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Eighteen months ago, Tad and I were vacationing on the beach in Delaware. I like the beach fine, but my ex has always wanted to live down there. I wouldn’t mind the beach, but I never wanted the fast-paced night-life heavy lifestyle he seemed to think went with it. Truthfully, I’ve always been happy in my home town—Lacy Creek, New York. It’s not the prettiest place in the world, but my best friends are here, and it’s a comfortable, relaxed life.
While we were at the beach, we met a group of people, a few of whom were our age, and we stayed in touch with them. After paying attention to the interactions between Tad and one woman in the group, Naomi, I started to get a suspicion there was something there. For all his flaws, Tad didn’t cheat on me. But over the following months, it became clear he was in love with her.
I should’ve been angry or hurt, but all I felt was relief. When we decided to divorce, I was worried about how I’d manage on my own, having been somewhat of a stay-at-home-mom, and I was worried about my kids. Well, until we told them about the divorce. Our oldest, Alex, said, “I’m not surprised. It’s not like you two love each other.” Our second, A.J., said, “Cool. I get two bedrooms now? Do I also get two allowances?”
My marriage was so shitty, even my children knew it. You’d think I would’ve known better. I write romance for a living. But somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that the stories I told were just that, stories. I gave up on true love and finding my happily ever after.
Now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and I’ve felt my heart slowly opening again as I allow myself to believe that a happily ever after is still in the cards for me.
At the noise of a vehicle, I sit up and open my eyes. The tow truck comes to a stop and the door swings open.
The first thing I see are a pair of black work boots, followed by some tight-in-the-right-spots jeans, then a sinful black tee, a muscular profile, scruffy jawline, and shoulder-length dirty blond hair pulled into a low bun.
He turns to look at me and smiles wide. “Get yourself in some trouble, did ya?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t know you were still driving tow trucks for your brother.”
He chuckles and shrugs. “Only when they’re short on people. Can’t not help my little bro.”
He slams the door shut and starts walking toward me. I drink him in. His thick, sculpted body with muscles toned from a hard day’s work, rather than working out. The black T-shirt that tightly hugs his firm pecs and intimidating biceps. The gorgeous tattoos covering his arms and hands, and the one that creeps out of his shirt collar, up the side of his neck. My insides flip over and over and things begin to melt. With every step he takes toward me, my body temperature rises. Luke O’Brien does something to me. And I love every second of it.
Luke
She is gorgeous.
She’s bathed in the fall sun, creating a glow around her that only heightens her beauty. I watch every movement of her body as she slides off the hood of the car. As she stands, she reaches up and undoes the messy mass of hair on her head, letting her brown waves cascade around her shoulders. Her shirt slides up, giving me a quick glimpse of her curvy stomach, though the tight shirt doesn’t leave much to the imagination. As she moves, I notice the way her stomach flexes at the sides and the slightest hint of muscle peeks through. Muscle she’s earned doing kickboxing with my friend Andre three times a week, at his gym in the neighboring town of Ida. I go there regularly myself and frequently take the same yoga class as Zoey.
Notbecauseof Zoey.
As a tattoo artist, maintaining good posture, muscle control, and alignment is important. Getting to see Zoey’s sexy ass in yoga pants is just a plus.
When I get to her, I immediately pull her into my arms. She squeezes me tight. “You okay?” I ask.
She nods as she pulls away, looking wistfully at the car. “I’m fine. Mostly bummed that my very first ride in my new car ended like this.”
I smirk at her. “How much shit did Mikey give you?”
She rolls her vibrant blue eyes. “Not as much as I was expecting, honestly. Surprised he didn’t mention to me you were the one coming to save my ass.”
One so very worth saving.
That comment lands on me, though. “He didn’t mention you were who I was coming to tow, either.”
We exchange a quick glance. Ever since my divorce and then Zoey’s, my brother has had all the subtlety of a jackhammer in trying to get us together. Of course, my feelings for Zoey might not be particularly subtle, either. Not anymore. We’ve always had a connection—kindred spirits is what my mother always says. I’ve known it since high school and have spent just as long trying to ignore it. But with both of us single now, it’s become harder to push down. Every time I see her, I go a little more insane because she’s what I want. In every way, Zoey Holloway is the girl of my dreams.
Christ, I sound like a pathetic bastard. I’m notthatpathetic. But as I watch a smile creep onto Zoey’s face, I realize I am. I amexactlythat pathetic because over time my feelings have grown into the words I can’t say but endlessly want to. I already know whenever I leave her today, I’ll be going with an ache in my heart and a serious case of blue balls.
I turn to Zoey and say, “Why don’t you go wait in the truck while I get the car loaded up?”
“Can I help at all?” She sighs. I’m sure this is not how she wanted her day to go. She’s worked hard to build the life she has now, and she deserves all the good things.
I put my hand on her shoulder, gently massaging my fingers on her back. “Nah. It’s all buttons and levers for the most part. Grab your stuff and get comfortable.”
She nods. “Okay.”
After grabbing her stuff from her car, she heads for the truck. I run ahead and open the door, offering her my hand to help her in. She smiles graciously. “Thanks, Luke.”
I nod.
