by Stacy Lane
Luke watches me with intent. He knows I’m running.
As I throw our garbage away, Brielle asked Luke if he wants to play with her new legos. They get up and walk over to the living room area.
They made a cute picture sitting on floor. Four times her size, he squeezed into the tight space between the coffee table and couch with her.
Needing an excuse for fresh air, I tied the trash bag closed to take down to the dumpsters.
“I’m going to walk this down to the dumpster. You okay with her for a little?”
Luke poked his head up over the back of the couch.
“We’ll be fine,” he replies. “How far is the dumpster?”
“At the front of the complex.”
His brows crease. “You shouldn’t walk down there this late.”
“I’ve done it before.” I mock his expression.
I pick up the bag where it rests beside me, and start to open the door.
Luke hops up and beats me there.
“Let me take it.” He reaches to grab the black plastic straps.
I pull, dragging it out of reach just before he could close his hand around it.
“Luke, I can manage fine on my own.”
“I’m not saying you can’t. But for my peace of mind I would prefer if you didn’t walk all the way to the front of your apartment complex by yourself at night time.” His condescending tone grates on my nerves. I remain to keep a strong grip on the bag. He studies me, recognizing my stubborn and independent streak. Looking over his shoulder at Brielle, he asks, “Does she always walk there at night?”
On the floor, the top of her head barely visible, she answers, “We usually throw it in the trunk in the morning on our way out.”
The little traitor confides, all the while building her tower piece by piece and never looking in our direction.
“That sounds safer.” He stares at me with an indulgent look. “Drop it in the bed of my truck, at least. We’ll dump it in the morning.”
I roll my eyes.
“Fine.” I give in.
Luke is parked right out front. Pass the cab and to the bed, I lift and swing the bag over, letting go when it drops down with heavy thud.
I thought the damn truck was big from afar, but standing beside it up close shows how imprecise I had perceived. Thankfully, I spotted step rails on my way back in.
I cleaned the final touches in my kitchen, letting Brielle have her bonding time with Luke. But it was getting late, and Luke and I agreed to leave here by six a.m. I convinced Brielle to hop in the bath and get ready for bed. She put away her toys, and said her goodnights to him. He moved to sit on the couch, finding the remote and turning on a sports channel.
She chatted throughout the entire bath. Excited that her uncle was here, in our home. Even more excited to spend the next four days with Ethan, Della, and Paul, too. She was riding such a big high of exhilaration, I worried she wouldn’t go down easy tonight.
In her room she changed into pajamas, and climbed in bed after grabbing a book from her bookshelf. I sat beside her on the small mattress and opened to the first page. My hand brushed back the long strands of wet hair that fell over her forehead. I leaned in for a kiss, then began the opening line I’ve read countless times.
A few pages in her eyes start to grow heavy.
“Mommy,” she mumbles in a sleepy voice.
“Yes, baby.”
“I really like Uncle Luke.”
The arm I have draped over her head runs through the ends of her silky hair.
“He really likes you, too.”
“He said that?”
“He doesn’t have to, I can tell.”
She’s silent for a moment, so I open my mouth to continue where I left off.
“Uncle Luke likes you too, Mommy. I can tell.”
Her parroting words falls into a tired yawn.
Within minutes she’s out. I close the book and place it on her nightstand. Turning off the light, I tread carefully out of her room, pulling the door closed behind me.
I drag my feet to the hallway closet where I store extra blankets and sheets. Fatigue is sinking in like a ton of fresh asphalt. I still need to get my own shower, too.
Luke observes me closely as I make my way toward him, hands filled with blankets. I set them on the coffee table then bend to drag it out of the way.
“I got it.” He stops me, and this time I don’t argue.
He lifts the whole piece with both hands and sets it off the side.
I point to the couch. “It pulls out. You’re feet will still probably hang off the end, but it will be a little more room than sleeping on the couch.”
I’m pulling off the cushions when he stops me again.
“Liv, you’re tired. Go to bed. I can make a bed.”
I heave a sigh of relief. “Okay. Good night.”
“Good night, Liv.”
I walk down the hall to my room to grab my night clothes before going to get a shower. Brielle and I share the bathroom that sits between our rooms on the opposite side of the hall. Probably not wise to walk out in my towel like I would normally do since Luke is here.
After showering and changing into fresh clothes, I step out of the bathroom and glance into the living room. The TV is off, but the lights from the kitchen are still on.
I stare longingly at my bed as I walk up to it. I pull my comforter back, fluff my pillow, and realize Luke doesn’t have one. With a knee on the bed I take the spare from the side I don’t sleep on to give to him.
My feet pad lightly across the carpet. He’s pulled the mattress out from the couch and already put the sheet on, but he’s not there. I follow the lights to the kitchen when I hear him moving around on light feet.
With a quiet voice so I don’t wake Brielle, I call out to him.
“I forgot to give you a pillow.”
Luke appears around the corner of the kitchen. In one fell swoop, I’m not so tired anymore.
He’s taken off his shirt, shoes, and socks. Standing in the middle of the room in only a pair of jeans that hang low on narrow hips. His bare feet peek out from beneath the denim. The barest hint of boxers show above the waist of his jeans. His taut stomach ripples with a six pack and that mouth watering V. The expanse of tan skin broadens as my eyes climb upward.
Water trickles down my back from my wet hair, licking my warm skin. I have the urge to squeeze my thighs together from another area becoming wet.
I’d be more than happy to trail my mouth down the strip of wispy hair below Luke’s navel. On impulse I lick my lips. My tongue runs along the plump bottom, slow and seductive.
Luke’s groan snaps me out of my trance. I lift my heavy eyes to his.
That dark gaze is burning hot, promising unknown pleasures.
Run. Time to run very fast back to my room.
“Pillow,” I croak, tossing it onto the mattress. “Good night, Luke.”
I retreat with a brisk spin, and book it in the direction of my bedroom.
How the hell am I suppose to survive the next four days if he walks around like that?
Why the hell did Della and Paul have to a pick water park?!
In the hall, I dare one final peek.
Bad idea.
Luke’s hungry eyes are locked on my ass. The small cotton pajama shorts should have crumbled to ashes with that stare.
Before it’s too late, I shut myself behind my bedroom door.
Chapter Seven
“Hey! You made it!”
Della meets me at the truck the moment my feet hit the ground. I’d say it feels good to stretch my legs after a four hour drive, but the cab of Luke’s truck is spacious enough for me to stand if I wanted to. Not that I did, anyway. But I could have. I’m kind of in love with his truck.
“Thanks again for inviting us.” I greet her with a hug. We step back and admire our “campsite.” “You guys really went all out.”
“Yeah… Paul can go a little overboard sometimes.”
“Hey, my house is beautiful. Huge, but beautiful.”
“I think your husband is overcompensating.”
“What does overcompensating mean?” Brielle ask as he sets her down on the ground.
I glare at Luke, but find it hard to hold the stare for long. I’m curious how he will get out of this one.
He sputters in the beginning, but then recovers without fail.
“It’s something men do for their significant other when they need to make up for what they’re lacking.”
Della scoffs when he looks at her as he says “lacking.”
It’s a nice, PG response.
“Oh.” Brielle shrugs and runs off. “Going to find Ethan.”
“Thanks for teaching my daughter a new word.”
“Sorry. Could have been worse.”
“And it will be, just to warn you,” Della says to me. “Ethan has picked up many bad habits from him and Paul.”
“Ethan’s a hellion like his mother. Brielle is sweet and innocent. Practically an angel.”
“She has you wrapped around her finger already, doesn’t she?” I grin, finding it funny, but also very sweet.
“Between last night and the car ride here, yes. She works fast.”
Luke winks at me, then walks to the bed of the truck for our luggage.
The car ride was awkward, to say the least. For the first hour I couldn’t find the courage to look him in the eye. The image of his naked chest kept me awake way longer than I’ll admit. I suffered hours of restless sleep knowing he was right outside my door. Minus the heavy jeans, no doubt. Because who sleeps in jeans?
Eventually I got over it, put on my big girl panties, and came to terms that I would be seeing a lot more of his bare skin this week. Time to suck it up.
He may have given us a free ride, but I offered to pay for at least one tank of gas. He refused. When he saw I packed a variety of snacks for the long trip, specifically the Skittles, he said that was payment enough.
“So did you wind up getting a hotel, Luke?” Della calls out to him as he scurries around the truck, pulling bags out.
“No. I stayed at Liv’s.”
“Oh.” She nods with vigor. “I didn’t think you had a spare room.”
“I have a couch,” I say in a flat response.
“That couldn’t have been comfortable.” She snips with a chuckle.
Except I don’t see the humor. She acts strange every time Luke has put himself in my vicinity.
“Felt like home,” Luke replies, coming to a stop in the space between Della and I. He sends her an odd look, then smiles down at me before walking ahead.
Della shoots me a tight faced smile, only hers is placating and off. She spins, following behind Luke toward the RV.
Well, isn’t this just starting out great.
I lift my purse over my shoulder, and walk ahead.
This campsite was extreme overload. Perfect example of glamping, because this sure as shit wasn’t camping. But I had to admit, I planned on enjoying the luxury. Brielle and I don’t get much of that, so we’ll take advantage this one time.
Paul has the RV backed into our spacious spot that sits right off a little stream of water. One side is popped out, to expand the inside area, I assume, but the other side we’re approaching now has the fun stuff. A built in awning is open to give us coverage from the bright sun overhead. Underneath the awning, on the side of the RV, is a bar. A bar that is built into the RV. I don’t even know how to grasp this concept. There’s a giant TV right in the center, and next to it are rows of every liquor you can imagine.
That’s where I find Paul mixing a concoction and dividing it between four plastic cups.
Luke heeding the sensitivity to alcohol before it even crosses my mind, pauses for me to catch up to him.
“I should have warned you about this,” he says, nodding in the direction of the bar. “Paul can be a bit of a frat boy.”
I’m sensitive to the nature of alcoholism, but I believe there is a thing such as positive drinking. I’ve been exposed to the darker sides of it. Not all liquor promotes stupidity. My friends will find the fun, and I’m okay with that.
“It’s all good,” I reassure him.
“Maybe I’ll get to see you relax then.” He grins and walks away, hands loaded.
If he’s within five feet of me this entire vacation I don’t see that being possible. Hmm. There goes five feet, then ten feet, aaaaaannd now he’s out of sight and I’m still tense. Because as he walked away I checked him out. Thoroughly. Cargos and flip flops. Damn.
Paul looks up from his bar-tending techniques, and see’s me standing here in la-la-land.
“Livvie Liv!” He shouts.
I walk around the opening of the makeshift bar. He gives me a quick hug.
“Are you ready to see how parents party for Spring Break?” He places a red cup in my hand.
I take a careful sip, trying to cover up the assault on my tastebuds. “Wow. Um. If this is how we’re doing things someone better tell the kids they’re in charge.”
The taste is awful. And there’s ninety percent alcohol for sure, but whatever he mixed does not jive.
“Too strong? Sorry. I’m pumped. We haven’t left the office since opening the new place.”
“You look for any reason to go all out,” Luke pipes in, stepping out of the RV with Della hot on his heels.
“I’m a lifetime nerd with a lot of money. What do you expect?”
“But you’re the sexiest nerd this world has ever seen,” Della tells him as she slides her long body against him and gives him a kiss.
A long kiss. That doesn’t quit. Once she wraps her arms around his neck, they forget they are not alone. Or they just don’t care. That sounds more like Della.
“It’s amazing you guys have only popped one kid out so far,” Luke says in a dry tone.
I take it he sees this often.
“Are the kids okay in there?” I ask him, turning away to give our friends the privacy they didn’t ask for.
“I walked up to say hi to Ethan and he gave me a noncommittal nod. Pretty sure we don’t exist to them.” Luke flicks his gaze back to Paul and Della. “Might just be stuck with me this week, Liv.”
He picks up one of the cups off the bar, taking a drink.
I wait with contained laughter, pressing my lips tightly together.
Luke swallows but the sour looks on his face says it all.
“Dear god that’s terrible.”
“I heard that, asshole,” Paul mutters between his and Della’s lips.
“Good, because you are not allowed to make the drinks. Ever.” Luke returns the offending cup to the bar table. “Thanks for the warning, Liv.”
“Just returning the favor for the english lesson with Bri,” I shrug.
He narrows his eyes, but smiles. “Fair.” Turning back to Paul, he asks, “What the hell were you trying to make?”
“A mojito.”
“Mojito’s are minty. That tastes like vomit.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Della says, picking up the third drink. And promptly spitting it back out. “Okay. Yeah. Bade, you’re off bartending duty.”
“Maybe you should have hired a bartender for the week. You know, with all that money you have.” I grin playfully. Luke throws his head back laughing.
Della groans. “Don’t give him any ideas.”
“I haven’t had much alcohol in six years, other than wine, so glad it’s not just me. I really didn’t want to force that down.”
“Aw, you would’ve done that for me?” Paul touches his heart.
“I would have tried.”
“Don’t you ever go out?” Della asks.
“Not really.”
“Drinks with friends, after work, Connor?”
She goes down a list, expecting one of those op
tions to sound normal to me. Do they sound normal? Sure. But they are not my normal. I don’t have girlfriends. There’s one person at work I tried making friends with, but we pretty much keep that relationship at work. She never wants to hang out on the few times I’ve asked. It’s why I stopped asking.
“Pretty sure we’ve discussed the basis of Connor.” I slide a look to Paul, who starts laughing and nodding his agreement.
“Who’s Connor?” Luke asks.
“Liv’s ‘meh’ boyfriend,” Paul replies.
“Boyfriend,” he mumbles, more to himself.
“Not really,” I say too quickly. “We’re just dating. It’s not serious.”
Then why are you still dating him?
The instant and insane urge to justify that to Luke slapped me hard.
“He’s met your daughter. He must think it’s pretty serious.”
I turn my head to Della, and her unwarranted two cents.
“Dating’s hard when you’re a single mom,” I answer with a tight lip.
“You really have no one where you’re at?” she asks.
“Connor’s mom enjoys spending time with Brielle, but I only ever ask her to watch Bri when Connor and I go out.”
“Which is never anything fun as you’ve established,” Paul jokes.
“Unless you find talking about work fun,” Della says.
“You work with him?” Luke’s kept quiet until now.
“He’s my boss,” I answer slowly.
Luke nods, though I don’t think it’s with understanding. He grinds down on his teeth, keeping his response locked away.
Or maybe not…
“Maybe if you had never left, you wouldn’t be all alone.”
Everyone tenses up at his response. And here I thought he accepted the past.
“I don’t regret leaving. No matter what crap I had to go through.”
“Fine. Then maybe you should have come home sooner,” his perturbed voice slowly rises.
“What does it matter if I did? You were gone, Brady would have still found a way to ditch us, and my dad would have probably remained a drunk without the guilt of me not having left.”