
“Oh, hey, Rach,” he said in return before tipping up his Coke and taking a long drink, and Jaycee’s heart hurt for Rachel. Luke didn’t intentionally brush girls off. He just didn’t realize how little attention he ever gave them.
“Well.” Rachel let out a breath. “I’m going to go see what Brianna is up to.” And with that, she sauntered off.
“You know, you could be such a babe-magnet if you ever decided to try,” Jaycee said, ducking behind her drink.
Luke leveled a skeptical gaze at her. “What does that mean?”
“Rachel. She likes you.”
He looked at her with something between surprise and horror. “She does not.”
“Does too. I bet if you went over there right now, you could have a date for next Friday.”
Wanting to laugh her off, Luke scrunched his face as if that was the worst idea in the whole history of ideas. “Yeah, right.”
Jaycee turned her gaze on him. “I’m serious, Luke.” Then she shook her head. “You are just so oblivious in the girl department.”
“Yeah, well, at least I’m not mooning over Rory Harris.”
The knives in her eyes were back. “Leave Rory out of this. I just don’t know why you won’t give a nice girl a try. It wouldn’t kill you.”
Well, he could have said the same thing about her and boys, but he wisely chose not to.