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This woman standing in front of me now is a one-eighty turnaround to the woman who just spewed poison at me, and all I can do is stare in confusion.
After she and Sean say goodbye to Luke, she turns to face me. “Goodbye, Callie.”
I watch her leave and can’t help but think her goodbye insinuated that she thinks she’ll never see me again.
Luke moves behind me and his arms snake around my waist. “I’ve finally got you all to myself.”
“And what are you going to do with me?” I ask as I run my hands down his arms.
Turning me in his embrace, he says, “What I’m going to do and what I’d like to do are two very different things.”
“Are you going to share with me what they are?”
“I’d like to strip these clothes off you and spend the next six hours fucking you, but what I’m going to do is take you out on a date.”
Whoosh.
Lust hits me right in my core.
“You know I’d be good with either of those options,” I say.
His lips curl at the ends. “I thought you might be, but we both know I’m all about delayed gratification.”
I smack his chest lightly. “Pfft, we both know I’m not. You should take that into consideration every now and then.”
He chuckles. “I will, but not today. Today is all about me. And what I really want is to get to know you better.” He smacks my butt. “We need to get going.”
“Okay, just let me grab my bag.”
Five minutes later, we’re in his BMW heading to a destination unknown to me. When I asked him, he refused to tell me.
As he pulls the car out of his street, he says, “How did you go with that sugar tax article you were writing?”
I settle back in my seat, loving the view of him driving. Those strong arms of his, and his masculine hands all over the steering wheel. Call me strange, but there’s just something about being driven around by a man. “I decided I am definitely for a sugar tax, so long as the money goes toward educating the public more about the dangers of sugar. I also decided you are right that there’s a deeper wound in society that needs more attention and why not impose a tax to try to help fund that initiative. I don’t believe a tax would necessarily fix the problem, but it could be a weapon in the battle.”
He glances at me. “It sounds like a well-thought out article. When will it be published?”
I grin. “It’s in today’s newspaper.”
“Did you get a copy already?”
“Yeah, I have it delivered to my home now.”
“Remind me to stop and buy one today.”
“You can just read my copy, Luke.”
“No, I want a copy to keep.”
My breathing slows. He can’t possibly know what this means to me, and yet he’s managed to say the one thing that absolutely means the most to me today.
When I don’t say anything further, he places his hand on my leg. “Are you good?”
I swallow back my tears. “Yes,” I say. It comes out all squeaky, and he takes his eyes off the road for a moment to look at me.
“No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”
I can’t hold them back any longer. My tears flow down my face as I madly try to pull myself together. I can’t speak, though. Not through the tears and emotions choking me.
