Author: Jill Shalvis

Ali stared at him. “Mr. Lyons owns the building? My Mr. Lyons, from the senior center?”

“Honey, he owns half this street. He’s also Aubrey’s great uncle. You didn’t know?”

“No…” Ali’s mind started racing. “And I didn’t mean I wanted to buy the physical space…” Though if she could, she’d love to lease it. “I meant your book.”

He sucked in a breath and put a hand to his chest as if she’d shot him. “My book?”

“Well, that and the rest of your records. The business. If I took it over…”

“Sweetkins, the shop is done. There’s just no money in it.”

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so she picked her words carefully. “I think I could make a go of it.”

Russell studied her for a long moment, then smiled. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

“So how much?”

“I’ll have to think about it. I need start-up money for the new salon Paul and I want to run in Vegas.”

Ali tried not to think too much on her way home. But it really started to hit her. She was thoroughly unemployed. “But you haven’t been arrested,” she told herself in the rearview mirror. Her reflection didn’t smile. It wasn’t funny. In fact, panic gnawed at her gut, but it was beaten back by the sight of a man in Luke’s driveway. He was aiming his phone at her as she parked, clearly trying to take a picture.

“Hey!” she yelled at him. “Stop that.”

He didn’t stop. He clicked a series of shots. “I’m looking for Luke Hanover,” he said as he kept snapping pictures. “I’d like to get him as well.”

“You’re trespassing,” she told him, fresh out of patience, calm, or anything nice. “Go away.”

He didn’t, so Ali put the truck in neutral and revved her engine, intending to intimidate. But her engine coughed like a weenie, and her gas gauge jerked toward empty. Dammit. Understanding the phrase “going postal,” she put the truck into gear, and this time the guy lowered his phone and took off running.

Satisfied, Ali shoved the truck into park, but before she could open her door, Luke was right there, offering her a hand, mouth curved into a barely there smile. “Nice job, Tex.”

“He was looking for you,” she said. “He wanted a picture. Not going to happen on my watch.”

He cocked his head, his gaze running over her features, which she carefully schooled into a blank expression. “Yeah, I’m getting that,” he said slowly. “You okay?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Were you really going to run him over?”

“I was going to flatten him like a pancake.”

He nodded. “You’re fierce as hell, you know that? Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“Not that that’s a real worry, since you’re leaving. Right?”

He looked at her for another long beat. “Ali—”

“Nope.” She shook her head and started inside the house. “Sorry, I’ve gotta—”

He caught her hand and pulled her back around.

“Look,” she said, “you’re the lone wolf. I get it. And also, I’m sorry if I hit on you last night.” She grimaced. “And all the time. I know how awkward it must be to have to constantly fight me off.”

His sharp, blue eyes never wavered from her face. “Not what I was going to say.”

“No?”

“No. And I’m not fighting you off. What I’m fighting off is my urge to toss you down to the grass right here and show you who wants who.”

Her girlie parts perked right up. Stupid girlie parts.

Tightening his grip on her, he reeled her in. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Russell closed the shop. I’m unemployed.”

“Aw, hell.” He gathered her in against him. She resisted for about two seconds, and then caved like a cheap suitcase, because there was nothing better than a Luke Hanover full-body hug.

“I’m sorry,” he said, kissing her forehead.

Closing her eyes, she just breathed him in, unable to respond. As big a blow as the closing of the shop was, not to mention Russell’s moving away, having Luke exit her life was going to be the biggest loss of all.

Luke walked Ali inside, wishing like hell he knew how to make this better for her. He’d always been careful to go into any given situation knowing the rules; in his job, his dating life, everything.

But from the moment Ali had come into his life, he hadn’t understood a damn thing. Feeling helpless, he stood there in the center of the kitchen. “You hungry?”

She gave him a small smile. “You don’t cook.”

“No, but I’m an expert at take-out—”

A horn honked out front at the same time that Luke’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket: Jack.

“Get your ass out here,” Jack said. “Your grandpa’s on his way to the ER. Chest pains. I’ll drive.”

Luke looked around for his keys but gave up. He grabbed Ali’s hand and pulled her with him out the front door. “Come on.”

“What’s wrong?”

He was moving fast, forcing her to run to keep up. “It’s Edward—”

They both stopped short at the sight of the Lucky Harbor Dial-A-Ride white van in the driveway. Jack rolled down the window and waved for them to hurry. The side door was open.

“What the—” Luke stared at the other passengers: Mr. Lyons, Mr. Elroy, and Mr. Wykowski.

“Everyone wanted to go,” Jack said. “You coming today or tomorrow?”

Luke shook his head and gestured Ali in. He’d barely snapped his seatbelt when Jack hit the gas. “How bad?” he asked.

“He was conscious and responsive when he was loaded at the senior center,” Jack said.

“He’d just driven us back from bingo,” Mr. Lyons said. “We were talking about the new rec center, and the ground-breaking ceremony tomorrow, and how nice it was to build new things. He was talking about Fay, and his son—your dad, of course—and also you kids. You and Sara. He said something about how old things need to be respected too. Old things like family ties. And then he clutched at his damn heart…” Mr. Lyons’s voice broke. Tightening his lips, he turned his head and stared resolutely out the window.

Luke glanced at Ali, who stared back at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she reached out and clasped his hand. He stared down at their entangled fingers and thought if that old fart dies before I get there, I’ll kill him… “I’ve got to call Sara,” he said.

“Done,” Jack said.

“You called her first?”

“I like her better.” Jack met Luke’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “And I came for you in person. That has to count for something.”

“You called her first,” Luke repeated in disbelief.

Jack blew out a sigh. “Okay, yeah. I called her first. A couple of years ago, she made me promise that if anything ever happened to him, I’d call her immediately.”

“Before me.”

“You didn’t make me promise,” Jack pointed out. “And anyway, everyone knows chicks are better at this shit, man. She’s getting on a flight. We need her here. You need her.”

They made it to the ER and sat in the waiting room, waiting on news. Several hours later, Sara ran in.

Tall, athletically lean, with her blue eyes filled with worry, she walked right into Luke’s arms.

“Nothing yet,” he told her. “We’re waiting on tests. They haven’t let us see him.”

Sara nodded and sniffed, wiping her nose on his shirt. He let that one go and introduced her to Ali.

“Sorry,” Sara said, swiping beneath her eyes. “I see Luke, and I always cry. It’s a silly reaction, but I just always know that when he’s in charge, it’s all going to be okay, you know?”

“It is going to be okay,” Luke said.

Sara gave Ali a soggy smile. “See?”

A few minutes later, the doctor came out. “Intestinal distress,” Dr. Josh Scott said.

They all just stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” Luke said. “What?”

“He didn’t have a heart attack,” he said. “He ate two pastrami on rye sandwiches, three large dill pickles, and an entire bag of spicy Cheetos. He had indigestion.”

Sara grinned broadly. “Sounds like grandpa.”

Dr. Scott shook his head. “He has dangerously high cholesterol, and we’re setting him up with a dietician. But otherwise he’s as healthy as an ox.”

Luke was the first to go in to see him. Edward was propped up on his hospital bed eating Jell-O.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Luke said.

Edward frowned. “Don’t take that tone with me. I could have died today.”

“You had gas.”

Edward pointed the spoon at him. “But you didn’t know that. Were you worried?”

“No.”

Edward gave him a small, knowing smile. “Liar.”

Since Luke’s legs were suddenly wobbling from relief, he sank to the side of his grandpa’s bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Why, because you nearly let me die without fulfilling your promise to Sara?”

Luke dropped his hands from his face. “What promise?”

“To give me a hug.”

“You want a hug,” Luke said with disbelief.

“You deaf, boy?”

Luke stared at him. “If I hug you, do you promise not to die on me?”

Edward’s smirk faded, and he set the Jell-O down. “I promise not to die today. How’s that?”

“Good enough,” Luke said, and hugged him tight.

Chapter 21