All the lights in the house are on when Lacey zips into the driveway of Wild Antler Farm. It’s late, near nine o’clock, and dusk has long given way to dark.
“I’ll get the bags. Go on in,” Lacey says to Sal. “I’m sure Luke’s pitching a fit I kept you out this long.”
Long’s an understatement.
Between lunch and shopping and the spa, it’s been a whirlwind of a day. But a fun one. Sal’s felt better than she has in a long time. Lighter, too. She chopped off her hair. Not too short, but in a chic lob above her breasts. She feels like a part of her, the lonely, frightened thing that lived with Roy is disappearing. Slowly. Surely.
Bounding up the porch stairs to the house, Sal picks up her pace. She hadn’t realized she was so eager to get home.
Home.
The thought has her smiling.
She tries the knob and finds the door open.
The hallway’s dim, the slow croon of country music on the record player. Luke paces in the foyer, his back to her, his phone to his ear.
Her own phone chirps.
Smiling, she accepts, puts it to her ear. “Hi,” she says into the receiver. “I’m here. Behind you.”
Luke stops his pacing, turns around. At the mere sight of her, relief fills his eyes. “I was worried,” he says, hanging up his phone and shoving it in his back pocket.
Then he blinks, relief replaced with stunned surprise.
“Your hair,” he says hoarsely.
He moves toward her, meeting her in the middle of the hallway. Instinct has him reaching for Sal’s hair to fiddle with the end of a long dark strand.
She stares up at him, dazed, her mouth dry as a bone. She can barely form sentences. Barely focus on the man in front of her.
“I chopped it all off,” she blurts when she finds her voice.
“I love it.” Luke’s warm brown eyes scour her face. Drinking her in, almost desperately. “You look beautiful.”
“You look beautiful too.”
Luke blinks again.
Because Sal can’t stop staring.
His beard is gone. His face is smooth, with just the perfect amount of stubble.
Jesus, he’s handsome. Even more so than she already thought he was. His jawline is chiseled and sharp. His warm dark eyes clear and focused and electric.
Sal’s knees go weak. She had liked the beard fine—but she likes this better. Somewhere deep down ... this face. She knows it.
It’s hers.
“Your beard ...” Sal steps closer, unable to pull her gaze away. “You shaved.”
Almost self-consciously, he scrubs a lean hand down his chin. “I thought it about time I clean myself up.” Grief stains his voice, but so does determination.
She stares up, smiling. “You look ... smooth.”
Luke cocks a brow. “I take it that’s a good thing?”
“Yeah.” Her breath catches. “You look so handsome.”