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Start Over: A Novel (Start Again Series #2)

Page 7

by J. Saman


  I pull back to look at him—really look at him. How many nights did I sit up lamenting him?

  Too many to count. He struck a chord with me that night, which lingered through the years. What he’s saying isn’t wrong. I am overthinking something that probably doesn’t require this much thought.

  It’s not like this is leading anywhere beyond this brief interlude.

  “I hate eating dinner at five-thirty.”

  He smiles, touching his forehead to mine. “I was actually thinking the no sex and in bed by eight was the worst part about that.”

  “Then I guess we shouldn’t be like that.”

  “Darlin’, something tells me we’ll never be that boring. Something tells me you’ll throw plates at my head when we fight, and we’ll have hot, wild sex to makeup after.” I frown. “Not enough? How’s this then? I like all music except country, I hate gin and if I could do so without drowning or breaking my neck, I’d love to learn how to surf. You can let down your guard with me, Ivy. I’m not going to fuck this up, you’ll see.”

  Chapter 8

  Ivy

  I startle awake, sitting upright and bringing my thin sheet up to my chest to cover the fact that I’m only in my panties right now. My eyes scan the room, searching for the source of what woke me, but come up empty.

  It was loud, almost like a—knocking on my door. Yeah, there it is again.

  Climbing out of bed, I pull on a pair of leggings, the bra that I threw over the back of the chair last night, and a tank top that is lying on the floor.

  I quickly check the alarm clock on my nightstand and it tells me that it’s eight-thirty in the morning.

  How on earth did I manage to sleep that late?

  Crikey, no wonder I feel so rested.

  I think that’s the most sleep I’ve gotten in years.

  The knocking is becoming more persistent, and as I approach my door I hear Luke yell through it. “I know you’re in there darlin’, no sense in avoiding me.”

  I laugh, shaking my head.

  I really shouldn’t be surprised that it’s him.

  After we finished packing up my apartment yesterday, Luke went home—evidently to shower because he came back with damp hair and clean clothes. I too had showered in his absence and then he took me out for Greek food.

  Luke called it our first official non-date, and as such I didn’t let him walk me all the way up to my apartment door. I made him kiss me goodnight on the doorstep of the building, much to his dismay.

  I figured it was safer that way.

  But now he’s back first thing the next morning, and as I swing the door open and take him in, I’m hit with a rush of lust.

  He’s wearing thick dark jeans, black boots, a black sweater with a hot as all sin leather jacket unzipped over it. His hair is in wild disarray, but it’s that sexy way that says, I’ve been running my hands through it, wanna give it a go? His jaw is lined with a thick layer of stubble that he still hasn’t shaved away from yesterday.

  “Can I come in now, or are you still busy eye-fucking me?” He smirks. “I’ll wait if you are, it’s not like I mind.”

  I can’t stop the blush that creeps up my face, but manage to laugh at myself all the same because he’s right. I was completely frozen with the door wide open as I devoured him from head to toe.

  “You can come in now.” I smile as I step back and wave for him to enter.

  I feel like I should be embarrassed for getting busted ogling him, but I’m not.

  He knows what he looks like, so why pretend?

  “What are you doing here, Luke? I don’t recall making plans with you today.” I yawn and stretch out my arms and legs, stiff from a solid eight hours in bed.

  “It’s not raining, and it’s not supposed to until late tonight.”

  I stare at him blankly.

  “I have a helmet for you.”

  “A helmet?” I feel like I should be a little quicker on the uptake here, but I’m not. Too much sleep will do that to a person.

  “You said you’d go for a ride on the bike with me.”

  “I did, but I didn’t think we’d be doing it so soon. Isn’t it cold outside?” It’s been unseasonably cold for May the past two weeks.

  He shrugs, “Yes, but it’s not terrible, and more importantly, it’s dry. We can’t go into the mountains yet, we’ll have to wait for summer to do that, but we should have no problems going around town and maybe over to the water.”

  I give him a look and then he’s grinning at me. He knows what he just said.

  “I won’t be here for that, Luke. I leave in June.”

  “Right.” He snaps his fingers in an aw shucks manner, oozing sarcasm. “Forgot that for a little bit.”

  Luke snakes his arms around my waist, yanking me into his chest and burying his face into my hair. Breathing in deeply, he lets out a contented hum.

  “Damn, you smell so good. You smell like a cookie I’m dying to taste.”

  “That’s a cheesy line.”

  He chuckles against me. “It would be if it weren’t true.” He places a chaste kiss on my mouth. “Oh, before you go get dressed, I got you something.”

  And then he pulls out the most amazing thing ever.

  It’s a jar of Vegemite.

  A gasp flutters past my lips as I grab it, holding it like it’s an apparition that will disappear if I so much as look away.

  “Where did you get this?”

  He laughs at my reaction. I can’t blame him either because I’m treating this like he just handed me the Holy Grail, when in reality, it’s a piece of a home—which is worth infinitely more to me.

  “Do you have any idea how hard that stuff is to find? I mean, I went to like three stores before I found it. Ironically it was at the specialty grocery store near my place.”

  I look up at him with watery eyes, because this is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I realize how that sounds, it’s only Vegemite after all. But he went out of his way to search for it, and I know firsthand how difficult it is to find.

  “Thank you.” I jump up into his arms, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist. With a startled laugh, he grabs hold of me and then I kiss him. I don’t even care that I have morning breath.

  He doesn’t seem to care either because he’s kissing me back with equal ardor.

  “Jesus, baby,” he breathes against my mouth after we separate. “If I knew this is how you’d thank me for something so small, I would have bought you the biggest thing I could find that would remind you of home. Like a kangaroo or koala.”

  “They’d be too messy in such a small flat. Vegemite is far more practical.”

  He grins as he sets me down. “Go change and make sure you wear something warm and good for riding.”

  “I guess I can’t say no to you now, can I?”

  “Nope.” He smacks my bum. “Now move that gorgeous ass.”

  I scurry into my room and dig through my clothes as I brush my teeth. I would love a shower, but I don’t want wet hair on the bike, and that will take too long anyway.

  I locate the dark purple leather pants Sophia bought me as a gag gift for my birthday last year, since they are the best thing I have for a motorcycle ride. Layering them over a pair of tights to keep me extra warm, I throw on a long-sleeved shirt, a sweater and grab my own black leather jacket.

  Securing the elastic around the end of my long braid, I make my way back into the living room toward the man I have no business spending time with. He’s leaning against the counter, typing something into his phone and looking impossibly sexy and tousled. Luke may be able to pull off biker hair but I can’t, hence the braid.

  “I’m ready.”

  His eyes feast on my tall black leather boots to my jacket and then back again.

  “It’s a good thing you’ll be behind me on that bike, because damn, that outfit is all kinds of distracting.”

  “Then let’s go ride your bike.”

  I grab my keys,
phone, ID, and some cash, tucking them into my pockets because I don’t want to carry a purse. We step outside and sure enough, it is dry, but it’s also overcast and chilly.

  “Tell me the helmet you have for me has a face guard.” The last thing I want is frozen wind burn on my cheeks.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t do that to you, and if you’re too cold, we can bag it. I just thought it would be fun.”

  “No, I’d like to give it a go.”

  Luke leads me to a sleek black BMW motorcycle with yellow accents. Correction, this looks more like a racer, and no doubt flies like one. “You have a racer?” I don’t know why this surprises me. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but for some reason I thought you would be more of an old-school Harley man.”

  He laughs, turning to me. “Say that again.”

  “What?” I furrow my eyebrows.

  “Racer.”

  I roll my eyes, but appease him all the same. “Racer.”

  “I love that. I wasn’t lying yesterday when I said your accent may be one of my favorite things about you. I seriously might marry you over it.”

  “Enough with that. This is only a second non-date, Luke, and as I recall, we both decided this is fun and nothing that will ever lead to more, so stop with that all marrying rubbish.”

  He nods in agreement. “We did, and clearly my mentioning marrying you freaks you out, so I’ll refrain. But you better start showing me an ugly or crazy side, because as of right now, you’re far too perfect.”

  I grin, looking down and trying to ignore the latest swarm of butterflies I’m feeling.

  “Stop being a flirt and let’s go.”

  He hands me a black helmet that has a visor. I put it on and he helps me strap it into place under my chin.

  “Ready?” Luke asks, as he straddles the bike with grace and ease before reaching out a hand to help me onto the back.

  I, on the other hand, am the antithesis of graceful. Straddling this massive thing is not as easy Luke made it appear.

  There’s a microphone and ear piece inside the helmet so I can hear him, which is a handy little feature.

  “Ready.” My voice sounds muffled against the microphone inside the helmet. Although it fits snugly, it isn’t uncomfortable. The engine rumbles to life with a deafening roar. As we set off, I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my body tightly up against his back.

  There is nothing to prevent me from catapulting off the back of this bike, and that is a sobering thought. As a child, my father would take me into open, flat land and we’d ride for a bit, but never too fast.

  And that was back in Australia.

  This is Seattle, and Seattle is neither flat nor open.

  There are cars and hills and pedestrians, and continuous starting and stopping. So it’s nearly impossible to get a feel for the bike or the rhythm of motion. Maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve been on one of these things, but I’m bloody terrified, holding onto Luke as if my life depends on it. Oh wait, it does.

  “You okay back there?” His voice crackles into my ear, reverberating into my pulsating skull. “You’re gripping the hell out of me.”

  “Yes.” I think that might be all I can manage.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, darlin’. Try to relax and enjoy the city. I bet you haven’t explored it much.”

  “No, I haven’t.” How weird is that? I mean, I’ve been living here for nine years, and though I’ve scouted around some, it hasn’t been much.

  The seat is vibrating into me, and the engine is a raucous angry cacophony, but Luke is warm and strong and I do my best to take his advice and enjoy the ride and the view. He takes me all over the city, past the Space Needle, Pike Place Market, the university, and the Marina where several large catamarans and yachts are docked.

  The city is beautiful, and the more we cruise through it, the more I fall in love with it all over again.

  I’m struck with a pang of nostalgia, knowing that I’m leaving so soon and may in fact never live here again.

  “That’s my place.” Luke points to a large brick building that looks like it was once a warehouse. Street level is filled with various shops, and the second floor is all open windows with nothing obstructing them from the inside, so that’s a little confusing for me.

  “That place?” I point where he just was.

  “Yup. That’s home. I’ll explain when we stop. We should be at Myrtle Edwards in a few minutes.”

  After backtracking through the city a bit, he pulls the bike into a spot on the street and helps me off. My body still feels like it’s moving, which is an unsettling sensation, but as we begin to walk into the park and toward the beach, it subsides.

  I can only imagine what my hair looks like, and I’m afraid to ask, but he doesn’t comment and I try to forget about it.

  Luke guides me over to a small beach area scattered with dark rocks and drift wood.

  “Over in that direction,” he points, “is Mount Rainier, but you can’t see it today. Too cloudy.”

  “You like living here, don’t you?” I ask as I settle myself down into the cold sand. The wind isn’t whipping around all that much, making the frigid temperatures more bearable.

  “I do.” He sinks down next to me, his forearms resting atop his bent knees. “After I left California, I came up here. Seemed like as good of a place as any, and though I was already working with Ryan and he was in Philly, we didn’t need to be in the same location to do our thing. He only moved here about a year and a half ago.”

  I look out over the water, absorbing his words for a moment. “Tell me about your building.”

  Luke intertwines our fingers and we sit like that for a quiet moment before he speaks.

  “I managed to save up some money after working on a few projects with Ryan, and I bought the building. It was abandoned and not in the best repair. I didn’t have a lot of money left after that, so I did the majority of the work myself.” I look over at him and he’s grinning out at the water like this makes him proud. “I was able to fix the first floor enough to rent out the spaces, and that provided me with enough revenue to fix up my apartment, which spans the entire second floor of the building.”

  “That must be a considerable space.”

  He chuckles lightly. “It is. Probably too large for just me, but . . .” he trails off like maybe there’s more to it, but he’s not going to tell me.

  Suddenly I realize what he’s doing. He’s opening up to me about himself. About his life. It’s restricted and not all that informative as to who he is, but I get the impression that despite its brevity, it’s a lot for him to share.

  He’s trying to make up for the comment I made about not knowing him.

  “And you’re from Oklahoma.”

  “I’m from Oklahoma,” Luke confirms with a nod of his head, but doesn’t offer more. The expression on his face and the tone of his voice suggest that he won’t.

  “And you don’t like country music?”

  He laughs. “Can’t stand it actually. I realize I’m in the minority with that. Most of this country does in fact like it.” Luke shifts his position, unexpectedly turning to face me. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers reverently before taking my face in his hands and pressing his lips to mine for a brief kiss. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you are.” I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. “I don’t talk about myself, Ivy. I don’t open up to anyone. It’s just not me. But I find myself doing it more and more with you.”

  And then he closes the gap between our mouths once again. Though this time, there’s no pulling back and no more words are needed.

  We kiss like this, in harmony with the salty breeze, the sound of seagulls squawking in the air and water lapping against the rocky shore.

  It’s perfect.

  This is only technically a second non-date, but it feels like a lifetime in the making.

  It feels like it could lead to forever so effortlessly.

  And for this very re
ason, I should pull away and end this.

  But the way he’s kissing me, exploring my mouth and creating a labyrinth of emotions and sensations, won’t allow me to end it. It’s the best sort of trepidation, knowing what could so easily come next and yet needing to resist it. But even if it does end badly—and I think it’s probably a safe bet that it will—we’re already too far into this.

  There’s no going back now.

  A shiver runs through me and I snuggle in closer to Luke’s side.

  “Are you cold, honey?”

  I love how Luke has a million names for me. I’ve never been one to think that terms of endearment are anything but moronic embellishments, but not the way he uses them with me.

  “A little,” I admit.

  “Can I take you home? To my home?”

  “Yes.”

  It’s really as simple as that.

  Chapter 9

  Ivy

  We drive ten minutes in Saturday morning traffic before he pulls into a driveway adjacent to his building, which is old and brick and beautiful. Luke punches a code into a keypad, and a large black iron gate opens, allowing us entrance to a small parking lot in the back. He parks the motorcycle next to the two back doors and helps me off.

  I enjoyed my ride, but I think my days on that thing are done.

  “What’s with all the keypads?” I ask as he punches in yet another code on one of the back doors before it lets out three beeps and the light turns from red to green. Luke swings the door open, motioning for me to go on ahead of him.

  “It’s more secure than just a regular lock.”

  “And security like this is a necessity for you?” I point at the CCTV camera in the top corner of the entrance.

  He shrugs, “Isn’t security a necessity for everyone?”

  It’s an evasive answer, but I let it slide for now as he takes my hand and leads me up a well-lit stairwell to another solid oak door. Yet another camera and keypad. I’ve never seen a private home equipped like this.

  The door opens and again he lets me enter before him.

  My first thought is that this place is massive. At least four to five thousand square feet of open space. My second is that it’s completely different than I had anticipated. I’d expected hard surfaces and modern, sleek, expensive decor.

 

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