“No,” he replied. “Are you married?”
Startled, she looked up at him. “What?”
“You get a question, so I get a question. Fair’s fair.”
Ruby sat back. “That’s not how this goes.” She returned her hand to above his feet. “Again, please, five times each.”
Luke began the exercises, but launched a running commentary as he did so. “I’m guessing no, on account of I’d probably have heard about it if you were. And your name’s still Sheldon.”
“Lots of women keep their names when they marry these days, Luke.” She noticed his left foot was raising lower and lower with each attempt. Numbness aside, Luke had lost a lot of muscle strength.
“Maybe, but not you. You’d be Mrs. Whoever. So there is no Mr. Whoever, is there?”
Ruby grabbed Luke’s ankles and gently tugged them toward her. It was time to let Luke know she wasn’t putting up with any antics. She could throw him off balance—literally—anytime she chose to do so.
“Whoa,” he yelped as he gripped the chair to keep upright. “A little warning, if you don’t mind.”
“A little courtesy, if you don’t mind. Toes in and out, making a V, ten times. Count them out, so you won’t be tempted to flap your jaw.”
With just a touch of repentant rascal in his eyes, Luke complied. When he finished, she offered, “I’m single. And fine with it, I might add, not that you’d understand.”
“Hey, I’m single too, you know.”
“Single with a long line of buckle bunnies trailing after you, which isn’t the same thing.” Ruby moved to kneel beside his good leg. “Raise your foot out in front of you, knee-high, ten times,” and when he opened his mouth to make some smart-aleck comeback she added, “Counting out loud.”
Luke settled back in his chair, giving her a look Ruby presumed Gran was sick of by now. “One...two... I’m generous with my time to fans...three...four...no harm in that.”
“So I’ve heard. Not that I follow your career closely.” She had tried to keep from following Luke’s career at all, but in Martins Gap that was easier said than done. People never spoke directly to her about it, given their history, but it wasn’t hard to see a clipping posted on the bulletin board at Lolly’s Diner or hear neighbors boast at Shorty’s Pizza. The whole church had prayed for him when word of the accident hit town.
“Eight... I got enough get-well cards...nine...to wallpaper the guesthouse three times over.” While that had the air of exaggeration she’d expect from Luke Buckton, she didn’t doubt that the cards had poured in after his injury. Even Ruby knew, however, that the “Will Buckton return?” speculation in sports media had dropped off the minute the battle between the next two tour contenders heated up. The spotlight lost no time in moving on, and a man like Luke thrived on attention. What happened when you took that away at his most vulnerable moment?
“Now the other leg, only five on this one.”
Luke couldn’t go as high as his good leg, but he dug in and raised it ten times to match the other instead of the five she’d assigned. “That stubborn streak of yours will serve you well, but when I say five, I mean five. Not ten. You can’t overdo this if you want those nerves to wake up.”
“When those nerves wake up.”
Ruby wasn’t in the business of lying to patients, even with the kindest of lies. “If those nerves wake up.” When he glared at her, she added, “So let’s do our best to make sure they do.”
He was quiet for the next exercise, and downright silent when his leg refused to comply for the following one.
“So have there been any potential Mr. Whoevers?” he leaned in and asked.
Ruby knew a diversion when she saw one. She shifted to a less taxing exercise and said, “As a matter of fact, there have. Not that I’d name names with the likes of you.”
“Gran told me you dated an insurance salesman from Waco for a time. An insurance salesman.” He coated the last three words with generous disdain.
Ruby slapped her file shut. “If you already knew the details of my social life, why’d you ask?” She pointed to his leg, an unspoken command to do the current exercise again.
“I wanted to hear it from you.”
“You wanted to gloat over my small-town choice of beaus, you mean.”
He grinned. “Well, that, too.”
“Okay then, let’s hear about your relationships. The serious ones. Lasting more than two nights or one town.”
Luke stretched his leg toward her extended hand, his voice tightening with the effort. “Don’t do those.”
“You mean don’t do those anymore.” The jab left her mouth before she could catch it back. He’d been “serious” with her and they both knew it.
It stopped Luke in his tracks, his leg dropping to the floor. “I suppose I deserved that,” he said after a long pause. “So we’re gonna talk about it, then?”
“No,” Ruby shot back.
* * *
Should they talk about it? Luke knew full well the danger of opening up that can of worms. He’d loved her—as much as a seventeen-year-old boy could love anyone. He’d bucked all the put-downs from the other guys on the football team about dating “the brainiac” instead of this year’s collection of cheerleaders.
If he and Ruby started talking about it, he’d wind up needing to apologize, and he wasn’t ready for that. Of course, he knew he’d broken her heart. But he didn’t believe he’d made the wrong decision. She wasn’t rodeo material. Even if he had taken her with him, the circuit would have eaten her alive. The press liked him much better with a rotation of pretty things hanging on each arm. According to Nolan Riggs, his agent, Luke’s good looks were an asset, and “...and he’s single, ladies!” was as much a part of his marketing as how much the camera loved his Buckton-blue eyes.
“Okay,” he said as he took the small plastic ball she’d told him to roll under his bad foot, “so we’re not gonna talk about it. Check.”
“Can you do that?” she asked. “Can you be decent and professional about this? Because if you can’t, we’re done right now.”
He searched for a safer topic. “What was college like?” He knew she’d gotten into some fancy-pants accelerated program for physical therapy that got her out in fewer years.
“I liked it. It was fun living in Austin for a while.” She pulled out some brightly colored elastic bands, wiggling her fingers through them while she decided which to use. She always did that—wiggle her fingers while she was thinking. He’d forgotten how amusing he found it.
“But you didn’t stay?”
She looked up at him. “I couldn’t.” She paused for a moment before she explained. “Dad.”
How could it have slipped his mind that her father had died when they were a few years out of high school? Gran had told him. He’d sent a card or something, hadn’t he? His schedule hadn’t allowed for anything like traveling home for a friend’s dad’s funeral. Especially when he’d been certain she wouldn’t want him anywhere near her. “I knew about that. Sorry. Really.”
She and her dad had been close. He remembered that. He’d been envious of it, as a matter of fact, given how bad things were between himself and