It’s true that it feels more professional of me to have the apartment clean when Luke comes over this morning. But also, I’m guessing by the way Luke kept his desk back at Harrow & Finch that his place would be a similar disaster, and it feels like an upper-hand move to have my place sparkling. We may be forced to work together now, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten he’s still the enemy.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the bakery?” I ask.
I only agreed to meet with Luke here because Sam usually takes a shift at her mom’s bakery on Saturdays and I’d have the place to myself.
He texted me last night about our first task from the studio—the statement they’re expecting to go out tomorrow morning—when I was lying on the couch, feeling drained from the day’s events. I suggested we just do it over the phone, and he said it would be better to meet somewhere. When I envisioned going back into the office, or Luke’s office, or Common Ground today, it seemed exhausting. Luke agreed, so he offered his place, and I didn’t want to do that, so I said he could come here.
And now he is. He’ll be here in an hour, and I’m racing to see how clean I can get the place before he arrives.
“Yes, and at the restaurant tonight,” Sam says. “But I told my mom I’d be late.”
I stop my dusting to look at her. “Why?”
She gives me a cheeky sort of grin. “So I can see the infamous Luke, of course.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re wasting your time. He’s nothing to look at,” I tell her.
I’m exaggerating. Luke is probably attractive to other people. I just happen to find smirking, teasing, client-stealing jerks unappealing.
“I’d like to see for myself,” she says, folding her arms.
“If you’re going to insist on meeting him, you could at least help,” I say. “Go organize the spice cabinet.”
She pulls in her chin, giving herself a second one. “Why would Luke look in our spice cabinet?”
I throw a hand in the air. “I don’t know, but the guy is sneaky. I don’t need him judging my unorganized spices.”
Sam gets up from the couch. “Maybe I should wash the brick wall.” She points to the exposed brick in the living room.
I nod. “That’s a great idea.”
She mumbles something and walks out of the living room.
When the house is somewhat put together, no thanks to Sam, I quickly get ready. I shower, put on minimal makeup, and throw on a pair of jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt. Just as I’m applying deodorant, because I can’t remember if I did earlier, there’s a knock at the door.
I hear running from the other room and Sam yelling, “I’ll get it!” before I even have a chance to react. I swear she was waiting in the other room, ready to pounce.
“Hello,” I hear her say, standing in front of the opened door when I get there.
Luke is waiting there in clean sneakers, well-fitted jeans, and a black T-shirt. He’s got a pair of aviator sunglasses on his face and the strap of a black satchel over his shoulder.
“Hey, Luke,” I say, trying to hide my nerves.
I don’t know why I’m nervous, to be honest. I think it’s because we have so much riding on this now. Before, we were trying to protect our individual clients’ reputations. Now we have to work togetherandfor the studio. That’s . . . a lot.
But, also, I feel weird having Luke at my apartment. I don’t know how to describe it. Just a discomfort I’m not used to feeling.
“Hi,” he says, the corner of his mouth pulled upward.
“Come in,” I say, opening the door wider for him, getting a whiff of his spicy cologne as he comes inside.
“I’m Sam,” she says, holding out a hand for him to shake.
“Sorry. Luke, this is my roommate.” I gesture toward Sam.
He shakes her hand, giving her a smile, and the fact that she’s already falling for the Luke Wilder charm is written all over her face. Her eyes are practically heart shaped.
“We’ll just be in here,” I say, pointing toward the kitchen and living room.
