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Luke’s mother studied her a moment, then smiled. It seemed…off, though.
Sarah smiled back, feeling the edge of her mouth quiver.
First, she’d lied to his sister. And now to his mother!
Sure, Ann Powers was scary in a Junior League and pearls kind of way, but what sort of man avoided his own mother?
Sarah began placing the groceries from her cart onto the conveyer belt. Each item felt like a piece of incriminating evidence against her. She tried to hide the giant box of Froot Loops but it stuck out like a lone skyscraper on a flat horizon. There was absolutely no way the person who bought organic honey and protein powder would buy chocolate-flavored peanut butter. She turned, trying to
block the items with her body. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Powers. I hope to see you around sometime.”
“Oh, it’s a small town, dear. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again very soon.”
* * *
To her relief, Sarah returned to an empty house. The last thing she wanted to find was Luke in his boxer shorts hanging around in the kitchen.
She put away the groceries, making sure to replace the bottle of Glenlivet she’d purchased at the liquor store back in the top cabinet. If she’d known how expensive the scotch was, she would have never tasted it.
She was straining pasta when the back door opened and in walked Luke wearing nothing but board shorts, his hair damp, and a beach towel draped around his neck. Dear Lord. She’d thought maybe she’d been hallucinating last night, but no, that body was completely, one-hundred-percent for real. Maybe she’d been a little hasty knocking his ultra-healthy eating habits.
He glanced around the kitchen with undisguised interest. “You’re cooking dinner?”
“Yep, pasta primavera. I got everything on your list and I replaced your scotch.”
He opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of water. “This all looks great. Thanks. Did you have enough cash?”
“More than enough. There was even some change. It’s on the counter,” she said pointing to the two twenties left over from the money he’d given her for his food. She plated the pasta and dished out a few heaping tablespoons of the vegetables then grated fresh parmesan cheese over it.
He was pretending not to watch her, but Sarah could feel his eyes on her food. “Want some? I made plenty to share. We can eat outside on the patio and you can tell me all about yourself since we’re going to be roomies for the rest of the summer.”
“I never agreed to that.”
“Suit yourself then.”
She picked up the plate and was about to head out the door when he said, “Okay, sure, I wouldn’t mind eating some of that pasta. Thanks.” He served himself a healthy-sized portion then followed her out the back door and took a seat across from her at the table.
The backyard patio was one of her favorite things about this house. With a floor made of rustic-looking bricks and twinkling white lights strung overhead to make a faux ceiling, it was the perfect place to sit and enjoy the gulf view. The sun was beginning to sink into the horizon like a great big orange melting into a puddle, and, despite the summer heat, the breeze coming up from the water made the weather almost pleasant. If she were here with anyone else, it would almost be romantic.
“This is really good,” he said after taking a bite of the pasta.
“As good as my macaroni and cheese?”
“Nothing is as good as your macaroni and cheese.”
It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but be absurdly pleased by the compliment. “It’s my mother’s secret recipe. I practically grew up on it.” She thought about telling him that she’d run into his mother at the grocery store, but instinctively she knew it would ruin his suddenly semi-friendly mood.
“Is that who taught you to cook?”
She nodded. “But I’ve learned a lot from the places I’ve worked, too.”
“Like where?”
“Small diners or bakeries, mostly in Florida or the Alabama coast.” She shifted in her chair. He sat across from her, still wearing the board shorts, but at least he’d put on a T-shirt. Not that it helped. The sight of his bare chest with those washboard abs was now permanently fried into her brain circuits.
She envied him his freedom. She wanted nothing more than to change into her own bathing suit and take a quick swim. He’d seen her naked (sort of) but only in bits and pieces. She wasn’t ashamed of her body but there was something unnerving about the idea of him seeing her in a skimpy bikini. Not that he’d indicated any sort of physical interest in her. Well, maybe last night he’d seemed a bit amused at finding her naked in his bed. Today, however, the only thing she’d detected from him was barely concealed tolerance.
“This is a great house. Why don’t you ever come here?”
