Chapter 4

Wish You Had Been There

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A/N: Thank you so much Jewels12 for being my wonderful beta.

When Julie last touched this chapter, it was pristine. But, I've been tweaking - so any typos are my complete responsibily, and no reflection on JulieSpooly's eagle eye! Thanks for reading!

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Tucked between an import store that sold handmade purses from third-world countries and a Cold Stone Creamery, the restaurant could have easily been passed-by unnoticed. That is, if it weren't for the telltale smell of a quality steak house. Even before Luke opened the door for Lorelai, the savory aroma of aged beef, smoked, broiled, grilled, and roasted, hung in the air like a sultry, scented fog.

While the exterior was nondescript, the inside was plush. The walls seemed to recede, forming candle-lit alcoves that absorbed the quiet murmurs of small parties and intimate tables for two.

In the bar, a man in a tilted gray fedora sat at the baby grand. Oblivious to his surroundings, he played lively jazz riffs. A few rogue notes miraculously escaped being absorbed by the richly paneled walls and a calming melody wafted through to the dining area.

Luke placed an unexpected, yet comforting hand at the small of her back as they followed the maître d' to their secluded booth. When they arrived, he helped her with her wrap. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as his fingers grazed her sweater and the weight of the garment slid off her shoulders. She could have sworn he breathed in her hair as tingles radiated from her neck to the top of her head. "Thank you." She smiled.

He nodded and waited for her to sit and slide closer to the center, then took a seat himself.

"This place is amazing," she said, glancing around at the decades-old collection of framed, autographed photos of A through D-list celebrities. They covered almost every spare inch of the walls.

"The businesses nearby come and go, but Sully's is a staple," he said. "My parents used to come here every year for their anniversary."

"So this place has history for you." Sometimes in her haste to get to work, or in her worries of how to survive the day, she'd forget that Luke was more than just the pourer of caffeinated ambrosia. But tonight was different. She looked at the man across from her, clean-shaven, dressed up, and gracious. He was acting almost as if this were a real date.

"It does. I think you'll like it. But then again, I'm talking to a lady who puts whipped cream on her chocolate-chip pancakes," he gruffly teased. "That's like putting candy on candy. For breakfast."

She was about to argue the merits of starting her day with a stomachful of simple carbs and caffeine, but the waiter approached.

He introduced himself and described the chef's specials. They listened intently to the gourmet offerings. Luke asked him to leave the wine list while they perused the menu, then called him back for a small request.

"Could you also bring the dessert menu? The lady likes to know what she's looking forward to."

The waiter politely complied.

"The dessert menu?" Lorelai asked, amused.

"Yeah, in case, you want to order dessert first." He casually ran his finger down the list of imported red wines.

"You'd let me order dessert first? Really? Without scoffing or teasing?"

He kept his finger on the wine list to hold his place and looked up at her. "Well, I might have to jeer at you a bit, but really, you're going to eat it anyway so it doesn't matter much which order it goes in."

She was still skeptical. "So I can order a chocolate fudge sundae as an appetizer, and you'd be okay with that?"

"At least you'd have a meal in between this dessert and the dessert you're going to get later at home."

She laughed. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"What?" His neck and ears flushed crimson. "No! I meant the s'mores. That's what I was talking about."

"I know what you meant. Relax. I won't hold you to it." She delighted in embarrassing Luke, but didn't want to push it tonight, so she waved her hand as if dismissing the idea.

His pink skin began cooling down and he laughed, too.

She propped up her menu and went straight for the entrees. "So, what looks good?"

A jolt of energy pass between them as his eyes held onto hers. "I'm having porterhouse steak."

Suddenly she felt her own cheeks blaze. Her own mother used the term porterhouse when she mentioned the way Luke looked at Lorelai. Could her mom really have seen something? "I thought you didn't eat red meat," was all she could think to say.

"I usually don't, but I eat steak occasionally."

"What's the occasion?"

"I'm with you," he said off-handedly, still studying the wine list.

The candor of his statement, unadorned and unabashed, sent a tingle pulsing up her spine. She didn't have a snappy comeback or a witty quip to defuse his words. She merely smiled at him and held his gaze. "Who can resist … steak?"

He shook his head slightly and quirked an eyebrow. "Not me."

In an effort to shake off his stare, she joked. "Although they say a portabello has a meaty, flavorful texture, indistinguishable from sirloin."

Luke went along with it. "Can you imagine coming here, smelling everything on the grill, and ordering nothing but a big mushroom?"

She tossed back a laugh. "Mmmmm! Charbroiled fungi. My fave!"

He nodded, and when her laughter faded, attempted to sound casual. "What did you have for lunch?"

She shrugged, suddenly intent on fishing the lemon out of her water with her spoon. "You know, the usual tofu and green leafy vegetables."

"Lorelai." His tone was far from patient.

"What do you want to know?" She surprised herself at the snap her words carried. "Do you really want to know what I ate for lunch?"

He persisted. "Did you have a nice time?"

She thought she detected a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "Luke, I can't talk to you about my time with Max. That wasn't part of the plan."

"What plan?"

"The plan where I go out with you so you can figure out if Rachel's leaving was your fault, or hers."

He held her gaze. "Is that all I'm doing?"

"Aren't you?" she challenged him.

He paused for a moment. "Yeah, I guess so."

She felt suddenly deflated. "Hey, Luke? Can I ask you something?"

He set the menu down and raised his chin as if bracing himself. She took that as a yes.

"Why is it so important to you that Rachel is wrong?"

His jaw flexed before he spoke. "She can't be right, Lorelai." His voice was almost whisper-quiet, but it was determined.

Lorelai attempted to ignore the knot that was tugging at her gut. She took a healthy drink of her wine then went through the motions of choosing a meal.

After placing their orders for food and wine, she broke the noticeably long silence. She figured it didn't really matter what they discussed. "Did I tell you about the museum?"

"Oh, the lecture?" He raised an eyebrow.

Grateful for the change of topic, she jumped at the chance to bring some levity to their conversation. "And it was a lecture, too. I felt like I was being scolded the whole time."

"Well, what did you expect?"

"I expected it to be mockable, but not that mockable! People argued ad nauseum over whether or not John Adams was standing on Tomas Jefferson's foot, and whether it was a political statement or a satire."

"I'm sorry you didn't enjoy it," he said earnestly.

She believed him. As much as Luke didn't like her spending time with Max, Lorelai knew he'd never want her to have a bad time.

"Oh, I enjoyed it all right, especially when they all whipped out their two-dollar bills and magnifying glasses. They compared the backs of them to the painting just to see how much Adam's foot had moved."

"Fascinating." He swirled his wine and leaned in, which only encouraged her to grow more animated with every breath.

"And a guy in a bad toupee almost came to blows with a guy wearing an 'I heart Antonin Scalia' t-shirt over the proper use of the term 'chiaroscuro.'" She picked up her glass too.

"It does sound like you had a good time." The both drank, eyes on each other.

"I did," she admitted. "Except maybe for the shushing."

"The shushing?" He furrowed his brow.

"I was shushed."

"You? Huh, imagine that." Lightly creased fans appeared at the edges of his eyes.

"Just because I snickered at a few names." She put her wine down and folded her hands, fingers interlocking.

"Let me guess. John Hancock."

"Of course, John Hancock. What's not funny about that?"

"Nothing, it's hilarious," His voice was deadpanned, but she could see the edges of his mouth tugging into a smile.

"Oh, and let's not forget John Dickinson and Francis Lightfoot Lee!"

"You're right. All completely uproarious."

She recognized the pattern. He'd give her just enough encouragement, then pull back while she went over the top with her free association. He'd act unfazed, but she knew he was completely enthralled.

"Absolutely. And every one of them had two bad names. Not just one, but two! John, that's potty humor, but I'm not above it. And Francis! That's so not cool unless your last name is Sinatra. Even then it's still debatable, unless you open your mouth and sing like an angel. And Lightfoot Lee? Hah! More like 'Light in the Loafers Lee'! I wish you had been there." As soon as the words left her mouth, she winced. Her filter had failed to kick in on time.

"I'm glad I wasn't," he said soberly.

"Oh, here we are." Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief as the waiter showed up with their soup and salad. She vowed silently to stick to safer topics for the rest of the evening.

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On the ride home, the conversation fluctuated between radio station arguments and companionable silence. Luke parked in her driveway, then jumped out to get her door. She slid out demurely and held onto the hem of her skirt to keep it from riding up as she descended. Ever the gentleman, he kept his eyes on hers, though his mind couldn't help wandering to her over-exposed expanse of thigh as he offered her a steady hand for balance.

Lorelai took his arm as he escorted her. After the sumptuous meal and a bottle of wine she leaned on him slightly and rested her head on his shoulder. While they walked to her porch Luke wondered if she was also aware of the heat that resonated from their bodies and met where their arms and hips touched.

When her foot slid off the third stair, she thanked him through melodious giggles for catching her. He hugged her closely to his side, explaining to himself that he just wanted to make sure she was safe, he'd never let her get hurt on his watch.

When they reached the top, he let go and watched intently while she dug for her keys. She produced them and fumbled while trying to find the right one. "See, this is why I don't lock the door. Keys suck," she complained, brushing her hair away from her eyes with the back of her wrist as she concentrated on untangling her key chain.

He took the keys, shook the tangles out, and unlocked the door. "Locks keep you safe," he said, handing them back.

She let out a groan accompanied by a dramatic eye roll. "Not the safety argument again."

"No, not again," he reassured her quietly, sliding the same tendril of hair away from her eyes and gently tucking it behind her ear. Before moving his hand away, he trailed his knuckles from her cheek to her jaw to satisfy his curiosity as to whether her skin felt as soft as it looked. It was even softer.

Lorelai closed her eyes and nuzzled against Luke's touch. He stood close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from his body, causing her every nerve to reach out toward him. She opened her eyes and they immediately locked onto his. It seemed like an eternity while she waited for him to decide. When he finally leaned in, her senses heightened, bombarded by the brisk, masculine aroma that had been tantalizing her since the moment he walked through the front door.

She held her lips slightly parted, hardly breathing in anticipation. But instead of a kiss she received an unexpected rasp of his cheek, whispery soft at first, then pressed firmly against hers. They held their position for several heartbeats. Lorelai's awareness of his warmth, his strength, and his energy heightened. This was unexpected, confusing, yet… so much… It was more than a kiss. More innocent, yet more intimate.

They remained, hearts pounding, breathing in sync, until Lorelai found the strength to pull away. "So, you'll come in… for the s'mores?"

Luke stepped back and shoved a tremulous hand through his hair. "I think… it's probably better if I go."

"Oh?" Again, she was caught off guard. "Right." She nodded, a bit more vigorously than she realized.

"I have to open in the morning," he offered, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a step back.

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you up too late." She nearly succeeded in keeping her words from betraying the bewilderment she felt.

"I do get up pretty early. So… thanks for going out with me. It, um, helped me to sort through some things."

"Glad I could be of help." She tried to keep the sarcasm from dripping off each word.

With a quick nod he headed down the stairs, then stopped abruptly and faced her. "Lorelai?"

Facing the door with one foot past the threshold, her heart skipped. "Yeah?"

"I'll be by sometime this week to fix the back lock."

She closed her eyes and squeezed them tightly. "I don't get home until after five, and Rory's still gone."

"Then I'll stop by while you're at work. That way I won't bother you."

"Okay," she said, "any time before five."

"Before five."

"Um, Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"You 're right, I take it."

"Right about what?

"You know, about us. And Rachel is wrong."

"Rachel? Um, I don't … I gotta … " he gestured toward his truck.

"Yeah, you do that." She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Leaning against the glass, she listened as Luke slammed his truck door, fired it up, and pulled away. Her palm rested on the cool skin where moments ago his face had warmed her. Lorelai contemplated the cheek to cheek contact on the porch and her stomach fluttered, but only momentarily. When she thought of the way she had practically offered herself up to Luke only to be turned down cold, she bristled with hurt.

She didn't even know if she had the right to be angry. After all, she agreed to go out with him just to prove Rachel wrong. Well, the lab results were in: Rachel was wrong. So shouldn't she be happy that she and Luke could remain friends with the knowledge that they were innocent of any impropriety, subconscious or not?

The shrill ringing of her phone roused her from her thoughts. Her mind flashed on an image of Luke's whiskered face, and she lunged for the phone. "Hello?"

"Oh, hi, Max." She forced a cheerful lilt through her tight throat and trudged up the stairs. "No, it isn't too late … I'm glad you called, really … Um, sure, you can drop by after work."

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TBC