Luke smiles down at me. “A good, strong tea is a cure for just about anything. This is Assam.”
“You carried that all the way over here?”
“Painstakingly. I sprouted a new gray hair because I was so worried about spilling it. I hope it’s still hot.”
“Thank you. That’s…” I take a deep breath and try to force my voice above a whisper. “That’s very kind of you, Luke.”
He gingerly finds a spot on the bench beside me, careful to avoid sitting on my notebook and the Polaroids strewneverywhere. “I could see you frowning from the other side of the beach,” he says. “What’s up?”
“The festival starts tomorrow.”
“It does.”
“Which means the black-tie dinner is only two nights away.”
“It certainly is.”
“Aren’t you nervous?”
“I’ve overseen more than a few black-tie dinners in my career.”
“How many charity auctions have you hosted?”
“Ah.” His smile is soft with recognition. “You’re worried about presenting.”
“OfcourseI’m worried. One of the reasons I never finished my PhD was that I was terrified of having to defend my dissertation. That presentation was only going to be in front of five or six people. Your restaurant seats over two hundred!”
“Els.” He shifts closer. “Let me help you.”
My spine sags back into a limp noodle. “No one can help me,” I grumble.
He slaps his hands on his knees. “I’ll be back in five minutes.” He leaps up and disappears in a jog.
I glance at the teacup balanced precariously on the bench. That is a kind gesture. Luke surprises me sometimes. I pick up the cup, blow on the edge just in case it’s still hot, and take a sip. My gaze drifts out over the ocean. It’s calm. Not like what’s happening inside me. My stomach tumbles like the waves the day Sawyer and I spent at the dunes.
I miss hearing his voice.
Luke is breathless when he jogs back. He clutches a plastic bag of junk, which he holds out to me with one hand before bending over to catch his breath. “I’m not as fit as I thought.” He collapses onto the bench beside me. “I should add a few laps to my workout routine. Join me one afternoon?”
I snort a laugh.
“Not into running?” he asks.
“It’s not something I choose to do willingly. Being chased by an axe murderer seems the only suitable reason for running.”
“Was dancing more your thing?”
“I survived most of the two tap dancing lessons my mother forced me to go to by waxing lyrical about Fred Astaire. No one found my stories amusing, nor did they appreciate when I fell on my backside.”
Luke stifles a laugh. “How do you take care of your health then?”
“My health is perfectly cared for by walking at a leisurely pace along the beach and then sitting very gracefully on my sofa reading a book.”
Luke’s smile softens again. He is handsome like this, with a dark curl falling over his forehead and a relaxed arm stretched along the bench behind me. My stomach knots with unease. We slept together at least twenty times. I should feel comfortable being so close to him, but the way he arches into my space is…intimate. I shift, suddenly wary, and cross my legs to create more distance between us.
“W-what’s all this?” I clear my throat. “In the bag?”
“What?” He blinks rapidly. “Oh… This. I had an idea about how to help you prepare for the auction.”
