My heart was about to beat out of my chest. Sheer horror washed over me, and I wished more than anything that I could take back the last three minutes of my life. I glanced at my mom who was staring at Luke with an expression that was as stunned as I felt.
"Luke Preston Wright, don't you torture this poor girl," Ginger said in a motherly tone. She grinned and pushed at her son's shoulder, and I watched as his serious expression slowly morphed into a teasing, mischievous grin.
I squinted at him, taking a deep breath since I hadn't breathed at all in what seemed like forever. He was joking around with me, and I was completely speechless as a result of it. I gawked at him, noticing his playful smile was laced with a slight apology.
"You totally freaked me out," I said weakly. "Were you joking about everything?"
Luke saw how very distressed I was, and he let out a little laugh as he reached out to put his arm around my shoulder. He gave me a few reassuring pats as he smiled down at me. Goodness, he must have been at least six-three—he was so much taller than me.
"I really was adopted," he said "But I'm not sensitive about it. I was kidding about that." He gave me one last squeeze around my shoulders before taking a step back.
"He was just teasing you," Ginger said. She reached up and touched her son's back. "He has nothing to be sensitive about. He's as much my son as if I had birthed him myself."
I sighed. "So, he really was adopted?" I asked.
Ginger nodded.
"I'm so sorry," I said.
"Don't be," Luke said. "I'm the one who should be sorry for messing with you."
"I've got three brothers," I said. "I'm used to being messed with."
My mother, who had been silent through the whole exchange, said something about how cold it was outside before she turned and reached into the back of their rented SUV to grab a suitcase.
"Let me have that one," Luke said, reaching out to take it from my mom. It was obviously the heaviest item left. All of the other bags were small, and we all reached in and grabbed everything.
I was still shaken up on the way inside.
Everyone was standing around the kitchen when we walked in. "I showed Ben to Daniel's room," was the first thing my dad said when he saw us. He was talking to my mom because he was looking straight at her. "I thought you wanted them in Daniel's room and Luke in Wes's. Is that right?"
Mom nodded and then turned to look at Ginger and Luke. "I'll show you to your rooms," she said gesturing for them to follow her. We all walked across the kitchen, headed toward the hallway.
"You guys met Ivy," Jolene noted as we walked into the living room.
"We sure did," Ginger said.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought they might say something about the whole adoption debacle. I almost made a joke about it myself just to mention it before they did. I decided to be quiet, however, and I was glad I did because no one said anything.
We came to Daniel's room first, and my mom walked inside. "Ginger, you and Ben will be in here."
"I'll show Luke to Wes's room," I said from the doorway.
My mom gave me a nod. I thought Luke would follow me, but he squeezed behind me and went into Owen's room with our moms. I was a bit confused at first, but then I realized that he was giving his mother her suitcase.
"Do you know where my bag is?" he asked, talking to his mom as he looked around their room.
"I think Jesse had it," my mom said. "I'm sure he already brought it to Wes's room for you."
I stood in the doorway, waiting for Luke. I was carrying a small duffel bag and I lifted it up, asking if it, too, was supposed to stay in this room.
"That's mine," Luke said, making his way toward me. He smiled and held out his hand, offering to take it from me.
"I've got it," I said as I turned to head down the hall. I pointed to a door on the right as I passed it. "That's your bathroom," I said. "Technically, you have to share it with me, but I'm gone all the time, so I won't be in your way too much."
"Where are you gone to?" he asked.
"What?" I asked, turning to look at him from over my shoulder.
"Where do you run off to?" he asked. "Wes and Jolene said you lived with your parents."
"I do," I said. "For now. But I, my boyfriend. He, uh, has a house here in Memphis, and I go over there a lot."
I had made my way into Wes's room as I was tripping over my words, and by the time I finished speaking, I had set Luke's bag on the foot of the bed and turned to face him.
"Where else would he have a house?" he asked with a little smirk.
"Cleveland," I said. "He lives there half the year." I shrugged. "He's in Arizona a little while, too, but he doesn't have a house there. I think he rents."
Luke tilted his head at me as if he was really trying to follow what I was saying and make sense of it.
I smiled and sighed. "He's a baseball player," I said. "He's from here, and he lives here in the off-season, but he's gone from February through October—sometimes longer, if they make the playoffs."
"That's not half of the year," Luke said. "That's most of it."
"I guess it is," I said with a shrug. "It's gonna be my first year to experience him being gone."
"Why? Is this his first year playing?"
"Oh, no, goodness, no, he's played for a long time. This will be his eighth year. It's just that we've only been dating a few months."
Luke gave me a little smile and nodded in understanding. I couldn't help but stare at his mouth. I wasn't doing it to be inappropriate, but I had always been drawn to looking at people's mouths, and Luke's was particularly different and appealing. I was transfixed. His lips were full, and the way his top lip was larger than his bottom gave his whole face such a striking appearance. Also, I just liked him. I naturally felt comfortable around him. I don't know if it was the sweatshirt or if it was because he took the liberty of teasing me, but I felt really at ease around him—like I could just reach out and hug him for no reason. Maybe it was the sweatshirt.
"Where'd you get your sweatshirt?" I asked.
But there had been a little lull in our conversation, and at the exact same time, he asked, "What's his name?"
"My boyfriend? Derek. Derek Holbrook."
He nodded, and pulled at the front of his shirt. "I got it at the Bishop dealership in London," he said. "That's where I work."
"I know," I said. "My dad told me you were some kind of prodigy."
"I don’t know about all that," he said with a humble smile. "I'm not sure if that's a word you could use to describe a mechanic. But I do love my job. Your family makes beautiful bikes. It's a pleasure to work on them, really."
"Are you always this humble?" I asked, thinking that he physically looked bolder than his demeanor indicated.
"Probably not," he said with a little shrug. "I’m just excited to be here. I never thought I'd be staying at Jesse Bishop's house."
I let out a little laugh. "You say that like he's famous."
"He is famous," he said, looking at me like I was crazy. "And your granddad… forget about it. Icon."
I laughed again. "Did you just call Doozy an icon?"
"He is," Luke said. "A legend."
I stared at Luke, half-wondering if he was making fun. But he wasn't. I could tell by his expression. He was truly excited about meeting my family.
I shook my head. "I'm used to people freaking out about meeting Derek or Courtney. They fall all over themselves asking for an autograph when I tell them I'm dating Derek. It's just funny that you're starstruck over meeting my granddad."
"Is your boyfriend famous or something?"
"I already told you he played for the Indians."
Luke shrugged. "Just because he plays pro baseball doesn't mean he's famous."
"Well he is," I said. "He's super famous. He's been on the All-Star team for the last three years. He's got a bobble head and everything."
Luke dug in his bag. He wasn't unimpressed, but he was definitely less
impressed than I wanted him to be. "Michael Bishop should have a bobble head," he said with an amused grin.
Part of me was mad that Luke didn't really care who Derek was, and other part was happy that he loved my family so much. I had such conflicting emotions that I didn't even know what to say.
After digging in his bag for several long seconds, he finally came up with a small stack of pictures. He handed them to me. "These are some pictures from the dealership. We had a little party for Amos's birthday. Al's wife printed them out. Everybody wanted me to bring them with me so I could show your dad and grandpa."
I flipped through the photographs one by one. I had seen a lot of Bishop dealerships in my life. I had basically grown up in one. I did get a surreal feeling flipping through those pictures, however. I thought of this get-together happening all the way over there in London, England. These people shared an undeniable kinship. They were like a big family, and they were all brought together by my grandfather's motorcycle legacy—I could see the motorcycles in the background, and it felt like home to me even though I'd never been there before.
"My dad's gonna love these," I said, staring down at them.
There were maybe twenty or so pictures, and I continued to flip through them. Some of them were posed group shots and others were candid photos of them sitting around, eating birthday cake.
"Who is this?" I asked, holding up a picture for Luke to look at.
"Chasidy," he said.
"Oh, so the girls at the dealership just sit on y'all's laps? That's how y'all do it over there in England?"
"Chasidy's my girlfriend," he said.
"Oh, it was a girlfriend party," I said.
I didn't mean for it to be, but my tone was maybe somewhat confused or annoyed, and Luke gave me a slightly funny look on account of that—like he almost wasn't sure if he was supposed to respond to my statement or not. Rather than addressing it directly, he leaned over and pointed at the other picture—the one I was holding in my left hand—the one that was on top of the stack.
"This is Amos's girlfriend, and there's Randall's wife," he said, pointing at two specific women in the photograph. "The party was afterhours, so everyone brought their spouses."
I placed the picture of Luke and Chasidy on top of the stack and stared at it again. She was gorgeous—petite with cute, mouse-like features that made her look innocent and young. She looked like one of my friends at college named Megan, except Megan had black hair where this girl's hair looked to be… "Is she a redhead?" I asked, peering at the photograph.
"It's kinda dark red, but yeah," Luke said. "I think it's naturally more brownish, but she does something to it."
She really was beautiful. I sat there and inspected that picture—staring at her sitting on Luke's lap. Looking at it gave me the oddest sensation. I wouldn't call it jealousy, necessarily, but I felt some type of way when I looked at her—some type of negative way, like I begrudged her for being beautiful, or for where she was sitting, or how she was smiling. I was inexplicably annoyed by this girl, which was the most ridiculous thing ever.
"She's gorgeous," I said to Luke, fighting against my own nonsensical feelings.
"Thank you," he said. "She's studying to be a teacher."
"Oh, really? Me too." I handed him back the stack of photographs. "I should say I might be. I'm not exactly sure what I want to do. I'm studying math. My mom said I could take over her accounting job at the company, but I kinda think I might want to teach. I don't really care about accounting math. I'm more of a straight-up geometry and algebra person. I really do enjoy complicated equations. I know that probably makes me seem like a nerd—I promise I'm not. I just like numbers. I know most people don't. That's why I think it would be rewarding to teach. We've all had that one teacher who inspired us. I'd like to do that for people with math. So many people hate math. Maybe I could try to make it cool, you know?"
I was officially rambling, so I stopped myself and just smiled at him.
"I was never inspired by a teacher," Luke said, staring at the wall as if really trying to remember a time.
"You weren't? Not even one?"
He shook his head. "I mean, I know those kinds of teachers exist—I think my dad might be one of them. He's really well-loved by his students. Don't get me wrong, I had some teachers I liked—some that I thought were good instructors who were good at their jobs, but no. There was no one who I would say inspired me. I think it's just gotta be the right student who lines up with the right teacher. It's a two-way street. I'm sure if my school would've offered a class on building motorcycles it would have been a different story."
Chapter 3
Luke and I were still standing in Wes's room, having a conversation when some movement in the hallway caught our attention. We both turned to look in that direction.
It was my mom. She had peered around the doorframe and was standing there, smiling at us. "Just checking on y'all," she said. "We're gonna order pizza for dinner. I'm going to call to place an order in just a minute. Luke, do you have any special requests?"
"I eat anything," he said with a smile.
"Is anyone coming over?" I asked.
Mom shook her head. "No. I'm cooking for everybody tomorrow night, but I thought we'd just lay low and get some take-out tonight—just us. I didn't want to overwhelm these guys on their first day."
"We don't mind," Luke said. "You guys should just do what you normally do."
"We are," Mom said, smiling. "Pizza's normal. I know y'all have had a long day of traveling. We'll have the rest of the family over tomorrow, after you've had the chance to relax a little bit."
"Derek will probably eat with us," I said. "He's coming over to pick me up in a little bit."
"I figured he would," Mom said, with a smirk. "I'm surprised Britney's not coming, too." She winked at Luke. "I have to plan for one or two extras with this one, even if we're not having anybody over."
Mentioning Derek made me remember the conversation I had with Luke and how much of a fan he was of my grandfather. "Luke's excited to meet Doozy," I said to Mom.
"Doozy's excited to meet him, too," Mom said. "Everybody's heard about how talented you are."
"Thank you," Luke said. "I was telling Ivy… it's a real honor to meet all of you. I'm such a fan of your motorcycles. I just love Mister Bishop's style."
"Oh, Doozy's gonna looove talking shop with you," Mom said.
"I'm looking forward to it," Luke replied.
Mom smiled before disappearing into the hallway again.
Luke sighed. "It's surreal being here," he said.
"Why? Because my granddad builds motorcycles?"
"You say it like he's not a legend," Luke said.
"It would be like if you got to go spend the night at some famous mathematician's house, like…" he hesitated as if searching his brain for the name of a mathematician. "I'm sure there are famous mathematicians, right?"
I smiled. "Einstein. Newton."
"Yeah," he said "It would be like if you got to spend the week at Einstein's house."
"You're as big of a nerd as I am. You're just a motorcycle nerd, and I'm a math nerd."
"You're not a nerd," he said, shaking his head a little. "Nerd is not even close to the word I would use to describe you."
"What's the word you'd use?"
"I don't know. Not nerd, that's for sure. You're smart, but that doesn't mean you're a nerd."
"What if I told you I love to read?" I asked.
He shrugged. "That just goes along with you being smart," he said. "It still doesn't make you a nerd. It's weird that you even use that word about yourself. It's just about the last word I would ever use to describe you."
I held my palms up as if asking him to evaluate my appearance. I even shifted a little, letting him get a good look. "What word would you use to describe me then?"
He hesitated, staring at me—his dark eyes regarding me seriously. "Do you just need to hear that you're beautiful?" he asked, surprising me.
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"No," I said with a scowl. "Why would you say that?"
"Because that's the only word to describe you—I mean, if I'm going on looks. I could say stunning, or gorgeous, or lovely, or pretty, but they all mean the same thing, really. Beautiful. You're a beautiful woman, Ivy. Obviously. You must know that. Regardless of whether or not you're a Bishop, bobble head baseball players don't just go around dating any-old, homely-old girl."
I had to smile at his statement. It was funny to me that he referred to Derek as a 'bobble head baseball player'.
"Well, I wasn't fishing for a compliment, but thank you. I'm glad to know you don't think I'm a homely-old girl."
He gave me a confident smirk as he shook his head. "I'm sure you were really torn up, waiting for my opinion, wondering what I thought."
"I was wondering," I said, seriously. "You're acting like I was joking around, but I wasn't. I really wanted to know how you'd describe me—what you thought of me."
"You're beautiful," he said. "Breathtakingly beautiful. That's the first thing I noticed when I saw you. Then you spoke, and I realized you were so much more than that. You have it on the inside, too. I loved that you blushed and got all embarrassed the very first time we met. It made me feel like you didn't mind putting yourself out there—it made me feel welcome."
I was blushing again as he spoke—I could feel my face getting hot. "You're making me shy over here," I said, fanning my face. "And I don't normally get shy. Usually, I'm the one being all honest and straight-forward. I'm not used to meeting someone else who does that."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just telling you how I see it. You can't call yourself a nerd just because you like math and reading."
The truth was, I didn't really see myself as a nerd at all. I just said that to be funny, mostly. I was pretty confident in my non-geekness. My parents and family had always been really supportive about my academic endeavors, and no one ever gave me a hard time about studying math or having my nose in a book.
I hadn't expected Luke to be so sincere and earnest in his response, though, and I replayed his words in my mind. He said I was beautiful inside and out, and he truly meant it—all this sincerity from a guy I had just met. I really thought I had blown the first impression with Luke and his mom, and I was relieved that he saw it differently.
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