Posy opened her eyes.
Luke was leaning against the door of the henhouse, his eyes bright with amusement.
She felt her face heat. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be writing.”
“The first thing you need to know about writers is that they will do just about anything to avoid having to actually write.”
“That makes no sense.”
“To a writer, it would make perfect sense. Not all writing involves tapping keys on a laptop. I call this thinking time. I walk and pretend it’s work. In this case, I came looking for you. And I hate to ask the obvious question, but why are you talking to a chicken?”
“This isn’t any chicken. It’s Martha.” She scrambled to her feet, self-conscious. Being this intimate with someone was new to her. She didn’t know what their relationship was, or how she felt. She didn’t know how he felt. Was she a way of passing the time until he left? Or was there something more going on? She was so unsophisticated it was embarrassing. Maybe she should talk to Hannah and get some advice on how to handle casual relationships. “I’ve been thinking through what I’m going to do about that thing we talked about.”
“You mean my trip to Denali?”
“Yes. I thought if I talked it through out loud, it might help me make a decision. Martha is an excellent audience because she doesn’t interrupt, nor does she assume she already knows everything there is to know about me. Also, it’s useful to rehearse what I’m going to say to my mother later.”
He probably thought she was crazy. He was sleeping with someone who talked to chickens.
“Why do you need to rehearse?”
“The fact that you have to ask me that tells me you don’t know my family well. Several times over the past few weeks I’ve tried to drop hints to people that I may be interested in a life beyond this valley, but no one listens. They assume they already know what I want, so yes, I need to rehearse. I need to be firm, so that people don’t dismiss what I’m saying. I need people to see me as I really am, not the way they think I am. Although I think I’m guilty of doing that, too...” She frowned as she thought about Hannah. “When you know someone well, it’s hard to see them differently.”
Luke dug his hands into his pockets. “Did Martha have any advice for you? Or did she think the situation was a question of chicken and egg?”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No. I’m laughing at you in a kind and gentle fashion.”
“Yeah? Because it sounded a lot like mocking.”
His smile faded. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”
She felt her heart thud. “You’re part of the problem.”
“How so?”
“Until I met you, I’d only ever vaguely thought about leaving. I wasn’t serious about it. It was a niggle that I was easily able to ignore. And then you appeared and...and...you gave me a reason to leave. You dangled this glittering diamond in front of me—”
His eyes narrowed. “Diamond?”
She flushed. Stupid, Posy. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “Not the sort of diamond you wear. The sort you dream about. The sort you covet. I’m talking about the trip. Denali...”
“You don’t covet a real diamond?”
Was he teasing her? She didn’t even know. “Can we change the subject before I make a total idiot of myself?”
“You’re not making an idiot of yourself. Why would you think that?”
“Because I’m no good at this!” She raised her voice and Martha gave a startled squawk. “When it comes to relationships, I’m pretty much a beginner.”
He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Really? I wouldn’t have said that.”
She met his gaze. “That’s physical. I’m good at physical stuff—I’m naturally athletic—”
“I’d noticed.”
“I’m talking about the other stuff. The emotional side of things. I haven’t got what you might call a ton of experience. Sex is the easy part. That’s not complicated. It’s like climbing an ice wall. You do what you do, but the rest of it—” she breathed “—that’s complicated. I don’t know where this is going, or how you feel about leaving, or how I feel about you leaving, or how I feel about me leaving or what this means, or—” She broke off with a gasp as he tugged her against him and kissed her.