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“I don’t know. Six?”
“Perfect.” She taps on her phone. “Six it is. We should pick up a bottle of wine to take.”
“I don’t know what kind of wine they like.”
She bites her lip. “Actually… Let’s not. Luke is a recovering alcoholic.”
“Yeah. That’s right. What if the rest of us want to drink?”
“I’m sure they’ll have something. But I don’t want to trigger him.”
“God, of course not.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. “We wouldn’t want to trigger him.”
“I’m surprised at you,” she says. “I get the history. I do. But getting off the alcohol is a big part of what changed Luke.”
“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry.” And I am, as much as I can be. Luke Johnson—or whatever his name du jour is—and I will never be friends. But if I want a future with Aspen, which I do, Luke comes along with it.
“Why don’t we take them something else instead?” I offer.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Tell her we’ll bring dessert. We can pick something up at a bakery.”
“That’s a great idea.” She taps on her phone. “Dessert it is.”
Is this what it’s like to be part of a couple with Aspen? I like it.
Of course, I wish we were having dinner with someone other than Lucifer Raven.
“I’m going to take a shower, baby.”
Aspen smiles. “Would you like company?
God, I’m already hard for her again.
“Always.”
Driving through the ritzy beachfront properties, one of which is owned by Luke Johnson, doesn’t sit well with me.
“Here it is,” Aspen says.
I drive up into the circular driveway.
And behold a mansion beach house.
Off white stucco with those curved terra cotta roofing tiles. What are they called? Mission tiles? I don’t know and I don’t care. The house is sprawling, with stucco archways, wrought iron gates, and a fountain—and we haven’t gotten out of the car yet.
Damn. This is where he kept Emily secluded. How can I even go in there?
Aspen takes my hand. “It’s okay. It’s just a house.”
I draw in a deep breath. God knows I’ve faced worse than this.
Much worse.
Still, I feel like I’m heading into rival territory. Like I need to duck and cover, watch for enemy fire…
“You can’t stay in the car forever, Buck.” Aspen takes my hand.
I draw in another breath and open the driver side door.
I stand.
And I regard the house.
It’s adobe brick, and it’s massive. It sits on its own private beach on a couple acres.
Movie stars probably live in this neighborhood.
“Come on.” Aspen takes my hand. In her other hand, she carries the bag from the bakery containing the raspberry and vanilla torte we picked up.
Raspberry and vanilla torte.
Could anything be more pretentious? Only if we added rose water and saffron.
I allow her to lead me up the cobblestone pathway to the giant stucco Spanish architecture inspired house on the beach.
“Ready?”
I simply nod.
She rings the doorbell, and Katelyn answers, opening the door, a dog—he’s gorgeous with one blue and one brown eye—panting at her legs.
“Go on, Jed.” Katelyn scratches the dogs head, and he trots away obediently.
Katelyn looks good. Her cheeks are flushed, and her blond hair is pulled back into a high ponytail. She’s wearing a light blue sundress that matches her eyes.
And she looks…happy.
Radiantly happy.
Because of the man who hurt my sister.
Yes, I suppose people can change.
I’ve heard the whole story. I know what Luke went through for Katelyn, to protect her.
“Come on in!” Katelyn grabs Aspen into a hug.
Once they’re done embracing, Aspen hands her the bag. “I hope you like raspberry torte.”
“I’m sure it will be delicious.” Katelyn turns to me. “Hi there, Buck.”
I clear my throat. “Katelyn.”
As far as I know, Katelyn knows everything. Everything about Luke and what he did to my sister and others. About his past as a drug lord in the LA underground.
About Lucifer Raven.
“It’s so good to have you here.” She pulls me into a hug.
This is a good woman. A lovely, good woman who’s been through much the same as my Aspen has. If Luke makes her happy…
I want to pull away, but I don’t want to offend her or Aspen.
So I wait until Katelyn pulls away.
“Luke’s out back. He’s got the grill going. We’re going to have simple hamburgers. He suggested something like filet mignon or Cornish game hens, but I just felt like plain old burgers. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Aspen says, “as long as it’s not anything from the sea. The fish tacos the other day were enough for a while.”
Katelyn shudders slightly. “Yeah, I still can’t touch the stuff. And it’s strange. I grew up here in LA. I grew up on fish and shellfish.”
“Maybe someday,” Aspen says.
“Burgers sound great,” I say dryly.
Katelyn and Aspen exchange a glance.
That’s code—not so subtle code—for me to get over myself and try to enjoy my evening.
“Let’s go outside,” Katelyn says.
“So he goes solely by Luke now?” I say.
