“Okay.”
“Thank you,” I say, relieved.
“No problem.”
I run my fingers through my hair, trying to brush out the tangles. “By the way, have I told you that I’m never drinking again?”
“I can’t wait to hear how the rest of the morning goes,” she giggles.
“Please, just come get me as soon as I send you directions.”
“Okay, good luck!”
“Thanks. I need it.”
I grab my hair tie and run to the bathroom to look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is wild, and my eyes red and puffy. I’m instantly reminded of last night when Luke held me while I sobbed and pleaded in his arms. No wonder he treats me like a child! Embarrassment washes over me, and I pray that Luke doesn’t walk in. Throwing my hair up quickly, I splash water on my face, and squirt some toothpaste on my finger, before running it back and forth across my teeth. I look at myself one more time and decide there’s not much more I can do. I pretty much lost all of my dignity when I begged Luke for a good time last night.
When I try to open the bedroom door, I realize that it’s locked from the inside. Great! I even locked him out of his own room. I unlock the latch and head down the long narrow hall toward the smell of pancakes, bacon, and something else I can’t name. I quietly turn the corner and find Luke placing a pitcher of what looks to be orange juice on the kitchen table. I stand frozen and admire the sight of him. Standing barefoot with his back to me, he is shirtless and there are fresh scratches down his back. My cheeks heat when my eyes zero in, wondering if I am the one to put them there. His faded jeans hang low on his hips, and his hair is a complete mess. My heart speeds up, and I clear my throat to get his attention.
“Morning,” he says, glancing at me quickly then turning his gaze to the table.
I’m caught off guard by his nervous reaction. It’s not something I’ve ever seen from him before. “I’m sorry I locked you out of your room, and for the record, I’m never drinking again.”
“You didn’t lock me out,” he says, his voice clipped as I watch him fill a glass. “Orange juice?” he offers.
“Sure, thank you.” I press my lips together, giving a small smile. “The door was locked this morning.”
“I locked it.”
“Why?”
He grips the back of his neck, dropping his gaze to the floor. “To protect you.”
I arch a brow and look around the room. “I’m confused, protect me from what? I thought you lived alone?”
He scratches his head, and a partial grin reaches his lips; he’s still not looking at me. “I do.”
That’s when I realize what he means. He was protecting me from himself. Oh my God, I really am a slut!
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence he hands me a plate. “I remember you mentioning pancakes before so I thought I’d whip some up. Help yourself. There’s some bacon and hash browns over there.” He points to the large kitchen island looking dreamy with that tousled hair of his.
“Thank you. It smells great!” I smile, but the small smirk he returns doesn’t reach his eyes. “No really, Luke. Thank you … for everything.” I close my eyes, sighing before reopening them. “I’m humiliated by my actions last night.” I pause, biting my lip. “I’m not even sure if I remember all that happened, but I know that you tried to fight me off. I’ve never done something like that before. I’m mortified, and I’m really sorry.” I finally lift my gaze to his and am surprised to see understanding in his eyes.
“You had a lot to drink. It happens.” His big golden eyes are nothing but sincere. “And that’s stretching it a bit when you say I fought it.” He clears his throat.
I wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t elaborate. Shrugging my shoulders, I add, “Well I don’t blame you if you hate me after this.”
“You really think I’d hate you?” He sets his fork on his plate then takes a sip of his orange juice with his eyes fixed on mine. “You said you don’t know if you remember everything?”
“If you’re talking about what happened in your bedroom, please don’t make me say it.” My cheeks heat as the images replay in my head.
“We need to talk about it.”
“Fine,” I breathe out. “I remember you and I were talking, and I was emotional. All of the sudden I’m taking off my dress, ripping off your shirt, and oh God …” I cringe. “Begging you to make love to me.” I cover my face, searching my brain for the rest before continuing. “Oh, and I forced you to kiss me, leading you to pick me up and put me in the shower, thankfully not naked,” I say behind my hands.
“I’m sorry I did that,” he says as I peek at him through my fingers. “But I’m not going to say I didn’t enjoy it a little.” A devilish smirk appears, and his eyes sparkle at me.
“You’re sorry?” I point a finger at myself. “I sexually assaulted you, and you’re sorry?”
Choking on his orange juice, he clears his throat and says, “You didn’t assault me.” His eyes look everywhere but in my direction.
“Oh, I think I did.”
“Trust me. You didn’t.”
My mouth drops. “Have you looked in your bedroom lately? I kissed you! I tore the shirt off your back!” I point toward the hall. “There are buttons all over the floor in there.”
Dropping his fork a little harder this time, his eyes burn into mine. “I kissed you back Reese, and I didn’t want to stop.” He slowly shakes his head back and forth. “I almost didn’t stop. You have an excuse, what’s mine?”
I stare deep into those penetrating eyes, completely surprised by his words. Of course the time that he actually wants to kiss me, I can’t even remember it enough to experience what it feels like. Finally I clear my throat and take a sip of orange juice before I speak. “Is that why you locked your door?”
He cocks an eyebrow.
“You lost control … or you were afraid you would?”
There was tension in his gaze as if he didn’t want to answer. Then he slowly nods his head, this time not looking away.
“But you did stop,” I say softly. Isn’t that all that matters?”
He silently stares without saying a word, then runs a hand through his hair before getting up and walking down the hall toward his bedroom. My mind drifts to a pretty blonde female I’ve been trying hard to forget about. Could she be the reason for his behavior? Disappointment courses through me when he comes out moments later wearing a light blue t-shirt. I was enjoying the view of him shirtless and am intrigued by his tattoos. Either way, he’s so pretty it hurts, regardless if he’s wearing clothes.
I jump when my phone beeps with a text from Gia. “Oh, I uh, need directions to your place. Gia offered to pick me up.” I don’t know why I feel uncomfortable asking him this.
He sticks his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Yeah sure,” he says, then gives me what I need, and I text it all back to her.
Feeling a little awkward after our brief exchange, I start clearing the table in an attempt to keep myself busy. “You don’t need to do this,” he grumbles.
“It’s the least I can do.”
He chuckles under his breath and follows me to the kitchen.
“What’s so funny?” I turn to face him, and he’s leaning against the counter, his evil grin back in place, as if last night never happened. I watch his golden eyes sparkle as he gives me a once over, nodding his head appreciatively. “What I would give to know what you’re thinking.”
“I was just appreciating your,” he clears his throat, “underwear.”
My face heats as I look down at the white boxer briefs I borrowed. I have them rolled at the waist because I couldn’t get them to stay up. “My clothes are still wet. My … umm … undergarments included.”
“I’ve never had a woman wear my underwear before.”
Holy moly! He finally just called me a woman, and I must say, it feels good. “Sorry.” I give a shy smile.
He shrugs his s
houlders. “Don’t be.” My face heats at the way his eyes are watching me.
“Do you mind if I take them home? I’d like to wash them before I give them back. Also, do you have a plastic bag I can put my wet clothes in?”
“Yeah, of course.” He runs a hand through his hair, furrowing his brows before looking up to meet my eyes. “Reese, there’s something I need to say.”
I arch a brow, worried by the look on his face. “Okay.”
“You told me something last night and …” He clenches his jaw like he’s having a hard time getting out the words. “Sometimes when we drink, we say things we don’t mean.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he continues, “But what you said, I couldn’t stop thinking about it—all night and now all morning.”
I take out my ponytail and run my fingers through my hair. “You’re starting to scare me a little, but go ahead. Ask.” He steps closer so that we’re standing only a foot apart; he lifts my chin and looks in my eyes.
“What happened between us last night,” he says softly. “It can’t happen again.”
I stare back and swallow the biggest lump I have ever had to swallow. I’m mortified, turned on, relieved, angry, and to be honest, a little hurt. No words could explain the feelings I am experiencing at this point. Thank God for the relief that came when I heard a knock at the door.
“He said what?” Gia asks, eyes wide.
Covering my face in embarrassment, I tell her, “He said it could never happen again, as if he was worried about me getting the wrong idea.”
“And your response was just to stare at him?”
“Yes. You came to my rescue before I could reply. What do I do? What the heck do I tell him?” I mess around with the air vents in her car, needing to feel cold air on my face.
“What was his mood like when he said it?”
I think about the look on his face before he finally had the nerve to tell me. “Sort of … conflicted, I guess.”
She frowns, staring straight ahead. “The man likes you,” she says quite certainly. “You’d have to be a dummy not to notice that.”
“Well, I’m done playing games.” I pick a piece of lint off Luke’s shirt. “I think I’ve put myself out there enough.”
Monday morning I made sure to dress in my old clothes. Luke had texted me a couple times, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. I decided on an old pair of gray sweats and a large black t-shirt, not bothering to fix my hair or put on any make-up. What Luke saw the other night was influenced by alcohol—nothing else. Though the feelings I have for him are very much a real thing, I definitely don’t want to appear desperate. I’m still without a car so I’m a little nervous about today. The butterflies become more intense when I see him pulling up in his Chevy.
“Thanks for bringing your truck.” I shut the door quietly after getting in. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the Harley,” I say, trying to fill the silence. “I’m just not feeling it today.” Finally looking in his direction, I catch him watching me.
“Yeah, sure.” He stretches his neck to the left and then the right. “Is everything okay?” he asks, scanning my face, making me fidget in my seat a little. “You never responded to my texts.”
“Yeah, everything’s fine!” I answer, sounding a little too chipper. “Sorry I didn’t respond. I just got really busy.” I wasn’t going to tell him it took all the willpower I could manage not to respond.
He waits for me to finish.
“I had to do laundry, then I wasn’t feeling very well.” I try my best to sound natural even though I feel like he can see right through me.
Slowly nodding, he says, “So you decided on comfy today, huh?” His eyes scan me from head to toe.
“Yeah, I figured, why not?”
“Good.” He flashes a wide grin. “It suits you.”
I hate him.
Narrowing my gaze, I ask, “And why is that, Luke?”
“You know what,” he pauses, “forget I said anything.”
“No, I’d really like to hear what you have to say.”
“Did you get your A/C fixed?” he replies, purposely changing the subject.
I decide to let it go because I just don’t feel like arguing with him today. “They finally called me back and said they couldn’t get anyone over ‘til Thursday. I’m so ready to move.”
He taps the steering wheel. “When is your lease up?”
“I still have two months left.”
“Have you signed a lease anywhere else?”
I turn to face him. “No, why?”
He purses his lips for a moment then says, “Why don’t you break your lease and just stay with me until we find you another place? I’ll sleep on my couch.” He shrugs. “You can have my bed.”
I blink my eyes twice. “You mean like … move in with you?”
He nods, confusing the hell out of me.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I mean yeah, I’m miserable in my apartment, but Luke made it clear that we need to keep some distance. Now he’s offering up his place?
“Well yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” He tilts his head to the side, watching me like he can’t figure me out.
I look at him blankly because I don’t know how to answer that. Finally I say, “How about we start small, and I stay with you until everything is fixed. Maybe I’ll find a new place in the process.” I can’t believe I just agreed to this.
A wry smirk stretches his face. “I’ll bring you back tonight to get your clothes, that is, if you don’t have any plans?”
“No, I don’t have any plans.” Seriously? I never have plans.
Glancing at me from the corner of his eyes, he says, “Good.”
I can’t help but smile, and I don’t care if he sees.
“So when are we going to finish our conversation?” Luke asks. He’s wearing loose-fitting cotton pants and a white t-shirt I want him to take off.
“What conversation?” I reply, silently praying it has nothing to do with the other night. Ever since that morning I feel awkward whenever he’s near. So I straighten my shirt and twiddle my fingers to keep busy while sitting on his couch.
“Why are you nervous?” He tilts his head to the side. “What’s wrong?”
Ugh … why does he notice everything? “Nothing.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, trying my best to act normal.
“What conversation are you talking about?”
He watches me suspiciously. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Luke, the other night I was drunk and emotional. Tonight … I’m not. So don’t worry, there won’t be any crying.” I wave my hand in a gesture. “Please, continue.”
He takes a seat next to me then kicks his feet up on the table, stretching his tattooed arms behind him.
“Comfortable?”
“I am.” Turning toward me, he drops his gaze to my shorts, slowly lifting his lashes, and his mouth tilts in a grin. “I like your jammies.” He reaches over and tugs on the hem. They’re white with little red cherries.
“Thank you,” I say, meeting his eyes, wondering why he always touches my clothes.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, his gaze never wavering.
What is up with him? God, this man is so confusing. “Well?” I arch a brow, waiting.
“Well what?”
I suck in a breath. “You were saying …”
“Oh right, that,” he hesitates, and I try my best to be patient. “I wanted to continue our conversation.” Looking at me out of the corner of his eyes, he continues, “About the past. About our past, actually.” This was something I wasn’t expecting, so it took a few seconds to register. “You remember telling me, don’t you?”
I do, but I kind of got used to pretending we didn’t have one. After what seems like forever, I finally answer his question. “Yes.” I curl my legs underneath me. “I remember.”
“You know that time when I found you bleeding? When your father was still living there?”
&nb
sp; I think about the first time he came to my window. My father was drunk and pushing me around. “You mean the first time we officially met?”
“Yeah, you were holding your little bat, getting ready to take a swing at me.” He grins. “My father was like that all the time, with or without alcohol, drugs, or whatever.”
This is the first time he’s ever brought up his family. The thought of his father hurting him breaks my heart. “I’m sorry.” I lay my hand on his shoulder.
He shakes his head. “I’m not telling you to get your sympathy. I’m telling you this because sometimes alcohol changes people. It makes them something they’re not.”
I raise my eyebrows, encouraging him to continue. “I understand, but you said your father is this way with or without it.”
“I’m not talking about my father right now. People can do things when they drink that they might forever regret when they’re sober.”
I furrow my brows. “Okay, and you’re telling me this because?”
“Because some people have remorse for their actions … others don’t.”
I don’t know where he’s going with this, but I nod my head. “Yes, I think we gathered that the other night. Get to the point, Luke. What are you trying to say?” I scoot sideways on the couch and again fold my legs underneath me so I’m facing him.
Fixing his eyes on the floor, he purses his lips before he replies, “I think you should talk to your father.”
Now that catches me by surprise. My mouth drops as I stare at his sincere face for what seems like minutes before responding, “You what?”
“I saw him that night. When he came to see you …” He swallows. “He’s not the same man, Reese. I think you should give him a chance.”
I’m shocked. Literally speechless, because I have no idea why he would care about this subject. “You do, huh?” An uncontrollable laugh escapes me. “Oh, this is funny.”
“Damn it! It’s not funny. It’s serious,” he growls.
“Thanks for the advice, but I think I’ve got it figured out.” I shake my head. “How could you possibly care about him anyway? You saw how he was.”
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