Page 10 of After We Fall

I snap straight at Luke’s obnoxious greeting, and the sharp pain at my temple reprimands me for the movement. Biting back my distress, I face him with calculated control. “Good morning.” Even my quiet acknowledgment pounds a hammer into my head.

Luke flips on the overhead lights, and he might as well have taken an ice pick to my eyes.

Trying not to grimace, I direct my gaze to the floor as I approach the panel on the wall. “I like the natural light in the morning.” A grunt accompanies my complete lie. While averting his stare, I throw my hand out to slap the switch to the off position. Only I forgot about my fall last night and pain shoots up my arm. I curl my aching wrist into my chest.

With one glance at Luke, I catch his narrowed eyes. The energy radiating from him is more blinding than the canned lights. I’m tempted to ask if he has some kind of off button. At the very least, a dimmer switch.

Two long strides in my direction, and his huge body stands in front of me. “Are you okay?”

My migraine welcomes his soft tone. So does my soul. I have to be careful. My defenses are down a little today, and it would be easy to want someone to wonder if I’m okay. Easy to forget that I’m perfectly capable on my own. Without someone to care for me.

I take in his attire. “Are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?” His foul aroma answers my question, and I cover the lower half of my face to keep the odor farther out of range. “Oh my gosh. You are.”

“It’s my new cologne. Nature’s Delight.” He gently pulls my injured arm toward him and inspects my swollen wrist, cradling it in his tanned, veined, calloused hands. His tender touch tingles up my arm, warming me. After a final sweep of his fingers across my forearm, he releases me. “Just a sprain.”

I grasp the spot he touched and wipe off the leftover sensation. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No. Surveillance.” He crosses his arms in a macho-man stance while his eyes scan my face. “What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s nothing.” I rub the scar over my left eye, and it welcomes the pressure. “Did you find anything significant?”

“No. But I got a feel for the property and its security needs.” He pulls a thin beef stick out of his back pocket, removes the wrapper, and tears off a bite.

The strong stench of teriyaki invades the kitchen, and my stomach roils. I sidestep away from him. Why do my senses have enhanced powers during a massive headache? A supersonic sense of smell would serve me better at roll call. I could sniff out any possible drinking, drugging, or questionable activities.

The girls. Focus, Penelope.

Placing more distance between Luke and myself, I move backward until my hips rest against the counter behind me. “The tenants will be down in a minute to check in for the day. I’ll make introductions.”

“I take it they’re all staying here in the main house?”

“For now, yes. The boardinghouse is under renovation and won’t be ready for several months, but when it opens, it will have space for fourteen resident rooms.”

Meredith has been working with a renowned architecture firm to create efficient square footage in the unique space. Fourteen rooms and four bathrooms upstairs. Downstairs holds an open floor plan with a mammoth kitchen, dining room, and great room to encourage a family atmosphere. Several closed rooms off to the side of the house will have multipurpose function for tutoring, professional development, yoga classes, art classes, and whatever else Meredith can come up with to give these women skills and support.

Across the kitchen here at the main house, double doors open to a beautiful deck. In spite of the closed blinds, light streaks through. The sun must have come out from behind a cloud because the brightness in the room multiplies, and my optic nerves want to shrivel into the far recesses of their sockets. Unable to continue speaking, I close my eyes and swallow.

“Migraine?” Luke asks.

I grunt my affirmation.

“Go to bed, Penelope,” he orders. “I’ll figure everything out.”

“Today is the girls’ day off. I think all three of them will leave the property.” Did the house just shift? I grip the edge of the counter. “Curfew’s at ten.”

With each step Luke takes closer to me, the monstrous fragrance of his jerky gets stronger, but thank goodness he at least sets it on the counter. Gently, he draws one of my hands off the granite. He drags his thumb over my palm, then rubs the spot between my thumb and pointer finger.

“What are you doing?” And why is my voice breathy?

“My grandma got migraines. She said this helped.”

I want to protest his proximity. But the massage causes the headache to decrease by two percent, my first semblance of relief in hours. Keeping my eyes shut, I inhale a shaky breath. “I apologize for not getting you a proper breakfast this morning.”

“What are you talking about? You threw a wonderful plate of food at me last night.” His quiet, rumbling voice reverberates in my ears, almost as if he reined in his intensity so he could soothe my pain. His next statement is definitive but somehow softer, as if he’s reprimanding me with the kindest thing he can say. “Don’t need you to take care of me, Penelope. I have a job to do.”

With my eyes closed, I nod. Right. Stay focused. “We should talk about your plan for the day.” The jackhammer in my head slows a bit. His hands are magic, and God help me, I want to lean into his chest and let him take away this misery. I’m grateful his teriyaki death breath prevents me from acting on the ridiculous thought.

“Got a guy who’s delivering the updated security system to the ranch. We’ll install it today.”