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Completely unaware that it’s ruining my ability to function.

Then he turns just enough that I catch his profile.

The mustache.

Good grief.

I still haven’t decided how one man manages to make a mustache look...that good.

It should be illegal.

Or at the very least require some sort of permit.

“Why are you looking at my dad like that?”

I somehow forgot his son was standing next to me.

I tear my eyes away from Luke so fast it almost gives me whiplash.

“What?”

“My dad.” He points directly at Luke. “Why are you looking at him like that?”

“I...”

Words.

Where are words?

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“I was just...”

Think.

Please think.

Then, as if he feels us watching him, Luke glances our way.

His eyes land on Bo first.

Then me.

The moment our eyes meet, his expression changes.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

One corner of his mouth curves into that familiar crooked smile—the one that always seems reserved just for me.

Like he’s genuinely happy to see me.

My pulse stumbles.

Luke hooks the towel over one shoulder before lifting both hands to push his damp hair back from his forehead.