“All right.” I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but grin. “Let’s not be dramatic.”
“I willneverstop being dramatic, but that’s beside the point.”
“I hate you, you know that?” I laugh.
Luke’s grin is wide. “No, you don’t.”
And even though, at this moment, I’m leaning toward opening the door to fling myself out onto the highway and end this conversation, all it takes is one look at the smile on Luke’s face to know that, no, I really don’t hate him. I don’t think I ever could.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Showdown
Iwasn’tprepared.Therewasno warning, and now I’m choking on scalding hot coffee, trying not to die from embarrassment. My face is definitely bright red, which I can thankfully attribute to the sudden coughing fit andnotthe unexpected remark my boyfriend made to my friends about getting laid this weekend.
Even so, I might actually be departing this life.
It started innocently enough. The guys and I were hanging around before work, chatting about what we had done over the weekend. Marcus took all five of his kids to the zoo, Eric and Liz watched a movie, and Ben and Laura worked on their raised-bed vegetable garden. My weekend was boring,obviously. Totally not one of the best of my entire life. Nothing noteworthy to see here.
But then Luke strolled in, disheveled and half-asleep, like he hadn’t woken up in enough time to do anything fancy with his slightly rumpled hair, and it went downhill fast.
My hickey is on full display above his collar for the whole world to see, and I had to take a sip of coffee just to stop myselffrom smiling like an idiot when I noticed it. I thought he would have covered it up to avoid the stares or awkward conversation, but the fact that he wanted to show it off—even in a shop full of bigots—makes my insides melt, a strange possessive feeling washing over me. It’s like I’ve staked my claim, and now everyone can see that he’s taken. Honestly, it’s kind of a turn-on.
“Well, well,well,” Marcus had crooned as soon as he saw him, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Looks like someone got lucky this weekend, didn’t he?”
Then Luke ran a hand through his hair, kind of bashful but definitely more proud, and responded with the most unexpected line I could have imagined. “Mhm. Best dicking down of my life.”
And there it was. I couldn’t believe the audacity. The gall. Thedisrespect. How dare Luke say something so funny and out of pocket without warning me?
When I say the gasp I gasped was not conducive to the coffee I was drinking at that moment, it wouldn’t come as a shock. Now I’m choking and sputtering like a total idiot, but at least it’s hiding my blush. IhopeI played it off like I was genuinely shocked to hear the statement and not like I had something to do with it. Lord, have mercy.
I can feel someone helpfully patting my back, trying to get me to breathe again.
“I’m okay,” I cough out, holding up my hand with teary eyes and burning lungs. When I turn my head to see that it’s Luke, I almost wish I did die from choking as I catch the mischievous grin on his face.Thefucker.He’s clearly enjoying this.
“Sorry, did that offend your delicate sensibilities?” he teases, and if I could kiss that stupid smirk off of his face right now, I would.
“I’d say fuck you, but it looks like somebody already did,” I retort, and everyone loses it. Luke and I share a look, and I enjoy the gleam in his eye. Okay, maybe thisisa little fun.
But the happy moment doesn’t last.
While we’re standing around, Frank suddenly comes up behind us with his little posse, making a show of wanting to get by on the path. Rather than taking a few steps to the right like a normal person would have, he barrels through the middle of our group instead, breaking us up forcefully like the prick he is. He brushes his shoulder against Luke the hardest, the movement blatantly aggressive, and Luke stumbles backward from the unexpected force.
“What the fuck, Frank?” he instantly snaps, glaring down at the weasel. Frank’s not a small guy, but he’s almost a foot shorter than Luke. It doesn’t seem to intimidate him in the slightest.
“Watch it, fag,” Frank barks back, puffing out his chest and making a show like he wants to swing a fist. Luke unconsciously flinches, looking more pissed at the involuntary reaction than fearful. It sends my blood boiling.
“Frank,” I growl, trying to step in, but Luke quickly holds up his hand, keeping me from moving forward.
“Loving the guard dog energy—” he smirks at me, then turns his head and cuts his eyes up and down Frank’s entire body with a single arched brow and a devastating look of contempt. “But he’s not worth the air he breathes.”
Ben and Eric let out startled laughs and little “ohhhs” like they’ve just witnessed a brutal smackdown, and even I can’t help but grin at Frank’s reaction. His face goes rigid, and he glares at Luke with open hatred.
“I didn’t know you were the girlfriend in the relationship, Shaw.” Frank folds his arms across his chest, emphasizing how his biceps flex with the motion—like he’s trying to prove how strong he is. “Where’s your frilly dress to go along with that nail polish, princess?”
Now, Frank’s goons—Nick and Henry—let out snickering laughter, and suddenly, I feel like we’re back in high school, gathering to watch a fight in the parking lot after class.
Luke’s expression flattens, and he rolls his eyes, curling his fingers up to admire the shiny black lacquer he’s still wearing from our date. “Still can’t be bothered to come up with unique insults, I see. I’m more offended that you seem to have stopped trying. Did you run out of targets to practice on while I was gone? Or do people still react to this weak material here?”
