“You look amazing,” Harper insisted.
“Thanks,” Gloria said, unaccustomed to compliments. “You look great, too.” It was the truth. There was an energy, bright and vivacious, that bubbled out of Harper even more so tonight than before. Gloria wondered if it was because Luke was home.
She followed her new friend inside and paused inside the door.
“Wait. Am I hallucinating?” she asked Harper, handing over the pie. Luke’s living room and dining room were full of actual furniture.
“I don’t know what happened, but I owe you big time.” Harper’s eyes twinkled. “The threat of having people over pushed him over the edge, and Luke went insane and bought out most of the inventory at Bob’s Fine Furnishings.”
Gloria followed Harper back down the hallway to the kitchen, which was now home to a new breakfast table and chairs. Luke Garrison himself was juggling side dishes from the fridge to the island.
“Apple pie and Gloria are here,” Harper announced cheerfully.
Luke dumped his load and wiped his hands on his jeans before offering Gloria his hand. “Hey, Gloria. It’s good to see you,” he said. He was tall with military-short dark hair and hard hazel eyes. The ink on his forearm gave him the look of a badass, but it was the eyes hooded with a hurt that ran deep that made him irresistible. The long-term effects of grief, Gloria guessed.
She’d been cut off from the outside world but still knew the basics of his situation. No one would blame him for never getting over it. But she hoped for his sake that Harper’s presence was a sign that he was finally thawing.
“Where’s my water?” A good-natured bellow sounded from the backyard.
“Where’s my please and thank you?” Luke hollered back.
“Aldo.” Harper grinned by way of explanation. “He’s manning the grill. Claims Luke only makes charcoal burgers and blackened chicken.”
Luke slung his arm around Harper’s shoulder, and Gloria thought her new friend might split in two with happiness. This was not the same Luke Garrison that had mourned his way through life for the past few years. And it was beautiful to see.
If there was hope for him, maybe there was the tiniest scrap of hope for her.
“Water!”
“How about I take it out to him?” Gloria suggested. The way Luke and Harper were looking at each other, she was about to witness some NC-17 action.
Luke handed her two bottles and was making a beeline for Harper by the time the screen door closed behind her.
Aldo was behind the grill in shorts and a polo shirt stretched to capacity over that broad chest. His hair was still on the long side, curling at the ends. He stood with his feet braced apart as if ready to do battle with the meat on the grill. Everything about him from the muscled calves to the tattoos down his arms spoke of strength, power. A different kind than what Glenn had wielded against her.
“Did someone order a water?” she asked, praying that she sounded casual.
He tensed at the sound of her voice, and then a slow smile spread across his face as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
She brought it to him, every step that carried her closer to him feeling slower, heavier. The spring air between them thickened and blurred until she was standing in front of him and the rest of the backyard disappeared.
“Hi,” he said softly. Then he leaned in, and instead of shaking her hand firmly like Luke had, Aldo brushed a kiss against her cheek.
“Hi,” she croaked. She was lucky she didn’t stutter and freeze to the space. But the spot where his lips had touched flared with the heat of the sun, guaranteeing that nothing would freeze inside her for a long, long time.
“You look great,” he said.
“I…what?” She’d taken time choosing an outfit. Skinny jeans and a loose blue tank tucked into the front of her jeans and left long in the back. There were no more bruises to hide anymore, and the leather wrap bracelets she’d added to her wrists, the heavy chandelier earrings she’d chosen, felt like a celebration of that.
“Your hair,” he said. He took her chin, his touch achingly gentle, and turned her head from side to side.
Her heart rate kicked up at his touch.He hated it. He’d tell her she looked ugly. Or he’d lie to her, tell her she was pretty and not mean it. He wouldn’t smile at her like that again. And she would wither up and die. Okay, Drama Queen, slow your roll.
“Brave choice. It works,” he said simply. Gloria felt her cheeks heat. It shouldn’t matter what he said. But damn if his approval didn’t feel really good.
“Thanks. My mom did it,” she said lamely. God, how sad was it that she wasn’t used to people being nice?
“So, what do you think?” Aldo asked, pointing the tongs he wielded toward the house. “Luke’s nesting, right?”