For once, Luke tamped down his desire as he watched her move through the crowd, visiting with one group, then another. How many people did she know, anyway? She'd only been here a month. But being a waitress at the busy diner, he supposed, had its benefits. She tugged him along behind her, introducing him to people, telling him what they did or where they lived. "I'm never going to remember all these people," he muttered as she dragged him to another group. "Not in one night. But you can take me to work tomorrow, have some breakfast, visit, get to know them." "It's not as easy for me as it is for you." "You have to make an effort if this is going to be your home." But it seemed to him, it was more her home. He felt like the intruder in her life instead of the other way around. She'd spent the last month sleeping in his bed, fixing up his house, meeting his neighbors. He couldn't help resenting it a little. "There's the sheriff," she said, and tugged him in that direction. She greeted the man in the faded denim shirt and jeans with a kiss on the cheek, and the man, a little older, maybe early forties--rested his hand on her waist.
