Lorelai pressed her lips together in a pout that wasn't designed to get her anything. It was simply an expression of sadness for her friend Luke. His Uncle Louie, his dad's only surviving brother, was dead, and Luke was left with the task of burying the eighty-five year old man.

"Tina," who turned as Lorelai called her name, "I've blocked nine rooms in my name. Could you please make sure that they get booked into rooms in the wing with the good bathrooms?"

Tina dropped the last of the mail into the appropriate cubby. "Sure, Lorelai, no problem. VIPs?"

Lorelai blinked. Luke's relatives? Of course they were VIPs, or more accurately, they were relatives of Luke, who was a VIP in her book.

"Yeah, definitely." She turned to go back to the dining area, then stopped. "Oh, and can you make up VIP baskets for them, too?"

"Got it. Everything will be in the room when they arrive: robes, town discount card, snacks."

Lorelai smiled at Tina as she thanked her. "Make sure you open a fresh box of gummy bears. The old ones are like chewing on my purse. Oh, and please come get me in the dining room in about five minutes, OK? Doesn't matter why, but think of something good."

Lorelai squinted as she tried to think of something else to do rather than go back to the soup tasting. No ideas. She was tapped. Her mother was waiting, and she knew she wouldn't hear the end of it unless she returned.

She walked halfway across the lobby before she realized she still had the cordless phone in her hand. All she could think about at the moment was Luke. Was he sad? She couldn't tell by his voice on the phone. Did he need someone to talk to?

Michel raised an eyebrow and sighed as she placed the phone into his hand. "If you wish to make my job impossible, you are succeeding beyond belief," he sneered.

"How's Luke?" sing-songed Sookie with a bright grin on her face when Lorelai dragged herself to Emily's table.

"Luke's fine," said Lorelai curtly, looking at the table to avoid her mother's supercilious yet inquisitive gaze. Her thoughts were full of Luke and his phone call. He sounded very casual, almost nonchalant, an impossibility for Luke. She could sense the relief in his voice when he told her it was for a funeral. Luke Danes, who never needed anybody, needed her help now.

Emily folded her napkin and laid it carefully on the table. "Mushroom soup," she said calmly. "Mushroom soup and chicken Caesar salad, with a fresh herb roll."

"Caesar?" babbled a distracted Lorelai. "What about Caesar? He's got to cover for Luke. I'm sure Luke has a lot of things he needs to be doing."

Before either Sookie or Emily could ask for an explanation, Tina came in, saying, "Lorelai, do you ..."

"Yes! Thanks, Tina! I'll be right there," interrupted her boss quickly and gratefully.

Turning to Sookie, she confirmed that the menu was set, then said goodbye to her mother. "See you on Friday, Mom!" She said as she followed Tina out of the dining room, leaving a confused pair behind.

"Lorelai!" called Emily indignantly, "Come back here and explain yourself about Luke!"

Their confusion didn't matter to Lorelai. She had to check on Luke.

Lorelai dashed into the diner and looked for Luke, who was just exiting the kitchen. Smiling, she met him halfway and wrapped her arms around his waist, her purse accidentally bouncing off his butt.

"Uh, Lorelai, do you mind?" She had halted his progress and he now stood in the center of the room, arms outstretched like a scarecrow, but with plates of food in his hands.

She hugged him hard, her head laying on his chest, then let him go gently. "How are you holding up?" she asked, her sympathetic blue eyes dissolving the knot that had formed inside his gut.

He lowered his elbows until he could carry the plates comfortably. "I'm holding up just fine," he said, adding, "but I'm not so sure about you. That was a little weird." He set the plates down on the right table before turning back to her, placing his hands challengingly on his hips.

"No, that was a little hug, and there was nothing weird about it," she defended herself, giving him a little push on his shoulder. "We hug all the time."

"No, we don't. We don't hug, except for birthdays."

"Today I'm making an exception," she explained. "You've just had a loss in the family. That gets a hug."

"Geez. Is that why you're here? I told you it was no big deal."

"It is a big deal, Luke! I wanted to show you that I am here for you. Didn't you enjoy it? Don't you feel better now?"

He grunted. "Maybe next time you could show me outside of diner hours. Delivering food late keeps my staff from getting tips."

Truth was Luke did feel better. He loved Lorelai hugs. They'd come out of the blue. Maybe he'd done her a favor, or said something that touched her, or she got some crazy notion that he would never understand, like declaring 'Hug a Diner Guy' day, and suddenly he would find himself with her arms wrapped around his neck or his waist. He'd catch a whiff of her scent, but before he could return the favor she would step away, leaving him happy for the moment, but sad because it was over.

He couldn't control Lorelai hugs, not like he could the coffee. He carried a scrap of paper in his wallet that guided him about the coffee. "Give her coffee and she will go away." Luke had refined her coffee dose to the point that she had to come back often. Telling her coffee would kill her simply inspired her to rebel against his recommendation and come back even more often.

"I'm not going to jump in with a 'dirty' for that diner hours remark, Mister, because I know you're prostrate with grief." Giving him a split second for his expected derisive snort, she continued, "but I wouldn't mind a coffee to go."

With his normal long-suffering expression, he handed her the coffee, then turned to go back to work.

Lorelai smiled as the door closed, Luke yelling "Get away from me!" at Kirk, who came to the cash register with open arms, ready to hug his friend as well.

Lorelai's brain was like a washing machine's spin cycle. Any thought on her mind spun round in circles until she got her answer. Sometimes the answer came out nice and crisp, like freshly washed sheets that she could snap smooth before putting them in the dryer. Other times they came out tangled and knotted together like sweat pants being choked by underwear all knotted up and twisted, then bound tightly by a brassiere hooked into the mess like a bungee cord.

One of the many levels of Lorelai's thought circles, right above wondering where she could get trim white 1950's sneakers like Baby's, and right below finding a replacement shampoo for her favorite but now discontinued candy apple scent, was Luke.

More specifically, part of Luke. A big part. One she'd touched yesterday and longed to touch again.

The hug was eye-opening. It stirred things inside her, libido kinds of things. Luke also stirred feelings of friendship, so she suppressed the naughty thoughts and focused on getting her daughter some breakfast then off to school, followed by hanging out in the diner, keeping him company through the next lull.

"Whoa, look at that," said Rory as they approached the diner, pointing to Luke's window. "Didn't we see this movie the other day?"

Lorelai grinned. "Jerry Lewis in The Diner Guy? Well, you know Luke is Our Diner Guy. Can't quite picture him with buck teeth and round glasses, though."

"Yeah, I don't remember that being a Jerry Lewis movie," said Rory with a puzzled face.

"Doesn't matter," replied her mother. "All the Jerry Lewis movies from the sixties had the same plot anyway."

Watching Luke move gracefully around the diner until the phone cord held him back, Lorelai reminded herself that she kept a strict line between her and Luke. People teased them, told them they were blind, tried to set them up, but Lorelai generally managed to escape the most embarrassing moments.

Lorelai knew the real reason she stayed away from Luke. She was sowing her wild oats. So many wild oats, to be exact, that Euell Gibbons would have been kept perpetually in granola had he still been alive.

It was one of those curious twists of personality in her and Rory's relationship that Rory acted like an adult with a steady boyfriend and Lorelai acted out the teenage fantasies that she'd given up when she happily took over full time care for her daughter.

She dated hardly at all until Rory became more independent at fourteen, but when Rory started at Chilton and got her first boyfriend something changed inside of her mother. Now Lorelai flirted with any living creature (was particularly successful with stray puppies at the pet fair), and was intent on playing the field and having fun. She was doing everything in her power to enjoy her teenage years, even though she was 32.

She never considered Luke for her wild oats because Luke was the opposite of the wild oat. He was a pillar in her life, untouchable almost. They flirted, but always stopped before a normal flirtation would have changed to a date invitation. That's the way she wanted her Luke. It didn't matter that the touching and hugging this week was rapidly becoming something she couldn't live without. She had her rules and needed to stick to them.

Lorelai put an extra padlock on her burgeoning Luke feelings as they went into the diner.

"Despot," grumbled Jess as he reluctantly filled the water pitcher under Rory's watchful eyes.

Lorelai turned to Luke, her heart still thundering from the excitement of the diner rush and the unanticipated tingle she got when she pushed Luke back behind the counter to prevent him decapitating any of his customers. The hard planes of his back muscles were enticing her to let he hand slide slowly down his back, investigating other areas of his body.

It didn't take long for her and Rory to help Luke get the diner back on track. After delivering food to the crank in the hat and the lady with the giant purse, Rory had conscripted Jess into ice water and cleanup duty, and Luke looked less stressed.

Lorelai breathed easier when she saw Luke lean up against the back counter, where he was out of main traffic, but could still be on the phone and keep an eye on the diner at the same time. Her friend looked a little calmer, and she was glad to help out.

This work was easier than the front desk of the Independence Inn on a busy checkout morning, mainly because most of the customers were regulars and didn't feel the need to try and get a little something extra out of the deal. With the exception of Mr. Seven Equal Packets Gleason, it was "French toast, bacon and juice" and no one was suddenly 'remembering' that they couldn't sleep all night because the pillows were too noisy and that they needed a discount on their room for the inconvenience. She made a mental note to try being more grumpy around troublesome customers at the Inn in the hopes of reducing those fake complaints until she remembered that Michel was Luke with a suit and a French accent. That was just another one of those reasons Michel remained a fixture on her staff.

She was enjoying the banter with the customers and the bustle of the diner, when she suddenly realized the real reason Luke never let her go behind the counter. It was dangerous. Luke was dangerous.

Moving past him to pick up plates, she nearly tripped over his feet. Luke reached out a hand to steady her and a new tingle sparkled through her spine.

The closeness was enticing. Two people behind the counter had to be very comfortable with each other's bodies in order to get any work done.

She touched him again as she took over counter duty to pour Kirk a cup of coffee and to challenge him about his use of Equal. Luke touched her as they moved past each other, then completely invaded her personal space as they bickered a second time over making coffee.

"You should get back to work," said Luke. "How do you have time to help me out here?"

"First, it's my day off, so I'm all yours. Since I don't cook, I don't clean, and you do all my household repairs, I'm all yours, baby."

Sometimes she steadied herself on his shoulder. Once her thigh brushed up against his leg as she passed. When she accidentally glanced down at Luke's lower half as she moved between the counter and the serving window, she noticed a slight but distinct reaction Luke was having. He was responding to her touches as much as she was to his.

Lorelai liked helping Luke out. She liked touching him. He obviously liked being around her, too.

"Okay, I should probably go pick out a coffin before he gets here," said Luke as he got off the phone. He looked at her affectionately, grateful that she'd helped out so much already.

Standing close enough to lose herself in the deep blue ocean that was his eyes, Lorelai felt her toes tingle, and she struggled to put up her defense shields. This mutual admiration society they seemed to be starting was exciting, because it was sexy and thrilling and it made her hot to realize that he felt the same way. She fell victim to the attraction one more time when she patted his chest as she assured him there was no need to close the diner.

She'd really enjoyed the hug. It was warm, intimate, loving, and sexy. And it was all wrong. Because it was Luke. And Luke was against her rules.