“Last spring, I had some really severe complications from the flu. I was almost one of those people they talk about on the news when they mention how many the flu kills annually.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My recovery was slow at first, so I got serious about self-care. Dating is the opposite of self-care for me. My health can’t take any more heartbreaks.”
“I understand.” And he did.
“People who survive serious diseases often talk about how it was ultimately the best thing that happened to them because it shifted their priorities. And itdiddo some of that for me. But I’m definitely not in a place yet where I can say it was the best thing. It was a long, scary, painful tunnel.”
His respect for her grew. “You’re a survivor.”
“A shaky one.”
“An honest one.” Aninterestingone. “If you want, we can do something together as friends.”
“I’d love to have a new and very handsome friend.” She turned to the computer, then back to him. “However, if I fling myself at you, you must resist.”
“All right.”
“And you’ll do everything in your power to keep this relationship strictly platonic.”
“Absolutely. Yes.”
“Because we cannot let our time together become date-like.”
“Definitely not.”
Her face shone. The points of her smile dug into those expressive cheeks. “Now that we havethatout of the way, maybe I can concentrate enough to talk with you about science.”
When Luke arrived back at the Center after lunch the next day, he found Finley waiting for him in the hallway. She was biting the side of her bottom lip, phone in hand.
His stomach knotted. “What’s the matter?”
“A woman just called to report a litter of abandoned puppies underneath her back porch.”
When he’d seen Finley, he’d worried that something was wrong withher. But, of course, this was about animals.
“Would you be willing to head over there with me to retrieve them?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Finley led him into the supply room and handed him a travel crate. He watched her add clean towels to it. She had on loose army green overalls with a white top. Modest. Yet the overalls’ sides were open down to her waist and he couldn’t look away from the glimpses that gave him of the shirt beneath. The cotton followed the lines of her slim body as she moved.
He carried the crate to his truck and followed the directions she provided.
Since his release from prison, he’d enjoyed every minute he’d spent driving. He’d fallen in love with cars as a kid. He’d liked them even more when he’d started learning about their mechanics. Through all the changes in his life, his passion for cars had remained.
This V-8 engine, thanks to all the work he’d done on it, sounded like a dream. His truck had an incredibly strong chassis. Two-axle drivetrain. Front and rear bumpers made of steel. He’d perfected the tightness of the suspension. His truck drove like a classic truck should—
Finley gasped and braced a hand against the dashboard as a car pulled out in front of them.
“It’s okay,” he said, smoothly braking before building back up to speed.
She balled her hands in her lap.
She was not an uptight person. But on their trip to her dad’s house, her body language in his passenger seat had sometimes been tense. “What’s with you and cars?”
“Ever since Chase’s accident, I’m ... jumpy when driving. Cars, well, they can be deadly.”
