Author's Notes: I'm hopelessly in love with Luke and Lorelai, my favorite fictional couple ever. I've been writing stories about them for a couple of years now. My stories either are like this one, sweet and fluffy and attempting to get them together earlier than what they did in the series, or they take place in that Post-Partings world, where I try to get them to reconcile. Recently I've decided to start posting my new writings here, plus I want to bring over some of my older stories. This story is actually the first one I was brave enough to share with the world so it has especially fond memories for me. I know it's a little long and I probably should have divided it into a chapter or two, but this is how the story told itself to me. 'Do me a favor' and read it...Please?

The second he heard her heels - about 3 inches, he estimated - click-clacking across the floor he felt the anger start to flame up in his chest. The temperature was topping out today at about 24 degrees, while a brisk wind out of the northwest was going to make it feel like the single digits. A nice coat of ice was slicking over most surfaces but here she was prancing through town with some ridiculous shoes on her feet.

He knew why, of course. He could tell by the way the heels sounded as she crossed the wooden floor to the counter, as she put a little something extra in her walk to entice him should he glance her way.

He resolutely kept his eyes on the tourist family who were obviously on their way to go skiing. They were asking him all sorts of questions about the menu and 'this charming little town' and it was all he could do to answer them civilly, to stop himself from spinning around and throwing the order pad at her.

She wanted something from him, of course, some favor. Some chore needed to be done. Something was broken that she thought he could fix. Maybe the Jeep sounded funny. Maybe the refrigerator was warm and the ice cream was melting. Something she assumed that good ol' Luke would run right over and make right for her, at least as soon as he glanced her way and she could pull out her femme fatale act and he'd fall powerless under her charms. Because he was just an idiot that way, right? Cross Lorelai Gilmore with a tight sweater and he'd be out the door with his toolbox before you could count to ten, apparently.

Uh, dirty? The thought popped up in the midst of his mental rant, increasing his irritation as he realized how thoroughly she'd infiltrated his life.

He felt the anger rise up higher in his chest. Why she always felt the need to couch her requests in blatant sexuality he couldn't figure out. Why she just simply couldn't ask him he didn't know. How she was able to deduce exactly what turned him on was driving him crazy. How? How did she know? Was she able to hear his heart rate climb or feel his temperature shoot up when she wore certain combinations? He thought he'd learned long ago how to regulate every part of himself around Lorelai. How the hell did she know?

While waiting for the family in front of him to order, he cautiously glanced backwards along the floor towards her.

He swore internally and grasped the pen so hard his knuckles turned white.

She had on the black heels with the ankle strap, damn it all. She'd crossed her legs on the stool and was leaning back against the counter, watching him. He continued to ignore her.

He tried to nod pleasantly to the tourist family before walking away to the far end of the counter, as far from Lorelai as possible. He busied himself there, finally allowing himself a surreptitious glance at her when he sent the order back to Caesar in the kitchen.

Damn, damn, damn!

She had on that damn navy blue pencil skirt with the slit that hit just so on her thigh. And that damn blue sweater that showed the most delectable dip of cleavage, the one she'd insisted he feel one time, "Because it's so soft!" She was wearing that damn silver chain too, the one with the tiny diamond that sparkled right in the hollow of her throat. She even had her hair pulled away from her face, a barrette holding it in the back while her curls were free to tumble around her shoulders. He loved her hair like that, but she hardly ever wore it that way.

The anger was now pushing up into his throat. He turned to glare at her.

She took in his grumpiness and shot him one of her multi-million kilowatt smiles, the type that made her eyes sparkle and her whole face glow, the type of smile that usually made his day if he received one. She pointed a manicured finger at him and crooked it, beckoning him to come to her.

That's what did it.

On her painted fingertip he saw the flash of iridescence, and he knew that somehow, somehow, she'd even managed to divine what was his favorite from amongst her nail polishes. How did she do it? Was he that obvious? Pathetic? What?

"Look," he sneered at her, the anger spilling out of him, so angry that he couldn't even try to modulate his voice so that the venomous words could be kept between the two of them. "We both know you need me to do something, and, hell, we both know I'll do it, no matter how ridiculous or humiliating it is. So instead of going all through your sexy little act, and giggling through all of your witty 'dirties' and dressing like this even though it's 24-freakin'-degrees outside—" he had to pause to suck in a breath—"why don't you just ask me whatever it is so we can both get on with our days?"

The words reverberated in Luke's head. He watched the bright and shiny leave Lorelai's face. He saw her eyes change into moist, puppy-dog eyes, those of a puppy who'd just been beaten with a rolled up newspaper by her owner for no reason. Or maybe even kicked. He closed his own eyes, unable to witness what he'd done. He turned, grabbed the coffee pot and some mugs and headed over to the tourist family, who shifted away from him uncomfortably as he poured their drinks and no longer tried to engage him in small talk.

He took his time, refilling mugs everywhere before turning back to the counter.

Lorelai's stool was empty and abandoned. She was nowhere to be seen. Luke came to stand behind the counter, staring at where she'd been.

"Oh, don't worry, Luke, she's gone," Taylor sniffed from a few stools down. "She hightailed it out of here, which I guess is what you wanted. You really need to control those outbursts. They're not good for business." He shrugged towards the table of tourists.

"Shut up, Taylor," Luke said automatically, feeling sick.

"What I don't understand, though, is why," Taylor continued, ignoring Luke as usual. "I mean, I thought you actually liked Lorelai."

Luke clamped down on everything he wanted to say to Taylor and spun around to the kitchen.

"I'm cookin'," he told Caesar, jerking his shoulder at the grill.

"O-kay," Caesar said amiably, used to his boss' changing moods. He wiped his hands and headed out.

Luke dove into making French toast and scrambled eggs, refusing to remember Lorelai's face as she had absorbed the blunt fury of his words.

Several hours had passed since his anger had driven Lorelai from the diner and Luke still felt sick. He knew he needed to somehow mend this mess he'd created. Each minute that passed was making him feel worse.

"Goin' out for a while," he told Caesar curtly. He filled a large to-go cup with coffee and swept all of the leftover danishes into a bag. He grabbed his coat and gloves and stomped out the back to his truck.

In five minutes he was parked in front of the Independence Inn, trying to figure out how to go about entering. If he went in through the front door he'd more than likely have to spar with Michel, but going in the kitchen entrance meant Sookie, and bringing in outside food through her domain was just asking for trouble. Plus there was a good chance Lorelai had already filled her in on his behavior that morning, meaning that Sookie would be out for his blood. And she had knives available in the kitchen. Sookie and knives weren't a good combination on the best of days, let alone when she was pissed.

Luke sighed. Michel it was.

Michel looked up and sniffed delicately as Luke approached him, as though flannel itself had a disagreeable smell.

"The trades' entrance is through the back," he informed Luke snidely, his French accent even thicker than normal.

"Don't you ever get tired of that attitude?" Luke said, wearily. "You've known me for years, you know I'm here to see Lorelai. Just go get her already!"

Michel's mouth drew together in an even more disapproving line. "But does she want to see you, you disagreeable man?"

Luke smacked his hand against the counter and leaned closer. "I don't know if she does or not, but it's for her to say, not you! Now get her!"

Before Michel could let loose with a string of French phrases to put Luke in his place, the door to Lorelai's office opened and she came out, in a hurry to quell the uproar before any guests could hear.

Her eyes –Did they look red?—swept over Luke before she turned to Michel. "Have I not taught you that all visitors bearing gifts are to be instantly granted my presence? Don't ever make that mistake again, Michel!" She pushed open her door further and waited for Luke to enter.

He examined her for signs of how she was feeling. She'd taken off her heels and was padding around in her bare feet, which made her look smaller and more vulnerable. The barrette was gone and her hair was tousled as though she'd been running her hands through it. She leaned back against her desk, facing him, but unable to look at him.

"Peace offering," Luke said, setting the cup and bag next to her.

She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, blinking hard.

Luke sighed deeply. So. He was going to have to talk.

"Lorelai, I'm…I'm really ashamed that I yelled at you like that. You didn't deserve it. I feel terrible."

She nodded again, turning her head a little farther to the side so he couldn't see her face. She wiped a finger under her eye.

Ah, crap. He felt something stab at his heart.

"I just…We're friends, right? You could come to me and ask me anything. I just don't understand why you have this need to put on a costume and act like a tease to ask me a favor. It's…it's insulting to me. It's like you think I'm one of those idiots you normally have in your life that you can lead around by his—" He abruptly censored himself. He knew she'd say it to him without a blush, but he couldn't. "It's not who I am. It's not me."

She finally faced him. "I know that, Luke. I'm really sorry. I wasn't trying to embarrass you."

It was his turn to nod.

"I guess…" She hesitated. "Sometimes I have a hard time believing people would be willing to help me if I didn't put on a show. You know, if it's just me asking."

"Are you kidding? Remember when you broke your leg? Half the town organized a schedule to get Rory where she needed to be and get you up and down the stairs. You never asked for that! Everyone just did it!"

"Yeah, I know." She twirled a piece of hair, thoughtfully. "But you know, don't you? What's out here," she said, as she motioned up and down herself, "isn't what's up here," she finished, tapping at her forehead.

"I understand," he said gruffly. It was rare to get a serious Lorelai moment like this and Luke was touched. "Drink your coffee," he growled at her, to mask what he was feeling.

"Wow. You must feel bad." She pulled the lid off and took a deep drink, giving out one of the moans that instantly sent his thoughts skittering off into Mature Adults Only Land.

After another sip she told him, "I promise, no more of this around you. I'll try to be more aware of the vibe I'm giving off."

"Don't use 'vibe,'" he told her, "but good. I'll appreciate it." He was pleased that he had won this battle. But…Wait. Did that mean he could kiss that skirt and sweater goodbye? Was that really what he wanted? He'd won. Right?

He suddenly felt very confused. He cleared his throat. "You might as well tell me what you need me to do. I'm here, and we both know there's something."

She gave a huge sigh. "I don't think so, Luke. There's no way you'd ever do it, anyway. Hence my desperate clothing choices."

"Go on. Try me," he urged.

She sighed again, crossing her ankles, which caused the slit in her skirt to hitch up just a little further on her thigh. She reached her hands up to push through her hair, which caused the soft blue sweater to tighten even more over her curves. She wet her lips, trying to find the right words.

Luke squirmed in his seat, wishing he'd taken off his coat when he'd first entered the room, because, damn, it was certainly hot in here now. He tried to tap down the annoyance he was also beginning to feel.

It's just Lorelai, he tried to placate himself. She doesn't mean anything by it.

"Well," she began, sliding her fingers over the little silver chain around her throat, "basically my mother wants to be the Taylor Doose of Hartford."

"What?"

"She wants to be in charge, you know? She wants to be top dog."

"OK," Luke said, shrugging.

"The problem is, all of the other women in her world want that, too. So constantly they battle each other over who has the most influential cocktail parties, who organizes the most successful fundraisers, who gets the most people to support whatever the cause of the hour is. It's like they earn points by how well they do."

Luke nodded, not really seeing how this was fitting into whatever she needed him to do.

"Right now, my mother is putting on a charity event to support breast cancer research."

"Good cause," he commented.

"Yeah," Lorelai agreed. "For once it's something she's actually personally committed to. One of her good friends was just diagnosed, so she really cares about this. That makes it a lot different than her usual 'Let's get dressed up and eat stuffed mushrooms and salmon puffs' things."

Luke just stared back at her, waiting for her to come to the point.

"The problem is, some sort of major flu bug is apparently decimating the high and mighty of Hartford, so a lot of the people Emily was counting on coming to this thing are sending regrets."

Luke was finally starting to see where this was going. He started to shake his head.

"Luke, it wouldn't be that bad." Lorelai leaned forward towards him.

The shallow dip of her cleavage became a lake in front of him. He closed his eyes, but he knew that vision was going to be seared into his brain for many sleepless nights to come.

"You really want to spend another night in Emily's company?" he asked, a note of panic overlaying his words.

It worked and she straightened up. "No, of course not. It's just that when she called she pointed out that I haven't been in a relationship since Max, and that Rory's been with Dean for over a year. She just has this ability to pick the one thing I feel the least confident about and twist the knife in so deep."

"Can't you just take Rory and go?"

"It's a school night," Lorelai pointed out. "And besides, that's why she was giving me such a hard time about my lack of male relationships, because they're shy of men, and she's expecting me to haul in a man to sit at the table. It's all about the balance at these things."

She looked at Luke hopefully, but he scowled back.

"It's OK," she said in a small voice, the hurt look creeping back over her face. "I just let her get to me sometimes. It'll be OK. Don't worry about it."

Luke groaned inwardly, preparing to Suck It Up. He saw now, clearly, what his penance was going to be for yelling at her. "What do I have to wear?" he asked in resignation.

Lorelai looked stunned, but delight soon took over as she clapped her hands in glee. "You'll do it?" Her excitement grew as he gave her a nod in confirmation. "You won't have to do a thing," she promised. "I'll drive and take good care of you. The food's usually pretty good. I know you don't really care about that, but…Ooh! Free booze! That's good, right?"

"Can't hurt," he sighed. "Look, are you sure your mom will be OK with me being there with you?"

"She's demanding I bring along a male body, and that you definitely have. Don't forget I've dressed you," she reminded him, throwing him a wink before she remembered she wasn't supposed to be doing the flirty stuff.

"When is this thing?" he asked, dully.

"Thursday night. I'll pick you up around 6:30."

"All right." He sighed, resigned to his fate. He started to head towards the door, preparing to leave. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, looking back at Lorelai. "We're OK, right?"

"So OK," she assured him. "I really appreciate this, Luke! I'll owe you one!"

"Sure," he muttered, giving a backwards half-wave towards her as he exited her office.

Lorelai rushed to the door and watched as Luke went out the Inn's entrance. Once she was sure he was truly gone, she pulled shut her door and did a happy dance of victory around her desk before finally collapsing into her chair. She grabbed the white paper sack and pulled out a danish, running her finger through the icing and sucking it off happily.

"Man, Gilmore, you are good," she congratulated herself, before chomping down on the hard-earned pastry with immense satisfaction.

Late the next afternoon, Luke poked his head out of the kitchen as he heard a commotion begin in his dining room. He saw that Lorelai had popped in and was now bantering with Babette and Patty. For once she was dressed weather-appropriately, her feet in suede boots and her arms in a winter jacket with pile lining showing at the cuffs. Things that might actually keep her warm. Huh. Maybe she really didn't have a guy in her life right now. He watched as she unwound a rainbow-colored scarf from around her neck and pulled the matching hat from her head.

She looked over and saw him peering around the corner.

"Presents!" she crowed at him, beaming, waving a shopping bag at him. She hurried over, thrusting the bag at him when she got close enough. "I told you I'd treat you right!" she bragged, as she sat down on the stool to watch. She used her mouth to help tug the gloves off her hands, then smoothed down her straightened hair, tucking the strands back behind her ears. She leaned forward eagerly, waiting for his reaction.

Luke felt the scowl etching itself into his face. While he maybe wouldn't mind being the center of her attention in different circumstances, he hated it when she made him a part of her show.

"What's this?" he asked, as curmudgeonly as possible. He pulled out a shirt and tie.

"Well, Luke," Lorelai drawled out, obviously enjoying herself, "this is called clothing. People wear it to enhance their prettiness. I want you to look really pretty tomorrow night, so I made one of my famous turns through the men's department and picked you out some things that will definitely prettify you all up."

"I've got shirts and ties," he growled.

"Not as pretty as these," she insisted.

"What's tomorrow night?" Patty called out, enthralled.

Lorelai, beaming, turned around on her stool. "Luke has agreed to accompany me to a charity thing my mother is hosting tomorrow night. I'm going to be his escort," she added, winking for Patty's benefit.

"Ooh, Doll, ya maybe don't wanna use that term," Babette cackled.

Lorelai giggled too. "Yeah, you're right. I've already told him the night wasn't going to cost him anything."

"Will you stop?" Luke muttered half-heartedly, knowing his protests would only egg them on. It peeved him that Lorelai had blabbed their plans to two of the biggest gossips in town, ensuring that everyone within earshot would know about it by morning. On the other hand, maybe that was just as well. Nothing to get misconstrued that way. No innuendo to toss about. Everything on the up and up.

Lorelai watched him with high anticipation as he scrutinized the clothes he'd pulled out of the bag.

He shook his head slightly as he frowned at the deep, deep blue shirt and the almost copper-colored tie. "You want me to wear this?"

"Yep." Lorelai's head nodded vigorously. "Wear this with your blue suit."

"Do you really think I'm not capable of dressing myself?"

"Well…" Her eyebrows quirked up as she lightly plucked at the sleeve of his daily flannel.

"I would've worn a suit and tie," he muttered through clenched teeth.

"I know," she placated him, "but I want you to wear these."

"Why is it so important?"

"You'll see tomorrow night," she said smugly. "Oh, and there's still something else in the bag." She dipped her hand into the plastic and came back out with a piece of silk that matched the tie.

Luke's mouth dropped open for a moment before he started to laugh in disbelief. "No way. No freakin' way. I'm not some idiot on one of those makeover shows you watch, who let themselves get shaved and waxed and dressed up in pink polo shirts. No way in hell I'm wearin' a pocket square!"

She cocked her head to one side. "Huh. But yet, you know the term 'pocket square.' How disturbing is that?"

He glared at her.

"Tell you what," she offered, amiably. "Let's wait until tomorrow night. If you think I look good enough, you wear the pocket square."

"Forget it," he warned her again.

"We'll see," she said, pleasantly, as she tucked the fabric into her purse. "OK, well, I need to head home." She slid down off the stool and started collecting her outerwear.

Luke folded his arms across his chest and waited, tensely, for whatever her parting shot to him would be.

"Bye, Luke," she said, almost shyly. "Thanks again. I'll, uh, I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded stoically, waiting for the quip coming at his head.

Lorelai said a quick goodbye to the ladies and headed out the door, turning once to send him an awkward wave.

He blinked as the door closed, the bells jingling at her exit.

"Luke, dear," Patty purred, "you know that if you need any sort of refresher on dance steps, you just stick your head into my studio, and I'll set you straight in no time!"

"And if ya need any help with the gettin' dressed part, Patty and I are always available for that!" Babette added. "I'm just sayin'!"

He came back to earth and sighed at them tiredly, not even bothering to respond. He pushed himself away from the counter he'd been leaning against and shoved the new shirt and tie back into the bag, and headed quickly for the stairs.

He pushed through the curtain and tossed the bag onto the stairs, planning on taking it all the way upstairs the next time he went up. Taking a moment, he pulled off his baseball cap and ran his fingers over his head, contemplating. Something was off about this whole thing. There was something more going on here than just Lorelai needing someone to go with her to a thing. It made him extremely nervous. He chewed his bottom lip, wishing he could figure it out. Finally he gave his head a shake and headed back into the diner.

Whatever it was, he was just going to have to trust that Lorelai wasn't planning on humiliating him too badly.

True to her word, Lorelai came to the diner to pick him up. Luke was just adjusting his sleeves inside his trench coat, preparing to step out from behind the curtain, when he heard the bells jingle and the whole diner fell silent. Curious, and somewhat alarmed, he pushed through the fabric and saw Lorelai standing just inside the door, her hand still clutching the doorknob, a little taken aback by the crowd's perusal of her.

Her long coat covered most of what she was wearing, except for the tall, matchstick-thin metallic heels on her feet. Her curls were swept up off her face and cascaded down her neck in the back. Something long and dangly twinkled from her ears, emphasizing her long, creamy throat. She had on more makeup than usual and looked absolutely exquisite. Luke didn't dare look at her for more than a second.

"Hey," he muttered, striding over to her as he pulled on his gloves. "Ready to go?"

"S-Sure," she stuttered, blinking as her eyes landed on his smooth face. "Let's go."

They walked out to the Jeep, which Lorelai had left running at the curb, trying to ignore the catcalls that had come pouring out of the diner after them.

Luke hurried his steps, trying to get to the Jeep's door before she did.

"No, no, no!" she chastised him. "This is my night to take care of you!" She opened the passenger's side door and offered him her hand with a flourish.

He rolled his eyes, but couldn't resist taking her hand, briefly, as he got in. He took in several deep breaths as she tottered around to the driver's side.

To his relief, conversation came as easily as it normally did between them on a usual day in the diner. They'd barely rolled away from the curb when Lorelai launched into a story about Sookie's day-long escapade in trying to make an upscale tuna and noodle casserole that ended with every cat in Stars Hollow making their way to the Inn's back door and noodles stuck to the ceiling. He told Lorelai about additional observations he'd made that confirmed their fears that Taylor Doose was indeed bent on world domination. That, in turn, led them both to recount their daily Kirk stories.

They were practically to the Hartford city limits before the talk died down, and it didn't die awkwardly. It just settled down into a more intimate, friendly silence.

Luke bravely looked over at her. He could do that, since it was almost too dark to make out her features. "So, what are those things in your hair?"

It was a simple question but he could see it pleased her for some reason. "Combs," she said, her lips curving into a wide smile.

"A comb?" he asked, confused.

"They have teeth on them, like a regular comb," she explained. "But they're made to hold your hair up, like this." She tapped against the one on the right side of her head.

"Oh." He looked straight ahead, nodded. "They're…pretty."

Her smile grew even brighter. "Thanks," she said with a grin, looking delighted - and a little distracted - that he'd even noticed.

The next second had her swearing under her breath. "Damn. I missed the turn."

He stared out the window, pretending he didn't know why she'd missed the turn, hiding his own smile.

A valet hurried over and took the keys from Lorelai. They headed for the door, Lorelai once again rushing to get to the door before he could. In one long stride he reached out and grasped her arms, pulling her back so abruptly she crashed against him.

"No," he told her firmly, his mouth close to her ear so that he could keep his voice low. "I understand what you're trying to do tonight, but that doesn't mean I can't be a gentleman. You let me get the doors, OK?"

He thought she was going to say OK, but it seemed like her throat wasn't working. She nodded instead, clearing her throat, and he released her and pulled open the door to usher her inside.

They made their way to the line waiting at the coat check. Luke quickly shrugged out of his coat and turned to help Lorelai out of hers.

He stopped breathing.

Her back was bare. Totally, completely bare, except for the dark curls hanging down between her shoulder blades. Her gown was draped over her in coppery iridescent folds, making her look like a Greek goddess. Her only jewelry was the long, amber-colored earrings dangling from her perfect lobes and the copper combs pushing back her hair. Auburn highlights that he'd never noticed before glinted from her hair. The smoky brown shadow around her eyes made the always-incredible blue irises nearly leap out of her face.

Lorelai took the claim ticket for their coats and walked Luke across the entryway to a more secluded spot, temporarily out of traffic. She opened her tiny purse and took out the pocket square, which she proceeded to fold precisely and aimed towards his jacket.

He pushed her hand away. "No way, Lorelai!"

She snorted in triumph. "Please. You looked like a cartoon character over there. I practically had to roll your tongue back into your head. I win. You wear the pocket square."

He made a weak protest, mainly to save face, because, yeah. Hell, yeah. She'd won.

"You're gonna freeze," he muttered, as they once again started down the hallway to the benefit's banquet room.

In response she showed him a wrap she had draped over her arm.

"Oh." Now that he was able to breathe again he stole some more glances her way. God, she was gorgeous. He looked down at his own clothes, and a scowl started to form. "You wanted us to match?"

"We don't match, exactly," she informed him, sounding miffed. "We just look like we belong together. I did that for your benefit, by the way. I'm trying to keep the barracudas from circling you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Luke, honestly, do you not look in a mirror?" She rolled her eyes, sounding exasperated. "Do you have any idea what would happen to you if I left you alone here tonight? Some rich, bored socialite would make you her boy toy before I made it back from the punchbowl. Then who'd make me coffee back in the Hollow?"

Luke didn't say anything right away while he processed the undercurrents to what she'd just said. "I'll tell you what," he finally offered, "if that happens, I'll leave you the coffee-making instructions."

"Not acceptable," she said breezily as she stepped up to the reception table at the entrance to the ballroom. She gave the man seated there their tickets, and he handed over a thick, glossy brochure as slowly as possible, enjoying every second that he could of having Lorelai in his vision.

When they finally inched away from the smitten ticket-taker, Lorelai handed Luke the brochure as she scanned the layout of the immense space, getting her bearings and watching warily for her mother. Luke suddenly felt out-of-place and started rifling through the brochure to hide his nerves.

Something in the brochure caught his eye. His mouth opened slightly as he scanned the page. He shook his head as though to clear it. He turned the page, and the next, and the next, looking more incredulous as he went.

"Lorelai," he said, sounding confused.

"Hmm?" She was still on the alert for her mother.

He rattled the brochure at her. "This is all sports memorabilia in here."

"Oh." She spared a glance at the brochure, nodding. "Yeah. It's a silent auction. You know, to raise money for the cancer research."

"But this is all sports stuff."

"Yeah."

He shook his head at her, convinced she wasn't getting it. "I mean, the sort of stuff that real fans would go nuts over." He gave a laugh of disbelief as he poked at a description. "There is some incredible stuff in here!"

She focused on him, finally, giving him a happy smile. "Well, then let's get a drink and go look at it."

He stared at her, hard. "You mean, this stuff is all here?"

She couldn't play it cool anymore. "It's all in the room next door. And since it's a sports theme tonight, they even have beer at the bar. I mean, I'm sure it's some sort of fancy imported ale or lager or something, but at least it's beer, and that's good, right? So let's go get you a tall one and go next door and check out the stuff that makes you drool!"

Richard Gilmore finally caught a glimpse of his wife and hurried over to intercept her before she could disappear behind a swinging door. "Emily!" he hissed, but she either didn't hear him or ignored him―you could never tell with Emily—and continued on her way.

He put on a burst of speed, even though the slick soles of his dress shoes weren't made for such pursuits. "Emily!" he called out.

She turned then, annoyance at his loudness evident in her face. "What is it, Richard?" she asked impatiently. "I need to get back to the kitchen staff. Some little server just informed me that there are no more salmon puffs, which I know to be a complete fabrication! Who do they think they're dealing with here?"

"Well, they'll know in a minute," he said fondly. "But before you go and straighten out the kitchen, I need you to tell me something."

She cast one more impatient look towards the door before giving Richard her full attention. "What?" she sighed.

His forehead crinkled in confusion. "Is Lorelai here tonight?"

Emily's eyes rolled on their own. "Yes, Richard, Lorelai is here tonight. I told you that weeks ago, that she was coming tonight."

"Oh." The confusion was still there. "Is she with someone?"

"Yes, Richard!" Emily snapped, not caring for a moment who heard her. "Yes, she is most certainly with someone!"

"Well, who is it?" Richard was losing patience. "I keep getting accosted and told how lucky I am that my daughter has enough sense to choose someone worthwhile! Chuck O'Dell went on and on and on about this fellow's attributes and I had to just keep smiling and agreeing with his assessment, and all the while I had no idea to whom he was referring! Who did she bring?"

Emily's lips set in a thin line as she pulled up the strength it was going to take to utter the name.

"Luke Danes," she finally muttered.

"Luke?" Richard looked mystified. "The man from the diner?"

"Yes, Richard, the man from the diner!" It all burst forth from Emily. "The man who brought her to the hospital! The man who brought the ice to Rory's party! The man who Rory adores! The man who seems to have infiltrated their lives so completely that they can't get along without him! Yes, Richard, that man!"

"Oh." Richard was still trying to reconcile his memory of the man with the glowing accounts he was receiving tonight. "Well, apparently he's making a good impression."

Emily made a sound of irritation. "Oh, he certainly is. I was summoned to Marguerite Davidson's table so that she could confer her blessing on him. That idiot grandson of her's abandoned her and Luke came to her rescue, getting her and her drink to the table. You'd think he singlehandedly was bringing back chivalry, to hear her wax on about him."

Richard tugged at his bowtie as he scanned around the ballroom. "Are they still here?"

Emily scoffed and jabbed her finger at the dance floor, even though a lady never points.

After a few moments, Richard was able to pick them out from the other couples on the floor. He frowned at Luke's hand placed firmly on his daughter's bare back, but considering Lorelai's clothing choice he conceded that there wasn't much else the man could do. He watched as Luke leaned forward, saying something to Lorelai. She threw her head back, laughing in delight, and Luke smiled, obviously pleased at her response, and twirled her around tightly.

"Oh, Emily," he said, aghast at how well they fit. "Emily, what are we going to do?"

Emily's lips set into a thin, bitter line as she watched the couple turn on the dance floor, oblivious to everything else around them. "We need to find a way to put the best possible spin on this that we can." She sighed, watching as Lorelai's face lit up again as Luke bent to whisper something to her. "And we need to be able to keep smiles on our faces as we dance at their wedding," she muttered, preparing herself for the worst.

Luke found himself somewhere he never expected to be. So far in his life he'd managed to avoid this particular scenario, but here he was, and he was attempting to carry it off with a degree of poise and aloofness.

He stood beside the ladies' room, holding Lorelai's coat and tiny, sparkly bag. Thinking that putting a little distance away from the door might make a difference, he turned abruptly and came face-to-face with Emily Gilmore.

"Mrs. Gilmore," he choked out, sounding much more nervous than he cared to admit.

"Mr. Danes," she said, stiffly.

"Lorelai's just, uh…" He jerked his shoulder towards the restroom door. Emily's eyebrows raised, and he worried that maybe he'd broken one of fine society's rules. Maybe no one in their social stratus used the restroom. "This was a wonderful evening," he rushed on, hoping to smother his faux pas, if he'd made one. "Lorelai says you organized it all. You should be very proud, because I can't imagine anything being done better."

"Thank you, Luke," she said, a little less ice in her tone. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

Luke watched as she turned to leave, and even though he was home free, his mother's spirit prodded at him, and he felt the need to add one more thing. "I really hope your friends recover soon."

Emily turned to face him again. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

He cleared his throat as she scrutinized him. "Lorelai said that a lot of your friends had the flu, and that's why you needed her to come tonight, because they couldn't. They're saying that this flu bug this year is really strong, so I hope your friends get over it without a lot of complications." He stifled his impulse to fidget as she continued to stare at him.

A cool little smile finally appeared on her face. "Well," she muttered, "it's nice to know that I'm not the only one she lies to."

"What?" Luke felt the crease forming between his eyebrows.

"I'm going to tell you something Mr. Danes, because I think you should know. What you decide to do with this information is totally up to you." Emily took a step closer to him as she prepared to enlighten him. "My daughter came to me three weeks ago and asked to purchase the tickets for this evening."

"Lorelai bought these tickets?" he questioned, stunned.

"Yes," Emily confirmed, triumphantly.

"But why…Why would she do that?" Luke was flabbergasted.

"Oh, I don't know! Why would she do that?" Emily threw her arms up over her head, her voice rich with sarcasm. "It surely wouldn't be for the same reason you shut up your place of business so that you could rush her to the hospital, would it? Or the same reason you keep her house from falling down around her ears? I just don't know! Why ever would she do that?"

Luke blinked at her, his mouth open slightly, as he tried to process what she'd just told him.

"Morons," she muttered. "The both of you." She sighed and straightened herself up after her little emotional display. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself this evening. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again," she said grimly, as she turned and stalked down the hallway.

"Um…Bye," Luke managed to say. He looked down at the coat that he was clutching, the coat that smelled just like her. He gripped the sparkly little bag tighter, the bag that sparkled just like her eyes. He took a deep breath and tried with all of his might not to think about the bombshell Emily Gilmore had just dropped at his feet.

On the way home, every time Luke's thoughts strayed to what Lorelai's mother had told him, he resolutely pushed it down and started talking about something else. He'd never talked so much in his life.

Lorelai pulled around behind the diner, so he could go in through the back door. She immediately opened her door.

"You don't have to do that," he protested, trying to catch her wrist.

"Oh, yes, I do!" she insisted, shaking him off. "This is my last official duty as your escort for this evening, and I intend to finish it off right!"

He sat, resigned, watching as she came around the Jeep. At least she'd changed out of those spectacular high heels and into some piled-lined boots for the drive home, so he didn't have to worry about her falling so much on the hard-packed snow. She opened the passenger door and once again offered her hand to him.

He took it as he got out, and neither of them let go as she led him to the steps.

"I had a really good time," he admitted to her. "Thanks for taking me with you."

She beamed up at him. Without the heels she was no longer on his level. She rectified that by stepping up onto the first step. "I had fun, too," she said, her voice suddenly breathless. "Just one thing left," she whispered, reaching for his face. "Goodnight kiss."

For the second time that night, Luke couldn't breathe. He was both incredibly relieved and dismally disappointed when she gently turned his face and pressed her lips to his cheek.

Her lips parted as they met his skin and she drew on it gently. Her fingers rubbed over his jaw, tracing an invisible path down his throat to his collar.

"You smell good," she said softly, her lips still nuzzling his cheek. Her eyes popped open as she heard what she said. She pushed herself back from him, trying to get back into control.

"Thank you so much for the pleasure of your company tonight," she said, quickly changing back to a teasing tone. She formally stuck out her hand to shake his, while trying mightily to pretend that nothing—absolutely nothing—concerning sparks or electricity or awareness or anything at all had just jumped between them.

"Goodnight," Luke said, as she pushed past him and hurried over to the Jeep.

"Thanks again, Luke," she called back to him. "Don't forget I owe you one!"

He waved to her as she backed out of the alley. He unlocked the door and started up the dark stairs. Once inside his apartment he flicked on the lights and automatically went to the refrigerator, opening it and pulling out a beer that he didn't really want, but his hands needed something to do. His brain needed something else to think about.

He didn't even think about taking off his coat. He just sat at the table, staring at the unopened bottle. He certainly wasn't thinking about Lorelai's soft skin under his hands. He wasn't thinking about the look in her eyes as she laughed. And above all he wasn't thinking about the lie he now knew she'd fed him.

After all that hard not thinking, he saw that he was focused on an invitation stuck to the front of the refrigerator with one of the sushi magnets.

He wasn't thinking, but his mouth had a smug smile settling on it. He wasn't thinking, but a plan was formulating.

But he wasn't going to think about it. Nope. Not at all.

It had been a long, long night of purposeful not thinking, but when the alarm beeped into life at 4:45, Luke had a plan prepared.

He shuffled into the bathroom, groaning when the light hit his eyes. He blinked critically at himself in the mirror. He looked like he'd had a long, sleepless night.

The shower pounded some life back into him. He rubbed his face thoughtfully, turning back and forth. He contemplated shaving, but no. He'd heard comments, hers included. No shaving. For some reason, the stubble thing worked for him. He'd go ahead and rub on some aftershave, though. He grinned, remembering her comment from the night before.

Leaving the bathroom, he walked over to the closet. He looked through the jeans folded on a shelf, finally pulling out a pair from the bottom with great reluctance. Patty liked these jeans—really liked these jeans—which is why they were on the bottom of the pile. He wasn't sure how she felt about them, but he'd caught her looking more than once, so they wouldn't hurt.

He selected a dark blue denim shirt, which he tucked down inside the jeans. He remembered perfectly the look on her face when she saw him in this shirt one time. She tried to pretend she was just in shock because he wasn't in flannel, but he'd seen her face. The smug smile was back.

As he fastened his watch around his wrist, he looked at the blue baseball cap. He considered, just for a moment, not wearing it. But that would surely tip off everyone that something was going on. Plus, she'd given it to him. The hat went on his head.

Downstairs he quickly sat about readying the diner for the first patrons of the morning. Right before he went to open the door, he tucked the order pad into his waistband.

He was ready. Lorelai was about to learn that two could play at this game.

It was late by the time she finally pushed through the door. It was definitely past breakfast and rapidly approaching lunch.

Luke was posed against the back counter, ostensibly preparing an order for his bread guy. Stealthily he watched as she came in, though. He saw her pause one step into the diner as she registered him; he saw her eyes widen as she looked him up and down. He saw as she automatically smoothed her hair back behind her ears. For once she didn't head for a stool at the counter but opted instead for a table.

He waited a moment or two before heading over to her.

"You're running behind schedule this morning," he said in greeting.

"Someone had me out late last night," she replied smoothly. Her eyes scanned across his chest again. "Have a bank meeting today?"

Luke looked down at himself and shrugged. "Nah. Just grabbed this instead of flannel."

"Huh." Lorelai pressed her fingers together. "Well, you look good."

"Good how?" Luke smirked.

"Good enough to serve me breakfast," she shot back.

"OK," he laughed. He reached for the order pad and watched her eyes follow his movement. "What do you want?" Her eyes sprang back up to his guiltily.

"I think…French toast. Hey, since it's almost lunch, can I have a double order? You know, one for breakfast and one for lunch?"

Luke sighed but wrote it down. "Anything else?"

"A slice of ham. And can I have syrup and powdered sugar? And coffee, of course."

"Of course." Luke started back to the counter.

Lorelai took a deep breath and looked out the window as Luke walked away. She'd had a long night. She hadn't been able to forget the feel of his cheek as she kissed him goodnight. Until she remembered the feel of his hand on her back, and then that thought had pushed the first one away.

She'd started this whole thing as a lark. She thought it'd be fun to get Luke away from the diner, to see what he was like away from Stars Hollow. She thought it'd be an easy way to prove, once and for all, that there really wasn't any 'thing' burning between them. She thought they'd go, have a semi-nice, awkward time, and return back to their traditional me-drinker, you-pourer roles without a hitch.

But now she was hitching all over the place. And why did he have to look so damn good today, like he was rubbing her face in it?

Mmm…Rubbing her face in it….Her eyes closed as she savored that image for a moment.

"Here ya go."

She jumped nearly out of her seat, flailing her arms, as Luke-in-the-flesh interrupted her Luke-in-my-dreams reverie. He grabbed the arm that had nearly punched the coffee pot out of his hand.

"Don't startle me like that!" she snapped, convinced that he was able to pick up on her thoughts.

"You order coffee, I bring you coffee, and that's a shocker to you?" he scoffed, filling up her mug. "I didn't think I'd ever say this to you, but drink up. I think you need that." He pointed down at the brown liquid before stomping away to fix her food.

He waited until she was practically done eating before he made his move.

Lorelai had pushed all of the leftover powdered sugar into a pile and was finishing it off by pressing her dampened index finger into it and carrying it into her mouth. She stopped, wide-eyed, when Luke sat down at the table opposite her. This was not something he normally did. Ever.

He cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. "So, what you said last night, about owing me one. Did you mean it?"

"Sure, Luke. Of course I did."

"Well, then. I think I have an idea about how you can repay me." He caught his foot jiggling nervously and tried to smother it.

Lorelai felt her pulse jump. She knew Luke and she knew he'd never suggest anything illicit, especially not publically in his own diner, but for just a moment she let herself pretend. And if he would, what would she say? Would she pretend to think it over before she said yes?

"Yes," she heard herself say, dreamily.

His eyes crinkled up as he grinned at her. "Yes? You might want to wait until you hear what it is first."

"Whatever it is, I'm your girl," she insisted, trying to beat down the butterflies and get back into banter mode. "Unless you want to rob the Savings and Loan. I'm not doing something that gets me sent to the big house. But egging Taylor's windows? Totally with you on that."

"Well, don't worry. No felonies involved." Luke took in a quick breath. "I have these friends—they were actually good friends of my parents—and they're celebrating being married for 50 years. I'm supposed to go to their party. I was wondering if you'd go with me?"

"Aw, that's nice," Lorelai cooed. "50 years is really impressive. But if this is like a family thing, would they want me there?" she asked, worried.

"It's like an open house," Luke explained. "They run a restaurant east of here. They're closing early on Sunday and opening up for this party instead. A lot of their regulars will be there besides their family, so it's totally fine to bring you along. So what do you say?"

"It's this Sunday?"

"Yeah. I figured I'd close the diner about five and head over then. Sunday nights are pretty quiet in here, anyway, and that way Caesar and everyone else gets a night off, too."

Lorelai looked down at her hands, tightly clasped in her lap. She wondered if this was a mistake. She looked up at Luke and flashed him one of her bright smiles. "Sure, I'd love to go."

The tension he'd been holding in his shoulders let go in relief. "Great. That's great. I'll pick you up about 5:30, then."

"OK." The butterflies were back, and to try and tame them, Lorelai angled herself from the table and crossed her legs. "What should I wear?"

Luke's eyes had zeroed in on her long legs now on display. He spoke without thinking. "That gray flippy skirt."

"What?" She sounded amused.

"I mean…" He blinked, jerking his head back to her laughing face. "It's too cold to wear a skirt," he amended, trying to recover. "Wear something warm. I'll probably wear dress pants and a sweater. Maisie likes it when I dress up."

"Maisie?" Lorelai was really grinning now. "Seriously?"

"Yep." Luke was grinning now, too. "Maisie and Buddy. You'll love them. And they'll love you," he added.

"Lots of love goin' on," she pointed out, dangerously.

"Yep. Just one big ol' lovefest," he agreed, pushing up from the table and attempting to get back to his normal sarcastic diner tone.

"I've heard love is all you need," Lorelai told him, sagely, nodding her head, as she too rose, ready to head to work.

"Please don't sing," he groaned.

So she hummed it instead, all through her transaction at the cash register as he rolled his eyes, all the way out the door to the Jeep, most of the way to the Inn, and periodically throughout the day until Michel threatened to stuff her into the linen closet.

It really was a very good song.

"Wow! Look at this place! This is great!" Lorelai had been in awe since they'd turned off the main road and followed the twisting, tree-lined road that led to Sniffy's. Now that they'd stepped inside and the aged, dark wood interior was all around her, she was even more impressed. "I'm expecting members of the Rat Pack to emerge at any time."

"It has plenty of atmosphere," Luke agreed.

"I can't believe I've never even heard of this place." Lorelai was drinking in all of the details from the entryway, filing away bits and pieces for that future inn that lived in her dreams. "It's not that far from Stars Hollow."

"Twenty minutes on a good day," Luke commented, having timed it more than once. "You'll need to talk to Sookie. I know she's been here. She's tried to bribe Buddy into giving her his salad dressing recipe."

"Huh." Lorelai shook her head, finding it hard to reconcile her friends having lives she didn't know about.

Luke led Lorelai into an old-fashioned coatroom that stretched across the front of the building. He put his coat on a hook and reached to help Lorelai remove hers.

She looked around as she shrugged off the coat. "I bet this room has some stories to tell," she said, imagining lovers pressed against the wall of coats in the dimly lighted room after one too many whiskey sours.

Luke didn't reply. His eyes were locked on the gray flippy skirt.

"OK?" she asked, innocently. She smoothed down the soft cranberry sweater she wore. Black boots hugged her calves. "I heard this skirt was a crowd-pleaser."

"Yeah," he muttered, trying to ignore the warmth he felt flaring up over his cheeks, "it is."

"Oh, now, honey," she teased, patting his arm. "You look really nice, too. Maisie will be pleased."

"She should." Luke took Lorelai's arm, cautiously, preparing to lead her into the dining room. "She bought it for me."

Lorelai gasped, pretending to be shocked. "You mean I'm not the only woman buying you clothes?"

"Unfortunately, no," Luke sighed. He looked around the room, trying to spot Maisie or Buddy.

"Luke! Luke! Oh my God, Luke!" A woman with carefully-styled blond hair came zooming up to Luke's side. She was quite a bit shorter than Lorelai and probably a few years older than Luke. She threw her arms around him and held on tight.

"Hey, Faith." Luke rubbed her shoulder awkwardly, as a lopsided, indulgent grin broke across his face.

Faith leaned back, laughing, but didn't release her hold on him. "I can't believe we got you here! Will wonders never cease? I should've taken the bet!"

"It's not that big a deal." Lorelai recognized his tone. It carried that special hint of exasperation she'd always thought he saved just for her. He turned towards her. "Faith, I'd like you to meet Lorelai—"

Faith gasped, dropping her hold on Luke. "Oh, my God! Lorelai? This is Lorelai?"

"Um, yeah?" Lorelai confirmed, uneasily.

"Oh, my God!" Faith cried again. She turned abruptly and yelled out into the crowd. "Hope! Hope! Get over here!"

A woman manning the bar looked over. Her face lit up, and in seconds her sandy-colored head was pressed against Luke's chest.

"You came!" she crowed, delighted.

Faith grabbed Hope by her shoulder, pulling her away, pointing her towards Lorelai. "Guess who this is!" she said.

Hope's mouth dropped open a little. "No!" she cried, as it hit her.

"Yes!" Faith proclaimed.

"Oh, my God!" Hope cried in awe, sounding like her sister. "Go get her! Go get her!" she implored, and Faith took off across the room. Hope took a deep breath. "So, you're Lorelai."

"Yes, I am," Lorelai confirmed again, trying not to laugh.

"So, is Rory here, too?" Hope asked, looking behind them.

"Is Rory…?" Lorelai frowned over at Luke. "They know Rory?"

Luke was beginning to get an inkling that he hadn't fully thought out the potential pitfalls of this evening. "It's possible…that I've mentioned her…and you…over the years," he admitted.

Hope turned and saw that Faith was returning with yet another small, blonde woman, and she scurried over to join them, urging them forward.

"Third sister," Luke sighed.

Lorelai nodded, watching as all three of them shrieked as the youngest one was told the news. "I don't know if I should feel flattered or take out a restraining order."

"I'd go with the restraining order."

"So I assume this is Charity?" she asked Luke, out of the corner of her mouth, as the sisters approached.

"Nope. Mary Ann," Luke told her. Lorelai shot him a look of disbelief, and he shrugged. "What can I say? Buddy was a big Gilligan's Island fan."

Lorelai chortled in delight, and then all three sisters engulfed them. She soon discovered that talking fast was not just a Gilmore girl trait as her head swiveled back and forth, trying to keep up with the words spilling out of three mouths. She smiled and nodded, lost in the midst of most of it.

"So you guys have known Luke since he was a boy, huh?" she asked the middle sister, Hope, while Luke was busy reminiscing with the other two.

"Oh, yeah. When we were little, we were together all the time. Luke and Faith were the ringleaders."

Lorelai laughed. "That sounds ominous."

Hope laughed, too. "Nah. Nothing bad. But we sure had some fun together. Our favorite game was Star Trek."

"Really?" Lorelai was practically beside herself with glee, hearing this.

"It was the greatest, geeky thing. Luke was Kirk, of course."

"Of course," Lorelai agreed, trying to keep herself contained.

"Faith was Nurse Chapel, Mary Ann was Yeoman Rand, and they wanted me to be Uhura, but I was Spock because my hair was cut really short right then, and I could do this," she said, putting her fingers into the familiar Vulcan greeting. "Plus, I thought it was more interesting to be the science officer and hang out with Kirk. We'd always make Liz be one of the red-shirt guys on the crew, and that worked out OK because her attention span was never the best for games, anyway."

Lorelai was laughing so hard by now that tears were blurring her vision. She could just picture Luke taking control of his crew of little girls. She leaned over against him, needing some support as she fought her giggles. Luke looked at her, raising one eyebrow skeptically as he worried about what she'd been told that had made her so giddy. That look made her laugh even harder.

The talking and laughing ceased abruptly as a short, gray-haired woman materialized beside them. She gave Lorelai a sharp look and Lorelai quickly stood up straight, putting space between herself and Luke.

"Lucas! What's all this commotion?" Maisie scolded fondly, pulling him down so she could hug and kiss him. Lorelai expected him to shy away, but instead he smiled warmly and held the tiny woman to him.

"Ma! Ma, this is Lorelai," Faith interjected.

Maisie turned, slowly looking Lorelai over.

"Hi! It's nice to meet you," Lorelai said brightly, turning on her charm. "Congratulations on the big 5-0." Maisie didn't respond, and Lorelai felt the need to babble on. "This place is amazing. Really. It's just beautiful. So natural looking. And everything smells great!"

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself." Maisie found her manners. Her fingers dug more tightly into Luke's arm. "Let's go find Buddy."

Luke grinned apologetically at Lorelai while Maisie propelled Luke across the floor. Lorelai and the three sisters followed along behind.

Lorelai was a little stunned. Maisie didn't like her. She could feel it in the frosty gaze as Maisie had looked her up and down. Everyone always liked her. She was charming, damn it! What could she have already done to make her into an enemy?

Buddy, however, more than made up for his wife's reaction. "Hello, nurse!" he wolf-whistled. "Luke, why haven't you brought her here before? Obviously you're not feeding her enough at that poor excuse of a diner you run. Darlin', you just head right over here to the buffet and help yourself to some lasagna."

She took Buddy's proffered arm as he led her to the expanse of food. "If you weren't already married, Buddy, I would be beating down your door. You know how to show a girl a good time!" She smiled over at Luke, and he smiled back, thrilled that she was getting along with these people that were practically his family. She smiled at Luke, and at gallant Buddy, and at the three beaming sisters, and tried to ignore the death ray shooting at her from Maisie's eyes.

As the evening wore on, Maisie eventually started to warm up to her. Lorelai was hoping that it had just been some sort of freakishly bad first impression. Maybe she reminded Maisie of someone she'd hated back in high school. She loved this place, and these people, and she really wanted to be welcomed back here again.

When they were preparing to leave, Lorelai thought she saw Maisie heading into the kitchen. She quickly followed her, hoping to have a chance to say a heartfelt thank you for the evening, hoping that her sincerity would help to cement a more positive outlook on Maisie's part.

As the door swung shut behind her, however, she realized she'd been wrong. It was Faith who she'd been following. Faith turned to face her, just as Hope and Mary Ann walked up from behind.

The looks on their faces made Lorelai's heart beat harder than normal. Instinctively she began to back towards the door, warily on the lookout for the vat of pig's blood she sensed was tottering above her head.

"Lorelai, we like you," Faith began, calmly, her face grave. "We really like you, and in other circumstances, I think we'd be really good friends."

Hope and Mary Ann nodded their agreement.

"You are really funny," Hope added. "My kind of funny. You would be a hoot to be around."

"I'd love to go shopping with you," Mary Ann admitted, casting an envious look at her boots.

"But we love Luke," Faith said, firmly. "So we can't like you." Again, the other sisters nodded emphatically.

"Hold it!" Lorelai held up her hand. "You love Luke, so you can't like me? Why's that mutually exclusive? I mean, Luke likes me! You can like me!"

"That's just it." Mary Ann winced. "Luke does like you. And if you hurt him, we will hunt you down and kill you."

"Whoa! Whoa now!" Lorelai was trying her best to put the brakes on this. "Luke doesn't like me, like me! It's not like that with us! We're friends! I'd never do anything to hurt him!"

The sisters sighed and looked at each other tiredly. "Where have we heard that before?" Hope muttered, and they all nodded.

"Look, Lorelai, Luke is the best guy in the world," Hope continued.

"The best," echoed Mary Ann, her tone awe-struck.

"One in a million," Faith chimed in.

Lorelai snorted a little laugh. "You don't have to convince me he's a good guy, but let's not go overboard, here. I'm the one who's watched him throw 80-year-olds out of the diner. I know Luke!" She recoiled from the look Hope shot her, like one a middle school teacher would use on an unruly classroom. Which was an apt description, since that was exactly what Hope was.

Hope started speaking quietly. "My boyfriend dumped me two weeks before my junior prom. Luke stepped up and took me instead. It was his own idea; Ma didn't even talk to him about it. Even though he was dating Rachel and William was already really sick, he came and helped me out. That whole night he let everyone think he'd just been waiting in the wings until I was free. He wouldn't dance with anyone but me, even though all of these gorgeous girls kept trying. He took this night that I'd be dreading and turned it into a memory that I cherish instead. He's really special, Lorelai."

"I know," Lorelai started to say, but Mary Ann interrupted.

"Dad gave up on teaching me to drive," the youngest sister said. "I'd wrecked his car. I'd wrecked Ma's car. They were furious with me and said I was too immature. They said I'd just have to wait to get my license. It was killing me, and I felt so stupid! Everyone else was driving!" She paused to take a breath. "One Saturday Luke just showed up and said I'd know how to drive by the end of the day. The truck was too much for me to handle, but one of my friends agreed to let us use her car. We were only about a mile from home when I drove the car right into the ditch. Luke didn't get mad. He just called a tow truck. He paid for it. He never told anybody what had happened. He just kept showing up whenever he could and kept giving me lessons. Finally he went with me on the day I got my license. We came back here and surprised everybody with it, and had a big, impromptu party to celebrate. He's always going to be my hero, Lorelai."

"Aw, that's really sweet," Lorelai began, truly touched, but Faith cut her off.

"I picked a bad guy," she said, very softly. Her words were measured, as though it still cost her something to push them out. "I was young, and really stupid, even though I thought I was too grown up and too smart to ever make a mistake like I did. He was pretty and dangerous, and I felt so special because he wanted me. He talked me into moving away with him. I don't know how to explain it. Everything was perfect until suddenly it wasn't. It was ugly and scary, and I was so ashamed that I'd gotten caught in something so brainless. One day Luke just showed up at our door. I don't know how he knew. Maybe by then he'd had so much experience with Liz that he just recognized the signs. I don't know." She took a shuddering breath, and Mary Ann stepped to her side, giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

"He stashed me at a motel until my bruises faded away enough for me to come home. He went back to the apartment and got my stuff, so I wouldn't have to face him again. I don't know what he said to Johnny, but I never heard from him again." Faith looked Lorelai straight in the eye. "I know you think you know Luke. But we're telling you, Lorelai, you really have no idea."

"Yes, Luke is a prince, I get it!" Lorelai snapped. "I appreciate hearing your stories, I really do, and I'm glad Luke was there to rescue you. But do you really think I don't already know this? How many times do you think he's gotten Rory and me out of some jam? He's been a good friend to me for years!"

The three sisters again exchanged a weary look.

Faith shook her head. "I don't know if you're oblivious, Lorelai, or if you just don't want to see it for some reason. It doesn't matter, because it's your life and your decision on what you do. We're not telling you that you have to fall in love with him. We're just looking out for Luke. And we're telling you, if you hurt him, you'll answer to us."

"If you're not ready to love him back, you need to leave him alone," Hope said firmly.

"We just can't stand to see him get hurt again," Mary Ann explained. "But I really would love to go shopping with you," she said with a sigh, and the three sisters headed out the door.

Lorelai suddenly understood the term 'blindsided' as she stared around the kitchen, her pulse pounding in her ears.

On the way home Lorelai watched the darkened roads flash out her window, too dazed and confused to even crack a Sean Penn joke at her own expense. Wait. Was Sean Penn in that movie? She was so unnerved she was losing her pop culture edge. Eventually she picked up on the worried looks Luke was shooting her, and she roused herself enough to start rehashing the more enjoyable moments of the night. She made Star Trek quips and raved about the food, and soon Luke was grinning at her in that way that was starting to feel familiar.

He pulled the truck into her driveway. She started to pull on the door handle, but he reached over and stopped her.

"Uh-uh-uh," he chastised her. "You know the escort rules."

"Right," she said, smiling weakly.

He came around to her side and helped her out, placing his arm around her back firmly as he helped guide her over the slick spots to her door.

"Thanks for coming with me," he said. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear. "It made it a lot more fun, having you there with me tonight." His voice sounded strange to her. Huskier. More intimate.

"Thanks for taking me. The lasagna alone made it worthwhile." She was bravely still trying to joke.

He smiled then, tenderly, his eyes crinkling up. His hand softly touched her cheek as he turned her face.

She stopped breathing as his mouth came to rest against her other cheek. He kissed it just as sensuously as she had his just a few nights before. She felt a shock of recognition start at her toes and work its way up.

He pulled back and she looked at him. Really looked at him. For the first time ever she acknowledged that there was more than just friendship and lust there. A lot more. She drew in a shaky breath.

"I'll see you at the diner tomorrow?" he asked, his voice deep with yearning.

"Sure," she said easily, already knowing she was lying. He headed for his truck, a smile on his face, while she stepped inside and closed the door. She pressed her burning cheek up against the cool glass and threw the lock, although she wasn't sure if she was trying to keep him at bay or stop herself from running after him.

When tomorrow came, she didn't go to the diner. In fact, she didn't see Luke for a week.

On Monday she was cranky and out of sorts and she made life miserable for anyone who came into contact with her. She made a busboy cry. She got on the phone with the florist and was so abrasive with him that he tacked on an extra charge just to bring them their normal order. By 3:00 Michel left, fuming that if he stayed any longer they would owe him combat pay. By 5:00 Sookie threw her out, threatening to call Mia and tattle about her bad behavior if she didn't leave.

She didn't go to the diner all day. She didn't see Luke.

Tuesday was a clone of Monday, except that at the end of the day she had to drive to Hartford for her business class. There she so annoyed the instructor with her sarcastic interruptions that he assigned extra homework for the class for the following week. Lorelai told herself she didn't care, even when everyone in class turned to glare at her.

She didn't see Luke all day. She didn't go to the diner at all.

By Wednesday she desperately wished she smoked. She'd have given anything to have a drug habit. Then she could have gone outside and had a cigarette, or hidden away in a closet and taken a hit of something. She longed for anything to take away the insane craving that was skittering through her body. The desire for whatever it was that she needed was so strong she could do nothing but stand and shake, wrapping her arms around herself as tightly as she could, trying to smother the need that was bleeding her dry. She put on jackets on top of sweaters and drank cup after cup of coffee in the kitchen until the caffeine coursing through her practically picked her up and carried her. Sookie begged her to tell her what was wrong, but she couldn't because she didn't know. She went home and climbed into bed under every comforter and blanket she owned, but she still couldn't get warm. She hugged a pillow in her quaking arms so tightly all that night that it forever after sported a valley running through the middle.

But she didn't go to the diner. She didn't see Luke.

On Thursday a cute pharmaceutical rep attending a business luncheon at the Inn flirted with her shamelessly, and she flirted back. It felt good to act like herself again. It was a relief to sound like herself. When he asked her to dinner, she accepted, thinking a date might be just what she needed.

She rushed home that evening to stand in front of her closet, trying to decide what to wear. She pushed idly at the hangers, finally pulling out a pair of brown slacks and a beige sweater. She hated the sweater. Emily had given it to her for Christmas several seasons ago, and she'd just never gotten around to returning it. It was good enough for tonight.

Once in the bathroom, she stared at all of her hair paraphernalia like she'd never seen it before. With a shrug she finally picked up a brush and pulled her hair back into a lazy ponytail. She pulled open a drawer overflowing with make-up, but didn't see anything she wanted to apply. There was a tube of gloss in her purse. She'd slick on some of that before she walked into the restaurant.

They hadn't even ordered their entrees before she knew the night was a massive mistake. Whatever she needed, whatever she was missing, it wasn't this. She begged off dessert, and even though he pleaded to take her somewhere else for drinks and dancing, she played the Rory card, telling him she needed to get home to her daughter.

In the parking lot, saying their goodbyes, she saw him start to lean towards her. Desperately she turned her face, and a wave of nausea broke over her as his lips accidentally hit the same spot on her cheek where Luke had kissed her goodnight. She couldn't get away fast enough.

She drove an extra ten miles out of her way just to avoid driving through the center of Stars Hollow. Because she didn't dare see the diner. She couldn't stand to think of Luke.

Friday came, gray and sunless and cold, and she was resigned to feeling sick and joyless, with a junkie's need skittering through her veins. She slogged through the day and went with Rory to Friday night dinner, where she attacked her mother constantly and preemptively, not once giving her time to bring up last Thursday night or the man who'd accompanied her. Richard had finally had enough and had escorted her and Rory firmly to the front door.

"Mom, what is wrong with you?" Rory cried, bewildered, as the door shut behind them.

But Lorelai couldn't tell her because she didn't know.

She climbed into her heaping bed and laid on her arms, trying to quell her craving. She vaguely remembered there used to be a diner. She barely remembered the man who used to pour her coffee.

Saturday morning she convinced Rory to renege on her plans with Dean and spend the weekend instead with her, imploring her with the plea that all she really needed was a bonding day or two with her baby girl. Rory reluctantly agreed, having witnessed her mother's distress all week. Dean and her paper on the American Revolution would just have to wait.

Thrilled, Lorelai gathered their favorite movies and sugary treats and salty snacks. She even made a quick trip to Weston's, where she wheedled Fran into double-icing a chocolate cake. At home again she prepped the living room for their ultimate movie weekend, looking around proudly before she called Rory to join her.

They settled on the couch and Lorelai pulled Rory against her, enfolding her daughter in her arms. This was it. This was surely it.

But by the time the Knights Who Say 'Ni' appeared on the screen, she wanted to cry. Whatever she needed, whatever she was lacking, it wasn't appeased by holding her daughter in her arms. She could barely sit still through the movie. She could barely force down the double-thick icing.

By Sunday night Rory had had enough. "Mom, I love you, but I can't handle whatever this is with you anymore!" she fumed. "Go see Sookie! Go find a sympathetic bartender! Go see if Reverend Skinner can perform an exorcism! But I'm out!" With that she escaped into her room. Lorelai heard the lock turn.

Lorelai spent maybe twenty minutes pacing through the house before she felt the walls closing in, smothering her. She grabbed her coat and outside things.

"I'm going out!" she yelled to Rory.

"Good," came Rory's muffled reply. The lock remained in place.

It felt good to breathe in the cold, dry air outside. For a moment or two the shock of the freezing air in her body was enough to drive out the jittery nerves.

Systematically she started walking. Down to the end of her street. Right onto Plum.

What was wrong with her? Maybe there was something wrong with her heart. Maybe it was some rare, weird disease that Lifetime would spotlight with a movie. Cold fear suddenly wove into the midst of her pounding heart and the ceaseless, nameless craving. What if there really was something wrong with her? What would happen to Rory?

She reached the end of Plum and turned onto Orchard. She tried to think calmly. It hadn't been that long since she'd seen a doctor. Nothing weird had come up. She was fine. She was just…just…insane.

She groaned. That didn't help.

Again, Rory entered her mind. How lucky she was to have such a sweet, smart, good daughter. She'd be going to Harvard soon. Man, she'd miss her. And the money it was going to cost to send her! Once again Lorelai ran the numbers in her head. Was there any way she'd be able to do it without going to her parents for help? She wondered if Chris could possibly share the tuition cost.

Yeah, right, she thought, snorting in disbelief so hard that she made a little foggy cloud to walk through in the cold night air.

Well, she'd do whatever it took to get Rory there. She deserved it.

She turned onto Peach and smiled fondly as Sookie's house came into view. She was so happy her friend had found Jackson. Her thoughts drifted to the inn they'd love to open some day. She ran a different set of numbers through her head.

Maybe someday, she sighed. She'd have to get Rory through school, first.

But that didn't mean she couldn't daydream. Planning out all of the rooms, the landscaping and the stables took her up and down all of the rest of the fruit streets and through most of the hardwoods.

Unexpectedly she stepped off a curb, nearly wrenching her ankle. She caught herself and looked around, blinking back into reality. It appeared her feet had a mind of their own. They'd taken her to the one place she'd avoided all week.

She was in the center of town, standing across from the darkened diner.

Her heart was pounding so hard. The diner pulled at her. She wanted to go there so badly. She shut her eyes tight, trying to fight it.

Well, why not? It was late, the diner was shut. Luke would never know. What would it hurt?

Slowly she eased across the street. She pressed herself against the door, straining to see inside.

The diner was dark, except for a very faint light coming in from the kitchen. Her heart caught in her throat as she realized Luke was standing there, leaning against the back counter. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest, his head bowed, his shoulders hunched over in sadness. He looked…He looked…hurt.

She struggled to breathe. And finally, in that moment, it hit her. It didn't matter if she stayed away. It didn't matter if she tried to do what Faith, Hope and Mary Ann wanted her to. It didn't matter if she tried to protect him. It was already too late. She'd already hurt him. His shoulders were already hunched over in pain, the pain that she'd caused.

She yanked off a mitten, scratching at the glass with her fingernails. His body jerked in shock, but his face was blank and cold as he looked over at her.

"Luke!" she called out, softly, hoping he could hear her. "Can I come in? Please?"

Just when she thought he wasn't going to acknowledge her at all, he jerked his chin at the door. She tried the knob and was amazed to find it wasn't locked. She stepped inside quickly, before he could change his mind.

"Hey," she said, to his impassive silence. She had to talk. She had to fill up the silence before whatever was crawling through her veins oozed out across the floor and infected him, too. "So, it's been a doozy of a week for me. Really, really busy, you know? Had to go back and forth to Hartford I don't know how many times. And homework! Man, did I have a bunch of homework this week! And Rory! Rory had…" Her voice trailed off as his face still was set in the same, hard, locked-away look.

She swallowed forcefully. She rubbed her arms frantically, still trying to calm her craving. "I…I haven't been a good friend to you this week, Luke." She swallowed again and rubbed at her face, trying to make the words come out right. "I think…maybe…I haven't been a good friend to you for a long, long time. To tell you the truth, I'm more than a little confused about all of that right now." She laughed a short, miserable chuckle.

He still wasn't looking at her. He hadn't moved. She sighed, then bit her lip. "Hey, Luke, could I ask you a favor?" she asked, the desperation obvious in her voice.

His head jerked up at that. He stared at her, hard and angry. He took in the frantic sadness on her face, the intense way she kept rubbing her arms. He weighed his own pain against her obvious distress, and as always, she won. "Sure," he muttered, disgusted at himself for once again caving.

"Ooh," she breathed out, shocked that he'd finally spoken, not sure how to proceed now that he'd agreed. She balled up her fists so tightly that she could feel each fingernail as it bit into her palms. She remembered the night she'd told her parents she was pregnant. She remembered telling Max she wasn't going to marry him. Those had been easy compared to this.

"I was wondering…" she started out, very slowly, feeling her way. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. But I was wondering…if you…If I could ask you to…If you'd just hold me. Please," she added, her voice barely a whisper.

He stared at her for a long, long time, and she didn't breathe, scared that if she did he'd throw her out. He stared for so long that she became convinced he wasn't ever going to acknowledge her request and she'd finally fall to the floor, dead from lack of oxygen, and Kirk would find her lifeless body the next morning, with Luke still standing there, that dark look still on his face.

Just as she was ready to give up all hope, he made a motion with one hand towards the end of the counter, indicating she could step around it.

She opened her mouth, trying to draw in some air around the lump in her throat. She rushed around the counter, hurrying towards him, almost crying in her relief to be heading towards him. She stopped about a foot away from him, raising up her arms as though waiting for the dance to start.

He pushed himself away from the counter and opened his arms, enfolding her stiffly as she stepped into him.

She was convinced her heart was going to explode, which would surely be a health code violation of some sort. Once again she was in her practical boots, so she pushed up onto her tiptoes in order to press her face into the sweet spot in the crook of his neck. Instantly all of the needy, sharp-edged desire drained out of her, leaving a soothing, blessed peace. She couldn't help but moan, gratefully, as she pressed herself even more tightly against him.

She coulld tell that Luke had been determined to hold out against her, but her warm body pressed against his proved to be a losing battle. Soon his hands were soothing up and down her spine, his rough-stubbled cheek was rubbing against her smooth hair.

The relief Lorelai was feeling was overwhelming. She wanted to stay just like this forever, firmly pressed against Luke, his warm body comforting hers in every way. She sighed, immensely content.

Contentment didn't last much longer.

Luke's hands slid underneath her coat, still rubbing her back in a much more satisfactory way with one less layer of clothing to contend with. Somehow her coat fell to the floor. Her mouth pressed to his neck with more purpose. Her hands rubbed across his back.

Breathing once again became erratic. An intense craving once again started up, but this time it was more centralized in location.

"Luke," she whispered, breathlessly. "There's just one more thing."

"What?" he whispered gruffly.

"Kiss me," she begged.

His response this time was immediate, as he pulled back to look at her, his face now tender and warm. "On one condition," he said, rubbing his thumb along her jaw, tilting her head towards his. "You have to promise to kiss me back."

"I promise," she said, knowing that was the truth. "I promise to always kiss you back," she tried to add, but since her mouth was already under his, it was hard to say whether or not he heard her.

The summer was a scorcher. Everyone said so. The winter had lasted so long and was so cold, the old-timers said, no wonder the summer was making up for it.

Inside the diner it was hot. Luke had cranked up the ancient air conditioner as high as he dared, and he had fans positioned in all of the corners of the room, but it still felt hot as the damp air settled on skin.

It was so hot that most of the diner patrons were sticking with salads and iced tea when they dared to poke their heads out of their air conditioned houses at all. It was so hot that even Kirk had ceased his unrelenting quest to have more part-time jobs than any other resident of Stars Hollow, ever. It was so hot that Luke Danes had ditched his flannel shirts, and stood in front of one of the fans in a faded green t-shirt and some old cargo shorts he'd forgotten he'd even had. It was too hot for even his beloved blue baseball cap.

The bells over the door jangled and he looked over in surprise, because it was the hottest time of the day and he wasn't really expecting any diners until the sun started to go down. His mouth dropped open as he saw the vision coming in his door.

It was Lorelai, glowing with heat and exertion and some sort of electric force pulsing out of her eyes. She had on a sleeveless denim shirt, tied at the bust so that her midriff was bare. She'd taken a pair of shears to some old jeans and had created an eye-popping pair of Daisy Dukes. Her curls were piled up on top of her head, leaving her long, luscious neck bare.

She sashayed happily up to the counter, enjoying the struck-dumb look on Luke's face.

"Hey, Luke, I need a favor," she stated, hoisting herself carefully onto the stool. Making sure she had his full attention, she brought her hands up to her shirt and casually undid a button, pulling back the edges as she fanned herself with one hand.

Luke pulled himself together and glared at her, his arms folding across his chest, his chin jutting out. "I thought we had an understanding about this!" he fumed. "I thought we had a deal that you wouldn't do this anymore!"

"Eh." She waved her hand in the air, unconcerned. "It's OK. My boyfriend doesn't care."

"Oh, he doesn't, huh?" She swore little wisps of smoke were wafting above his head.

"Nope, he doesn't," she said, still undaunted. "He told me so. See, we were in bed, and there's this one thing I do with my tongue—"

Luke dove across the counter and pressed his hand over her mouth. Her eyes laughed up at him as she peeled his hand away.

"What did you think I was going to say? It's not like there's anyone in here, anyway," she pointed out.

"I never know what you're going to say," he sighed, straightening up. "What do you need?"

"The air conditioner in the bedroom isn't air conditioning. I mean, I figure it has one job, right? It takes in air, and conditions it, and blows it back out, right? Really, how hard can it be?"

Luke sighed. He'd heard variations on this before. "Is it plugged in?"

"Yes, Luke."

"Is it turned on?"

"Yes, it's turned on," she snapped.

"Did you leave the bedroom door open? Are you trying to cool the entire upstairs again?"

"Luke!" She smacked the counter in irritation. "I did that once!"

"OK, OK." He held up his hands in surrender. "I'll come over as soon as I can to look at it."

"Good." She nodded, slightly mollified.

A sly look crept over Luke's face. "You realize though, if I do this for you, you'll owe me something."

She grinned. "What did you have in mind?"

Thoughtfully, he walked around the counter to her, bending slightly so he could whisper directly into her ear. One hand came around to her front and he stealthily unbuttoned another button, his finger slowly tracing up and down her damp sternum.

"Whoa," she breathed out, as he pulled away. Her eyes were glazed over, her breath coming out in little puffs.

"See, that's your problem, Gilmore," he said sadly, as he left her side and grabbed a mug from behind the counter. He stepped into the kitchen, quickly plopping a scoop of ice cream in it. "You like to wear the costumes, but you don't have the follow-through." He filled the mug with lemonade, trying not to shudder as he stuck a straw in it and placed it in front of a still-stunned Lorelai. He leaned on his elbows across from her, smiling smugly.

"I'll show you follow-through!" she taunted. She pushed her feet against the rung on the stool and met him on the counter, throwing her arms around him in a fierce hug. "You amaze me. Everyday," she said softly to him, meaning every word.

Luke had a beautiful view over her shoulder and down her back to those skimpy shorts that were barely covering what they were supposed to be covering. "You amaze me, too, everyday," he said, swallowing hard. He meant it, too.

They pulled away, and Lorelai used the cold mug to cool down her face.

Luke cleared his throat and tried to compose himself. "Where're the kids?"

Lorelai laughed and took a big pull from the straw. "They went to Hartford to the grandparents. Specifically, they went for the grandparents' pool. And," she smiled widely, "they convinced Jess to go with them."

Luke barked out a laugh. "You're kidding. He went, even with Dean?"

"Yep," Lorelai looked pleased. "I have this image of him sitting there in the sun, broiling in that black leather jacket, until he can't take it anymore and jumps in the pool. Then I envision this oil slick spreading out over the water."

"Be nice," Luke warned, but he was grinning.

"I'm still worried." The teasing tone was gone, as she pointed her finger at him sternly.

Luke nodded, also sober. "We'll keep an eye on them. Don't worry, OK? We'll figure it out."

"Yeah." Lorelai sighed, poking at her frozen lemonade concoction. "And if she is going to dump Dean for your hoodlum nephew, what can we do about it anyway, huh?"

"They're both good kids," Luke insisted. "Jess has improved a lot since he's been here, and I think Rory's played a big part in that."

"Maybe." Lorelai took a big slurp, knowing it would make Luke roll his eyes. It did, and she grinned. "Oh! And I got you out of Friday night dinner!"

"You did?" Luke's face showed true delight. "Thank you! I will never doubt you again!"

She nodded, accepting his praise. "All you have to do is go to some sports thing with Dad on Sunday, instead."

"Lorelai, that was not the point in getting me out of dinner!"

"Well, I can't help it if my Dad loves you," she pouted. "He's got some sort of tickets he wants to share with you. I'm sure he's got some sort of guy-bonding thing all worked out."

Luke had been pacing in agitation, and he suddenly whirled around. "It's not some damn golf thing again, is it?"

"I don't think so," she said, carelessly. "It's some Red something or other."

"Red?" He frowned, trying to ponder whatever that meant. "Red what?"

"I dunno." She was doing her best dumb act. "Red something. In Boston, maybe?"

"Red Sox?" His mouth dropped open slightly. "Are you telling me he's got Red Sox tickets?"

"I do believe that was the name," she agreed, grinning madly.

"Wow." He shook his head slightly, letting that sink in. "Well, that might not be too bad. What will you do without me, though?" He let his hands rub over her shoulders.

"Mary Ann and I are going shopping. I promised to show her where I got those boots."

He came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her bare middle. "I'm glad you and the girls all like each other," he said, leaning forward to give her some little kisses on her neck. "Did you say that the kids are gone?" he asked, as the pieces all suddenly fell into place.

"Yep," she confirmed, a little smile playing on her mouth.

"When did they leave?"

"Same time I headed over here."

"So they'll be awhile."

"Uh-huh."

Lorelai had been leaning back against him, so she had to scramble to stay on the stool when he abruptly let go. "Hey!" she protested.

Luke tore a slip off of the order pad and wrote 'Back at 6' in big letters on it. "Let's go," he ordered, heading to the door. He flipped the sign to 'Closed' and stuck his note on top of it.

"Well, you're suddenly in a hurry," she observed, sauntering over to the door.

"Sooner I get your favor out of the way, the sooner I can get mine," he told her matter-of-factly, giving her a soft smack on her bottom as she passed in front of him.

"Actually," she admitted, "there might not be anything wrong with the air conditioner. It might be that it was just turned on, and it just hadn't had a chance to really cool anything yet. By the time we get home, it might have fixed itself."

"That's fine," he said, taking her hand after he locked the door, and urging her to walk faster down the street. "But don't think that's going to get you out of doing my favor."

"I wouldn't dream of trying to get out of it," she assured him. "Not in a million years." To prove her point, she grabbed him and kissed him, not caring who might be peeking from inside the windows where the blinds were shut against the bright sun.

And true to the promise they'd made each other, Luke kissed her right back.