He was done pretending to himself.
When he saw her, she took his breath away.
Grace stood at the school booth, a folding table half-covered in paint palettes and cups of water. She wore jeans and boots and a soft cardigan, sleeves pushed up. Her hair was down, loose around her shoulders.
He wanted to weave his hands into that hair. He wanted to pull her tight against his body. He wanted to sling his arm over her shoulder. He wanted.
She was talking to Mrs. Ellery. Laughing.
Luke stopped walking.
She was beautiful.
Not just because of her face or her body. It was more than that. Deeper than that. She was beautiful because she wasGrace.
He wanted her.
Not just in the way men wanted women. Not just in the way he’d had her. He felt greedy for her.
He didn’t just want her nights. He wanted her mornings and her evenings and her Tuesdays and Saturdays. And every moment in between. Wanted to stand beside her while she did ordinary things. He wanted the quiet intimacy of knowing where she’d put the extra batteries or which mug she reached for first.
He’d had private midnights.
He wanted public afternoons.
Grace glanced up.
Their eyes met across the festival grounds.
For a split second, she smiled at him—surprised and warm, the reflexive recognition her body for his.
He saw the moment that she remembered. When her heart protected itself. Her smile dimmed into something polite instead. Careful.
She dipped her head in a small nod. Acknowledged him the way she might acknowledge any officer making his rounds.
Anger flared sharp and immediate—but it wasn’t aimed at her.
Idiot. He’d been anidiot.
She didn’t expect anything from him. Not here. Not in public. Because she’d learned not to.
He’d taught her that.
Luke took a step toward her, before a hand closed around his elbow.
“Marshal?”
He turned to find Eleanor Matthews smiling up at him.
“They’re ready for you at the gazebo,” she said.
Luke glanced back at Grace.
She was no longer looking at him.
His jaw tightened.
“Yeah,” he said, voice steady even as something in his chest cracked open. “I’m coming.”
